When growing up in Nigeria, my father made it a duty to go to the farm. Hence we were all farmers in the making, my late father. If he wasn’t an accountant or nurse, he would have been a farmer, and he knew it. He would drag all of us to the numerous farms he had, where we grew either yam, cassava, sweet potato, corn, guinea corn, rice, etc.. He would drag all of us to the farm some of the evenings where we would use hoes and cutlasses. If we tried to avoid my father, we had my mother to deal with. She has involved in the processing of the farm produces to its products. She also had poultry, where we had chickens and turkey. Later it dawned on my parents that they should do it for cheaper if they got professionals to do it or even a tractor, but by this time, we had become proficient in using these implements. And even get it at a lower price if they had concentrated on what they knew best, i.e. using their God-given talents to produce money and just brought the finished prod