I’m a Starbucks fan but not really a coffee aficionado – until now. While visiting eastern Uganda, a couple of us went to Betty’s house for coffee. Fresh, picked from the bush, the beans were then dried, pounded, winnowed, roasted, ground and brewed right into my metal cup.
Betty is in her mid-50’s. She has six grown children and four grandkids. Most live nearby. She owns a small farm with a cow, pigs and a variety of edibles in her garden. On this day, we were most impressed with her coffee bushes. She opens her home to folks who want to see how coffee is harvested and processed. It helps subsidize her income.
Ugandan coffee grown in this region is Arabica. (I guess that’s a thing in the coffee world.)
We wandered through the bushes and were grateful to be visiting during harvest season when the berries are bright red. Once picked they are dried and then processed. All this coffee is organically grown as livestock fertilizer is plentiful and local chameleons are the best way to keep pests from damaging the bushes.
We had the opportunity to see berries harvested and then help take the previously dried beans and continue processing. In the background of the story telling about the history and folklore of coffee, Betty worked.
Her home and gardens were spotless. You could tell that everything was freshly swept. She made sure we had stools to sit on. She chopped firewood from eucalyptus trees. She built and stoked a small fire to boil the water for our finished drink. I approached her while she bent over the fire to ask about her back. I asked if it ever hurts as I’m about her age and could never bend and squat as she was doing. She stood straight and smiled. She threw her arms over her head. She bent and flexed. She told me that she’s very strong. “I’ve been working and carrying water since I was a child.” Betty was proud. She should be. I marvelled.
Once the water was boiling, we each grabbed a metal cup and a small strainer. The water was poured over our freshly ground beans. There we sat under clear blue skies, in a small mud hut, in the middle of Betty’s immaculate garden with piping hot, freshly brewed, medium dark roast coffee. I took mine without sugar. It was delicious.
Thank you Betty for your gracious hospitality!
Comments