It was not an easy decision to embark on the journey to the remote cocoa plantations of the Chachi Indians of Esmeraldas, Ecuador, just before Christmas.

Even though I knew it would be a complicated and expensive journey, I had no idea at the time what "remote" truly meant.

Journey to Ecuador

Starting with two flights within South America to Guayaquil, Ecuador, we were picked up by Jan from Original Beans and his cocoa technician and first transported by an all-wheel-drive jeep on a day's journey north. Along the coast and without real breaks, we made our way towards the jungle.

There were two destinations we planned to visit to thank the farmers for their work and to deliver Christmas gifts.

Two different settlements that are home to the extremely rare native South American heirloom variety, Arriba Nacional.

To this day, I wonder how Original Beans managed to locate these two specific settlements deep within the jungle and then helped them establish the complex infrastructure for their cocoa.

Complex because, while the settlements offer perfect vegetation for their cocoa, they do not for its drying and selection.

Also complex because the settlements can only be reached by a combination of different types of vehicles (all-wheel-drive vehicle, boat, on foot).

Upstream by boat

So we set off before dawn to reach the boarding point for the narrow boat by mid-morning, which would carry us 2.5 hours upstream – if we were lucky and the weather permitted.

Packed with saplings of useful trees like cinnamon, as well as gifts for the farming families and their children, we plowed through the tropical river. The boat was so heavily loaded that a wave or two splashed in. For the occasional rain showers, we armed ourselves with tarpaulins, which we pulled over ourselves like blankets.

Arriving in the jungle

Our arrival at the first settlement was as heartfelt as it was challenging. Due to the countless rains in the region, the jungle floor, and thus the landing site, was pure mud. No wonder the inhabitants have always built their houses on stilts.

With helping hands, slipping rubber boots, and much giggling and cackling, the village men helped us from the boat up into the settlement.

Especially for our arrival, there was a meal with capybara, called Wante, hunted specifically for the occasion. This ritual occasion once again led me to eat dead animal. Out of appreciation and respect for this community.

Afterwards, we proceeded to the eagerly awaited gifts for the farming families of the first settlement.

"The two settlements are so different, you'd hardly believe they're from the same region," Jan told me.

The people of the first settlement turned out to be polite, reserved, and quiet.

They gratefully accepted the vegan milk chocolate made from their cocoa. A beautiful symbol of appreciation, which actually reflects much more than just a noble chocolate gift.

Through the collaboration with Original Beans, these purely organically farming farmers manage to earn a stable and respectable income, which supports and secures the entire village and gives their children opportunities that their parents never had.

In addition to chocolate, the farmers also received Jan's famous homemade vegan gingerbread and his magical chocolate spread. Plus T-shirts and gym bags from Original Beans.

The appreciation was sealed with handshakes and group photos.

We used the afternoon for a stroll to a remarkable cocoa farm.

Stroll, because it turned out to be a long march through knee-deep mud that swallowed my rubber boots and Anka's more than once.

Luckily, we occasionally found sustenance from the sweet pulp of ripe cocoa pods and from freely growing sugarcane, which was cut for us with a few machete hacks.

What was special about this farm, I still don't understand, but the march showed me the terrain in which the farmers do their work. And that with cocoa sacks of over 60 kilograms on their shoulders.

The return journey downstream was without complications and much faster.

Since the second settlement awaited us the next day, there was nothing else to do but fall dead into bed upon arrival at the hotel.

Departure to the Chachi

Again before dawn, but this time we get in the car and prepare for a longer drive.

Over an hour to the village. And from there?

"No se sabe," means: Nobody knows.

The path through the jungle is marked by ditches as large as cars and constantly occurring landslides. Arriving in the village, we bought sweets for the children of the settlement and set off.

It was to be an unforgettable car journey, during which we picked up about 20 more men from the area in the back of the pickup truck.

We drove through puddles that reached the passenger window, slid down slopes in the car, and were tossed around in the back seat like at a fairground. The car roared, and every slope offered a new chance to get stuck for good.

The sudden heavy rain created a dramatic soundscape that made any conversation impossible.

