03.11.2025

  • Impact Stories

The promise in the shell

A legacy from a grandmother, carried by a village. This is an investment for the Agri-Finance Liquidity Facility & the Fairtrade Access Fund. 

Before there was a factory, there was a grandmother with a handful of macadamia trees on her modest family land in Nyeri- urging her neighbors to plant macadamia trees decades ago when a factory in the village was hardly plausible.

She saw the future too clearly: boys and girls finishing school without top marks shut out of university, with corporate Nairobi a distant rumor; the village offering no jobs, no clubs, nothing to do after dusk. Idleness crept in. Some boys turned to alcohol or drugs; some girls learned to shrink their hopes to fit the day. “Your future can be lost so fast,” she told her six children. A retired teacher who taught two generations, their parents and grandparents -she kept the youth close, offering counseling, farm work and a dozen small tasks that stitched purpose back into their hours. 

When she passed away in 2013, her six children and their spouses – even those returning from abroad – gathered together back in their home village and they all had the same question in their mind: Who will keep her promise? Very soon and with the encouragement of their elderly dad, they realized that they wanted to keep their mother’s legacy alive and they all decided to stay. Since their mother already had a small macadamia farm and one of the siblings did have experience in running a macadamia production, they decided together that they will do something bold: they decided to do something as a family, something that in the beginning, no one else outside their family believed in; they established their own macadamia factory.  

In October 2013 they began raising a macadamia plant fast, before the season turned. When the word spread around, a small miracle happened: well over a hundred of the very youths the recently passed grandma impacted over the years, heard about this and they all showed up to work: hauling stones, mixing mortar, setting beams. By February 2014, those same young people became the first employees of the newly christened The Village Nut. The name was plain and proud, just like the place. 

Work became a teacher. Today The Village Nut sources 6,000+ smallholder farmers and works hands-on with roughly 2,000 through trainings and field days. Nuts arrive in small sacks and leave in vacuum-sealed cartons after careful drying, cracking, and multiple inspections that drive defects to under 1%. Food safety isn’t a poster: it’s a reflex learned in onboarding and refreshed throughout the year; most new hires become fully proficient within two months. Pay to farmers goes out on time, every time, because trust is earned, not given. 

Growing people

Inside the gates, the company has become the village’s largest employer outside government, offering 180–200 seasonal roles and a core team of 86 women and 92 men (~48% / 52%). Employees are paid equally for equal roles and above the legal minimum. Nearly 90% walk to work from nearby homes. A warm, nutritious free lunch is offered on shift for everyone, and an on-site day care with trained caregivers allows parents, especially mothers, to work without worry. 

Training isn’t an event here; it’s a habit. New hires learn food safety and quality until it’s reflex, then return for regular refreshers. Everyone also cycles through practical life courses—personal financial management, equal treatment & anti-harassment, grievance awareness, and health & wellbeing (including substance-use education). At The Village Nut they understand that a paycheck without skills is a short bridge. 

Talent grows from within: 80–90% of roles begin entry-level (non-skilled), most employees become fully proficient by two months, and many rise into senior operators and line leads over time through cross-training and supervisor mentorship. A principal first lean management layer, only four managers in total, sits above a wide pipeline of homegrown talent. Turnover stays low because belonging is a benefit and growth is real.

Facing what’s real

The village knows the pull of alcohol and drugs largely due to the rampant unemployment. The Village Nut refuses denial. Support is steady and practical: as a company they offer free, confidential counseling, awareness sessions that name the risk without shaming, Progress is counted in quieter mornings and steadier weeks-promises kept by walking with people through the hard parts. 

Between seasons

Seasonality is a stern teacher. Macadamia window is short, the off-season is long. The Village Nut cushions that gap with a 13th-month salary and is actively seeking ways to implement innovative pay and reward models to spread part of annual earnings across the lean months so families can survive financially between harvests and have at least some financial stabilities between seasons. 

When Incofin decided to step in

There were years when the dream trembled. In 2023, international prices tumbled (from around $18/kg to nearly $7/kg), contracts thinned, and politics pressed in. Closing the gates was spoken of. That is when Incofin stepped in.

As investment managers, we saw the numbers, yes, but we also saw something deeper: a legacy strong enough to carry through hard seasons and across generations. Our team backed that legacy with working capital when others turned away, so farmers could be paid, quality could hold, and jobs would not vanish in a bad quarter.

Esther Mareka
Team Leader, Debt Sustainable Food - Africa, Incofin

Through a bruising 2024 and into 2025’s careful recovery, The Village Nuts kept showing why the bet was right: on-time payments, premium quality, equal pay, and a factory that still sounds like its founder’s promise. 

The Village Nut is keen to explore the latest technology and innovative ways to support families. Their dream is to establish a small education center beside the day care, fully digitized operations (retiring the notebooks at last), tighter production optimization, and new ways to turn macadamia shells into biofuel—a model already proving itself elsewhere. 

They know the future will look different. In twenty years, new hands will guide new processes, maybe new products, a new operating model. But the constants are already written: children waving from the day-care window; young women running lines they once only visited; young men lacing up for football on weekends  instead of drifting at the shops; farmers delivering sacks to a buyer who pays fairly and on time. That is how a small shed becomes an institution. That is how a grandmother’s dream keeps its word. 

Interview by Seija Gadeyne, Head of People, Organization & DEI, Incofin Investment Management