Songs of Coffee – Letter #2
As I journeyed through Guatemala, the road leading to the coffee fields wended its way as far as the eye could see, cleaving its way through the mountains. How many paths of life, moving through cities or out in the fields resemble this long and rough but oft-traveled road? As we traveled, I spent hours mulling over the much-anticipated encounter to come, beyond the valleys and steep mountainsides, all covered with seemingly inaccessible coffee fields.
I observed from afar the demanding task of growing coffee, undertaken by men and women, all tenaciously engrossed in plucking the red berries. We were close to our destination, in the shadow of the high volcano of Guatemala, which I wished to photograph. Suddenly, a woman appeared, luminous, a descendant of the Mayas, who, wordlessly, offered me her trusting smile and her flowers.