A Zimbabwean's glimpse into China's science and technology backyard

My visit to China Agricultural University (CAU) on July 30, 2025 revealed far more than expected – it offered a compelling insight into a transformative model of agricultural development. There, I was introduced to a concept that immediately struck a chord: the Science and Technology Backyard (STB). Launched in 2009 by CAU, the STB model places postgraduate students directly in rural farming communities, not just as passive learners but as embedded catalysts for innovation. These students don't simply conduct surveys or write reports – they live with the farmers, eat with them, wake to the same cockcrow, and return to the fields beside them day after day. For at least 120 days a year, they become part of the village ecosystem, helping farmers address tangible problems – from soil acidity to pest outbreaks – using scientific tools and evidence-based practices.

As the son of a former AGRITEX extension officer, conversations around farming – particularly the challenges and resilience of Zimbabwe's smallholder farmers – have always drawn my attention. These stories, often shared over dinner or under the shade of an msasa tree, formed the backdrop of my childhood. But nothing I'd heard growing up quite compared to the STB's radical idea: collapse the ivory tower of academic theory into the dusty furrows of the rural field. What sets this model apart is its profound expectation: the student is not a mere intern. They are expected to add real operational value. Their knowledge must translate into better yields, smarter inputs, more resilient cropping systems.

In a world where extension services are often stretched thin, and where farmer trust in outsiders can waver, STB has succeeded by embedding scientists as neighbours, allies, and partners. This struck me as an incredibly powerful tool for a country like Zimbabwe, where our smallholder farmers are rich in knowledge but often underserved by institutional support. We've long valued the role of champion farmers, demonstration plots, and field days – but imagine if each of those farmers had a trained agronomist or soil scientist living right there with them for a season or two.

What made the experience even more meaningful was the Zimbabwean connection I discovered at CAU. To our pleasant surprise, Shingirai Mudare, a fellow countryman currently pursuing his doctorate at the university, was assisting the Chinese professor who led the presentation to articulate the STB in detail. Shingirai, a research assistant at CAU's National Academy of Agricultural Green Development, co-facilitated our STB session with confidence and clarity that did Zimbabwe proud. His research focuses on sustainable cropping systems and agricultural diversification – exactly the kind of work that Zimbabwe needs more of. After the official presentation, he graciously offered to take us on a tour of the demonstration plots. As we moved row by row, he pointed out some fascinating differences between Chinese and Zimbabwean maize cropping techniques – from the spacing between plants to the way intercropping is applied to conserve soil and manage pests.

It was clear that this wasn't just a case of China exporting a model; it was a conversation. Countries like Malawi, Zambia, and Tanzania have already begun adopting STB principles, and early results are promising. In Malawi, for instance, the integration of STB into demonstration villages has resulted in reported yield increases of up to four times for some cereal crops. These are not isolated success stories – they represent a deliberate shift in how agricultural knowledge is developed, transferred, and localised.
Back home, Zimbabwe has no shortage of agricultural talent, nor a deficit of willing farmers eager to try new methods. What we need is a structured, well-supported framework that bridges the rich academic training of our students with the lived realities of our rural producers. STB offers precisely that – a bridge between knowledge and necessity, between laboratories and leaky irrigation pipes, between theses and threshing floors.

Walking away from CAU, I was left with a sense of both pride and urgency. Pride, because Zimbabweans like Shingirai are already helping shape global conversations on sustainable agriculture. Urgency, because models like STB shouldn't remain locked in foreign fields – they deserve to take root in our own.

I can't help but imagine what it would look like if each agricultural college in Zimbabwe adopted a similar model – sending out its brightest students not just to observe, but to live, learn, and lead alongside farmers. It would be a quiet revolution, much like the one that is blooming in Malawi, China, and many other Global South countries where smallholder farmers are an important part of their economies.