The coffee we couldn't buy this season

Last year we introduced three farmers in Ethiopia that we were beginning to work with - our goal being to purchase from them year on year, and to provide them with the kind of earnings that could see their coffee and livelihoods flourish.

The farmers were Aragash Gelcha, Niguse Jilo, and Wako Jegso.

This year, however, we weren't able to buy from Wako. I want to be open about why, because it says something important about how we try to operate.

We've written recently about the turbulence surrounding coffee pricing in Ethiopia this season. To summarise: the C price dropped significantly around export time, leaving producers unhappy with the rates being offered and buyers in a difficult position. The gap between what farmers needed and what the market could realistically bear was real, and it was painful.

We at Omwani made the decision to pay above the going market rate. That wasn't without risk; it meant committing to prices that could leave our Ethiopian coffee less competitively priced in our markets. But we felt it was the right thing to do for the families we'd made a commitment to.

Even so, every farmer is different. Wako had a price in mind for his coffee, and despite our best efforts, we weren't able to meet it — not because we didn't want to, but because there's a point at which stretching further would have compromised our ability to offer his coffee to roasters at an affordable price for them, as well as continue supporting the other farmers we'd made commitments to. It's a balance we don't take lightly.

So Wako looked elsewhere-  and, well, we were rooting for him.

The producers we work with aren't bound to us. They're free to sell to whoever offers the best price. And if someone else can pay more, that's genuinely good news for the producer. It might seem counterintuitive, but we do celebrate these moments. When the farmers we work with start commanding higher prices for their coffee -whether we're the buyer or not- it means the work is going in the right direction.

We kept a spot open in one of our containers for Wako, just in case the difficult market conditions meant he wasn't able to find that better price elsewhere. As it turned out, he didn't need it — last week he sold all 140 bags to a single buyer. We were genuinely pleased to hear it.

And when next year comes around, we'll go back to the Jegso family. To catch up, hear how things have gone, and let them know we're still interested in buying from them — if the timing, the price, and the conditions work for everyone. That relationship matters to us regardless of whether we end up purchasing.

In the meantime, the spot we'd held for Wako has been filled by someone I met on a previous visit to Ethiopia — Wako's neighbour, Abebe Hailu. Abebe had shown interest in working with us when I was first introduced to the farmers of Halo Bariti, but at the time the pieces didn't quite come together.

They have now — and as with the other families in Halo Bariti we're proud to work with, we hope to be buying from Abebe year on year. Or at least until he starts getting offers we can't compete with. Which, as you now know, would be a very good thing indeed.