Mom, where do baby coffees come from?

There is a huge pile of dark black topsoil in Las Lomitas. Fortunately there is a road (of sorts) that leads towards where it rests. Unfortunately, the last little tail of the road ends at the base of an enormous slope about 100 meters downhill from where that beautiful dirt lies in waiting. A friend in town, Len, told me I could take as much as I wanted since he was done with it. So I and a couple of my gardening guys have been filling feed sacks and hauling them through the yucca fields and down the slick path on our shoulders. 100 pounds at a time, each sack gets chucked onto our car's roof rack every time I get a spare minute. We've hauled about 40 sacks so far and there is still at least that much again to be brought down.


Mahogany Men.

In April, a five of us from Las Lomitas drove down the PanAmerican highway to Siguatepeque (See-gwa-teh-pek-eh), the next major wide spot in the road heading south. It is a beautiful drive for those of us that enjoy beautiful drives up into the mountains. For thirteen year-olds who have scarcely ridden in a car, it is apparently a nauseating, terrifying death trip. However, an hour later we arrived at Semillas Tropicales (SETRO) with no vomit in the car. SETRO is a company that collects/distributes/sells/stores high quality seeds of trees utilized for lumber, fruit, and other agroforestry endeavors. We had arrived to attend a workshop with Don Oscar, the owner of the company.



Those of you familiar with Community Development projects may frequently notice that labor is often listed as a contribution by the beneficiary. What does that mean exactly? Lest we under-appreciate this portion, we should examine it a little more closely. The concept varies from project to project and community to community, but might be explained most easily by the following example.