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Raising a Village, One Cup at a Time

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John M. Darch CEO Doi Chaang Vancouver, Canada, Thai general manager Sandra Bunmusik, John A. Darch CFO Doi Chaang Vancouver, Canada and Wicha Promyong, president Doi Chaang Chiang Rai, Thailand

 

For more than three decades, I have been involved with numerous natural resource projects in North America, Africa and Asia, meeting many interesting (and sometimes unsavoury) people. None, however, compare with the intriguing and friendly Thais. Like most Western entrepreneurs in Thailand, I was mostly involved with the established business society. It was not until 2006 when my Thai friend Ponprapa Bunmusik introduced me to the Akha hill tribe people of Doi Chaang near Chiang Rai and I spent time with them that I began to understand their struggle for dignity and their desire to be more than a tourist attraction.

Their story seemed incredulous: a hill tribe living in Doi Chaang Village (primarily of Akha heritage) had, through sheer determination and dedication, created a viable business cultivating an outstanding quality coffee. I was surprised that coffee was even grown in Thailand, never mind that it was being achieved with no government assistance or donations.

Thailand’s Doi Chaang Coffee has gotten some good television coverage over the last few months in Canada. Global TV sent a crew here to make a documentary about the project.

I learned that the villagers wanted to expand their business internationally and my friend wondered if I would be interested in another Thai business venture. I agreed to meet them out of politeness and was introduced to Khun Wicha Promyong, the man responsible for leading the Akha tribe in their quest to be self-sufficient. Wicha, a former world-travelled entrepreneur, comes from southern Thailand and having enjoyed the privileges of education, healthcare and wealth, he gave all of it up more than 30 years ago to live and travel with Thailand’s hill tribes. His home is now with “his people,” the Akha hill tribe in Doi Chaang village and his “mission” is to help them have dignity and to become self-sustaining.

When we met in Bangkok, Wicha explained how the many hill tribes originally migrated from southwestern China, eventually settling in scattered, isolated communities in the mountainous regions of Laos, Vietnam and Northern Thailand. Apparently, at one time, the hill tribes of Northern Thailand sustained themselves through slash and burn horticulture, but the increased population of the last century depleted the land and many of the hill tribes resorted to cultivating opium for survival.

Rich in culture and tradition, shrouded in myth and legend, the Akha people have no official written language, but maintain a detailed, oral history and live life according to the “Akha Way,” a spiritual, moral and social philosophy that governs behaviour and emphasizes strong ties to land and family. Yet, of all the hill tribes, few were as downtrodden, shunned or as impoverished as the Akha people.

The growers of Doi Chang harvest coffee cherries from November to March

Arriving at Doi Chaang village (literal translation: Elephant Mountain), I was expecting the familiar destitute village that had become the symbol of the typical hill tribe community. However, here was an energetic farming community, complete with rudimentary electricity, running water, a school and a medical clinic. Some 20 years ago, in the hope of steering hill tribes away from cultivating opium, His Majesty the King of Thailand directed the farmers be given coffee plants. Sadly, because the farmers were acting independently and were inexperienced in business practice, their lives barely improved. To sell his beans, each farmer had to transport them some 70 kilometres to Chiang Rai, the nearest city, where the international coffee dealers kept the farmers divided and paid them minimal prices. In frustration, the Akha villagers turned to Wicha, who lived in Chiang Rai, for help. As a first step, Wicha encouraged all the Doi Chaang farmers to become a co-operative, thereby making it impossible for the coffee dealers to play one family against another. His next focus was educating the farmers in the importance of quality and productivity. In just over six years, this once small, isolated, poor village was transformed.

In my meeting with Wicha, he pointed out where clear-cut sections from past farming practice are now being reforested with a variety of trees, bushes and plants. The reforestation supports the production of various crops, which not only provide food, but are also sold to help support and diversify the village’s economy. This cultivation method maintains soil quality, as the canopy protects against the sun and the rain and eliminates the need for continuous weeding and the use of harmful chemicals. The result is rich, fertile soil that sustains diverse crop production for present and future generations.

I couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty. My own business ventures have been in natural resource development where the resources are eventually depleted, projects with a finite life that has inevitable consequences for employees and their families. I was now presented with a business that could expand without depleting resources or exploiting workers and their families. So what did the people want with me? Wicha didn’t ask me for money and I didn’t offer. Instead, he wanted a business relationship for his people. As I learned, Doi Chaang’s success was such that production had exceeded demand in Thailand, and Wicha, forever the visionary, wanted me to introduce their coffee to the North American market. There were two conditions: to ensure the villagers’ self-esteem, their coffee had to be sold under the name Doi Chaang (Elephant Mountain) and the label had to bear the words “single-origin.”

L to R: Brother Wicha, Doi Chaang village leader Piko Saedoo, John M. Darch

It is important to understand that these people do not want charity, but a fair price for their coffee. The Akha farmers told me they want people to buy their coffee for the “quality,” not out of sympathy, as beyond improving their lifestyle; the most important thing to these people is respect and recognition of their achievements.

Wicha told me that international investors and coffee buyers constantly approach these people, looking to invest and control their coffee production. Their intent is to blend the beans with other coffees and market them under a different name because “Doi Chaang” sounds too ethnic. The potential buyers argue that they must have control and that it would be too expensive and difficult to market internationally a single-origin, Arabica coffee from Thailand, essentially unknown outside Asia.

I was captivated and immediately contacted Wayne Fallis, a colleague in Canada with extensive experience in food exporting and importing. I convinced him that I had found a project that would offer more than a financial return. We then sought the opinion of Calgary-based, Shawn MacDonald, well known for his extensive knowledge of coffee. MacDonald not only confirmed that Doi Chaang Coffee was a “world class” coffee, but he agreed to join our venture as Roast Master and vice-president of operations. And so we began what is probably a unique business arrangement in the coffee world. The farmers maintain total ownership and control of their own Thai company and domestic sales. In addition, they would also have a “carried” 50 percent interest in the Vancouver and Calgary based Canadian company, Doi Chaang Coffee Company, created to roast and distribute Doi Chaang coffee in North America. My colleague and I agreed to personally provide 100 percent of the finance required for all aspects of the Canadian operation leaving the hill tribe to focus on production, quality control and expansion.

This structure provides the hill tribe people with a no-lose business arrangement. We buy the green beans from the farmers, for cash, at a price in excess of the recommended price, which gives them an immediate profit and the ability to continue their coffee production. And because of the ownership in Doi Chaang Coffee Company, they also receive 50 percent of the Canadian company’s profits without any cost to them.

I am proud of how the Akha farmers use their coffee revenues to improve the standard of living for their community and the quality of their coffee. Having been isolated and impoverished for so long, they are now recognized and praised for their achievements, held up by Thailand officials as a “role model” for other hill tribe communities. In 2007, the farmers demonstrated their commitment to their community by building the Doi Chaang Coffee Academy, at their own expense. All hill tribe farmers may attend at no cost to learn about co-operative business practices, diverse crop production, quality control and sustainable agriculture. The farmers are also taught personal money management skills and the importance of education and healthcare. The ultimate goal is for the hill tribes to be accepted and welcomed as productive, contributing members of Thai society.

I am determined to make Doi Chaang Coffee a success in North America because I strongly believe that this is an alternative and viable way of doing business with the coffee farmers. I believe in the Akha hill tribe’s courage to persevere and I believe in their determination to better themselves and take control of their own future. I believe in their children, their community, their potential and their ability to sustain and grow their own business without any negative impact on their culture, community or environment.

