The coffee cooperative

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By Balthazar Sellier (Master students exchange programme, cohort of 2024-2025)

It is 9 a.m., and I am sitting in a panaderia enjoying my first coffee of the day after a cold 3-hour drive from Victoria. In front of me, the interactions are fast, and movements come one after another as the chivas arrive non-stop. In this street of Pensilvania, a large village of Caldas, Colombia, two agricultural cooperatives are receiving coffee bags from these colourful trucks. The rich, detailed drawings of the chivas captured my attention. On an often rusty wood, lines and geometric forms going from red to blue, passing by green, pink, or orange, make them unique. As soon as one is seen around the corner, the rhythm of the street gets activated in the twinkling of an eye. Peasants, arriving in groups, are coming out of the chiva, which is just parked on half of the street. The coteros – a person working in a coffee cooperative- unload the coffee bags, pilling up to 80, overflowing this truck. The mechanism is on. Poncho over the shoulder to soften the rustic character of the bags, the coteros are handing them in a rapid and agile manner. The coffee is stocked in the back shop of the cooperative, where they are exchanged for around 70.000-80.000 COP the bag. It will then be sent to Manizales, where it will be exported internationally. In the space of two hours, six chivas came in. All of them had already left, except for the last one of the morning, unloading its shipment for an hour. The other coteros are waiting and chatting in front of the cooperative. They explained to me that around a dozen people work there, receiving coffee deliveries throughout the day. At times, the chivas fill the entire street, stacking up and amplifying the lively rhythm of the scene. Initially, I felt hesitant to take photos of the streets and the people who give them such vibrancy. After all, this is not my culture, and the boundaries of context and personal privacy can sometimes feel unclear. However, every person I asked gave an enthusiastic yes, proud of their work and appreciative of the interest it sparked.

Coffee and cacao play a vital role in the peasantry tapestry of the region. In the more uphill places, like those in Pensilvania, coffee is the primary crop, while cacao thrives in warmer, downhill areas such as Victoria. As drinking coffee has never been easier and ubiquitous in many Western countries, this economy relies on the work of several actors at the “bottom of the chain”. From the peasant to the cotero, and the seller, the cultivation of cacao and coffee plants sustains families and villages all over Caldas. The vibrant chivas bustling through the streets, carrying goods and people, are a visible testament to this way of life. Yet, perhaps the most profound cultural legacy lies in the role coffee plays in bringing people together. Whether it’s a morning ritual, an afternoon pause, or an excuse for a late-night discussion, coffee has a unique way of assembling people, fostering connection, and enriching daily life.

MACO at the COP16 on biodiversity

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By Balthazar Sellier (Master students exchange programme, cohort of 2024-2025)

Our common journey starts in Cali, the capital of biodiversity for ten days as it hosts the COP16.

It’s 11 a.m. when my phone rings. It’s Javier. He tells me they are already at the meeting point and that I should be there in 30 minutes. I’m still folding fifty sheets of political notes into thirds on the wooden table of a youth hostel in San Antonio. I need to hurry. The most important meeting of my research awaits just a kilometre away: MACO at COP16. I down the rest of my coffee in one gulp, tidy up the mess, and head out into Cali’s already hot and bustling streets. I had been both dreading and anticipating this event. A COP feels monumental to a young student full of utopian dreams. Witnessing the conferences from the inside, being in those spaces where people deeply committed—sometimes despite themselves—to biodiversity protection for years is exciting. Moreover, I was not there just as a student but as a “researcher,” driven by the critical goal of making a difference.

There they are—a group of five people seated at a café across from the building where the event would occur. I don’t hesitate for a second; I know it’s MACO. The way they sit with a casual ease reflects their authenticity. Then I recognise Javier; he wears a white polo shirt adorned with the MACO logo, and on the back, the full name is spelt out: Movimiento Ambiental de los Campesinos del Oriente de Caldas. The welcome is warm. We introduce ourselves quickly, and the conversation I had interrupted picks up again with renewed vigour. We sit in a circle on plastic chairs at the small café. Javier, MACO’s president, is deep in discussion with Viviana Berra, the president of the ecofeminist movement EcoGenova and coordinator of the Red Nacional contra las PCHs project. James, the eldest of the group, participates enthusiastically, his voice carrying a strong conviction tinged with emotion. Lastly, two other men, peasants from Pennsylvania and Samana, complete the group.

