During my recent visit to Oro Verde Cooperative in Amazonian Peru, I stayed with a number of indigenous farmers who are supplying us with an incredible cocoa. It is incredible for its taste – last month our farmers took first and third place in the World Chocolate Competition in Paris!- but it is equally as incredible for the story behind the cocoa. These brave farmers have been growing cocoa beans as a replacement for the coca they have grown in the past to feed the deadly narco-traffic in cocaine.

We were the first company to import coffee from their village called Akan Shamboyaco (it was Alto Shamboyaco until my visit, when the people decided to reclaim the full name of their village from the Spanish Alto, meaning “high”). We are also the first and only company to import their sugar, paying the villagers ten times the amount they get on the local market. Yet it is the cocoa that has the most profound impact on the villagers’ lives.

Coca is an essential part of indigenous spirituality and the daily work life of many of the indigenous groups along the Peruvian Amazon and highlands. It provides energy for working at high altitudes and essential amino acids and vitamins not readily available in local foods. No problem there. But for the last two decades outsiders have come in and morphed the benign coca plant into the essential ingredient in cocaine production. In fact, by the end of the 1990’s this area accounted for more than a quarter of all cocaine production in Peru. The farmers received good money for the coca leaves that grow so easily here, but the price many paid was higher than the income gained. Farmers were harassed by Peruvian military and often arrested and jailed. Brutal narco dealers often forced farmers to grow more and more coca, kidnapping children (especially boys) to insure compliance and to gain “recruits” for the narco battles and allied extremist movements like the Shining Path, which was largely funded by cocaine. Drug dealers also set up cocaine processing sites throughout the jungles around Akan Shamboyaco and the many rivers in the Amazon basin at the foot of the area. The processing involved many hazardous chemicals, which were left to flow into water sources, poisoning fish and making water undrinkable.

“It was a bad trade for us”, said Belmar sadly.  Belmar is a traditional leader in the village, although only in his late twenties.  We sat around a lantern at his house one night, hearing stories of political and social struggle of the people here. But Belmar brightened when he spoke of the economics of cocoa and coffee these days. “We still have a lot of problems in our community, but the money from the cocoa and the coffee is much better.  We don’t have to worry about the coca problems anymore.”

Oro Verde has done an amazing job in organizing so many isolated villages into a powerful and successful cooperative. But helping the villagers of Akan Shamboyaco to increase their income and gain independence from the cocaine trade may be the sweetest victory yet.

One of the most satisfying aspects of my work is sitting down with farm families and trying to solve a problem creatively. During my last visit to Peru, we were having a discussion with CODEMU (the Women’s Development Council) on how to insure effective participation of the women in the Oro Verde coop’s decision making. Everybody who sells Fair Trade coffee puts gender equity, etc. in their literature, but there are lots of nitty gritty reasons why women don’t fully participate, even though Fair Trade rules require it. One reason is that most of the women have kids, and as every working mom (and dad!) who is reading this knows, it is impossible to participate in a meeting when you’ve got an infant in need of a change or a two and three year old falling down, spilling a drink or crying at the injustice of the sharing impaired. (I remember once when I was a lawyer/stay at home dad I had a three way international call going on while I tried to change Sarah’s diaper- okay, just the tip of the iceberg!).

We came up with the idea of creating a day care program during assemblies, committee meetings and other gatherings of the coop. Now this may seem pretty straightforward up here, but it is not common at all in rural coffee village settings. According to Melba, the head of CODEMU, the social expectation there is that a woman will take care of the kids while doing everything else at the same time, even if it means not being able to stay in a meeting or stay focused. As a result, women are rarely effective participants in these meetings, which determine the nuts and bolts policies and practices that control their economic lives.

We co-created and funded a program to bring in day care providers, toys and a safe space for young children at the Oro Verde headquarters in Lamas. After six months, we found that it was helpful but not great – the women were having trouble finding skilled caretakers who were available for short gigs. As we analyzed the problem, it became clear that the issue was that the coop was only looking for degree-holding social workers or psychologists for daycare, as there is a knee-jerk reaction in many Latin American communities for degrees, hierarchy and licenses.  I suggested getting a list of responsible sixteen and seventeen year olds who could provide short- term oversight and care and who would love to make the money (read: slightly older babysitters!). Although this was a new concept in this rural area, Melba and the women of CODEMU thought it might work. The big annual meeting is coming up in April, so we will see how it works.

Small steps, shared ideas, a little help from your friends. That is how we build community around the coffee world.