Commodities

Bozos and Bozettes in the wild

It was a day to leave the tobacco fields behind. We boarded the Bozo Bus, traveling west and then south. Our destination was Matagalpa, the heart of Nicaraguan coffee country. The town of Matagalpa is perched at an elevation of 2,300 feet. Rising on all sides are the steep slopes of cloud forests where coffee is grown. Below the town, in the sun-baked lowlands, are the Beneficios. At the Beneficios are the huge drying patios where wet coffee beans are sun-dried, sorted, and bagged.

Coffee fruit are harvested by hand, processed, and washed at the farms. The wet beans have to be transported to the drying patios before the beans begin to mold. The beans have to be on the patios within twenty-four hours of coming out of the soaking tanks. It is harvest time in Matagalpa. Rickety trucks chug up and down the steep hills, each laden with a full load of wet beans. The heavy bags are carried from the trucks by hand, thrown down on the patio to break them open, then the beans are raked out flat. Almost every step of the process is hard physical labor.

The Bozo Bus labored up the steep slopes above Maltagalpa while the beans made their journey down the mountain. We passed an old Soviet tank on the side of the road, a reminder that this area was yet another battlefield during the Sandanista Revolution. The coffee farm that we were traveling to has been subject to the tides of that war. The land was taken from the owners following the revolution. One member of their family was murdered (or assassinated) in Managua. Eventually, they were able to recover about thirty percent of their farmland.

Our oasis in the Cloud Forest

Leaving the bus to fend for itself, we climbed the manicured pathways to the guesthouse. Perched on the top of the mountain, there are sweeping views of the valleys below. Clouds swept over the mountaintop, drenching everything with a fine rain. Sun, clouds, rain, more sun. Welcome to the cloud forest, and the nurturing cycle for the coffee that is grows under the shade canopy.

HIdden paths

We smoked, we lounged, we ate, we talked. It was a day for lazy reflection and conversation. When the rain blew in, the hearty few huddled under cover while the rest retreated to the warm fire burning in the guesthouse. Some of us even worked a bit.

Scribbling above the clouds

But all was not fun and games. After lunch it was time for coffee cupping. The process of coffee cupping is a slurpy, noisy affair. The ground coffee is dumped in a cup, water of the correct temperature is poured over the coffee, and the process begins. First comes the sniffing of the coffee samples, then breaking the "crust" of floating grounds, then the slurping of coffee from spoons. This is the method coffee tasters and buyers use for determining what beans they will purchase. 

The world's youngest coffee expert.

Some folks trooped off to see the farm and its processing shed. The rest of us took on the task of being lazy sods. Regardless, I believe a good time was had by all. It would be difficult to not enjoy oneself in such an idyllic setting. Even the crapper had an expansive view.

In the running for Great Toilets of the World

Coffee is not the only crop grown here.

Eventually we had to depart from our perch in the clouds. The bus ride back to Esteli included a long discussion on the commodity of coffee, including the state of workers, farmers, and coffee brokers. We weighed the merits of Free Trade, coffee co-ops, and the like. While the discussion ranged here and there, my thoughts turned to the basic commodity model of colonialism.  

From my point of view, the colonial system serves a very simple purpose. A richer and more powerful nation takes over a poorer and weaker nation. The colony established, the colonizer tries to extract all of the moveable resources of the colony at the cheapest possible cost. The colonial power reaps the benefits of the commodities, and the colonized people suffer. The inhabitants of the colonized nation or region become the cheap labor that performs the extraction of resources. 

Prior to the 'discovery' of the New World, the good folks of the Old World did not have coffee. How the hell they woke up the morning is still a matter of historical debate. Along with cacao (as chocolate) and tobacco, coffee would have a dramatic effect on the colonizer. 

Coffee houses sprang up in Merry Olde England, which was not so merry at the time. By the early 1600's, coffee houses were gathering places for disgruntled citizens who had enough money for the luxury of the brew. The royalists were pissed off at the parlimentarians and vice versa. The opposing sides would gather at their respective coffee joints, get jacked up on caffeine, and proceed to foment political plots. The result was the beheading of a king, the rise of Cromwell, and a good old English Civil War. While all these events may not be directly attributable to the availability of coffee, there are many historians who include coffee as a contributing factor. Take that, you pesky Colonizers!

Here is simple experiment: Try to get a decent cup of coffee in Nicaragua. It is very difficult to do. The beans that are left for domestic consumption are the dregs of the crop, the grades that no foreign buyer wants. Almost the entire Nicaraguan coffee crop is exported to foreign markets. What is also exported is the lion's share of the value inherent in the commodity of coffee. Once the unroasted beans leave the country, all of the value stored in the commodity goes with them. The profits that come from brokering, shipping, roasting, packaging, wholesaling, and retailing the beans, benefit the importing countries.

Jumping up on the Reverend Squeaky-Eye soap-box for one short paragraph, I will perform a quick rant. If you care to make a difference in the way commodities you consume are extracted from other nations, do your homework. One can, for example, purchase and consume coffee that is roasted and packaged in Nicaragua. In doing so, you support the Nicarguan folks that ship, roast, and package the coffee. You help create jobs for Nicaraguan folks that produce the packaging. In other words, a larger percentage of the inherent value of the commodity of coffee stays in the country of origin. Thus endeth the rant.

The Bozo Bus chugged into Esteli. Dinner was consumed, and Zee Germans were re-engaged. The night was long, the rum beleaguered, and dead soldiers accumulated. I retired before the finale, but from the collective suffering apparent at the next morning's breakfast, the rum wars were fought to a draw. It was a lucky thing for the battered celebrants the day to come was a free day, a day without agenda, a day for nursing a wicked rum battering. 

From the infamous Hotel Los Arcos, Esteli, Nicaragua: Ciao for Now.