The excitement rises as we left the café, crossing the street to the venue. That intense hour of discussion flies by, and Viviana, speaking French to me, confides that she hasn’t had time to eat. We enter the building, bypassing the queue like VIPs. We are the delegation set to speak at COP16, and I am part of it. It’s 1:45 p.m. when the event finally begins. We decorate the starkly white room with posters and large banners covering half the wall space, bringing a bit more warmth to the space. One of the banners is a drawing from a “counter-mapping” workshop held months earlier, depicting the territory of eastern Caldas as envisioned by the peasants. Green fields and blue rivers stand out vividly on this map, underscoring the significance of nature and biodiversity—a theme that would resonate throughout the three speeches.

The room is filled with about fifty people. I distribute the policy note written especially for the COP, titled: “Small Hydropower: Breaking the Myth of the False Green Energies”. Writing for this event was a great opportunity to join MACO and the others directly in the resistance and get involved firsthand. Beyond its informative value, the note reflects my engagement, which is crucial for building trustful relationships.

Viviana speaks first, her tone calm yet confident. She delivers her talk at an impressive speed, clearly well-versed in her topic. The audience, trying their best to keep up, is captivated by her ease with the microphone as she moves across the stage. In just a few minutes, she lays out the context, diving into the devastating impact of small hydroelectric plants—PCHs (in Spanish), the conference’s central theme. Her presentation is filled with factual accounts, supported by studies and references to Colombia’s constitution, painting a grim picture of how peasant knowledge and aspirations are swept aside by these multimillion-dollar projects rife with corruption. “You have five fingers, and they cut off four,” she says, describing the dramatic drying up of rivers caused by PCHs. James speaks next. He used a few slides, and his voice reflected a deeply personal narrative. He speaks slowly, leaving long pauses that fill the room with a heavy silence, where only the echoes of his last words linger, leaving us with a profound sense of the enormity of his lifelong struggle. At one point, James reads a poem about water. The audience, initially surprised, quickly connects with the raw emotion. His message is clear: we must reconnect with our emotions to grasp the plight of these peasant communities. Finally, Javier takes the stage. By then, the session is nearing its end, and the room buzzes with movement as people enter and exit noisily. Javier’s speech contrasts sharply with James’s measured pace. His delivery is urgent and impassioned, his voice rising and breaking with emotion. He doesn’t move much, his intensity anchoring him in place. His words are raw, reflecting the struggles of a peasant turned into an advocate of a resistance movement. He conveyed the weight of years of fighting, with survival as the only possible outcome. Javier’s speech is filled with passion, carrying the authenticity of a man deeply connected to the cause.

After being pushed to the exit, we gather on the sidewalk, the tension finally easing. Everyone agrees—the event is a success. Smiling broadly, Viviana, Javier, and the others were thrilled. “It’s human to feel emotions,” James tells me, reflecting on his memorable speech. Two of the peasants, heading off to grab a bite, confide that it is their first time attending an event of this magnitude. Reflecting on the “COP de la gente” etiquette, their peasant norms and codes contrast slightly with the institutional setting. But their authenticity, though unintentional, shines through, making their contributions heartfelt and unique. MACO had left its mark on the event, shaping it in its image.

The life in Caldas is great and calm, however threatened

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By Balthazar Sellier (Master students exchange programme, cohort of 2024-2025)

My name is Balthazar Sellier, and I am 23 years old and a student in the international development research master’s programme at the University of Amsterdam. Thanks to the Riverhood and River Commons initiative, I am currently in Caldas, a department in the centre of Colombia, pursuing research on the relationships between peasants and the rivers. More specifically, I dive into the threat of hydroelectric projects to the meanings and values of rivers among peasants. The thesis enters the works of Ana Arbelaez-Trujillo, who launched the project here already two years ago.

For a few weeks, I am conducting my research here in Victoria, a village situated in the east of Caldas, Colombia. Like many other villages in Colombia, a central square gathers people in cafés and bars surrounding it with a church on the side. This square is even more splendid by the majestic ceiba, dressed in the middle by its 144-year-old. The music coming out of the bars mixes with the birds singing. The life is great and calm. However, it is constantly threatened by an underlying and persisting risk: hydroelectrical projects.

