My grandfather often recounted a story from his youth, when he worked as a farm manager for a German gentleman in the Bothaville region. The farm was flourishing, and as operations expanded, “Meneer Hoops” (as my grandfather always to refer to him) decided it was time to upgrade the machinery. He placed a special order for a brand-new McCormick WD-6 diesel tractor, shipped from Durban Harbour and routed through Johannesburg due to the absence of local dealerships. At the time, the switch from old Fordson tractors to new imported McCormicks represented a significant technological step forward, and the investment seemed well justified.
Once the shiny new machine arrived and the first summer rains had fallen, preparations began to plough the fields. Initially, the tractor performed admirably, but gradually it began to vibrate uncontrollably. Loose coins were shaken from pockets, dentures from mouths, and before long, the WD-6 was physically tearing itself apart on the unforgiving soil of the Western Transvaal. With a final convulsion, it collapsed in a flurry of bolts and mechanical fragments.
The McCormick stood for years at the edge of that field, its once-brilliant red paint slowly bleached by the sun. Ultimately, they returned to the trusted fleet of Fordson tractors like the rest of the farmers in the district.
With a soft sigh, my grandfather would flash a knowing grin and say, "When someone asks me which tractor to buy, I tell them: get the one your neighbour already owns."
That adage, simple in itself, captures one of the single most valuable asset on any farm: a strong network of people and community who’ve already broken in the soil, wrestled with machinery failures, and learned from every misstep. In fact a small agricultural town has a whole social ecosystem around the farmers.
This agricultural ecosystem offers farmers a powerful set of advantages by combining shared knowledge, collaboration, and collective strength. The open exchange of failures, such as lessons learned from missteps in irrigation and spraying provides farmers with free, practical insights into “what not to do,” reducing costly errors.
At the same time a farmer can rely on a slew engineers, agronomists, equipment suppliers, and fellow growers to contribute expertise, ensuring that progress is faster and more effective than any individual “jack of all trades” could achieve in isolation. When crises such as drought, pest outbreaks, or market disruptions strike, the network rallies to share labour, lend equipment, and connect members with emergency funding that might otherwise remain out of reach.
This collaborative method also enhances market access by allowing farmers to benefit from economies of scale, which leads to more efficient processing and enables them to take part in larger trade agreements. As a result, the community gains a stronger competitive position both nationally and internationally.
These things are so deeply ingrained in rural communities that you seldom realize they’re there – until they’re gone.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve had the privilege of working with some extraordinary men and women who’ve taken up the mantle of becoming wine grape farmers. Many come from outside the agricultural world and let me tell you, it’s a whole different ballgame when you’re on your own without a network to rely on.
For many of us, it’s easy. If something goes wrong or I need advice on a topic, I know at least three people I can call someone who owns that piece of equipment, farms with that cultivar, or has already tried the techniques I’m curious about. But when you're alone in the early hours of the morning with nothing but a flashlight and your own grit, trying to figure out what’s next, farming can quickly become an unwinnable battle.
It is this untethered existence that makes entry into agriculture or new farmers so difficult if they do not come out of this ecosystem.
The difficulties facing agricultural transformation in South Africa are well known. Legislative hurdles and missteps in implementation by government have undoubtedly complicated progress. However, it is essential to remember the scale and speed at which we are attempting to establish an entirely new class of farmers, often from the ground up. We are speedrunning a process that takes the better part of half a century.
Looking back at South African history, even the most celebrated large-scale land reform projects, such as the Vaalharts and Orange River irrigation schemes, experienced significant attrition. More than half of the new farmers exited within a single generation, despite substantial government support throughout those initiatives.
These historical outcomes highlight the need to reconsider how we define success in agricultural transformation and what our final goals are. There comes a point where market forces inevitably determine which of the new entrants will thrive and which will not. It is crucial to establish clear exit strategies for those who do not succeed, ensuring an orderly and dignified transition for all involved.
An analysis of successful agricultural transformation projects shows exactly what I have been describing so far, that integrating new farmers into local rural networks through mentorship and community support results in significantly higher success rates than providing financing alone. A notable example is the work conducted by Grain SA under the leadership of Jane McPhearson, supporting small grain farmers in the Eastern Cape. This again highlighting integration into the ecosystem of agriculture to ensure the long-term sustainability of any new entrant to farming and agriculture as a whole.
So, take a tin of beskuit to your neighbour, hang out an extra fifteen minutes at the kooperasie, and go to the "boring" cooperative meetings with all the old ooms.
Your farm’s success isn’t just in the seeds you sow or the machinery you buy; it’s in the people you turn to when the unexpected happens.