Cacao - Food fit for the gods

One of the things we've had a chance to do while here in Tarapoto is to visit a cacao  (pronounced "ka-kow") plantation in Chazuta that CUSO has been partnered with. Being a farm girl this interested me anyway, but put chocolate on a farm and I AM THERE!  It was a great day in a very interesting little town, as well as another opportunity to see what CUSO is involved with here regarding economic development. 
 
We had an early breakfast and headed out to rent taxis, as it's almost a two hour drive to Chazuta.  Distances are deceiving here if you only look on a map.  Weather, road conditions and pit-stops on the journey can all contribute to a trip unlike the one you planned. 

 

At the taxi depot some mild negotiating took place, and we found ourselves hiring two cars with space for a woman, her rooster, and all of us.  We climbed aboard, rolled down the windows and along with our feathered companion, rumbled off down the road.

We had left early for Chazuta because we had a lot planned for the day, but as luck and Peruvian roads would have it, we were delayed halfway to our destination.

 

 

For those who might be tempted to think that a mere rope is never going to get between you and an open road, a word of warning: the road beyond just isn't.  Not only is it not an open road, it isn't a road.  At all.  In its place is a cratered moonscape of near epic proportions, apparently not an unusual occurrence in this area, especially in the rainy season. While horses and people on foot could and did pass through with impunity, we had to sit this one out, finding a scrap of shade where we could. 

 

 

A sweaty hour later we were on our way again. We bounced our way slowly through the mile-long construction zone, then, with the windows wide open, the remainder of the trip flew by and we arrived at Chazuta in short order. 


Our hosts greeted us at the town office where we were welcomed as the new CUSO voluntarios.  We then enjoyed a discussion on economic development initiatives, much of which could not be heard due to the ongoing excavation of the street outside.  I must admit, however, that with my primitive understanding of Spanish, hearing probably would not have helped significantly.  After sharing a massive bottle of Inca Kola, we stuffed ourselves into mototaxis and headed out of town towards the cacao plantation.

 

Allima Cacao is a cooperative, where the cacao is grown, harvested, processed and sold by members of the co-op. The science behind this process is surprisingly complex. At least to me it was, because I really had NO idea how chocolate came to be.  I was just happy it existed. 

 

Chocolate grows on trees.  Yes, it does.  They are pretty trees, on the squat side, and pruned extensively.  The blossoms are tiny and delicate, and grow directly from the main trunk and branches. 

 

The leaves are copper-colored when young, silky in texture and almost transparent. 
The mature leaves are leathery and dark green with heavy veins. The type of cocoa plant we saw on this plantation grows and produces all the time, while there are other cultivars with a more distinct time for production.

The fruits are oblong, about 8 inches long when mature, and have a thick deeply wrinkled skin, leathery in texture and a deep wine red in color. Some of the fruits can be orange or a lighter red.




                             

          





The fruit is heavy for its size and when mature has a duskiness to the skin, as if it were covered in wax or dust.  It is at this point that it is picked for processing. 

It is hand-harvested, the fruit cut off the tree with a type of pruning shears and placed in a jute bag which the harvester carries on his/her back with a long strap up and around the forehead.  The fruits are handled carefully to prevent bruising.  The harvest is taken as soon as possible to the co-op for processing.  This may in some cases involve a long boat journey and getting the bags down from the growing areas to the river. 
The next stage of harvest is where it gets even more interesting.  The pods are split with a dull machete to avoid damaging the internal seeds or grains.

The seeds and their accompanying jelly are checked to make sure they are healthy-looking and the whole "dough" as it is called, placed in wooden drawers lined with jute.






The dough is covered with plantain leaves and a layer of jute to favor fermentation. 

The seeds are
fermented in their dough for 48 hours in the first drawer, then every 24 hours they are moved to a new drawer, also lined in jute.  Moving is done quickly to avoid heat loss, as even fermentation is necessary for the best chocolate quality. 

                                                                                                   

Once properly fermented, the seeds are laid out in layers about 3" thick on mesh tarps laid over cement slabs.  They dry slowly in the sun.  They are stirred every hour for the first day, then every two hours for the next, to facilitate a slow drying process. 

