A Legacy Rooted in the Soil: The Beginnings of Aldka Organic Farm
The Deep Roots of Date Farming in Alghat
Date farming is not just agriculture—it is ancestry. In my family, it is a tradition passed down through generations, rooted deeply in the soils of Alghat, our hometown in Saudi Arabia. For hundreds of years, date palms have grown alongside our family story, witnessing seasons of plenty and years of hardship, always giving, always enduring. This legacy is not just about produce; it is about pride, continuity, and a sacred connection to land and time.
The Unique Geography and Climate of Alghat
Alghat, located approximately 250 kilometers northwest of Riyadh, sits on the edge of the Najd plateau and the Wadi Al-Rummah basin. Its geography is unique—an ancient oasis nestled between rocky outcrops and fertile valleys. With an elevation that moderates the intense summer heat, and a climate that offers long, dry summers and short, cool winters, Alghat provides the ideal microclimate for growing dates. The soil is mineral-rich, with natural access to underground water, and the high diurnal temperature variation—hot days and cooler nights—helps concentrate sugars in the fruit, leading to exceptional taste and texture. It is no coincidence that date palms have thrived here for centuries; this land was made for them.
From Casual to Committed: The Turning Point
I was raised with this heritage, but for many years, I stood at its edge. I invested in farms from a young age—my first at 23—but I was, by all accounts, a casual farmer. More accurately, I was an absentee one. My life was shaped by the pace and demands of urban work, far from the farms that carried my family’s heritage.
That changed in 1999, when I moved to Riyadh. Being in close proximity to Alghat rekindled something in me. I found myself in between jobs and, for the first time in a long time, unhurried. I decided to start something new—something personal. I worked a plot of land given to me by my beloved parents, may Allah bless their souls, with the idea of building a sustainable farm, and eventually, a family home on it. It would be a place not for profit, but for peace.
The Bustan: A Traditional Garden and Refuge
In our culture, this kind of farm is called a Bustan. Historically, the Bustan was a lifeline for urban dwellers in small villages and towns. These were highly productive gardens, where water was precious and every centimeter of irrigated land was maximized. People grew dates, figs, grapes, vegetables, forage crops, and kept animals—not just for subsistence, but to sustain their livelihoods. The Bustan was where families generated income, fed themselves, and thrived under resource scarcity.
And yet, for me, it was also something else. It was my retreat and haven—a place to step away from the rush of city life and reconnect with something elemental. It could be both: a space of function and of refuge.
Early Memories and Natural Features of the Land
Even before it was a farm, the land called to me. I remember sitting atop the sand dunes that border the site, imagining what could be. One of my earliest memories of Aldka is not of palm trees or buildings, but of bare desert land, marked only by potential. On one side, a majestic sand dune; on the other, a wide-open floodplain that caught runoff from the Tuwaiq mountain range. These seasonal floodwaters deposited layers of sediments and minerals, naturally enriching the soil. Beneath the surface, sweet groundwater was accessible and plentiful. I sat there and tried to see the future. Now, years later, I am fortunate enough to witness it.
Building a Self-Sustaining Ecosystem
The initial vision was modest: a few date palms, some sheep and goats, and a patch for growing animal feed. A self-sustaining ecosystem. But like most journeys that begin with simplicity, the path quickly became more complex. The original idea gave way to reality, and over time, the direction of the farm began leaning more and more toward date cultivation. The animals were gradually phased out. One thing, however, remained unchanged from day one: no chemicals, no pesticides, no insecticides.
Organic Farming: Intent Over Trend
This was not a conscious “organic” choice—at least, not in the marketing sense. At that time, organic farming wasn’t even widely discussed. My decision was based purely on intent: to create a safe space for my family, especially my children, free of harmful residues. I wanted to keep the land clean and pure. The idea of Aldka being a commercial farm didn’t exist—it was a haven, not a business.
