Finding myself more than one month into my work here in Cameroon and this being only my second blog post, I’ll first apologize for the inattention I’ve shown in updating my efforts and progress. There’s much to tell, and with apologies out of the way I’ll get right to it.
The months of July and August are without doubt the heart of the rainy season here. There are stretches of days – they seem at times unrelenting – that open and close with the sweet, soothing and always rhythmic beat of rain on a tin roof. The lighter rains play softly, and if you’re willing they’ll put you right to sleep. The harder ones pound roofs in a deafening rage and feel more like an assault than a weather pattern. Helpless and trapped, the only thing to do is wait. It’s a sound that becomes as much a part of life during these months as the ritual morning cup of coffee. Those rare dry days of repose become anomalies, completely unexpected and entirely out of place. Oh right, the coffee.
In a farmer’s life, or anyone working with farmers, these rains are a blessing and a curse – fundamentally essential for crops to grow but incredibly inconvenient for the physical work itself. Throw the work week out the window. Your work hours during these months are dictated entirely by the weather. Some days its deciding when the rain is light enough to work anyway and others its feeling brave enough to just get drenched. And the mud, oh the mud.
And so working within the shockingly unsympathetic framework of the rains, I spent my first month getting settled, getting to know my new community, and doing some serious research/planning/networking for the coffee project. The rest of the time I’ve simply spent drying off.
I’m living in the West Province of Cameroon, in the small mountain town of Baham, about 20 minutes southwest of the provincial capital Bafoussam. Hard population statistics aren’t easy to come by – estimates run anywhere between 20,000 and 35,000, but it feels much smaller. The paved road from Bafoussam to the port city of Douala runs through the center and lends some semblance of development, leading locals to call it a small town as opposed to a big village. My house is about a kilometer from the pavement, in a densely populated neighborhood on a rough dirt road. My neighbors are wonderful people, quick with a warm greeting and always interested in my work and well-being. The current population of Cameroon is heavy on children, and my neighborhood is no exception. There’s constant activity; kids running around, playing soccer, dancing, singing, screaming, laughing, crying, and, inevitably, spying on me to see how the American lives. I had a healthy dose of this lack of privacy as a Peace Corps volunteer – foreigners, especially those with lighter skin, become celebrities of sorts, sometimes more spectacle than breathing human being, a solo circus – but it still took some readjustment.
I had a full audience a few days ago washing the floor of my front porch. Not terribly interesting stuff, but the kids were in absolute disbelief that an American knew how to bend down and scrub a floor and still held enough consideration to wring out the rag afterwards. I imagine they’d roll over and die if they ever saw a Frenchman washing windows. All of this is to say that being a celebrity is not so great a thing. The paparazzi should really find new work.
My own work, however, has been very interesting. I’ve divided my time thus far between visiting coffee institutions and farmers/farming groups I already knew and searching for potential new ones with whom to work.
I’ve had several visits with the farming group in Batoufam (one of the villages of my Peace Corps days), the group whose coffee I brought back with me to be roasted and evaluated in America. They’re excited to further their organic fertilization techniques and to start working on fair trade certification. I’ll start a series of trainings next week.
I’ve met with several other farming groups/individuals already working with a small Swiss coffee company in the area. The company, Schluter, is a family business that’s been operating all over the African continent for years, and working closely with Cameroonian farmers and cooperatives for the past several years. They too see great potential in the coffee of the Cameroonian highlands and share my goal of improving the quality of the coffee and, as a result, the pay and lives of the farmers.
With the future of high quality coffee depending so heavily on the ability to keep things local, Schluter is working with several farming groups in the region to construct and operate small-scale washing stations, where the coffee grown in the area can be processed locally and professionally, by and for the local farmers. They’ve already built two stations and are helping to operate a third already in place. They want to build more, and hopefully we’ll be able to work together to make that happen. I’ll be working with those groups on organic conversion and applying for fair trade certification.
