Chapter 22 #2
“It’s okay, I’m not one to dwell on spilled milk. Let’s brighten the mood.” She clinked glasses with me. “After all, we’re celebrating! You are a bona fide sleuth!”
Her demeanor was so chaotic I wasn’t sure what to think.
“Bring out the evidence!”
I pulled out my iPad. She smiled back, encouraging.
“Right,” I said. “Well, Café Alegre verifiably doesn’t abide by Ethical Coffee International rules. For example, they aren’t a hundred percent organic. Here are a few photos.”
Suzanne glanced at them, nodded, then put down her drink. “Question, Dee. Do you think any farm is really, truly, a hundred percent organic?”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“You know what the Rust is?”
“Of course.”
“It’s a plague. An existential threat to coffee farms. So do you think there’s any farm that wouldn’t fight it however they can?”
“I mean, some farms will use only organic or approved fungicides.”
She smiled at me. “Darling. Those don’t work. No one is using them. And if you believe that, I’m afraid you’ve been taken for a ride.”
I stared at her in noncomprehension. “You’re saying it’s okay if they use toxic chemicals? Even at the expense of the Earth?”
“Dee, if they don’t fight the Rust, they lose their farms. They won’t be able to worry about the Earth then. Who would be helped in that scenario?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Our whole deal was advocating for environmental and social justice.
“Okay. But it’s not just pesticides to fight the Rust. There are other violations.” I scrolled through the camera roll to show her pictures of kids. “Alegre is using child labor. Want to see a video?”
She shook her head no and took a sip of her drink. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, Dee, but all the farms use child labor.”
My jaw dropped further. Why was she so blasé?! “That’s totally abhorrent.”
“If we’re talking about actual children, ten hours a day, I completely agree. But teenagers? Or kids helping out for an hour or two a day? We’re talking about middle- and low-income countries, Dee. Kids work. They have to.”
“People pay premium prices so those kids don’t have to.”
“Yes. And the sad thing is, even those prices aren’t high enough.
” She started rummaging through the minibar for snacks.
Her tranquility was in marked contrast to my inner turmoil.
“Dee, darling.” She handed me a napkin with cheese and crackers.
“Let me explain something to you.” The rain was really coming down hard now, and some was coming in through the window.
“When I was your age, I was just like you. Naive, idealistic, rigid. Then something happened.” She shook some peanuts onto my napkin.
“Life. You’ll learn, too, Dee. It doesn’t make a difference if Alegre follows all the rules, because either way millions of workers are getting screwed by the global economy.
And the differences are marginal in the working conditions between the ‘ethical’ co-ops and the conventional farms anyway. ”
I was so stunned I could barely make my voice work. “You know that’s not true.”
“Not true?” She gave a brittle laugh. “The kids get to finish five years of school as opposed to four? The problem is so much bigger than what you’re looking at.
If Costa Rican farmers all organize into Ethical Coffee International or other fair trade co-ops, they’ll flood the market with expensive coffee.
Supply will far outstrip demand, and they’ll have put themselves out of business.
Labor’s cheaper in Vietnam. In twenty years, there’d be no coffee coming out of Central America at all. ”
“That’s not true! Many consumers are happy to pay higher prices for better-made coffee.”
“No, Dee, they’re happy to pay for better tasting coffee.
That’s why direct trade is on the rise. Direct trade companies focus on quality—and that’s what the consumer really wants.
They slap words on the bag like ‘hummingbird friendly’ and ‘partnership’ so the consumer feels good.
The consumer doesn’t bother to check if those labels mean anything.
And they do not bother to check how much of the premium price goes to the laborers working on the farms.”
“All the more reason to fight for coffee that’s strongly regulated!
” I said. “And if you don’t believe in sustainable practices and regulation, then why is this your job ?
Why do you run a nonprofit?” I couldn’t stop my voice from rising.
The room was turning into a sauna and I was about to melt down. How had my mentor turned into my enemy?
She looked at me with temporarily clear eyes. “First of all, I do believe in fair working conditions and organic farming. But I recognize that the real world is complicated. And I can’t help everyone.”
“So to hell with them?”
“Please, Dee, you’re being hyperbolic. After the Truth Trips bring in lots of money to Justice Alliance—which I fully expect they will, if we use Café Alegre—I’ll use the enhanced stature to run for office.
When I’m in Washington and can write legislation, I’ll try to help the people left behind.
But I can’t change world economics with one nonprofit.
” She rattled her empty glass. “I can’t even get a chief of staff job. ”
“But why are you actively choosing Alegre when a good alternative like Las Nubes exists?”
“Alegre gets a lot of press. They’re a big draw. And the Truth Trips are to make money. Period.”
As I stared at her, it suddenly clicked into place. “You knew about Café Alegre. You don’t care about seeing the videos because you already knew.”
She bent down to the minibar to retrieve another rum bottle. There weren’t any. She grabbed a bottle of vodka. “When you brought up your concerns after your first visit,” she said, “I did a little digging myself.”
A flash of lightning illuminated the dim room, and pain started welling between my temples. The swoosh-swoosh of her drink sloshing around the ice cubes was magnified. Now it all made a strange sense. Suzanne’s indifference. Manuel talking about the snoop. How could I have been so stupid?
“Of course I didn’t love what I found out,” she said. “But, on balance, considering their positive press, I still felt Alegre was our best option. Perception is more important than truth, which I hope you’re starting to understand.”
I blinked hard. “Does Matías know about Alegre?”
“Probably not consciously. But he’s a realist, like me.
We focus on the greater good. Make enough money to fund our campaigns.
Make consumers aware so they buy fair trade coffee.
When the demand for organic, fair trade coffee is strong enough, then you can strengthen the enforcement of regulations. ”
Whatever blood remained in my head drained right out. A thick feeling of dread replaced it.
“I know all of this is difficult for you to accept now, Dee, but one day you’ll understand what I’m saying.
” Her eyelids were heavy with nostalgia.
“You remind me so much of myself when I was younger. One day—” She gave me a smile.
“You’ll be just like me.” And with that she slumped over in her chair, dead drunk.
Her tousled red hair splayed across the upholstery.
Something started rising from my gut and I knew I was going to be sick.
I ran straight to the bathroom and knelt at the toilet.
Vomit came out of me in great choking waves, and when it finally stopped, I rested my head against the porcelain.
Justice Alliance was the Bad Guy. And I worked for them.
I gagged again and put my mouth over the toilet, but nothing would come out except sticky yellow bile.
My stomach heaved with contractions and my head throbbed with the effort, but there was nothing to expunge.
The contractions wouldn’t stop. I kneeled there, retching nothing, losing everything.