Enga mellom fjella

Letter to María Celeste [176] (coffee) [431 words]

Letter to María Celeste

Santa María de Dota, 2 de agosto 2024

Querida María Celeste,

You are named after this ghost-town. What was. What may be again. You're our hope. My daughter, your great-grandmother has gone to CATIE in Turrialba where they study coffee to find a cure. The stars say you'll be the one to find it.

I have no idea when that will be. No idea where to send this letter. Your mother isn't born yet.

I must tell you how it once was. Our family has lived among these verdant slopes for generations. We planted and picked our own. Then families gathered to form a co-op. We grew only the highest quality varieties, knew when beans would be ripe. We took care of our bushes planting new ones every 30 years, harvesting the wood to keep us warm and roast the beans. Every May the fragrance of coffee in bloom would gladden out hearts. We even carefully gathered a few flowers for tea. Now sitting with a friend over a cup and inhaling that fragrance must remain a cherished memory.

Every year there would be a competition in Costa Rica. Coopedota always did well competing against our rival Tarrazú. We were the best.

Coffee. We were encouraged to drink a cup every morning for the energy it gave, savored by those of us who knew how to pour boiling water over properly roasted fresh ground beans. Cafe chorreado they called it.

When roya hit we struggled but when a human disease spread among our people, the borders closed and there was no one to pick the coffee. Except us. We picked our coffee like our forefathers did before us.

But we couldn't control the warming climate nor the diseases that attacked our coffee, each time worse than the last, finally killing it all off. Once it was obvious that there would be no new crop, city people hoarded it until they realized they couldn't keep it on a shelf. There would be no more coffee the headlines blared. They drank it all to the last drop.

No one thought much about us. Coffee made us; coffee destroyed us. Plant other crops they said; tobacco, avocados, papaya, whatever. We did the best we could to survive and not lose our fertile land to the foreigners who lusted after it.

On this commemoration of Our Lady of the Angels, I pray that when you find the cure these hills will welcome you back and once more the coffee culture will thrive among these greener than emerald green hills.

Until then,

doña María del Rocio.



© Kåre Enga [177.176] (15.agosto.2020) (431 words)

Photo 1 at top: Gaby Ureña explaining coffee beans to four Swedes from Göteborg. Coopedota, Santa María de Dota. 8 enero 2013.

Photo 2 at bottom: Granos de oro. Café secando por el puro sol. 8 enero 2013. Coopedota, Santa María de Dota.

Both photos taken by me.

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"The highly aggressive form of the blight that wiped out countless crops in Ireland centuries ago, has mutated and come back. Almost overnight, worldwide coffee plantations have been wiped out. What makes this blight so horrible is not only does it target coffee crops, but it also targets coffee that is stocked up in warehouses and on people's shelves.

Authorities estimate the entire world's supply of coffee will be gone within the week. This will impact businesses and people worldwide and have devastating toll on the world's economy."