By John Darch chairman of Doi Chaang Coffee in Canada.www.doichaangcoffee.com

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Heroin Poppy’s Return to the Golden Triangle

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Indian opium farmers now are harvesting large crops in the country's northern area, a new development in the regional drug problem. (Photo by TNI)

Indian opium farmers now are harvesting large crops in the country’s northern area, a new development in the regional drug problem. (Photo by TNI)

CHIANG RAI – Poppy cultivation has rapidly expanded in the Myanmar and Laos parts of the Golden Triangle, to feed new demands for heroin, chiefly in China, according to a report released Monday.

“After a decade of decline, Southeast Asia is now once again a major opium growing region,” it claims

The report said opium production has spread into northern India for the first time, and that chances of a “drug free Asean” by next year are slim at best.

The Transnational Institute (TNI), a Dutch-based NGO active in the region, said in a new 115-page report that new markets in China and India have created fresh demand for heroin. But it noted that cross-the-board attempts to ban opium cultivation have “driven hundreds of thousands of families deeper into poverty”.

One conclusion of this “relapse in the Golden Triangle” is that attempts by China to replicate Thailand’s crop substitution programmes have failed.

Until regional governments and the international community properly addresses poverty, conflict and rising demand for heroin in China, opium bans and eradication will continue to fail,” said Tom Kramer, lead author of the report.

He echoed his report, saying that crop substitution in the region has so far failed to support farmers forced or attracted back to opium farming.

“Alternative livelihood options need to be firmly in place before communities can be expected to abandon illicit cultivation,” he said

If the findings of the TNI report are confirmed in coming months, it will mark a major setback for efforts to end the decades-old opium growing and heroin manufacture in areas next to Thailand.

TNI recommended Monday a complete reform of the anti-narcotics policies by all regional governments, up to and including the UN.

Policies must be “more humane, with a focus on health, development and human rights rather than on repression and law enforcement,” the report said.

TNI has long been a leader in calling for such reform, with a strong emphasis on elimination of the death penalty for any type of drug trafficking.

According to the group, the Thai part of the Golden Triangle is not involved in the recent resurgence in poppy production.

Tiny plots used to grow opium poppies in Thailand itself have stayed at around 200 to 300 hectares (1,250 to 1,875 rai), mostly for local consumption and medical use, “opium cultivation … overall has more than doubled from an estimated 24,000 hectares in 2006 to some 58,000 hectares in 2013,” according to the TNI figures.

In Thailand especially, anti-drug measures in recent years have focussed mainly on the methamphetamine trade, in an effort to interdict more of the estimated one billion ya baa tablets that flow from Burmese pill factories into Thailand.

Almost unnoticed, the opium and heroin revival in the rest of the Golden Triangle, has spread east to India. That was so unexpected that the chief agency involved, the UN Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) does not even measure opium production in India.

TNI said that growing regions have shifted in Myanmar and Laos because local warlords, under central government pressure, banned growing poppies in traditional areas.

The main poppy growing areas in Myanmar, says the report released Monday, are in the southern Shan State, close to the Thai border. Laos production is centered in Phongsali and Houaphan provinces, which border China and Vietnam respectively.

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Embellishing English, “Golden Triangle” Region

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The hill-tribe Akha are comparative newcomers to the region.

Embellishing English

CHIANG RAI – Once when the world was young — 1978 to be more precise — I headed out alone from the northern Thai city of Chiang Rai, fancying myself an anthropologist on the verge of discovering new peoples in the mythical “Golden Triangle” region. So much for the hubris of youth.

The Akha originated in Yunnan in Southern China

Turned out I was walking into a well-established tourist trap where even the romantic name “Golden Triangle” (the region in which Thailand, Myanmar and Laos meet) had been bestowed by the US State Department in reference to what had been a thriving opium industry.

I did spend a few happy days in the highlands with Akha people, many of whom (following the linguistic conceit of a surprising number of Star Trek aliens) spoke excellent English. The hill-tribe Akha are comparative newcomers to the region. Originally from the Yunnan region of southern China, they migrated south into mainland Southeast Asia (aka Indochina) over a century ago. About 100,000 of them live in the Chiang Rai and Chiang Mai provinces of northern Thailand today.