The eastern of Caldas overflows with water as several rivers flow within this region’s hills. Therefore, the government has made it its playground for developing hydroelectrical projects over the rivers. The project Miel I, which was the biggest dam in Colombia at that time, has submerged houses and disturbed ecosystems. It is still very present in the collective imagination of the inhabitants here, even more than 20 years later. The primary people affected are the peasants. By cultivating coffee, cacao, plantains and a variety of other vegetables and fruits on a small scale, maintaining an intimate connection to their surrounding ecosystem. Rivers drying up, the decline in food population, and deforestation caused by the construction of hydroelectric projects jeopardise not only their livelihoods but also the region’s biodiversity and, by extension, the well-being of the entire community.
A new hydroelectrical project revived these fears. Miel II, a run-of-river, is designed to supply Miel I with water. Miel II plans to be located in eastern Caldas, in the municipalities of Samaná, Marquetalia, and Victoria, along the La Miel River tributary – an area inhabited by peasant communities. The project is supposed to dig a long tunnel in the mountains to fill the turbines with more water and, therefore, energy. Recently, the project lost its environmental license, halting its construction. This situation stems from the persistent efforts of water justice movements, which have mobilised local inhabitants to stand against the threats to their livelihoods and environment. Movimiento Ambiental Campesino del Oriente de Caldas (MACO), created in 2015, is one of the main resistance organisations. Working closely with them, I am here to understand the local context better and speak with the peasants to grasp their feelings and experiences firsthand. By gathering these insights, we could shape a (new) narrative – one that highlights who the peasants truly are, the challenges they face because of the commodification of water and the profound significance the river holds for them. Moreover, other organisations are proposing environmentally sustainable alternatives, such as eco-tourism for Coporacion Viglas Ambientales de Victoria, and cross-generational pedagogy programmes for EcoVictoria. Therefore, through telling their stories, supported by a photographic journey I would lead, we could underscore the critical importance of protecting rivers.

Struggles and Hope in the Páramos

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By Sanne Kroezen (Master students exchange programme, cohort of 2024-2025)

Introduction

My name is Sanne Kroezen Peña, I am a Dutch-Ecuadorian MSc student of Law and Society at Leiden University. Currently, I am in Ecuador to conduct fieldwork for my thesis on local perceptions of water justice in the communities along the Guarguallá and Alao rivers, in collaboration with the Observatorio Politecnico del Agua of the ESPOCH university. I would like to take you along different perespectives on justice I encountered in the paramos of Guarguallá.

Attitudes in the páramos

From Licto, it took us a 1.5-hour drive uphill to reach the páramos of Guarguallá. The páramos are high-altitude ecosystems in the Andes, known for their cold climate, unique vegetation, and vital role in water supply and biodiversity. The páramos are essential for providing fresh water to millions of people, but face threats from climate change, agriculture, mining, and unsustainable land use, which endanger their ecological balance and water supply functions.

As we ascended, the landscape gradually transformed: the air grew colder, and signs of human habitation diminished. Fewer houses dotted the landscape, agriculture became sparse, and the architecture appeared simpler. Occasionally, we spotted alpacas grazing on the rugged terrain. Along the way, we picked up three local men for an interview we had arranged.

These men have spent their entire lives in the páramos, which they call home. They now serve on the board of ASARATY, a local organization that oversees the management of alpacas in these fragile ecosystems. During our conversation, deep frustrations emerged, rooted in the injustices they endure. They feel unheard, overlooked, and abandoned by both the government and the downstream communities that rely on the páramos’ water supply. The scarcity of employment opportunities further compounds their struggles. The páramos are vital for water, yet their delicate nature prohibits livestock grazing and crop cultivation, leaving these men feeling as though they have been left with nothing. Our discussion was charged with intense emotions: anger, sadness, disappointment, and a profound sense of distrust. They believe they have sacrificed much to protect the páramos and feel they deserve recognition and support in return. Ultimately, these men have adopted a “wait-and-see” approach, worn down by years of neglect.

