Borlaug Scholar Samuel Ipinyomi’s path from stew pots to greenhouses is a masterclass in blending tradition with cutting-edge science.
When Samuel Ipinyomi picks up his guitar after a long day of working on Fusarium wilt resistance in tomatoes, he’s not just seeking comfort—he’s tuning into the deeper rhythms that connect food, culture, and science.
Now a Ph.D candidate in plant breeding at the University of Florida and a 2025 National Association for Plant Breeding (NAPB) Borlaug Scholar, Ipinyomi’s story is one of persistence, cultural memory, and a profound belief in the future of African science. But his journey didn’t begin in a high-tech lab. It started at the family dinner table in Nigeria, in the aroma of Sunday stew.
“Growing up, one of my favorite foods was white rice and stew—the stew made from tomatoes,” he recalls with a smile. “We didn’t eat tomatoes like a fruit. We turned them into a paste for stew. And Sunday stew? That was the king of meals in our house.”
West African beef and tomato stew, also called red stew, is a widely eaten stew in many parts of the region. This emotional connection to food fueled Ipinyomi’s path through plant science. He first worked on rice as an undergraduate. Then, driven by his love of tomatoes, he hoped to pivot to them during his master’s. But again, the right mentor or program wasn’t available. The pattern repeated during his Ph.D. search—except this time, opportunity and passion finally aligned.
Today, Ipinyomi works to outsmart Fusarium wilt, a fungal disease that devastates tomato crops. It’s a battle breeders have fought for decades. But for him, it’s not about eliminating the pathogen entirely.
“It’s an arms race,” he says. “We’re not trying to wipe out the disease—we’re trying to make resistance last longer. If I can give farmers 20, 30, 40 years without worrying about this disease, that’s a win.”
While the science is complex, Ipinyomi never forgets the roots of his work—or the community he represents. As chair of the African Plant Science Symposium, he’s building bridges between continents, classrooms, and lived experiences.
“I know what it feels like to be a student in Africa,” he says. “I know the gaps—lack of exposure, limited facilities—but I also know the brilliance. My job is to help bridge that gap. I’m on both sides now.”
That perspective powers his leadership style as a mentor to other African students. “Our background is not a disadvantage,” he emphasizes. “It’s a challenge to grow. I came into labs where I knew the theory but had never touched the tools. I had to unlearn and relearn. That makes you resilient.”
That resilience echoes in every note he plays on his guitar—his nightly ritual, his source of renewal.
“Graduate school is stressful,” he says. “Sometimes the science isn’t working, you’re stuck, you’ve read too many papers. Music helps me reset. It calibrates me.”
He plans to open his Ph.D defense with a musical performance.
“Even if someone in the room doesn’t understand the science, they’ll feel the message through music,” he says. “Music is like food—it connects us emotionally, instantly.”
At 33, Ipinyomi is already living a future many young scientists in Africa dream of. But he doesn’t see success as a solo performance. As a Borlaug Scholar—an honor named for the father of the Green Revolution—he sees the title not as a trophy, but a responsibility.
“To be recognized in Borlaug’s name—it’s not just an award, it’s a call to duty,” he says. “He may be gone, but through this program, he lives in us. The first Green Revolution may be over, but we’re the ones who will lead the next.”
