This weekend’s trip to the coffee finca was an experience I could have never anticipated. It was full of those moments where you ask yourself “Is this really happening?” I’ll do my best to narrate the story with descriptions and photos, but sadly I don’t think this blog can do it justice (I will apologize ahead of time for it’s length).
The trip began at 8:30 Saturday morning when our group met Kate at the Farmacia. Kate is the woman who is in charge of our group. She grew up in Minnesota and moved to Xela 3 years ago to teach English. She found Somos Hermanos last year and this is her first time supervising a Somos group. She is bilingual, on call for us 24/7 and is available to help us with any problems we might have. She joined us on our trip.
After meeting, Kate walked us to the microbus that was going to take us from Xela to Colomba. I’ve attached a picture of the size of the bus. In total, we were 15 people with backpacks, and we thought to ourselves, there is no way we can all fit in here! But we sure did. And in the 2 hour drive from Xela to Colomba, we fit a maximum of 30 people (plus a cat) in that one van. It was insane! Because we were the first on the bus, we were all squished into the corners of the vehicle. People just kept coming and going, fitting into the bus in any way possible and at times hanging off the edge with one foot and one hand attached, or sitting on the top of the bus in the luggage rack, or standing on the rear bumper of the bus holding on. The cat was a total surprise, and sounded a constant, cranky meow (a lot like one of Sydney’s toys) for the half hour it rode with us. Although the beginning of the trip was not exactly fun, the end was worse. The roads got windy and my stomach very unhappy. I stared straight ahead and told myself I would not throw up because that was not an option, seeing as I was in the middle of the bus, squished between people I did not know. I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled into the main square in Colomba, a small city west of Xela.
Our trip was far from over. After using public restrooms, we walked to this large truck full of bags of corn. A nice Guatemalan man wearing a T-Shirt that said “Florida” told us to get in the back of the truck. Before getting in, I asked the guy if he was from Florida and he said “yes” so I got all excited and told him I was as well. He just smiled. The ride from Colomba consisted of the group of us standing on bags of corn, holding on to the sides of the truck. The ride was actually very fun. It was nice to get fresh air after being on the microbus, and it almost felt like a rollercoaster, standing and cruising down the road, looking at the beautiful views. Then the road abruptly switched from pavement to gravel and then to a makeshift dirt pathway. For the next 45 minutes, we put our faith in the 19 year old boy driving this massive truck as we turned hairpin corners that with one wrong move would send us tumbling over the edge of the mountain.
When we arrived at the Finca, I saw that the name was Florida. I realized that the Gutemalan man and I were not from the same Florida, and I felt a little crazy. The finca was literally in the middle of nowhere. It was a strange feeling, knowing that you were essentially unreachable. The accommodations were much like camping. There was running water (kind of) and rooms with beds. The beds were made out of straw and the house itself was very old. Hundreds of years ago, it was the house of plantation owners. It definitely needed some serious renovation. We settled into our rooms and then took a 30 minute stroll around the land as a group. We didn’t find much, but it was nice to walk around in the sun, stretch out our legs, and stand on steady ground.
The families at the finca fed us lunch. Groups of 4 went to different houses. Lunch that day was good, a soup of noodles, potatoes and carrots. We ate at the house, which was actually one large multipurpose room. There were 8 beds surrounding the edges and a large table in the middle for us to eat (I’ve attached a picture of one half of the house). The kitchen was separate from the house, but the strong smell and smoke from the open wood fire stove filled the room. We spoke with a man who lived in the house, and discovered that there were two families living in that one house. He and his wife had 7 children, the youngest being a year and a half and the eldest being 16, I believe. I cannot remember details about the other family. We sat for a while and talked, and once we finished our lunch, we weren’t really sure what to do. Kate had not told us to leave when we were finished, but we felt our welcome coming to an end as the man left the table to put his child to bed for a nap. It was an awkward 10 minutes, just sitting there with not much to say, not knowing what to do. Finally, with a “muchas gracias” we left the table and walked back to our cabin. It turns out everyone else got the memo it was time to leave because we were the last group back.