Perhaps it was 1.5 hours, or even 3. The intensity of the ride made the time reckoning very vague.

Eventually, however, we found ourselves on a muddy hill, which turned out to be a landing site.

A few men in rubber boots helped us carry our gifts and luggage to the boat waiting in the rain.

Graceful like elephants on an ice rink, we slid down the slope and into the nutshell of a boat.

Before we knew it, we continued our journey on a river. Only two more hours, we were told.

Arriving at the settlement, this time there was a different welcome. Crowds of children gathered at the landing site. They shouted, waved, jumped, and clapped.

Jan had mentioned there were remarkably many children in this village, but he hadn't spoken of throngs of them.

We went up into the village to visit Ritter directly. And that is indeed his name. We refrained from asking how he got it.

Ritter had tried his luck as a singer in the capital Quito and there realized that his future lay in Esmeraldas. In his home settlement.

Here he acts as project manager, contact person, and translator (because not all Chachi speak fluent Spanish).

With Ritter, we set out to visit some of the cocoa farmers and inspect their tree landscape, and even explore a waterfall. He proved to be an incredibly honest, authentic, and helpful person with indigenous roots.

In the afternoon, a village meeting was scheduled, where all cooperating farmers were present, as were their wives and many, many children.

On the occasion of the large assembly, Ritter's wife cooked a large pot of cocoa. Certainly 15 liters. Based on their local cocoa mass, which you too could soon hold in your hands. ;)

This was divided into two standard buckets with a measuring cup for serving.

Although we mentioned our preference for sugar (preferably none), half a kilo of the crystalline sweetness must have found its way into the cocoa. To the delight of the locals.

At the same time, Jan, Anka, and Misch set about packing sweets for the children into small bags. All sorts of unhealthy stuff, to which the kids otherwise have no access, we were allowed to give them.

Of course, the ubiquitous children caught wind of the candy action, and before we knew it, we had the company of a girl who very determinedly helped out, to be at the forefront of the sweets and in our presence. Later, she would not leave our side...

With a plastic tub full of sweets and two plastic buckets full of cocoa, we made our way to the assembly ground, which was also the sports field. There we lined up and each spoke in turn.

First Ritter, who gave a few introductory words about our visit, then our technician, who discussed the season's results and potential for improvement, and then Jan, who represented Original Beans and thus Europe to the farmers.

When Jan finished his words, he turned to me and whispered:
"It would be good if you also said a few words, as a chocolate maker and all..."

Understandingly, I took two steps forward and introduced myself as the last in this chain of appreciation. In my not-flawless Spanish, I emphasized the value of the individual farmers' work, especially the ecological aspects of their agriculture, and not least the excellent quality of their beans.

As I spoke, I understood that I stood before them not just as a gringo who had stumbled into this place, but as a gateway to the civilized world that some of the farmers or their children dreamed of.

For me, this was a pivotal moment because I realized that it is essential to acknowledge the unique value of people in developing nations.

More important than showering them with donations is to recognize that these men and women contribute to a sustainable world, as we all desire.

After the speeches, cocoa was served, gifts were distributed, and there was laughter, dancing, and playing until we finally climbed into our reserved hammocks to sleep.

Anka and I spent part of the night in one hammock until it became uncomfortable and I found my own.

The next morning, after a simple breakfast, we headed to the boat pier, closely followed by children, chickens, and dogs. 

Before that, I wanted to visit the outhouse, also built on stilts, where I managed the impossible. While peeing standing up, one of my feet broke through the rotten wooden floor, and I found myself, as sleepy as I was, in an extremely precarious situation. With one leg under the floor, my pants open, and used toilet paper around me, I grabbed the wooden box that served as the toilet and pulled myself up.

"Is something wrong, honey? You look a bit off," Anka said to me when I returned. Not only she seemed to have noticed it, as the rest of our team also looked at me worriedly.

"Todo bien," I said, looking down sheepishly, and carefully washed my hands again before we boarded our long, narrow boat, rattled away, and waved to the villagers.

That was the visit to these two lovely settlements, with equally lovely and impressive stories. All these stories and more are contained in our Esmeraldas cocoa. 

And if you listen closely, you too can hear them.