Transformation Through Challenge
Progress came slowly, organically. We financed irrigation by selling offshoots. We planted in phases, using only what we could afford. Every decision was deliberate. Until 2006, I was still tied up in a demanding job, so the farm remained mostly in the hands of caretakers. That year, however, I experienced a serious medical event that altered the course of my life. I stepped back from my career and sought refuge in the one place that brought clarity—Aldka Farm.
And that’s when I truly began to farm.
Rediscovering Lost Knowledge
What followed was a transformation—from absentee landowner to hands-on caretaker. My curiosity was insatiable. I began asking why at every turn. Why are we doing it this way? What does the data say? How did our forefathers manage this challenge? The deeper I dug, the more I realized how much knowledge had been lost between generations. The elders had lived off the land, relying—after the grace of Allah—on their deep, intuitive understanding. My generation had mostly left the soil behind.
So I searched. I asked questions. I spoke to old farmers in Alghat, revisited fading traditions, and traveled abroad. I met with date growers in Yuma, Arizona. I tapped into school networks and global farming forums. I tested, studied, and experimented. Each season brought a new problem to solve and a new opportunity to learn—excessive skin on dates, color irregularities, fungal diseases. We kept evolving, always guided by the same values.
Beyond Organic: The Shift Toward Regenerative Farming
Over time, “organic” became a buzzword. More and more farmers began transitioning toward organic practices, and certifications started to emerge. But for me, this was never about chasing trends. I had begun to understand something deeper: organic is not enough. That realization began our shift toward regenerative farming—a concept we’ll explore fully in the second article of this series.
Regenerative farming goes beyond eliminating harmful inputs. It is about restoring life to the soil, enhancing biodiversity, building long-term fertility, and increasing resilience. It means looking at every tree, every drop of water, and every handful of soil not just as a resource, but as a responsibility.
Reviving Old Practices and Embracing New Materials
We sought to revive old practices—using the soil around the date palms not only for protection from weeds but as a growing medium for beneficial organisms. We looked to the canopy of the mature palms as natural climate regulators, allowing us to grow other crops underneath—both for added income and to enhance the soil’s biological life.
But principles alone weren’t enough. We needed quality materials to enrich the land. This led us to explore compost and biochar, which we’ll detail in Article 3. Compost, when made right, is not just decayed matter—it’s microbial life, carbon, and minerals. Biochar, a form of carbon-rich charcoal, helps retain moisture, balance soil pH, and create long-term structure for soil ecosystems. Finding consistent, high-quality sources was difficult, but essential to our journey.
We began producing our own. We developed a blend using dry date matter, animal manure sourced from nearby farms, green mulch, and biochar produced directly on the farm. For the biochar, we repurposed date material that had too much fiber for composting, converting it into a high-carbon, porous amendment ideal for our sandy soil. The result was a locally-sourced, nutrient-rich input that honored our farm’s circular ethos—nothing wasted, everything reused.
Modern Agricultural Technologies and Water Efficiency
In parallel, we embraced modern agricultural technologies, which we’ll explore in Article 4. We began using date bagging systems to protect fruit during development—improving quality, appearance, hygiene, and reducing the incidence of fungal disease. We installed moisture sensors that measured soil saturation and allowed us to fine-tune our irrigation schedule. The result? We cut water use by more than 50% while improving date quality. Less, indeed, can be more.
A New Vision for Farming in Arid Regions
What began as a personal haven became part of a wider realization—that the future of farming in arid regions must look very different from the past. We are not simply tending trees. We are rebuilding trust in the land. And even a water source as sweet and seemingly abundant as ours must be used with the utmost care and restraint. Sustainability is no longer a choice—it is the only way forward.
Finally, in Article 5, we’ll share where Aldka Farm stands today—and where we hope to go. What started as a Bustan, born of family, necessity, and imagination, has grown into more than that. We are still learning, still experimenting. But we are committed—to the land, to the legacy, and to leaving behind a place better than we found it.