Chapter 11 #2
“No, we’re a co-op, not a commune,” said Manuel, perhaps slightly annoyed. “But if one family is doing poorly one year, we all cooperate to help them out. We don’t really view ourselves as owners of the land, per se. We view ourselves as custodians.”
“ ?Amén! ” said Paula, nodding.
“That’s why we don’t use pesticides,” said Manuel. “We believe that we are here to protect the Earth, not destroy it. It is through God’s grace that we have this land. Everything we have is a gift from God. We are borrowing from God.”
“ Praise God !” Paula said.
Paula and Manuel seemed unusually religious. Perhaps they belonged to a cult?
“Can you talk to me about the costs involved in being certified by Ethical Coffee International?” I asked.
“Yes. The costs are thirty percent higher.”
Adrián was visibly surprised. “That’s a lot.”
“It is. Fortunately, the profits are also higher. Also, Ethical Coffee International minimums are just a floor. We can sell the coffee for as much as the buyer will pay. But that’s not the main thing.
The main thing is that it’s the right thing to do for the Earth, and the right thing to do for our laborers. ”
“ Praise God !” said Paula, again.
Suddenly I realized I had urgent business to take care of. That coffee God gifted me with sure made me have to pee. I asked Manuel for directions to the bathroom.
Fortunately, the layout was simple. The center of the building was a wet mill, with small offices surrounding the main floor on three sides.
I walked around the fermenting tanks, entered a hallway, and found the tiny bathroom.
Coffee gifted back to the Earth, I walked back more slowly, peering into the offices, some of which were open.
One room was stacked with massive hundred-pound bags of coffee.
I went to inspect them. Strangely, they didn’t have the Café Alegre label.
They had the word Fuerte stamped on them.
I passed by some other rooms, also full of hundred-pound Fuerte bags.
Seems like they made a lot of this stuff, but I didn’t remember seeing any in the tasting room.
As I continued, I saw an administrative office with the door ajar.
I decided to investigate further. I mean, if you don’t want someone to go into a room, don’t leave the door open, right?
Inside there was a desk, an antique armoire, and a framed map.
I studied the map, which showed the layout of the buildings and fields.
Then I turned toward the armoire. I touched the wood and the doors opened slightly from the pressure.
I glanced inside. There were dozens of little drawers.
I knew I shouldn’t open them—but opening small boxes was in my DNA.
If past lives are real, I’m certain I was Pandora.
Or Bluebeard’s wife. Or Eve. Why were there so many myths about women getting in trouble for seeking knowledge?
I became more determined to open the drawers. This was a feminist issue.
I looked over my shoulder to make sure there was no one in the hallway.
Then I opened a drawer. There was a drawer inside the drawer!
Besides myself with childlike joy, I started opening everything.
I found letters, coins in foreign currency, and small metal things that I assumed were washers.
.. whatever the hell washers were. Then my hand hit a piece of hollow wood.
Because I had spent so much time with my mom in antique stores being bored out of my mind when I was a kid, I knew that many older armoires had secret drawers.
And hollow wood was a telltale sign that you’d found a false back.
I wiggled the cheap piece of plywood, then heard a jangling sound. The compartment was hiding keys!
Just then I heard footsteps in the hallway. Shit. How was I going to explain that I was snooping in the offices? I quickly ducked under the desk. What had I been thinking? I was not a sleuth! I was barely a real organizer!
The footsteps sounded like they were headed to the bathroom next door.
I heard the person peeing in the toilet—wow, that was a lot of urine.
I decided to get out of there before they finished.
But as I got up, I noticed the closet door was open.
Inside were some black boxes imprinted with skulls and crossbones .
My stomach sank. I picked up a box and read the label, which was in Spanish.
warning: this pesticide is intended for use outside of the home only. it is extremely toxic to both humans and domestic animals. in case of accidental ingestion, please contact your national poison control center.
I put the box down in disbelief. The “custodians of the Earth” used pesticides?
! Manuel specifically said they didn’t. And that would be in major violation of Ethical Coffee International regulations.
I had to be mistaken. Maybe this was a translation error.
I perused the ingredients statement, but I didn’t even know what those chemicals were in English.
I heard the guy flush next door. No time to get out of here now. I squeezed myself into the closet and shut the door gently. After an interminably long hand wash (which was a good thing, I guess, since he handled food), I heard footsteps again.
What if he came in to get the pesticides?!
I began sweating. If he discovered me, what would I tell him?
I mistook this dark closet for a toilet?
But after a few tense moments, the footsteps faded away.
I sighed with relief. When I was sure he was gone, I opened the closet door, stepped out, and quickly snapped photos of the boxes.
As I went to shut the closet door, I noticed something large leaning against the back corner.
It was too dark to make out the object, so I shone my phone flashlight on it.
A shotgun. Even stationary in a closet it filled me with dread. What was this for? Hunting? Or something else?
Rattled, I went back to the mill. No one noticed that my face was ashen, except Adrián. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I said into his ear. “We have to leave.”
“Leave?” said Manuel. “But you haven’t even seen the fields!”
“We’ll have to come back.” I clutched my stomach. The click-click-click of the conveyor belt resonated through my legs. “I’m sick.”
“What is it?” asked Manuel. “Let me call you a doctor.”
“No.” I teetered toward the door. “I just need to get home. We’ll call you to reschedule.”
I hustled out of the mill, and a worried Adrián followed. When the community center was no longer visible, the knot in my stomach relaxed.
“ ?Preciosa! ” said Adrián, grabbing my waist. “What’s wrong? What made you sick?”
“Insect poison.”
“What?” He dropped his car keys. “When did you eat insect poison?!”
“I didn’t eat it. I saw it.”
Relief flooded his face, and he bent down to retrieve his keys. “Where?”
“In a closet.”
“I knew it!” He clapped his hands. “Anyone who says ‘Praise God’ has to be doing something bad.” A large branch whacked Adrián in the face as he straightened up. God’s revenge. The keys fell back to the ground.
“I can’t believe they’re frauds,” I said.
“Get used to it. Hypocrisy is the one thing that’s universal.”
I looked at Adrián as he searched for the keys in the bushes.
That just wasn’t true. Not everyone was deceitful.
Adrián, for one, was totally honest about his beliefs, pro-free market as they might be.
But that made me realize something. I needed to be sure Don Manuel was a fraud.
What if they didn’t use the pesticides on the coffee?
What if they were for insects in the community center?
“Adrián. We have to go back. I have to see the fields.”
“Oh no, not this again.”
“I need to get soil samples.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to be sure they’re actually using the pesticides on the coffee. If they are, maybe Suzanne can report them to Ethical Coffee International. Then they can enforce the requirements.”
“You’re not a spy.” Adrián found the keys and stood up. “Your job is to organize trips for do-gooders, not to enforce regulations on non-compliant farms. Tell your boss this farm isn’t suitable, and we’ll go to the next farm.”
“This isn’t like Café Bavaria.” I hoped. “It’s going to be fine.” As I said the words, I began to believe them. I had overreacted because the near miss at Café Bavaria had made me paranoid. I needed to woman up.
“I really don’t think we should do this,” he said. “It’s not worth it.”
I stared at him for a moment. “You’re wrong. It really is.”
Adrián tossed the keys from one hand to another. Then he looked up to the heavens for answers, then finally back at me. “You know you’re crazy, right?”
“I do.”
He shook his head. “So what’s the plan?”