Black Gold
From a very young age, children of the Manggarai tribe must not only learn to drink their homegrown coffee and love it (that comes pretty naturally), but also to weave the daily sight of – and interaction with – the coffee plant, with its budding flowers, its fleshy red cherries and especially its fragrant beans, into their narrative of reality. As I joked with the younger boys, two girls aged no more than 10 were gaily pounding pestles taller than themselves into a huge timber mortar, rhythmically, dexterously pulverizing the beans inside into rough powder.
“We do this sometimes once or twice a week, sometimes every other day,” the woman who’d served us the brew remarked. “Always plenty of beans for all of us!”



