Online Reporter
Martha Katsi-Herald Correspondent
AGNES Mugande’s story with tamarind begins in the dappled sunlight of her childhood, under the sprawling canopies of ancient trees that stood like sentinels around her family’s homestead in rural Binga.
The fruit was not a commodity then, nor a symbol of hope. It was simply there, its russet pods scattered on the ground, waiting to be gathered.
She and her siblings would collect them eagerly, their tangy flavour bringing a spark to the simple meals of maize and sorghum that formed the backbone of her family’s diet. Tamarind was a gift from the land, free and abundant, a quiet accompaniment to the rhythm of rural life.
Today, at 36, Mugande sees tamarind not as a childhood relic but as a lifeline. The world around her has changed. Droughts—longer, harsher, and more frequent—have withered the crops her family once relied on.
Where the fields once yielded sustenance, the soil now cracks under an unrelenting sun. Yet amidst this uncertainty, the tamarind tree, with its deep roots and unyielding resilience, endures. What was once taken for granted has now become a source of salvation. Mugande has discovered the fruit’s hidden potential—not just as sustenance, but as a means to transform her family’s future.
Before dawn breaks, Mugande begins her day. She strides into the thorny terrain with quiet determination, navigating the wild bushland with a practiced eye. Each pod she gathers feels like a small triumph, another step towards the hope she now clings to.
The sacks of tamarind she collects, filled with the fruit of these ancient trees, are heavy with possibility. In Binga, a small but bustling town in north-western Zimbabwe, urban buyers and vendors await, eager to purchase the fruit that once sat unnoticed in her childhood.
“Tamarind has become a lifeline for my family,” Mugande says, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. “I can trade it for maize, sugar, cooking oil, and salt. Sometimes, I have exchanged it for clothes for my children or utensils for our home.”
She recalls one sale with particular pride: 16 buckets of tamarind sold for US$10 each, bringing her a total of US$160.
“That money went straight to paying my children’s school fees,” she says, her relief palpable. “It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.” Across Zimbabwe, tamarind is emerging from obscurity, transforming from a humble fruit into a beacon of economic opportunity. Smallholder farmers like Mugande are discovering its power to provide not only food but a steady income.
Tamarind thrives where other crops falter, its hearty trees flourishing in Binga’s warm, subtropical climate. It requires little—well-drained soil and an annual rainfall of just 600 millimetres—and offers much in return.
Its fruit is rich in Vitamin C, dietary fibre, magnesium, and potassium. For generations, it has been prized in traditional medicine, used to treat fever, inflammation, and digestive ailments. Yet its value extends far beyond human nutrition. The tamarind tree itself nourishes the land, its deep roots safeguarding against erosion while improving soil health. Its wide branches provide shelter for wildlife, fostering biodiversity and strengthening ecosystems.
For years, this potential lay dormant, hidden in plain sight. But now, with the support of the Sustainable Wildlife Management Programme, funded by the European Union (EU), tamarind is being recognised as a cornerstone of rural livelihoods.
The programme, led by the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) of the United Nations (UN) in collaboration with organisations like CIRAD, CIFOR-ICRAF, and the Wildlife Conservation Society, is helping farmers like Mugande unlock the full value of tamarind.
Through training in sustainable harvesting techniques, communities are learning how to protect the trees while increasing their yield.
“We encourage people to collect tamarind from the ground rather than climbing trees, which can be dangerous,” explains Ntandokamdali Mpabanga, a district conservator.
“Cutting branches is also discouraged to ensure the trees remain productive for future generations.”
This shift is already transforming rural economies.
Mr Maxwell Phiri, the SWM Programme Coordinator for Zimbabwe, highlights the growing momentum.
“Tamarind was once recognised only for household consumption,” he says. “Now, it’s being integrated into Zimbabwe’s wildlife economy as a valuable product that aligns with conservation goals while fostering sustainable development.”
One of the most significant breakthroughs has been connecting farmers with processors like the Marondera University of Agricultural Sciences and Technology. The university recently purchased over 700 buckets of tamarind from Binga farmers, spending more than US$7,000.
Even more promising, the university is planning to establish one of the largest tamarind processing plants in the region—a development that could revolutionise the market.
By producing value-added products like tamarind paste, sauces, and beverages, the plant has the potential to dramatically increase farmers’ income and improve their standard of living.
“This initiative is part of our mission to promote indigenous crops and sustainable agricultural practices,” says Professor Lesley Macheka, executive director of Innovation and Industrialisation at the university.
For Mugande, these changes are monumental.
“It is a relief,” she says simply, though her expression reveals the depth of her gratitude.
Her neighbour, Stephen Mudimba, echoes her sentiments. “I can’t wait for the next tamarind harvest,” he says.
“With the money I earn, I am planning to start a chicken-rearing business.”
Still, challenges remain.
The tamarind market is growing, but processing facilities are crucial to fully realise its potential. Without infrastructure to create value-added products, much of the fruit’s promise remains untapped. The proposed processing plant in Binga is a step in the right direction, but scaling up will require sustained investment and collaboration.