On the third, fourth and fifth days, they are placed in thinner layers to continue drying, and once they reach a humidity of 7.5% they are ready to process.  They are also stable enough to store at this point.

The seeds are then collected and checked for impurities and defects, and bagged for storage in jute bags.  These are placed off the ground on wooden pallets and stored in warehouses where they are out of the rain but where air circulates freely around the bags. The seeds are quite porous and absorb odors easily so care must be taken in their storage.

From here the cocoa seeds go for processing to be made into cocoa powder and that delicious confection to which many of us are addicted-CHOCOLATE in its many forms... 



But, that is another whole story, and one I will be happy to share with you next time.  For now, my friends, may dreams of fermenting cacao beans fill your heads.  I will return with the rest of this sweet story in my next post. 

Hasta luega!

 

The Secret Garden

Welcome back!  I had a particular subject in mind for this week's blog, and after this weekend I completely changed my mind.  Why?  Because Sunday was the best day yet here in Peru, and needs to be shared with you.  

One of the organizations Murray is working with here is a producer and marketer of high quality medicinal plant products, using traditional medicinal knowledge and plants grown in the San Martin region. They source their plant material through people in local villages who harvest them from the jungle in a sustainable, ecologically-sensitive way, the way in which it has been done for generations.  We were invited to go along on a visit to an area where plants are harvested and to meet one of the families involved in this small but important industry.

Our day began with a 5:45 wakeup and a quick cup of tea before we hopped into a mototaxi and headed to a taxi depot to meet our travelling companion.  By 7 a.m. we were seated on plastic chairs in the depot, waiting for more people to show up, because the cars going to outlying areas don't go half full.  Our traveling companion was going to take his motorcycle to the town, so that left us to take up half a taxi.  Within a half hour, the quota was met, with the other half made up of a gregarious young man still sporting the effects of a night of partying and a woman who (happily) was seated in the back seat with us. We flew out of town heading in a westerly direction, not really knowing where we were going, but our traveling companion had given the taxi driver instructions, so we trusted we were in good hands. 

The roads are shall we say, interesting, around here.  I theorize that there are few or no curve signs on the roads because there is never a long enough straight-away to put one up, and no one cares anyway.  Both sides of the road are put to good use, regardless of who else is on it or which direction you are headed.  The young man in the front seat belted himself in, (an unusual occurrence) which gave me cause for momentary anxiety about the road ahead.  Then I realized it was because he intended to pass out and without the seatbelt he would have been flat out on the driver's lap within moments of our departure.  He slumped in the seat, swaying from side to side, head bobbing, while music blasted on the cd player.  Our cab was very clean and quite new, and the woman in the back seemed not to take offense when the sharp curves threw both Murray and I on top of her.  From time to time the cab driver would elbow the young man off his shoulder and back into place or Murray would reach between the seats and heave him back into place. He snored softly the entire way. The drive lasted about 1 1/2 hours, and took us through several small pueblos on the way. The views are absolutely breathtaking, so I was madly clicking the camera at every opportunity. 

We arrived finally in a small town called San Juan de Sisa, where we unfolded ourselves from the cab and met our travelling companion. He had arranged for a mototaxi to take us the rest of the way to our destination which was Chirik Sacha.  This community is the home of a woman who is the president of the local medicinal plant cooperative in the area, comprised of residents of several surrounding communities.  The cooperative and the work associated with it are solely run by women, whose husbands and families are occupied in other agricultural endeavors. 
Arriving at Chirik Sacha we pulled up in front of a thatch-roofed pole home, and were cheerfully welcomed by a woman, her elderly parents, her husband, and their young daughter. 

We shook hands, embraced and then entered their home.  The first introductions were made, then we sat on a wooden bench and were given cups of chicha to refresh us.  Chicha is a traditional Quechua drink made from fermented corn.  It is not at all sweet, and has a slightly musty, though not unpleasant flavor. As well as the chicha, we were given fresh papaya and oranges from the trees in the back yard which were so juicy and delicious that eating them ended up being a full-body experience. After a few more minutes of conversation and getting to know a little more about this family, and they us, we were invited to go down into the little valley behind their home where fruit and medicinal plants are grown. All the plants are native to the area and grow in a natural micro-ecosystem, here in their "backyard".  Mango and orange trees, avocadoes and papayas grow throughout, side by side with plantain trees. 

