Well, you're never going to believe this (if you know me very well): I went to a movie last night.
But it was about coffee. So that changes everything.
The documentary "Black Gold" by Nick and Marc Francis is playing at the Circle Cinema here in T-town. Even though I'm fairly exhausted and overloaded with work, I figured I should go see this movie because it has gotten a lot of press, and because I was curious.

It was a good movie. Hmph- I'm not sure I've ever typed those five words in the same sentence before.
Anyway, I think the movie did a good job of showing the effects of an undervalued coffee market. They show the toil of coffee farmers in Ethiopia and their discouragement at receiving payment that doesn't allow them to progress or even, in some cases, to survive on their own. That's a sad state of affairs because I love coffee, and the people who grow it are my heroes. Their life's work touches my life every day. I think those who produce excellent coffees should not only be wealthy, but also famous. Forget about the fictional Juan Valdez; who are the people that really grow coffee?

Unfortunately, it is difficult to know exactly what is true and what is sensationalized or biased in a film like that. So because I don't have evidence otherwise, I'll take it all as being true. How can we change the situation?

I think they should have gone further at the end of the film in telling us what needs to happen in order for these farmers to make the money they deserve. They made it sound like the farmers receive only a fraction of the end-product price, and everything between the farmers' price and the retail price of coffee is profit. Obviously, that's not even close to the truth. Every markup on coffee between the farmer and your cup is a necessary, value-added cost. How do I get the coffee from the Ethiopian farmer if it does not go through an exporter? How will it get into my country without an importer? I do not have time, knowledge, or capital to do these things. And I cannot afford to purchase a shipping container full of coffee beans (over 52,000 pounds of coffee). Who, but a broker, can afford to sell me a few bags of each variety of coffee when I need them? And when I pay to have them shipped to me, I have to roast them (at which time, they lose 15% of their original weight), and then package them for you to take home, or brew them and put them in a cup for you to drink. There is a lot of value-added (and cost-incurring) service involved between you and the farmer.
So I can't necessarily affect the price that is paid to the Ethiopian coffee farmer by the price I pay for beans. I could offer my broker twice as much money for the coffee, but I doubt if they'd take the balance and give it to the producers. And by the way, I'm obviously not making a killing selling coffee beans for $14 per pound or $2 per cup.

What I think the filmmakers should've told you is this: If you want to see things change, you have to be willing to pay a lot more for your coffee.

It seems that people have persisted in viewing coffee as a commodity, and a lot of it is commodity-grade. But just like wine or beer or any other fine food or beverage, if you want quality, you have to pay for it. People who have no problem paying $15 (MINIMUM!) for a bottle of wine that they consume in one evening, think it is outrageous to pay $15 for a pound of coffee that it takes a week for them to drink. That, in my opinion, is the beginning of the answer. When you drink coffee, you should DEMAND quality and EXPECT to pay for it. Why will you pay $40 per pound for Kona or $75 per pound for Jamaican or $300 per pound for Indonesian shit coffee (Kopi Luwak), but only... how much do you pay for your Ethiopian?

So that's what you can do. Change your expectations.
What can I do? I'm working on it.
I want to go to Ethiopia.