'You, the whites, are eating cocoa. You bring the price … you have to give us a chance to sell it at the price that we want’
09-Aug-2019 By Kristy Leissle
‘I am a cocoa farmer’ is the first in an occasional series by Dr Kristy Leissle, scholar of the cocoa and chocolate industries. In each article, Leissle profiles one individual who makes a living growing cocoa, exploring how she or he came to cocoa farming, their relationship with the crop, and its financial impact on their lives, among other issues. Over time, the series will illustrate both the diversity of people who farm cocoa, and the similarities of their circumstances.
an additional GH¢600 (US$111). He sounded genuinely pleased with the amount, but still described it as “small money,” and emphasized that it doesn’t make his life luxurious. “It’s good, it’s very good,” he said, “but if you get the premium, you are not going to use it to buy meat, fish and enjoy yourself.” Instead, he uses the money—which arrives during cocoa’s light crop in July, when cash is tight—to prepare his farmland for the upcoming main harvest.
When I asked Adamnor what would make cocoa farming easier, he laughed and told me that nothing was easy. He described a cycle, in which it seemed that smallholders like him were perpetually stuck: the only way to make life easier was to do less cocoa farming labor, which is hot and sweaty and involves the ceaseless removal of weeds and tending of trees. Doing less of that labor oneself meant hiring laborers to do it for you.
If you get the large farm, you will get more money
And the only way to get enough money to hire laborers was to have a lot of land in the first place. “If you get the large farm, you will get more money,” he said, “and when you are getting more money, the work is becoming soft for you. Because you get more laborers, [and] the work will go fast.”
Though we met at the start of the rainy season, the skies were clear that morning over the ABOCFA office in Suhum, so I was hopeful of visiting Adamnor’s farm, about a half-hour walk away. But Adamnor told me that it wasn’t a good day for a visit. It was coming up on the Ohum festival, which celebrates the start of the yam harvest. According to tradition, for several days around the festival, it is considered disrespectful to do farm work. If we did go to his farm and were caught, Adamnor would have had to pay the chief a fine of 10 bags of cement, at a cost of GH¢350 (US$65), or more than half of what he had earned in premium money the previous season.
Leissile on a visit to a cocoa farm in Suhum Eastern region Ghana. Pic: Kristy Leissile
Adamnor didn’t seem too fazed by the work ban. In 2018, he was elected vice president of ABOCFA, and meetings kept him busy. At nine that morning, when I arrived at the office, a staff meeting that had begun at six was just wrapping up. After we talked, Adamnor walked off to join another meeting with a farmer group. Clearly, there was no shortage of other work to do. But still, the week was an important one on Adamnor’s farm. With cocoa trees well over 40, which is the upper end of their commercially productive age, Adamnor needed to replant. Work was being done that week to finish clearing and replanting half his land.
It is not easy for a smallholder to clear cocoa trees and start again, not least because Theobroma cacao can take up to five years to start producing fruit. Ghana Cocoa Board distributes seedlings for free, but there were none available when Adamnor wanted to replant, so he purchased them at 50 pesawas (US$0.09) each, plus another 50 pesawas for a laborer to plant each one: a total of GH¢1 (US$0.18) per seedling.
His preference was for a hybrid variety that matures quickly. “That one, you harvest it [in] just about three years’ time. That’s fast. It will grow very quickly.” The hybrid would also produce cocoa pods year round. “It [has] no season,” Adamnor explained, “every time it is bearing a fruit.”
Adamnor also planned to intercrop his cocoa with Apem and Apentu plantains, which are used to make a starchy base for savory meals, as well as bananas, which are sweeter and eaten as fruit. Each banana also costs GH¢1 (US$0.18) total for seedling and planting, and those trees would mature faster than cocoa. Each acre of land could hold 450 cocoa seedlings and 450 banana seedlings. For the 3.5 acres he was replanting, Adamnor’s total investment in new trees came to GH¢3150 (US$585). He also had to hire four laborers. At GH¢20 per person, per day, Adamnor’s labor costs came to GH¢560 (US$104).
On top of these costs, his cocoa earnings will now be half of what they were, until the seedlings mature. It is possible to plant seedlings amongst old cocoa trees, to retain income while young trees mature. However, Adamnor’s older trees were infected with sasabro (swollen shoot virus), and he could not risk the seedlings being infected. He also wanted to replant trees in straight lines, and would not have been able to do that with the older trees still in place.