Beneath the trees are the medicinal plants, some of them vines, some shrubs and upright flowers, some small ground dwellers and some in the process of becoming trees, a process that
may take up to 40 or 50 years.  We wandered through this wild garden, getting a lesson in the plants and their uses.  Plants for psychological healing, for arthritis, cuts and bruises, and kidney stones.  Plants for improved digestion, for bathing colicky babies to soothe them, and plants with strong antiseptic properties.  Every need is covered in this place, and the knowledge that goes with the use of these plants is handed from generation to generation. 

Following our walk in the garden, we were invited back to the house, and offered lunch. The people here often do not have much in terms of monetary wealth or property, but what they have is generously shared with guests. We were served a delicious meal of chicken, rice and plantain, all cooked with herbs and vegetables that they grow in this garden of theirs.





We sat in the simple kitchen, laughing and sharing the meal, as people do the world over.  Language and cultural differences mean very little when people meet with the goal of understanding and respecting each other, and to share their stories.  We played ball with their little girl, put temporary tattoos of the Canadian flag on her arms, and had an impromptu lesson in how to spin cotton. 
Our broken Spanish was cause for mutual humor, but never ridicule, and we were made to know  that we were most welcome in this home. 
 
After a few hours of visiting, we were invited to join the association of plant producers at a meeting and in their gathering of plants, but on further questioning found that the last of the two taxis out of Sisa would be leaving shortly and if we weren't in it we would be out of luck for a ride back to Tarapoto.  In addition, the skies had turned black and a stiff breeze had come up.  A flurry of consultation between our friend and our host ended with him running into the village to find a mototaxi to take us back to Sisa.  About 5 minutes later he was back, along with a mototaxi willing to drive us up the bumpy road to Sisa.  We said goodbye, with many hugs all around, and were presented with a big bag of starfruit and vegetables, a handmade clay teapot, and a handwoven belt for Murray. As the skies opened up, thunder crashing around us, we scrambled aboard the mototaxi and were admonished that we must come again, and next time for a longer visit.  This is an invitation we are both eager to accept.
 
The ride back to Tarapoto was a quiet one, as we reflected on the day.  The poor woman squeezed in next to us had no choice but to put up with my squashing her on the tight turns of the corkscrew ride back to the city. After many apologies from me, she finally threw a sweater over her head and went to sleep on my shoulder. 
 
And so, my amigos, goes the story of the Secret Garden.  We had a wonderful day exploring the world of traditional medicine and medicinal plants in their natural state.  We had an opportunity to see the importance of traditional medicine in the cultural sense as well as the economic sense. We got a glimpse into the lives of a generous and warm family, and in the process made new friends.  To my way of thinking, that is really the most important part of what we do here- to create relationships and promote understanding between vastly different cultures.  La amistad.  It just doesn't get any better than that.

 

Tarapoto: City of Palms

Tarapoto.  What can I say about Tarapoto?  Well it's everything I expected and nothing like what I expected.  Tarapoto makes Lima look like an elderly lady in sensible shoes.  Hot, humid and incredibly noisy, Tarapoto is a city of pavement and mototaxis.  The palms?  Well they're certainly out there, but nowhere near where we're camped.  I had expected more trees, after all this is the jungle, but in downtown Tarapoto where we're stationed and will be living for the next 6-8 months it's all cement.  That's not to say it doesn't have its appeal.  It does, and I must hasten to add that although it's different than the image we had of it, Tarapoto has not disappointed us.

Some local color

We are still living in a hotel/hostel called the Sol de Selva.  It's a small, intimate family-owned hotel, and as welcoming as a weekend at Grandma's.  The family is gracious and warm, and the hostel itself pristine clean.  We are treated royally here.  Every morning begins downstairs where the group of CUSO volunteers gathers for breakfast and coffee before heading out on our daily rounds of meetings and information gathering.  Pedro, the owner's son, has trained as a chef and makes the most delicious breakfast sandwiches for us every day, full of flavor and color, and served with a cheerful smile.  It will be hard to leave this place and its comforts when our house is ready for us.

