Farm size and altitude: 1,9 hectares at 1,150 meters, with generous shade provided mostly by mango trees, but also pepeto and a lone pine tree. Wind barriers and land limits marked by izote plants.
I grow Lempira and Parainema, somewhat more Lempira.
The coffees are FTO certified.
This farm is Rain Forest Alliance certified.
We had decided that my husband would try his (our…) fortunes in the United States because it was hardly possible to earn a living wage in Honduras. But we also decided that I would stay home with our two young sons; one was barely a toddler. We considered the long, illegal journey through Guatemala and Mexico, much of it walking, too dangerous with the children.
My brother in law taught me the basics of coffee growing, but soon I got the hang of it and then I fell in love … with the purity of the plant, the essence of the beans, the sweeter-than-honey taste of a ripened bean, freshly squeezed out of its dark red skin.
Now, the finca provides half of our family’s income. The other half is sent by my husband, who is still in the US, and who I never - simply never - see. That is deeply saddening, but it is the only way for us to survive. I could never leave my village, my people, my surroundings. I have never worked in an office, rarely ever been to a real town, except for Ocotepeque, which has 10,000 inhabitants. And our now 18-year-old son has lost sight in one eye and can only see 15% with his remaining eye. He needs me, and I need him just as much.
But our younger son, who is now 16, has followed in the footsteps of my husband and made it all the way to New York very recently. He sent me a photo the other day of the first snowflakes he had ever seen, and touched. He said he had even eaten a handful and that it tastes like ice-cold, crystalline water that melts on your tongue, but I have difficulty imagining what it’s like and I miss him every waking hour of every day since he is gone.
Despite the longing for a united family I love my life and I simply beam when I enter my two tiny plots of land. When I’m at work, in the field, protected by the shade that the many fruit trees in there provide, I feel blissfully happy and peaceful. I can take a break whenever I choose to, and when I get hungry or thirsty, I pick a mango from one of the trees, sit down in the cool shadow, to let the tasty texture of the fruit temper my hunger while its juice stills my thirst.
