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- Farmers around Tzaneen are fighting the scourge of avocado theft driven by rising demand.
- Thousands of tons of avos have been stolen in the last five years, with an average of 24 million rand per year in losses per year.
- A leader of the patrol complains that the police do not take the avocado theft “seriously enough” because “it is not a murder or a burglary.”
Flashing green and white lights illuminated the night as the three private security vehicles entered the closed orchard, breaking through the darkness that enveloped the farm in northern South Africa.
Long shadows fell on the moonlit tracks as the trucks passed hundreds of neatly lined avocado trees, their branches laden with plump dark green fruit almost ready for harvest.
Patrol leader Marius Jacobs squinted over the wheel, smoking a cigarette as he scanned the plantation for thieves.
Farmers in the sleepy tropical town of Tzaneen are battling the scourge of avocado theft fueled by growing global demand for this nutrient-rich fruit.
Thousands of tons of avocados have been stolen in the last five years, according to the South African Subtropical Growers Association.
Average annual losses in South Africa, one of the main avocado producers on the continent, is around R24 million.
“It gets more and more, and it’s a lot,” said Jacobs, 34, opening a can of energy drink.
“This is not because someone is hungry, this is a working union,” he added.
“Avo is green gold.”
Faced with increasingly frequent raids, farmers have invested heavily in fences and private security.
Jacobs and his team, backed by dogs, now patrol more than 20 mostly avocado farms per night, complementing more than 150 guards who manage orchards on foot.
Gangs caught red-handed are handed over to the police.
“This is where we took a (minibus) fully loaded with avos,” recalled duty manager Manuel Malatjie, 28, pointing to the site of a recently foiled raid.
“We’re doing our best (but) it’s getting bad.”
The sound of clipping filled the air as workers sliced hanging avocados with picking sticks, filling as many bags as possible before the midday heat.
March marks the beginning of the South African avocado harvest season, and the run-up is the prime time for the robbery.
Farmer Edrean Ernst, 40, predicts a loss of R250,000 in stolen avocados this year, despite spending millions of rand on security and fencing.
The 250 hectares (617 acres) of orchards that belong to the Allesbeste family farm are nestled among hills, surrounded by lush forests and other crops.
“Because it is very rural, the police or security companies cannot patrol such a large area effectively,” Ernst told AFP.
“He plays the game of criminals.”
Allesbeste, which exports at least 1,500 tonnes of avocados a year, was targeted no less than 20 times in 2019 and 2020.
In a single raid, a truckload of thieves can leave with a ton of avocados uprooted from the trees, a crop that would take the average farm worker more than 13 hours to carefully harvest.
Large-scale operations can snatch up to 30 tons per theft.
Most of the stolen product is premium fruit destined for export, mainly to Europe, where it can be sold to wholesalers for up to 10 euros ($ 12) per kilogram.
South Africa was the world’s sixth largest avocado exporter in 2019, selling fruit worth $ 70.66 million, according to UN trade figures. Mexico ranked first, with $ 2.78 billion.
“It’s a cat and mouse game,” Ernst said.
The increased security only deters thieves for a “couple of months,” he added, after which they change tactics and strike again.
A sparsely distributed police force and the high cost of private security play in the looters’ favor.
Allesbeste is one of the most opulent farms in the area, but it can only afford to fence half the property and fewer than a dozen guards on patrol.
“Because it is so expensive, you try to keep it to a minimum,” Ernst explained.
Smaller farms are even more exposed.
“Some guys come with big pangas (machetes),” said Phillip Mofokeng, manager of two 83-hectare tall tree orchards full of fruit.
“You can’t maintain the amount of security that you really want … you don’t have that budget,” he said, pointing to a fence that easily overlooks the highway.
Several farms in the area were forced to reduce security last year to make up for coronavirus-related losses, raising further concern about the 2021 batch.
Security agents feared that the theft, already driven by poverty and unemployment before the pandemic, would only get worse.
Plastic boxes of avocado were stacked in the warehouse of a fresh market on the outskirts of Tzaneen.
Each batch was carefully labeled with a barcode that linked it to its supplying farm, one of several measures to certify that the product was not stolen.
Market agent Mauritz Swart, 31, noted that the small pieces of stem are still attached to the top of each fruit, preventing fungus and oxidation.
Thieves don’t have time to properly cut avocados from the tree. Its tearing action leaves a large hole in the fruit that later never ripens.
Easily identifiable to the informed eye, the stolen avocados are mostly sold on the sides of the roads to unsuspecting travelers.
“These types flood the informal market,” Swart said, adding that prices were negatively affected as a result.
Along the way, green nets of stemless avocados hung in front of the corrugated iron fruit stands.
At R30 per kilo, they were six times cheaper than supermarket prices.
The vendors said they came from a nearby “market.”
Intermediaries make it difficult to locate unions.
Police don’t take avocado theft “seriously enough,” Jacobs added, because “it’s not a murder or a burglary.”
Provincial police spokesman Moatshe Ngoepe argued that the crime was rarely reported.
But farmers say more is at stake than lost income, pointing to thousands of jobs at risk.
Many also fear that the sale of stolen fruit harvested prematurely could stifle rising domestic demand.
They will never mature to be “nice and soft,” Ernst worried. “That will make our South African consumers less inclined to buy avos.”
