In the grand spectrum of side hustles, whose bright idea was it to add beekeeping to the mix? Most people would be happy earning a few extra bucks selling old shoes on eBay, but not Mohammed Ibrahim. Oh no, for him, the sweet allure of buzzing bees proved more irresistible than a clearance sale at Amazon.
Meet Mohammed: a nonchalant research and development engineer at Keysight Technologies by day and a bee whisperer by night. “I’m a second-generation beekeeper,” he proudly states, adding a touch of drama worthy of a soap opera. After all, who wouldn’t want to awkwardly reminisce about being introduced to bees in sixth grade by their veterinarian father? Forget that childhood teddy bear; who needs it when you have a hive of honey at your disposal?
Last year, he launched Buzzu LLC. It’s a fancy name for a tiny empire that sells honey—presumably harvested without a single sting to his ego—and offers beekeeping services. According to Ibrahim, his clients can enjoy the sweet taste of honey or receive mentorship in the fine art of avoiding bee stings. Buzzu’s pricing model is akin to an artisanal cheese shop, ranging from $125 to $475, depending on how many bees you unintentionally invite into your life.
While his moonlighting gig might sound trivial, he’s taking it very seriously—so seriously that he’s taken over the apiary at the Keysight campus, which boasts nearly 200 acres of preserved nature. “I help my employer understand the important role bees play in preserving our ecosystem,” he claims, sounding like a superhero whose power is getting people to appreciate tiny flying insects. A noble cause, indeed—but let’s be honest, most of us would just prefer to focus on how to avoid stepping on a bee in our backyard.
True Love—or Just Allergy?
After a few years of focus elsewhere, Ibrahim’s beekeeping hobby swung back into gear in May 2021 when a swarm took up residence in his backyard. Naturally, he took this as a cosmic sign that he shouldn’t just binge-watch Netflix anymore. “I realized it was time to get back into beekeeping,” he says. Perhaps, but do bees really need to know about your existential crises?
The Buzz About Community
Shortly after reconnecting with his buzzing friends, he hopped on the membership wagon for the Sonoma County Beekeepers Association (because who wouldn’t want to befriend fellow bee enthusiasts?). He’s now served two terms on their board, proving that if you can’t catch a swarm, just run for office instead. Shannon Carr, the program director, explains how they help create a better environment for bees and pollinators. “Bees need love, too,” she quips, perhaps forgetting that these are insects that also have a knack for making honey—humanity’s favorite liquid sugar.
As if managing a small business while holding down a full-time job isn’t busy enough, Ibrahim teaches a “Beekeeping 101” course. The irony? He supposedly limits his SCBA participation to weekends and evenings, which probably means he’s sacrificing his social life one bee at a time. Still, his philosophy is clear: educate the masses. “My goal is to promote responsible beekeeping,” he states serenely, while the bees around him buzz in agreement, or possibly plotting their next escape.
In a world where most side hustles range from hosting cat yoga to selling artisanal pickles, one has to commend Ibrahim for taking the honey route. While his friends—like Scott Hassler—are busy learning the fine art of beekeeping alongside him, we can’t help but wonder: will we ever reach Buzz Lightyear levels of appreciation for these tiny creatures? Maybe, just maybe, through the sweet taste of honey and a side of irony, we just might.