That afternoon it rained cats and dogs, lighting and thundered like crazy. We spent the time away playing cards and talking. It was weird having nothing to do but relax… no internet, telephone, TV, etc. At 3:15, the “Florida” guy came to our cabin to tell us his story and the story of the finca. He spoke Spanish and Kate translated his sentences for us. I enjoyed hearing him speak. You could tell he was proud of what his community had accomplished. He spoke in a manner that showed how much he valued hard work. His energy to face the challenges ahead was evident. Much of the time I understood the main gist of what he was saying, but it was helpful to have Katie translating for us.
He began his story in 1980, describing the horrible conditions for himself and his family, the war and civil conflict in Guatemala. In the 90s, his family and community became religious, and Catholicism helped them to understand the meaning of working for the benefit of all. Families came together to build a community that could fight for better working conditions and worked towards the goal of obtaining their own land. But, as he explained, it was difficult to form any sort of group during this time because leaders were accused of banding against Guatemala and risked being tortured and/or killed.
There are many details to his story. Some I do not remember, and others would take a lot of typing to explain. On October 11, 2002, forty families walked on to the land they own today and legally called it their own. The worked hard to pay off loans for the land, and on April 29, 2005 (I think) they officially gained ownership. Each year, this day is used as a day of celebration where everyone breaks from work and cooks and plays together. The 40 original families still work in the community together. It is a cooperative where everyone puts forth effort. New families are not allowed in, although those from “Florida” are willing to discuss their struggle and help them to understand what it takes to achieve success equal to “Florida.”
All of the coffee that is produced in “Florida” gets exported to Holland. The finca also grows bananas and macadamia nuts, although these products are sold only within Guatemala. The families work on the finca land Monday through Friday and earn 30 Q a day, which equates to about $4 a day. On Saturdays, they tend to their own small patch of land so that they can feed their families. Sunday is always a day of rest from work.
After listening to the history of the Finca, we were free until dinner at 7. Rachel, Sarah and I walked around the grounds, thinking and talking. The strong sense of community is truly wonderful, and the ability to be totally self-sustainable is a worthy characteristic. However, we wondered if the children of the community ever wanted more. They only receive school up to grade 6, and from there they become a working part of the family. While this seems to us a very sheltered and enclosed life, if it is all you know, and all your family has ever known, then is it really all that disappointing? We concluded that there really isn’t a correct answer to a question like that.
As we were walking, we passed a house that had a guard dog. We were not planning on entering the property, just walking past. We figured the dog would leave us alone. Not true. Instead he calls over 6 friends and before we know it, 7 angry dogs are charging towards us! NOT Sydney friends. We knew that keeping calm was paramount, so we turned around and walked as quickly/calmly as possible to get away. One dog actually jumped on Rachel. We did get away safely, but it was a moment that certainly got the heart pumping (We learned later that dogs are afraid of rocks, so if you pretend to pick up a rock and throw it at them, they back away and leave you alone. We discovered this as we walked past the dogs with our group on Sunday and our guide did just that. The dogs left us alone).
Dinner that night was back at the same house as lunch. We had empanadas. It was really dark, so I’m not exactly sure what was in them, but it tasted like a mix of vegetables. They were quite good! That night, after dinner, there wasn’t much to do because it was so dark. The finca produces its own electricity by running water, but it doesn’t provide much for light. We hung out on the porch for a long time, telling stories and joking around. At one point, I went with Sherry and Kate to talk to a group of children from the community. They were hanging out in one of the big rooms on the first floor of the house, doing all sorts of acrobatic tricks. We watched them for a while and ended up playing the card game “spoons” or in Spanish “cucharas.” I vividly remember playing this game at home during cross country hangouts in high school, and it is a little crazy to think that 4 years later I was teaching the same game to a group of Spanish children in the middle of nowhere.
I was extremely grateful for my cocoon Saturday night. I had no idea how “cocoon-ish” it really is! I have attached a picture, but you can literally cover every inch of your body and leave a hole to help you breath. And, it is pretty roomy too, so you don’t feel claustrophobic (thanks Don and Pat!). Everyone was very paranoid about bugs, because there were these bugs that gave some pretty nasty bites. We sprayed bug spray before going to bed, and with the combination I did not get any bug bites that night (although I’m pretty sure my lungs didn’t appreciate it too much). I did not really want to sleep on a straw mattress under very old covers, so I slept on top of everything in my cocoon. Even though I wore numerous layers, I was cold the whole night. I woke up every two hours just wishing it was daylight so I could get up and move around.
