It’s nearly 3:00 pm in El Edén, Nicaragua, when a sudden wind driven torrent of rain turns the tin sheeted roof above us into giant timpani drums! We’ve gathered here, a team of ten from the states along with fifty or so community members, to witness a first in this lush village nestled in a valley alongside the Dariense Mountains of Nicaragua – a coffee roasting and cupping demonstration led by master coffee roaster Artine Yapoujian.
Wide-eyed wonder greets every wisp of bluish smoke as the ancient rock-tumbler-like roasting device rolls the “café oro,” (“gold coffee” as it’s known, and handled here), over the propane burner. Fifteen minutes later, a bead of sweat upon his brow, the master slides open the cylinder and quickly pours out the now chocolate colored beans into shallow plastic cooling tubs. He sifts the beans back and forth rapidly to keep them from continuing to “cook.” Now, the moment of truth, the perfect grind prior to the steeping and cupping… alas, “What do you mean you didn’t bring the grinder Artine?” says his wife Sydney. “Well, I brought it but it’s back at the hotel,” replied Artine. But not to worry, their first ever taste test was not to be thwarted, one of the participants posits the notion of using a cleaned up corn-grinder, and the deed is done!

“¡Peligro, peligro…agua caliente!” (Danger, danger…hot water), the crowd splits, creating a path directly to Artine and Jared, who have precisely prepped 6 white cups, ready for the steep. Next comes “cutting the crema” – the process of removing the creamy caramel color substance that rises to the top when the coffee grounds are combined with the hot water – and the subsequent slurps from special spoons revealing the distinctive characteristics: “bright,” “nutty,” “earthy,” and “fruity”.

Here we see eye-popping revelation as the two men and two women who were chosen to partake in the tasting, after a near surgical removal of the foamy crema, experience their first “slurp”:

Wonder of wonders, CAN it be so? Unbelievably, perhaps, all the barista bean-team members suddenly see too what I’m seeing, the light of wonder that comes from “firsts” in our lives…for those who’ve never tasted fresh roasted coffee before. In fact, later upon probing the crowd I learn many have never tasted coffee, period! They’ve picked it all their lives – under the fear-inducing glare of the “patrón” and his coffee-field-guards, wary of being “robbed” by the pickers – but have never tasted that which fuels the world every morning. This is somewhat ironic, indeed since after petroleum, coffee is the world’s second leading commodity.
What do we learn from this; what did this beloved Bean-Team return home with? Many things to be sure, but never… never again will we take for granted the work behind the baristas’ counter…many hands, brown, yellow, white and ruddy red, layer, upon layer of them, picking the beans from the “bean-there” slopes of coffee the world over.
Consider how you might join folks like the staff and customers of BMC as we come into this, our most grateful time of year and the generous season that follows and call us or email us…there are many ways to help those many, many, hands!
David Carlson: Donor Relations National Director








Street Bean also uses
Juana is leaning against her humble home, and as the photo implies she’s reserved when being peered at through a camera lens, which was an uncommon experience for her when this photos was taken six years ago. But notice something else in the picture–a slight smile and grace that adorns her self-woven attire.
The land title ceremony in Trapichitos was to celebrate the fact that a decade long journey, almost 60 families have made their best dreams come true. After so many decades of suffering, these families now have the knowledge, training, and assets to hand down to their future generations.
I’ll never forget my first encounter with these families in February, 2000. There were no roads into the village, and in order to build their homes they had to traverse peaks and valleys, walking four miles each way in order to carry in the block, cement, sand, gravel and rebar for their first 25 homes, (750 cinder blocks per home), carrying it all on their backs and that of the ten mules they’d purchased on a loan from Agros.
I remember visiting each home on an emergency visit of concern and compassion, inquiring of each family following a tragic explosion and fire that killed a beloved young father in the village, causing fear reminiscent of the civil war years when bombs dropped from above and fire was commonplace.






With the recent passing of Juan, “Señor Tortilla,” Agros has lost an inspirational community leader, a wise and patient employee, and a dear friend. Juan was a father of six, and husband to Juana. He passed away on August 19th, 2009, and will be greatly missed.
Señor Tortilla emerged as a natural leader during the development of El Paraiso and was trusted and respected by those in the community. He was a self-taught, locally renowned furniture craftsman and a keen, mentoring agronomist and soon became a loyal Agros employee. He helped pioneer the new villages of Trapichitos, Batzchocola and Xeucalvitz, translating Spanish into the three dialects of Ixil he spoke. Often you would find him with children from the communities, coloring, playing, and resting with them as they followed him through his days. He had strong faith and was devoted to serving his people.
Last week I was ambling across the beautiful land of the new Agros Nicaragua village “
Alfonso, an Agros Agronomist, said that Manuel had a surprise for us. A few minutes later he pulled over and both hopped out of the truck, crossed the road bending beneath the black mesh canopied Rose training field, with the glint of drawn knife blades shinning as they began their cutting search. Sensing what was up, I searched for my camera and found it in the knick of time, snapping a photo of grace personified in Manuel’s face.
Seizing upon the ceremony as a teachable moment, Sergio Sanchez, Country Director of Agros Mexico, involved all as they streamed forth to sign the symbolic banner of brotherhood. While some could indeed sign, others could only make a thumbprint, followed by one of the village leaders or Sergio, who would write the person’s name above the ink mark.
making. I pause in sheer wonder beneath the hand-hewn trusses of their newest addition, a “beneficio” or coffee processing station, made of 125 lb cut-stone blocks, cement & steel laminate roofing, all hauled up on willing backs from the road far below. The “beneficio” is complete with a large capacity depulper (used to take off the skin of the coffee) and large concrete wash basins in which the depulped-yet-fleshy beans soak for a day. From here the coffee beans “escape” the basins via 4″ pvc outlets into the rinsing trough, where they are paddled to knock off any remainder of the flesh before being put onto sorting/drying frames. The tiny beans are then laid out to sun-dry for a month.
The next day we met the families of El Naranjo — families who are waiting for Agros to raise the needed funds to purchase the land and help them move forward. Many of the families forsook a days wages to meet with us for an update on when they might be able to be roll up their sleeves to begin to work their own land, joining the ranks of the like in San Jose.
This summer, as part of her family’s growing commitment to serve the poor, she and her mother spent two weeks in the beautiful Spanish colonial city of Antigua, Guatemala, immersed in an intensive Spanish language program. Meanwhile, her older sister Sarah (13) was immersed in an ecological program in Costa Rica. Father/husband Steve kept the home-fires going in his law-practice, knowing that what he’d gotten his family into by venturing forth four years prior on that first trip to Xeucalvitz was bearing fruit in ways he’d hoped, beaming on his way into the office, eager to check the latest e-mails from down South!
This type of sacrificial and creative giving exemplifies a heart-felt response, which all of us long to nurture and release when we pause long enough to think about it. So be it a lemonade stand or some other expression, may you and I be encouraged to step outside the “box of comfort” we tend to insulate our lives with, and listen for what we might do too.