This week has been a real eye-opener.  From every perspective.  It's been exciting and exhausting.  The areas CUSO is primarily involved in here in the San Martin area are tourism, cacao (chocolate) production, and medicinal plants.  These sectors are all part of the San Martin region's green initiative, which focuses on developing sustainable agriculture and tourism, while trying to preserve some of the rich traditional culture.  Each day has been crammed with meetings with local organizations that CUSO  works alongside in these sectors.  We have been introduced to dozens of people and had briefings on each organization's focus and challenges.  The network of projects and plans for development and economic growth here is amazing. 

We've enjoyed the novelty of the heat, though admittedly we are wilting by our 3rd or 4th meeting of the day.  And did I mention that all our meetings have been conducted in Spanish, accompanied by a cacophony of hammers, revving motorcycles, construction noise and ringing cellphones?  We have been zooming from meeting to meeting at high speed, stuffed into mototaxis since we arrived.  It's the pause that refreshes, and I look forward to it every time.






















Getting around in a mototaxi is a little like visiting Disneyland.  You just hold on, enjoy the wind in your face and forget about little things like personal space.  

We arrived here with two other new volunteers, one of whom will actually be stationed in Lima with some visits out to the San Martin region. The second is stationed here in Tarapoto with us and he will be working in the tourism development sector. Then there's us, with Murray working with the medicinal plants sector and me looking to plug in where I can be useful.  Another volunteer is due to arrive the end of the month to work in the cacao sector. Throughout the week we've had the pleasure of meeting other volunteers in place here, from CUSO and other non-governmental organizations. 

CUSO's role in international development is integrative, with its volunteers working alongside partner organizations already present in the area.  These partners are involved in micro-financing, small business and cooperatives and specialized areas such as medicinal plants.  They are building from the ground up.  There is so much un-tapped opportunity here, an incredible richness and variety of natural resources existing alongside a profound level of poverty in many areas. The scope of what could and should be done is overwhelming, and we have to keep reminding ourselves that our part is but a small piece in the puzzle.  Each piece looks insignificant alone, but is essential in forming the overall picture.

                       A glimpse of the potential here           

Has it only been a week here?  Feels like we've packed in enough for a month already.  In addition to our packed meeting schedule, we have also travelled out to Moyobamba, a two hour drive from Tarapoto, to visit a nature preserve/ecotourism project, to Chazuta to visit a cacao plantation and chocolate factory as well as a pottery guild, and made a trip to Lamas to see the Italian castle and the coffee house.  Oh yes, and Murray hiked for 6 hours in the jungle with some new friends. 

But those, my friends, are stories for another day.  I leave you with this thought:  the world out there is seldom what you had in mind, but can always be better than you expected.  When next I write I hope we are installed in our new home here in the anthill that is Tarapoto, and I will have more details on the projects we are seeing and becoming involved here in the selva.  Until next time, salud!  Stay frosty amigos!

Life in Peru begins...

We've been in Peru for only 5 days, but what a full five days! We've been staying in a small hotel, called the Casa Kolping.  Each day has looked something like this:
Wake at 6:45, shower and dress then go downstairs to have breakfast with some other volunteers.  Breakfast is crusty rolls, thinly sliced ham, a mild white cheese and local jams that are tasty but which I still cannot identify. The coffee is dark and so strong that it's almost syrupy, and I drink it black with a tiny bit of the coarse brown sugar that is provided.  It's different, but good, and gives a caffeine kick that is much needed to stay awake and focused on what we need to hear each day. 

Coffee, hot and strong.




We then walk the four or five blocks to the CUSO office and begin our training sessions, on safety, health, intercultural relationships, politics and history. Throughout the days we have enjoyed forging new friendships with the other volunteers and staff of CUSO.  I am so very impressed by their dedication and passion, and the variety of life experiences and training that they bring to the table.  I think these relationships will be one of the best things about our time in Peru.

All of our training is conducted in Spanish, which has been an enormous challenge to us, but a good one.  If we are ever to become functional in the language, immersion is the only way.  It's been a crash-course in learning to listen.  Listen to every word, every syllable, every letter.  When the traffic noise overwhelms the words of the speaker, and we appear to be confused, another volunteer or one of the staff steps in and translates the most essential parts.  It's been exhausting, humiliating and exhilarating all at the same time.  We certainly have more Spanish than the day we arrived, but much much less than we require to function well here.  We find ourselves exhausted at the end of each day but we are learning.  The ears are beginning to hear what they need to hear, and the next step is getting the mouth to say what the brain is thinking. 

