When the Iran war disrupted shipping through the Strait of Hormuz earlier this year, farmers around the world felt the ripple effects almost immediately. International trade shipments of fertilizer were dramatically halted, and prices spiked across the globe. For smallholder farmers in African countries, who are often the most vulnerable to sudden shifts in input costs, the crisis threatened to wipe out already thin profit margins. But on the outskirts of Lusaka, Zambia, one farmer barely noticed the turmoil.
Kanangwa Newlove runs a 12-acre organic operation called Loctaguna Organics, where she has spent years perfecting a traditional Asian fermentation technique known as bokashi. Rather than relying on imported synthetic fertilizers, she produces her own nutrient-rich compost using locally available materials. The result has insulated her farm from the price shocks that have left many of her neighbors scrambling.
Newlove's farm is a study in agricultural diversity. Shady fruit trees are scattered across her fields, and during the growing season, long tomato vines drape over trellises. She maintains tidy rows of corn, pumpkins, and a local leafy green known as blackjack, along with an impressive eleven varieties of lettuce. What began as a modest side project has grown into a thriving business. "I started taking vegetables to my workmates, and before I knew it I was supplying the supermarket," she recalls. "It went on and on."
Her success story stands in sharp contrast to the broader picture for 2026, a year that has proven exceptionally difficult for farmers worldwide. The conflict involving Iran choked off the Strait of Hormuz, a critical chokepoint for global trade, and fertilizer exports were among the many goods caught in the disruption. As supply chains seized up, prices climbed rapidly. The effects were felt far from the conflict zone, particularly in African countries where smallholder farmers operate on razor-thin margins and cannot easily absorb rising costs.
Synthetic fertilizers, which many farmers depend on to boost yields, became significantly more expensive almost overnight. For those already struggling to make ends meet, the spike represented an existential threat. Some farmers were forced to reduce the amount of fertilizer they applied, raising concerns about lower harvests and potential food insecurity in regions that can least afford it. Others began searching for alternatives, turning to traditional methods that had long been overshadowed by industrial agriculture.
Bokashi, the technique Newlove has embraced, is one such method. The process involves fermenting organic matter—often a mix of bran, effective microorganisms, and agricultural waste—to create a powerful soil amendment. Unlike conventional composting, which relies on aerobic decomposition, bokashi uses anaerobic fermentation to break down materials more quickly and with less odor. The resulting product enriches the soil and provides plants with a steady supply of nutrients.
For Newlove, the benefits extend beyond cost savings. Her farm supplies restaurants and airlines, and she runs courses to educate NGOs and students on organic farming practices. The bokashi she produces has become something of a local commodity in its own right. At the Sugarbush Green Market in Zambia, bags of her homemade fertilizer sell for about 50 Zambian kwacha, roughly equivalent to $2.50. They share table space with the organic vegetables her team harvests, creating a self-sustaining loop of production and education.
The market stall has become a gathering point for farmers curious about the technique. Many are eager to learn how they can reduce their dependence on imported inputs, especially as global markets remain volatile. Newlove and her team have taken on the role of informal instructors, sharing their knowledge with neighbors who want to replicate the bokashi process on their own land. The demand for these courses has grown as the fertilizer crisis has deepened.
Agricultural experts note that while bokashi is not a perfect substitute for all synthetic fertilizers, it offers a viable option for small-scale farmers looking to build soil health and reduce costs. The technique has been used for centuries in Japan and other parts of Asia, and its principles are adaptable to a wide range of climates and crops. In Zambia, where access to affordable fertilizer has long been a challenge, the method has found a receptive audience.
The broader implications of the fertilizer crisis extend beyond individual farms. African countries have historically been import-dependent when it comes to agricultural inputs, leaving them exposed to global price shocks. The Iran war and the resulting disruption to the Strait of Hormuz have highlighted the fragility of these supply chains. In response, there is growing interest in localized solutions that can buffer farmers against future crises.
Newlove describes her work as a "labor of love," a phrase that captures both the physical effort involved in producing bokashi and the emotional commitment she feels toward sustainable farming. Her farm has become a model for what is possible when farmers take control of their inputs rather than relying on distant markets. The vegetables she grows are sold to restaurants and airlines, proving that organic produce can compete in commercial markets.
As the global fertilizer market continues to stabilize—or perhaps to fluctuate unpredictably—the lessons from Newlove's farm resonate far beyond Zambia's borders. The combination of traditional knowledge, local resources, and entrepreneurial spirit offers a roadmap for farmers facing similar challenges in other parts of the world. While no single solution can address the complex web of factors driving fertilizer prices, the bokashi approach demonstrates that alternatives exist.
For now, Newlove continues to tend her fields, harvest her vegetables, and teach others what she has learned. The bags of fertilizer at her market stall serve as a quiet rebuke to the global supply chain disruptions that have caused so much hardship. In a year defined by conflict and economic strain, her farm stands as a testament to the power of self-reliance and the enduring value of agricultural wisdom passed down through generations.
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