The drama of the Chiapas countryside: when the weather became the worst enemy
Imagine this scene worthy of an apocalyptic Netflix movie, but without a budget for special effects: in the fog of the forests of southern Chiapas, on the border with Guatemala, two of the protagonists of our morning cravings – coffee and cocoa – are in intensive care. Farmers, those unsung heroes who maintain our caffeine addiction, can no longer predict whether it’s going to rain or shine. His life has become a TikTok of climate chaos, where torrential rains, hail and plagues are the unwanted trending topics.
And while we pay an arm and a leg for a flat white with oat milk, those who grow the precious grain don’t see the fruit of their labor literally. Those who resist migrating to the city – because, let’s be honest, changing the countryside for a call center is not exactly an upgrade – attend what we could call “agricultural survival classes”, where they learn to adapt to a planet that seems to have gone crazy.
A bitter future for your sweet cravings
The situation is so serious that a study by the Zurich University of Applied Sciences – yes, the Swiss are also worried about our coffee – predicts that the regions suitable for growing coffee trees could be reduced by up to 50% globally in the next 30 years. For cocoa, the outlook is equally bleak. These fruits are like that sensitive friend that cannot stand even one degree more: any increase in temperature drastically decreases its yield.
The supreme irony is that in Chiapas they are not concerned about the lack of water, but about the excess. The rainy season has become as unpredictable as Instagram algorithms, making it almost impossible to know when to plant so that rain doesn’t ruin the flowers before they are pollinated. Humidity not only prevents the fruits from drying out, but also attracts fungi that unleash pests worthy of a horror movie. To complete the drama, landslides isolate communities and leave them at the mercy of “coyotes”, those usurious intermediaries who take advantage of the vulnerability of others as if it were a business opportunity on Shark Tank.
Field schools: the last resort against the coffee apocalypse
Faced with this dystopian scenario, the UN International Organization for Migration has developed a field school program to advise producers. Adriana Rodríguez, biologist and project coordinator, explains it with the rawness of someone who sees the problem up close: “Climate change is one more confusing and abstract factor among the problems that communities face.” The towns of the south deal with more tangible realities: poverty, the generational loss of farm workers, insecurity in areas disputed by armed groups and, if that were not enough, natural disasters.
Rodríguez details: “Three weeks ago we had a very intense rain. There was a lot of mud and communities were cut off. The highest areas, where coffee grows, are more at risk because they are very steep terrain and degraded by deforestation.” The vicious circle is completed when, given the increase in temperature, producers must seek the cold in higher areas to plant, which increases the cost of transporting the boxes down the mountain. “With all the climate risks they face, it is no longer working for them,” he laments.
In the La Trinidad ejido, on the slopes of the Tacaná volcano, the project has brought together several farmers. The streets are full of coffee trees that grow wild, displaying those red cherries that we crave so much in the form of a latte. Here they learn how to prepare drying tables, a simple but revolutionary technology that prevents coffee from becoming moldy or fermenting by leaving it in the sun on the ground. This technique allows them to sell dried coffee, much more profitable than selling it with the pulp.
A few meters away, the tanned hands of Edna Morales González, a 63-year-old farmer, prepares food for the activity. His story is a reflection of forced adaptation: since the borer plague devastated his Arabica crop, he decided to plant only Robusta, more resistant but less in demand and, therefore, less paid. “We invest everything we have in cultivation, sowing, pruning, clearing the land and inputs. But many times we barely see any profits,” he says. In these workshops he has learned to make his own fertilizers and fumigators, a small act of rebellion against the large companies that dominate the market.
This crisis reminds us that behind every cup of coffee or bar of chocolate there is a battle against increasingly hostile elements. The next time you enjoy your morning fix, remember that its existence hangs by a thread, held by the hands of those resisting on the front lines of climate change.
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