Dying for a cup of coffee

In a darkened hut, on a dirt floor, a young woman stirs beans as they roast on a skillet. She then breaks the brown beans in a bowel with a wooden pestle. She brews the coffee and pours in through a long-stemmed pot into wide cups sitting on a crate. The members of the family gathered around the coffee each take a cup and drink, themselves sitting on their own crates or squatting.

Somewhere else, a man wakes up before sunrise, walks downstairs through the dining room to the kitchen and turns on the light overhead. From the freezer he picks a Kenya dark roast, fills the electric grinder, and presses the button for 20 seconds. After filling the basket of the drip coffee maker, he pours distilled water it into the coffee maker. He presses the "on" button and 5 minutes later drinks a cup at the kitchen table as he takes in the morning news on the radio or internet.

These two parties are linked by coffee. But they are at different ends of its chain. The first is in Ethiopia, where coffee originated and where it is still a major export crop. The other is in the US and represents the biggest consumer of coffee in the world. One is dirt poor and getting poorer. The other is richer than ever. One is brown or black. The other is white.

The documentary Black Gold tells the story of coffee, where it comes from, where it goes and how the money flows. In the coffee market, much like other commodities, the farmers don't make the money. The traders, processors and marketers do. Coffee contracts in 2005 totaled $140 billion dollars. Starbucks alone has over 13,000 outlets. But, according the movie, every $3 cup of coffee earns a farmer only 3¢.

So, what is the morality of a cup of joe?

In the next few entries, I want to look at coffee and our relationship with it and its producers as people in the West and as Christians. I hope to illuminate its role in our lives and work and our role as believers in changing the lives of others.