The Akha are often mentioned in popular books on linguistics for their curious use of adjectives, specifically how “very” takes different forms depending on what they’re referring to. Very deep, for instance, is “kha” deep. Very big is “lo” big. In the same vein, and lacking an actual word for “very,” the Akha say “tio” clean, “dù blue and “d” white for very clean, very blue and very white.

Which isn’t quite as exotic as it may sound at first blush, when you consider the many variants of “very” in English. We routinely and automatically add playful little baroque emphases to many of our most common adjectives. We typically don’t say, “The hitchhiker was very wet,” we say, “He was soaking wet.” After the long hike, I wasn’t “very tired,” I was “dog-tired.”

Similarly: bone dry, drop-dead gorgeous, brim full, pug ugly, goddam awful, piping hot, scot-free, feather light, dead quiet, pencil thin, pitch black, snow (lily, pearly) white, brand new, dirt cheap, sky high, freezing cold, crystal clear, fighting fit … I’m sure you can come up with some of your own.

These examples are all the easy one-word add-ons, excluding such full-blooded metaphors we characteristically employ. When’s the last time you said, “She’s very sharp”? Didn’t you really say, “She’s sharp as a tack”?

Note that these embellishments don’t really add to the meaning: “very ugly” and “pug ugly” mean pretty much the same thing, the latter being slightly stronger perhaps. It’s just that we all love language — it’s our primary social medium, so we do more than express “just the facts, ma’am” when we want to add emphasis. We’re not just language speakers, we’re language players.

Barry Evans ([email protected]) hopes you didn’t find the above deadly dull.

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Lanjia Hill Tribe Lodge in the Clouds, Chiangrai Thailand

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Lanjia Lodge sits halfway up the hillside in the village of Kiew Karn

 

CHIANGRAI TIMES – Lindsay Hawdon and her two boys swap Thailand’s beaches and cities for Lanjia Lodge, a tribal hill village in the Chiang Rai province.

We awoke on our first morning to a sheet of mist, pale as milk, hanging over the valley below. Slowly it dissipated to reveal the brown swirling waters of the Mekong River and the surrounding hills.

Lanjia Lodge sits halfway up the hillside in the village of Kiew Karn in northern Thailand. It is made up of four bamboo houses, built and run by local people with the aim of attracting travellers looking for a more insightful experience beyond Thailand’s beaches and cities. I was staying there with my two boys, eight-year-old Dow and five-year-old Orly, as part of a year-long trip around Asia and Australia.

“Are we above heaven?” Orly asked from our comfortable king-size bed, cocooned by mosquito nets. “It feels like we’re in the clouds.” All around us were the sounds of Kiew Karn stirring: a cockerel crowed, a piglet squealed, a cow groaned. In the village live the Hmong and Lahu tribes who fled to Thailand from Laos during the “Secret War” of 1968-73. They have a school, a temple, a village hall and a scattering of mud-brick houses.

After a breakfast of noodle soup on our cushion-strewn veranda, served by Ling, a pretty, delicate girl who smiled at everything we said, we trekked up the hill to the far end of the village. We had arranged to meet Mr Laogee, a Hmong shaman, and found him lying on a bed, in the darkest corner of his windowless hut, as he escaped from the noise of his four children next door. He stood up and greeted us with a low bow.

We were invited to sit on the bamboo mats on the damp earth floor and offered cups of steaming miang leaf tea. The role of the shaman in the Hmong tribe is not inherited as it is with the Lahu. To qualify for the role, the Hmong shamans, of which there are several, must have recovered from a coma, whether caused by illness or accident. The Hmong believe that only those who have done this can help others to recover from serious illness. To that end, a pig is sacrificed; and a buffalo horn is dipped in blood and stamped on the sick person’s back. “I’d rather stay sick,” muttered Dow.

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