Their father is going to the farm, so they want to know what their father is doing
Adamnor thinks of himself as a cocoa farmer, but he would still like to diversify into other livelihood activities, especially raising grasscutters—bush rodents that are a popular source of meat. A mating pair and the cage to house them costs about GH¢1500 (US$279). Grasscutters sell for GH¢120-150 (US$22-28) apiece in the marketplace, depending on size, so he would have to breed and sell at least 10 animals before turning a profit. It’s not an investment Adamnor feels he can make right now.
I asked whether Adamnor wanted his daughters—Lois (12), Silvia (7), and Judith (3)—to become cocoa farmers. He was concerned, as are many people I meet in Ghana, that it is more difficult for women to farm cocoa than it is for men. Because women aren’t considered to have the strength to perform certain farm tasks, they must hire laborers. If you’re a woman, Adamnor said, “you spend all your money to pay laborers.” His children were too young to know what they wanted to be when they grew up, but Adamnor hoped they would choose to become nurses or doctors. For now, they just enjoyed going to the farm with him.
“Just for fun,” he said. “They do nothing.” He began to laugh. “Maybe they fetch water, give me water to drink. They just want to go with their father. Their father is going to the farm, so they want to know what their father is doing.”
Though Adamnor considered cocoa a serious business for himself, I wondered if his reluctance for his daughters to take over the family farm was also because—unlike his grandmother—he didn’t see a hopeful future for smallholders. Land, he insisted, was the main limiting factor to improving his livelihood. “If you get land, then you get money,” he told me.
But he also thought cocoa’s price was too low. Adamnor laid responsibility for this with foreigners who enjoy eating cheap chocolate. “You, the whites, are eating cocoa,” he said. “You bring the price … you have to give us a chance to sell it at the price that we want.” I asked what producer price would make meaningful financial change in his life. “Even at six hundred, oh, it would change things,” he replied. GH¢600 (US$111) per bag would be a 26% increase on the current producer price in Ghana.
At that price, selling 15 bags a year, Adamnor quickly calculated that he would have more than GH¢1500 (US$279) additional annual income—well over double what he earned last year from the organic and Fairtrade premium. With that increase, he could continue to invest in his farm, but also allow for some domestic comforts. “Maybe, if your children are going to school … maybe they are walking to the school, but if you have a lot of money … you will hire a car for them,” he mused. With the prospect of even such modest luxuries, Adamnor thought that “even the youngest will be happy to join a cocoa farm.… If the price is high, all the young will run to cocoa farm. And everybody will take it as a serious business.”
It’s really a peaceful country. We are having a lot of things: cocoa, coffee, timber ..
Adamnor can remember all the times he has bought chocolate—because there have only been two of them. He made both purchases in Accra, buying Kingsbite milk chocolate bars from traffic vendors as gifts for his daughters. He’s never bought chocolate for himself, although he gets to taste it pretty often, when foreigners come to visit ABOCFA. I had brought some milk and dark bars made with Ghana cocoa. Adamnor preferred the dark, but said his daughters and his wife, Hannah, would prefer the sweeter milk chocolate.
Adamnor showing Leissle the ballot on which he ran for ABOCFA VP. Pic: Kristy Leissle
After our tasting, I asked what Adamnor would want people to know about Ghana. His answer surprised me. He said that foreigners who visit ABOCFA often see the goodness of Ghana more readily than he does.
He sees more of a mix—much is difficult, but there are also things to be proud of. “Ghana is good,” he mused. “It’s really a peaceful country. We are having a lot of things: cocoa, coffee, timber, even now we are having oil here.”
He paused, and seemed to make a connection between the peace and Ghana’s ability to trade its resources. “We have peace,” he said again. “Even the peace serves.”
About 'Dr Chocolate'
Dr Kristy Leissle is a scholar of cocoa and chocolate. Since 2004, her work has investigated the politics, economics, and cultures of these industries, focusing on West African political economy and trade, the US craft market, and the complex meanings produced and consumed through chocolate marketing and advertising. Her recent book, Cocoa (Cambridge: Polity, 2018) explores cocoa geopolitics and personal politics, and was #3 on Food Tank’s 2018 Fall Reading List.
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