“The farmer is the only man who buys retail, sells wholesale and pays freight both ways.” — John F Kennedy

Farming is my first love. So last week, when I was ushered into an office for my appointment and met this charming young lady who declared her love for farming, I think we both forgot that I was there for an entirely different matter. Having declared my love of farming to her, I wondered if she noticed my lack of enthusiasm when she indicated her desire to expand her interest in that area.

I operated a fair-sized fish and goat farm. Since it was impossible to see the back of the farm when standing at the front, community members decided to make a radical shift in their eating habits by consuming fish as often as possible — my fish from my farm.

I became a member of one of the best-known goat organisations in the US. I visited, learnt about the best bloodlines, then imported those to start my herd. Three years later, I had an impressive herd of pure-bred nubians. Two weeks before kidding, a truck drove up one night, fired warning shots to scare the workers, then removed every one and departed.

A few days later, farmers in the area gathered at a remote pig farm. The farmer was bawling. Thieves had taken 20 of his pigs — not an easy task — and he could not see himself making his loan payments after that loss. Later, fortified by four stiff shots of “puss gin”, a mischievous smile creased his face. He remembered that his pigs had all been medicated the previous day. Using colourful, expletive-laced language, he described what would happen to “them” after eating the pork. I, however, doubted that the thieves would be the ones eating the meat. It was more likely to be innocent members of the public.

Over in Linstead, an angry orange farmer declared his intention to sharpen some cutlasses and get some men to waylay and “mince up” the next set of thieves that entered his farm. I suggested a smarter, less bloody plan as the pickers were not the real problem. The truck turned up and loaded. No mincing took place. Sharpened cutlasses were replaced by two-way radios. The loaded truck was followed to a warehouse and eventually to a palatial residence in upper St Andrew, where there was a confrontation which included the police. The respectable gentleman was arrested and charged.

About a year later, our paths crossed again. I asked about the court matter. He was ecstatic. He said that the defendant visited him and they had a nice discussion. The man convinced him that court was “a waste of time”. He paid for the oranges, paid off all the farmer’s immediate bills, and “…leave a likkle ting wid mi”. He added that he is a “really nice man”. I leave the rest to the readers.

Two years before his passing, my dear friend Derrick Vermont — the leading authority on goat rearing in Jamaica — asked me to take him to a Small Ruminants Association of Jamaica meeting at Bodles and take the minutes.

The new praedial larceny tzar — a retired senior police officer —would be the guest speaker. A timely decision as — hours before — there was a major theft of goats from a farm a few miles from Bodles. At the appropriate time I stood to make my contribution. I started by asking the guest speaker what was the composition and competencies of his team. This seemed to annoy him and he ordered me to sit down. I did as I was ordered by this powerful man. Had I been allowed to speak, I would have shared with the group the fact that I have lost more goats of outstanding quality to thieves than any other person in the country. Then I would go on to reveal the results of my investigation and research on praedial larceny.

The idea that a thief from Linstead, for example, simply gets up, hires a truck, travels to Yallahs, looks for a goat farm in the dead of night, steals the goats, and returns to Linstead is fanciful. That Linstead thief has to have a link in the same community that is targeted for theft. That is the most important person. He or she provides all the logistics – where, when, how, how much. Will dogs be there? Will sharpened cutlasses be waiting? Butchers, for example, are the most knowledgeable people about farm animals as they visit regularly to make purchases.

In another of my exploits in farming, I employed an ex-Jamaica Defence Force man to head up my security. Late one night I got a call. His wife had just escaped a horrendous beating from him and was hiding barefooted and almost naked at a certain spot. I grabbed a large T-shirt, a pair of my shorts and slippers, picked her up, and headed for Medical Associates.

While we were waiting, I calmed her down. Then, to my shock, she told me that her husband — my security boss — was stealing from me. She detailed a brilliant scheme that I would never have discovered. By the time the doctor was ready for her, I was in serious doubt as to which of us was in greater need of medical attention.

Like the abused wife who returns to her husband, I returned to farming. This time it was Blue Mountain coffee. My hopes of employing members of the neighbouring community – some of whom were unemployed – were dashed when no one accepted my offer of employment. Eighteen months of pruning, fertilising, and spraying the 160 acres produced beautiful coffee trees laden with berries and ready for picking. So my pickers sprang into action. And so did the members of the community who were, hitherto, unavailable for work. My workers called them the second shift. That’s because they were picking and selling as much of my coffee as my workers.

The third year of production, after trying every imaginable strategy to stay ahead of the thieves — and failing — I wrote to the coffee interests in the area, explained what was happening, and proposed that all coffee farmers who intended to sell coffee be registered. Extension officers would visit and confirm the approximate acreage, number, and condition of trees. I volunteered the services of two workers from my office for one day each week to have the results computerised. Coffee would be purchased from registered farmers only. Three months later, there was no response. So I visited and asked for a response. What I got was, “…the farmers not going agree to it…You supposed to know our people. Them not going cooperate…” The drive from Mavis Bank back to Kingston was very slow. I took time to admire the majestic mountains, knowing that would be my last visit.

No person with average intelligence is going to invest in a business that facilitates thievery to the extent that breaking even is a considerable challenge. I followed the slipping and sliding in that industry and stopped when prices dropped to half of what I was getting. It was too painful. Today, only a fraction of the land available for this world-leading product is under coffee. And the remaining farmers — masochists all — complain daily.

And what success have we had in fighting praedial thieves? One melon farmer was on TV recently. She had just reaped hundreds of melons and was getting ready for market when they were stolen. Fortunately, they were recovered. But she could not proceed to market because the police needed them for “exhibits” in court. The case continued for an eternity as all cases here do. The melons were kept in inhospitable conditions. Finally, the case ended and the farmer was informed that the melons could be released. Every single one of the rotting melons were returned. Is anybody thinking?

When I told members of a certain group that the Rural Agricultural Development Authority (RADA) receipt books that were designed to reduce theft was facilitating theft, three of them stormed out of the room immediately. Had they remained, I would have presented them with facts to substantiate my claim. This is what is happening. Our Linstead thief hires a truck and is on his way to Yallahs. But he makes one critical stop by the man with the receipt book. The books are sold for $500. The Linstead thief, however, buys one leaf for $1,000. So a book of 100 pages has a potential value of $100,000. With returns like that, I would hang up my hoe and sell receipt leaves.

The receipt book is only practical if it is part of a monitoring system. The police must be able to treat the receipt in much the same way as your motor vehicle documents.

Every individual farming community must come together and discuss their strengths and weaknesses, then devise a unique strategy to protect their possessions. If others in the community own cameras, for example, maybe that could be of help. When all that is worked out, they should invite law enforcement to meet, share ideas, and fine-tune strategies, fully aware that there are those in the community who are working with thieves. Some of those may even be working on the farms.

Every effort must be expended to curb this scourge on the agricultural sector, which has been a source of distress to many in the sector and a barrier to those who would want to enter.

Glenn Tucker is an educator and a sociologist. Send comments to the Jamaica Observer or glenntucker2011@gmail.com