The day started early with a 7am breakfast. My group had these fried potato things and salsa. I was not so much a fan, but there were very delicious fresh tortillas, so I had three of those. After, we had a village man show us around the land. We saw coffee plants, learned all about harvesting and preparing coffee beans, learned how the community produces its own electricity and saw the most beautiful green sights. The tour was extremely buggy, but I wore jeans and my very geeky hiking button down, SPF, bug repellent, light breathing hiking shirt. I looked like a dork, but I am the only one that didn’t worry about bugs the whole time, and managed to survive the trip sans bites. So, I say it was worth it.
I took a ton of pictures, but a camera cannot do the same as actually seeing the landscape. Our guide showed us medicinal plants for everything. I found it amazing that he knew exactly what plant did what, and I could hardly tell the difference between the leaves! We were given the opportunity to pick oranges from a tree with a bamboo stick, and were free to eat them. They were a type of orange that can be eaten while still green, and they tasted so good! We also got fresh bananas from the tree. I have never in my life enjoyed such a sweet, perfectly ripened, organic, straight from the tree, banana.
Lunch was at 12, and we had a version of chicken lomein. Kate said she had explained that I was vegetarian, and that I would not have to worry about eating meat, but they must not have understood. It wasn’t really a huge deal. Out of respect I did eat what I could, because I know that meat is not a common food to be served and they were giving us the best they had. But after seeing the pieces of chicken that were mixed in with the noodles (I’m pretty sure the entire chicken was in the mixture) my stomach turned a little too much. I had visions of losing my lunch on the drive back, and I decided to not eat more.
Our plan was to leave the finca early so that we would beat the rain. Instead of the large corn truck that had brought us to “Florida,” we were taking a red pickup, and piling all 15 of us in the back. We were all packed up and ready to head out when a community member came to tell us that a pregnant woman was beginning labor and needed to be taken to the hospital. The truck drove to pick the woman up before we loaded on, and as we waited the 20 minutes, the booming thunder began and the menacing looking storm clouds came closer.
Just as we piled on the truck, the rain started. At first it was just a drizzle, but it quickly turned into a torrential downpour. Luckily, the driver had a large blue tarp that we put over the back of the truck. Although we stayed relatively dry, we were all stuck under the stuffy tarp. As we went down the same gravel/dirt path hairpin turns, we were essentially part of a river (made from all the rainwater flowing down the mountain). Then, as if things couldn’t get more complicated, the truck lurches forward (spraying water all over me), stalls out and the car battery dies.
Note: At this point 18 people are stuffed into the back of a pickup with a blue tarp covering them, half of us are soaking wet, we are stalled out with a dead battery in the middle of a dirt road/river on the side of a mountain, a woman is in the front seat of the truck going into labor, and it is torrentially down pouring.
Eventually, with the help of two others, the driver was able to recharge the battery and we were off. Once off the gravel road, the ride got smoother. But, since we could now go at higher speeds, the tarp above us started going crazy and we had to hold on to it for dear life. Needless to say, when we pulled into the main square of Colomba, we were much relieved.
The rest of the trip home was wet and cold, but otherwise simple. We rode a microbus, but it was not nearly as crowded (probably because it was Sunday and most people here don’t travel on Sunday). I took a Dramamine so that I wouldn’t get sick, and by that time the drowsiness had set in. I woke up as we pulled into Xela, and although it miraculously wasn’t raining then, I was chilled to the bone. I returned to my house extremely happy to be back. I jumped into a semi-warm shower, and quickly put on as many clothes as possible.
I was still shivering when Señora Patti called us in for dinner, and she was very concerned that I was cold, scolding me and telling me that I needed to go to bed early because I was going to get sick from being wet and cold all day. I enjoyed the warm dinner of rice and zucchini and drank a large cup of steaming hot café.
This is an extremely long post, but I hope the descriptions give you some idea of how crazy this trip was. It was a great experience and I learned so much! Although I must say, I am happy to be back in Xela.
I ran out of time to post all the pictures because it takes forever, but I'll do more later!
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