WE, in the village, never tire of working the land, it is an everyday thing. They say when the heavens open, the wise prepare their fi elds. And this year, the heavens did more than open, they poured. Across the hills and valleys, across the plains and highveld, the rains came in abundance, soaking the earth in a promise.

A promise not just of moisture, but of opportunity. Today, I write not just to inform, not just to inspire but to urge. Yes, urge every farmer, every landholder, every villager with a hectare to their name and a hoe in hand: this is your season. This is your moment. Winter cropping must not pass us by. For too long, we have watched the cycles of abundance and hunger dance a cruel dance across our motherland. For too long, our stories have been written in the language of excuses: poor inputs, bad timing, no rain. This time, the rains fell.

The water tables are high, the dams are full — and so no fi eld should lie untouched, no plan must sit idle. The coming winter season should not be a time to rest. Now is the time to turn the soaked earth into rows of wheat and barley, into greenhouses brimming with tomatoes, onions, and spinach. Now is the time to fi re up irrigation systems, even those made with simple ingenuity bucket by bucket if we must and put seed to soil. The land has received heaven’s blessing. But without our eff ort, our sweat, our planning, the rain means nothing.

Land is currency beneath our feet. Not just a place of nostalgia. Not just a patch of inherited pride. No — land must work. Land must produce. Land must pay. The same way others store value in stocks, in banks, in bitcoin, we must store our wealth in ridges and rows, in harvests and grain. The soil, when tilled with purpose and intelligence, yields more than food: it yields dignity. It yields jobs. It yields generational wealth. And winter cropping, my friends, is one of the most underutilised keys in this arsenal.

Too often, we treat the dry season as a break, a time to regroup. But ask the successful commercial farmer, ask the quiet giants among us they’ll tell you that real wealth is made in the off season. When others rest, the wise sow. Water is wealth and we either use it or lose it Let’s talk about facts. This year, most regions received well above average rainfall. Our dams, Tokwe-Mukosi, Lake Chivero, Manyame are overfl owing. Even small weirs and ponds in remote villages are holding water well into April. The soil profi le is saturated deep below, creating the perfect conditions to sustain moisture-loving winter crops like wheat, garlic, peas and cabbages.

Yet despite this abundance, we hear whispers: “I will wait for the next rains,” or “there’s no irrigation.” But I say this: where there is water, there must be work. Whether it’s drip, canal, treadle pump or good old-fashioned furrow irrigation, we must innovate. We must collaborate. Form irrigation syndicates. Share diesel and pump costs. Use every drop of water as though it were a dollar falling from the sky because it is. We are a nation of hustlers. Vendors line the streets. Entrepreneurs fi ll WhatsApp with product lists. We hustle for forex, for school fees, for groceries. But what if I told you the real hustle lies beneath your feet? One hectare of winter wheat, properly managed, can yield four to fi ve tonnes. At current prices, that’s thousands of dollars.

Do the math. Add onions. Add potatoes. Add greenhouse tomatoes fetching premium prices when the rest of the region runs dry. Let’s be bold. Let’s think of farming not as subsistence but as enterprise. Not as a fall-back but as a strategy. This is business. It’s time to look at your fi eld as your offi ce. Your seed as your startup capital. Your hoe as your investment tool. And your harvest? That’s your dividend. Youth, wake up and farm To the young men and women lounging in townships, Wi-Fi strong but purpose weak— this message is especially for you. Your strength is not in your scroll. Your future is not in betting slips. It’s in the land.

You do not need 50 hectares to start. You need initiative. You need to organise. You need to learn. The youth must farm smart. Use climate data. Use mobile apps for market prices. Join farmer WhatsApp groups. Watch tutorials. Speak to agronomists. Ask your grandmother how she planted, and then improve it with new methods. The future of Zimbabwe’s agriculture lies in a generation that sees farming not as punishment, but as power. A national mindset shift As a country, we must shift our mindset from survival to strategy. Land reform gave us land. The rains have given us water. The rest is up to us. Government support schemes are available. Private buyers are on the prowl. Export markets are wide open. What remains is production.

Consistency. Reliability. Discipline. We need to stop romanticising the past and start utilising the present. Because this land owes us nothing — but it off ers us everything, if we work it. This winter, let us plant like people who believe in their future. Let every irrigation pipe, every wheelbarrow, every seedling be a vote of confi dence in the land. We must move brick by brick, hectare by hectare, until the entire nation becomes a mosaic of green ambition and brown resolve. No more excuses. No more waiting. No more potential unfulfi lled.

To every farmer: till. To every rural youth: act. To every Government extension offi cer: support. To every traditional leader: mobilise. To every businessperson: invest. Let the rains we received not be remembered for fl oods and mud, but for the miracle of momentum they gave us. We have only one real inheritance, the land. And what we do with it will write our story for generations to come. Let the land be our currency. Let the soil be our strategy. And let this winter cropping season be our breakthrough. Brick by brick, fi eld by fi eld, we rise.

Businessman Tawanda Chenana is also a philanthropist and Secretary for Lands for ZANU PF Mashonaland East Province.