That small-scale local processing is exactly what’s needed to ensure the traceability of the coffee – the ability to tell the buyer and ultimately the consumer exactly where the coffee is coming from, who’s growing it and what their lives are like. It’s the combination of that traceability and a consistently quality coffee that will secure these farmers better prices and a brighter future.
The current situation in the region involves larger buyers – be they cooperatives or independent buyers – buying coffees from all over and mixing them together, regardless of factors like village, elevation, soil type, farming practices, etc (factors that affect both taste and quality). This not only ruins any chance at traceability, but also throws quality coffees in with mediocre ones, rendering the end product simply average. Staying local will solve those problems and at the same time empower the farmers to be in control of their own affairs.
By far the most interesting contact I’ve made through Schluter is an individual plantation owner, a truly magnanimous man who’s taken on the task of preserving and furthering the tradition of coffee in Cameroon. His name is Dr. Adamou Ndam Njoya. Along with his wife, Mrs. Patricia Ndam Njoya, he strives to improve the quality and preserve the culture of coffee in Cameroon.
His 250 hectare plantation (100 hectares of which are coffee) is located just outside the West Province town of Foumbot, in the small mountain village of Koutie. The farm, which employs 32 full-time employees and hires many more local villagers for the harvesting and processing season, includes shaded coffee, undisturbed forest and more traditional crops like corn, beans and various tubors. It’s blessed with incredibly fertile volcanic soils and an entirely self-sufficient washing station/processing center. The washing station uses a year round gravity-fed water system to sort and wash the coffee and to power a small hydro-electric generator for the small machinery. Its an old but beautifully functioning system, and it produces a very high quality coffee. With the aid of Schluter, the Ndam Njoyas are currently selling to Starbucks; they’re the only farm in Cameroon doing so.
They have great aspirations for their farm and for the coffee of Cameroon. They see their farm becoming a Coffee Center of sorts: a training center for other coffee farmers to improve their practices, an ecotourism destination and a nature reserve. They’re hoping to secure funding to establish a coffee museum in the capital city of Yaounde and to make a documentary on the culture of coffee in Cameroon.
While there’s enough work for a lifetime on this farm alone, as a ground coordinator for Breaking Ground I can’t focus too much energy on an individual’s farm. As a side project, I’ll work with the Ndam Njoyas on organic conversion and will help them look for grants/funding for the development of the Coffee Center.
Also, being that they already have a perfectly traceable, high quality product, I’ll work with them to obtain fair trade certification and to find smaller buyers that will offer a better price for their coffee. Their coffee should be highlighted and appreciated on its own and could serve as a great example of what Cameroonian coffee can be.
On a non-work related side note (but wonderful for a coffee lover like myself) the Ndam Njoyas gave me several kilos of green coffee left over from last year’s harvest. I’m now roasting and brewing my own coffee in the morning and its absolutely delicious. It’s bright, a little sweet and has really nice citrus notes (this from my untrained palette). Its about as fresh as it gets.
Through my own network and the networks of friends and colleagues, I’ve also been seeking out other coffee farming groups in the region, groups with good organization and solid coffee production. Working with the Cameroonian NGO RIDEV (Research Institute for Development), I’ve met with several farming groups in the area surrounding Baham. RIDEV is already working with these groups to improve their organization and efficiency and I’m hoping to find a few interested in organic conversion and fair trade certification.
So in brief, that’s whats happening on the coffee project. Plans are being made, trainings are being scheduled things are taking shape. There will be much much more to come.
Outside of the coffee project, I’m working on plans for an environmental club at the local high school, in collaboration with a Peace Corps volunteer. We’ll get going when the school year starts in mid September. Our specific activities will depend on what the students want to do, but I’m thinking we’ll plant trees, possibly a garden, start composting, talk climate-change, etc, etc.
I’ve also been to Dschang several times to follow the progress of the bridge project Breaking Ground is helping to fund. Work continues despite rain and high water levels in the river. There are pictures (which should be posted shortly) of workers chest deep in the river getting ready to pour cement over the rebar for the feet of the bridge. The efforts and support of the community are truly other-worldly. They’re an inspiration.
That’s all for now.
