Where in the World is Colleen?

While Malawians don’t tend to drink coffee, they produce a fair amount of it.  Some of this is from the north (Mzuzu Coffee), some for the south (Njuli). Having become a great lover of coffee myself, I have been fascinated to finally see where and how it comes from. To touch the plants, to talk with the farmers, to fix the machines and see the processing, to understand the export process and to see first hand some of the details of Fair Trade.

This is a story of coffee, from one coffee lover to another.

1. Newly planted field
2. Coffee beans
3. Grading and sorting the coffee
4. Building the settling tanks
5. Coffee beans in a settling tank
6. Sun drying
7. Exported and packaged for sale in a fancy coffee shop
8. Enjoying that delicious cup of coffee in the sun

And when things don’t go quite right, fixing that coffee processor that separates the bean from the cherry.

I am the sort of person who appreciates having an element of stability in her life. Some people call this routine, some people call it boring. For me, it is stabilizing: it gives my day some form of order so that I can manage whatever comes my way.

Last year, my routine consisted of a late wake up to an alarm after likely not enough sleep, drinking a cup of coffee (and maybe taking one to go), and a morning bike ride through the streets of Cambridge to class or the ESD office.

This is my current routine. I wake up around 5:30am to the sounds of roosters crowing and children sweeping in the yard and the living room right outside my room. I roll out from under my mosquito net, and wander out of my room, mustering up some greetings of “Mwadzuka Buanji” to Brenda and the kids. I grab my reed mat and unfurl it in the middle of the living room. Surrounded by pink curtains letting in the morning sun and big wood furniture covered in orange plush, I do 30-40 minutes of yoga. (So I know this is not really “integrating” in the truest sense of the word, but I am awake anyways and can do very little until the kids and Tears have bathed… I tried and just got in the way… so now I do yoga to the amusement and delight of Akuzike and Johns). After yoga, and after Tears has bathed, it is time for my bucket shower, which I have come to savour. I dry myself with a chitenge, get dressed in the clothes I ironed the night before (or that morning if I have time) and have a rushed cup of tea and some bread with peanut butter. Then Tears and I say our goodbyes and walk together to work. It has been a fortunate addition to my morning that our routes coincide, and we both enjoy the company and discussions enroute. That route, which was once filled with started children and curious glances (and the echoing shout of Azungu!!) is now filled with happy “hello”s and “Muli bwanji!”s, some giggles, but more recognition. My favourite quote so far was from a little girl who said (in Chichewa) “that’s my Azungu!” I leave Tears at his workplace and continue a bit further on to Concern Universal, where I arrive at the bright and early hour of 7:15.

And so starts my morning.