There are people at the root of those profits 1.20.11

Home in La Valencia

Today we visited La Valencia. We drove our little van, packed with 30 people, 5 per row, as far as it would travel. Then we hopped out of the van, and began to walk. We walked up the volcano for about 20 plus minutes until we reached a home. We stopped at that home and the family came out to meet us, really two child

ren came out to meet us. One was 6 years old, the other about 10 years old. Our host in the community explained their role in the coffee production.

We learned that the family receives one dollar for every 25 pounds of coffee that they gather. One dollar. And the 6-year-old child also works, in order to support the family. They said she is one of the best workers. She had dirt on her face and “New York” spelled across her shirt. She had a sweet smile that could be seen through that dirt.

And so for the first time, I saw the reality of the coffee trade. I had heard stories before of families such as this family. I had understood the value of fair trade. But I had not seen this little girl’s face. I had not seen her home. I had not walked the same path that her family walks to get water.

Something in me hurt. Not my legs from walking. Not my shoulders from sunburn. Not my stomach from my new diet. Instead, my heart hurt and my mind as well from trying to process this experience. I needed to know more. I asked about who buys the coffee. I learned that this family sells to a man who comes to their community to buy what they have collected. Beyond that man, details were unclear. Our Casa community coordinators believed that this man would have been some sort of middleman, who bought the coffee directly from the growers, and then sold it again. It is unclear to me, for now, who else is involved. But from the family that I visited, it is clear that they primarily interact with this one man. Once they have sold the coffee to him, they would begin to collect the crop again, until he returns.

Who is there to tell them that they deserve more than one dollar for every 25 pounds? It is certainly not this middleman. And who am I to buy coffee for nearly twice that much in every cup from each coffee chain, now knowing that that grower will not receive my dollars? This family does not see that profit, or the power that comes with a sustainable income, which could begin to relieve their poverty. Instead, their pockets and their stomachs turn to other sources of income when coffee just is not enough.

These are the stories I did not have time for at school. I had homework to finish and meetings to attend. I assumed that I understood the stories of these people and the value in fair trade that would keep them from living in poverty, as this family in La Valencia lives without a fair price. But when that home with a tin roof and the children working long hours stood before me, I realized how little I understood, not of the logistics in my head, but of the hurt of this family. Solidarity is becoming more real to me. Walking with these people is real, and learning of their hurt, and feeling it in my own heart is real as well. It is a hurt I will carry with me now when I use my dollars. There are people at the end of those dollars, at the root of those profits.