Following in the footsteps of my parents from their last trip to India in January, we decided to head up to a family friend's coffee estate in the Chikmagalur Hills, about 120km north-east of Mangalore. 120km isn't really that far, but through an all too Indian combination of poor planning, poor construction, and gross incompetence in redevelopment of National Highways, the journey takes about 5 hours. Ironically, the road quality improves dramatically once you leave the "Highway".
Once you're off the highway, the drive to the estate is pretty special - in particular the stretch of road the winds its way up and over the Western Ghats. We hit this section just before sunset, and the views looking down were pretty impressive. Think Alpine ridges covered with Amazon jungle plantlife. Again, photos will appear at some stage...
Anigundi Estate is over 100 years old, and has been in the Saldanha house right back to 1899. Mervyn, who is running it now, took over from his brother, who took over from his father, who had taken over from his father... (and possibly another generation in there - I forget). Modernisation has, obviously, gone hand in hand with development as the years have passed, but it's pretty awe-inspiring to think that a sizable proportion of the coffee plants on the estate today are those same plants planted decades ago - Robusta plants, in particular, just keep churning out the produce, year after year.
I don't want to turn this blog into a written lecture, so will brush over the details of the science of coffee-growing - suffice to say that it is very much a science (vastly more so than tea, as I saw first hand). It's seriously interesting stuff though, so consider yourself lucky if, come May, you're on the receiving end of an early version of the soon-to-follow Rodrigues Lecture Series on Coffee Plantation Methods in South-Western India.
Mervyn gave me a thorough tour of the estate, explaining the way everything worked, and pointing out the coffee estate next door (next door being about 3km away) where, about half a century ago, my grandfather (Dad's Dad) used to be Manager, and where my Dad and family used to come and spend their holidays. Pretty surreal experience, especially getting my photo taken with a plant that was almost certainly planted by my late Granddad. Things got more surreal, however, when we stopped to pick up the paper at the local store. I should emphasise that coffee estates are basically in the middle of nowhere, so this one store was pretty much the only place you could get a newspaper within an hour's drive or so. Thomas "Hound Dog" Hughes would appreciate what I'm saying...
Anyway, buying the paper, Mervyn explained to the old lady at the store that I was visiting from England, and my Grandfather used to manage the estate over the road. "What was his name?", he asked me - I reply, "John Rodrigues". The old lady's face nods - "Ah, ya - John Rodrigues!" Her son, Vivian, pipes up - "Ya - he's my brother's Godfather!". Sure enough, they call Chandran (the brother) from inside, and completely out the blue I get to get my photo taken with the Godson of my Grandfather (see right)... a Godson no one in my Dad's family seems to have any idea about! Good times.Saturday means departure for Bangalore, but early morning we enlisted the help of Kyemala, one of the farm's labourers, to guide us up to the top of the estate's mountain peak - about 4000ft up. Thinking back over my long 21 years of life, I've met some pretty memorable people on my travels - last summer alone brought characters such as "Jonny Depp" (over-sized British backpacker with ideas above his station - think Runciman with a beard), "Mr. Sam" (dodgy tailor in Bangkok who claimed to have ties to the Bombay Mafia) and that crafty devil Akhmed (or something like that) in Jaisalmir - but Kyelama is without doubt my new favourite. First up, he's no ordinary labourer - he's about 75 years old but still fit as a fiddle, and has worked at Anigundi for several decades, before which he worked at the estate my Grandfather used to manage, as well as some stints at other places. All that while, he's never been further than about 10km from that place - but his wife and he are happy as Larry. Every Saturday afternoon is pay day, and by 10pm on Saturday night they've both spent their allowance on liquor and are both high as kites. The wife moreso, as she commands 60% of any alcohol purchased! Below is Kyemala "Backing the Bid":
Anyway, Kyemala secured his reputation in my eyes when we asked how old he was (translated from Kannada/Konkani/Tulu).
K: "What can I say - very old!"
Us: "A hundred?"
K: "Oh yeah, at least a hundred..."
Us: "Reallly?!"
K: "Yeah - lets see, the first place was 50 years, then 50 years here, then
30, then another 50... lets see... it's at least 175..."
...
K: "... and then there's this, and that... I think finally about
275?"
Us: "Ok - excellent!"
K: "Wait! There's another 10 years at the beginning - you've got to
add them too!"
Brilliant.
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