We have a huge amount of admiration for people who learn another language.  I never thought about how difficult that process is before.  When you think and dream in a language, everything is intuitive, and you search only for the best way to express yourself.  When you are learning another language, you search for the words to say even the simplest thing.  It is a humbling experience to be a person who loves and manipulates words yet finds herself fumbling for the words to say anything at all.  However...I do feel as though I am on the brink of discovering the language, that somehow it's all going to start making sense.  I have many pieces of the puzzle, and now need to start putting them together. 

We have not had much time to discover Lima, with our full days of training.  We have walked a few miles though, and have been impressed with the little we have seen.  It is a city of incredible energy.  You get the sense that chaos is barely restrained.  People shout, laugh and talk loudly.  Horns honk constantly and obnoxiously. Rattling mini-buses stuffed to capacity roar by, belching exhaust fumes.  Money changers exchange currency on the street medians, and they will give you a better exchange rate there than anywhere else in the city, including banks.  So when there's a break in traffic you cross to the median, haul out your money and make the transaction. 

You take your life into your hands trying to cross a street. Yesterday a group of cars was approaching the four-way intersection in front of our hotel, and appeared to be slowing for the stop sign.  After a few days here, I realize that this is an illusion, but I thought I had plenty of time to cross the street.  I stepped out just as the first of the drivers gunned his engine and roared through the intersection.  I did a skip-hop across the road in record time while my wiser companions waited for another break in the traffic.  Speed bumps, traffic signs and stop lights are mere suggestions here, mostly ignored.  Everyone seems to know what to do though, and there is a constant cacophony of horn honking that apparently indicates who goes where and when.  A pedestrian has zero rights here, and if you are crossing you have to dodge the cars turning in front of you or behind you because they will not stop to allow you to pass.  Ever.  Surprisingly though, we have felt safe here, and the city's energy seeps into you rather than drains you.

Looking out the windows of the office, you see across the road a government building where gun licenses are issued. Each day there are long lineups, all day, of men waiting to be admitted to purchase a gun permit.  One of the good jobs here is as a security guard, and guards are ubiquitous, in grocery stores, on the streets, outside of restaurants, stores and banks. Many carry hand weapons, so a gun license is worth standing in line for, all day if necessary.

 

We have discovered some of the delicious foods here.  One of my favorites is a fresh avocado, peeled and halved, then stuffed with a flavorful mixture of chopped chicken, sweet peppers, tomato and cilantro, with a spicy sauce drizzled over it all.  Anticuchos de corazon are also tasty, but not necessarily for everyone.  They are pieces of beef heart, rubbed with a mixture of garlic, aji pepper and cumin.  They are grilled on a skewer, and served with or without a creamy, spicy sauce.  We enjoyed them very much and will certainly have them again.  Chicken is served everywhere, in all forms, as are many of the 4000 varieties of potatoes grown in Peru.  At a small café where we had lunch this week, chicken came in the form of chicken feet soup, apparently tasty and filling according to Murray, but not something I was ready to challenge myself with yet.  There is goat, beef, pork and llama too.  Nothing I have tried so far has been disappointing.  And, happily, (probably luckily) the digestive system has held up to this point.  We shall see if that continues to be the case. I think we will have some interesting culinary adventures here.

 

 

Culinary adventures abound in Lima

 

So, here's what we've learned in our first week here in Peru:

~Energy, noise and boldness characterize Lima. This city with so much history continues to recreate itself.

~We are a very small piece of the CUSO puzzle.  People from all walks of life are contributing to and learning from this type of experience.

~We are in dire need of language learning assistance.  Happily it sounds like a language teacher is being looked for to help us in Tarapoto.

~We are just beginning a great adventure, with many challenges ahead.

Please stay tuned for our next post, which will be coming soon from Tarapoto.  Thank you to everyone who has supported us financially in this and with their prayers and messages of encouragement.  We really couldn't do this without you.  Hasta luego amigos!