I Went to Gasharu for Coffee. I Came Back with a Responsibility
There is a moment I cannot stop thinking about.
I was standing at the edge of a concrete fermentation tank at Gasharu, watching a group of workers step in to wash freshly fermented coffee. The water was flowing. The sun was low. Then they started singing. Traditional Rwandan songs about coffee, about harvest, about rhythm. There was clapping, dancing, laughter. For a few minutes, the process was not just work. It was joy. It was culture. It was pride.
I did not plan to get involved. Honestly, I am not always the first to step into something in front of a crowd. But I thought, “when will I be here again”?
So I took off my shoes and socks, climbed in, and joined them.
It was not just exhilarating. It made something real click. Coffee, the thing we roast, brew, and serve back in Ireland, starts here. With people I may never see again. Doing work I will never fully understand. And I felt the weight of that. A responsibility to not reduce this to a story or a transaction.
I went to Gasharu because we are buying two containers of coffee from them. We have built a strong relationship with Valentin, whose family owns the farms. We have met in Kigali, Copenhagen, Dublin. We have laughed over beers and handshakes, sealed deals, printed our inside jokes on coffee sacks.
But this trip was not about a deal. It was about respect. If we are going to talk about partnership, I needed to show up. See how they process. Understand how they support their community. Walk the ground myself.
There is no middleman here. Silverskin works directly with Gasharu. When you drink this coffee, you are tasting a relationship. A set of choices.
I spent time with Valentin, but also with the workers. The people sorting, picking, washing. I joined them in their routines. I watched how seriously they take quality. How much care is packed into a single day.
What I saw and felt left me with more than a memory. It left me with a job to do.
Not just to source great coffee. But to tell the truth about where it comes from. To bring you into that tank with me, even for a moment. And to invite you to take part. Not in a cause. Not in a campaign. In a choice.
If you want to taste the coffee we selected during that visit. The coffee grown, picked, and processed by the people I stood beside. It is available here.
This is not just coffee. It is a decision about what you support when you fill your cup.