A few weeks later, I had the chance to speak with another resident of the páramos. Pedro* is a former community leader and ex-president of ASARATY, who is now collaborating with the ESPOCH to produce alpaca wool products, together with other residents from the páramos (see photo). He presented a stark contrast to the previous group. In an area plagued by poverty, Pedro’s resilience and determination stood out. While he acknowledges the injustices faced by his people, he refuses to wait for others to solve their problems. The páramos is his home, and he cherishes the fresh air and natural beauty, which fuels his drive to protect it. Rather than waiting for change, Pedro has taken action with the alpaca wool production initiative.

Witnessing such a positive, forward-thinking perspective amidst the surrounding adversity is truly inspiring. Despite the challenges and angry neighbors, Pedro remains optimistic. As he says, Ecuador is a beautiful country with endless opportunities, and it’s up to each individual to make the most of them.

*Name changed for privacy reasons

 

Sannes field work in Chimborazo, Ecuador

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By Sanne Kroezen (Master students exchange programme, cohort of 2024-2025)

Introduction

My name is Sanne Kroezen Peña, I am a Dutch-Ecuadorian MSc student of Law and Society at Leiden University. Currently, I am in Ecuador to conduct fieldwork for my thesis on local perceptions of water justice in the communities along the Guarguallá and Alao rivers, in collaboration with the Observatorio Politecnico del Agua of the ESPOCH university.

Expectations

As a half-Ecuadorian, I was already quite familiarized with the Ecuadorian nature, culture, language and food. I was born in Quito, and I have returned with some regularity to the country. But still, the varied nature, with mountains and jungle side by side, the delicious (and cheap) food, and the friendly people keep surprising me again as if it’s the first time I see it. However, living somewhere for 3 months and doing research is very different from holidays.

During my preparations in the Netherlands, I tried to imagine what my time in Riobamba and the communities would be like…: “I would have to do everything by bus or cab, not by bike like in Amsterdam.” “Lunch would consist of a three-course meal, instead of a simple cheese sandwich.” “I will probably also have to eat cuy (guinea pig) while I’m there.” “The weather would be a lot nicer than the rainy Netherlands…”

Now that I have been here for over a month, these expectations all turned out to be true (I have even tasted cuy).

Also, I expected academic differences and differences with regards to the student-life. This, however, was more similar than I had expected. Only, the views from the ESPOCH campus are a bit more breathtaking than from Leiden University or the WUR, with several volcanos in the background.

Life in Riobamba and Licto

After a 24-hour trip from Amsterdam, I arrived in Quito, the bruising capital of the country. I got to live in the cheerful Ecuadorian culture again. After a week of settling in Quito, I arrived at Riobamba, located in the center of Ecuador. A colorful city surrounded by the Chimborazo, Tungurahua and more volcanoes. There is a lot of life on the streets of Riobamba with countless cafes, restaurants and bars. The street scenes vary every block, with traditionally clothed women selling food on the market and a supermarket in a big mall in the next street. Riobamba illustrates the rich culture of Ecuador and showed me how the communitarian lives interact with the city life.

Although my thesis focuses on the communities outside the city, like Licto and Pungala, my home-basis is in Riobamba, as there are many actors living in Riobamba and many ESPOCH-events to attend. However, I visit Licto several times a week and have a room there with a warm family.

The first time I arrived in Licto, I felt like I was entering another world. Where I blended in so easily in Riobamba, I stood out here in the village. As I moved away from the main square, the streets turned from tiles into earth. I visited the feria full of pigs, guinea pigs, chickens and other animals. Suddenly, I felt not local anymore, as I did feel in Riobamba, attracting stares by not wearing the traditional clothing (and by wearing a camera around my neck). And that whilst Licto is only 30 minutes away from Riobamba.

The second time in Licto, the local culture was even more visible. After a meeting at the Guarguallá-Licto irrigation system, I had the special opportunity to join them to the local festivities of Licto, which started with a beautiful parade on the streets of Licto. All the surrounding communities participated in the parade with local dances, clothing, and music, all in their own style.

Currently, I am enjoying the switch between the city-life in Riobamba and the village-life of Licto, while conducting interviews and participant observation (eg. at the minga).