Gloria Henríquez, Finca Los Nances

The trees were thick and easily grew to 6 meters tall. We called them "Indian Coffee," and the variety was a bourbon, but it wasn't particularly tasty, and my grandparents barely earned enough to get by.

The new generation of coffee farmers laughs at me when I tell them how we worked in the old days, but I see my experience, even though it's from another era, as an advantage.

I am the fourth generation of our coffee-growing family and I currently work with two of my brothers. It's impossible for any of us to manage the land alone, especially now that we're older.

When rust hit us around 2013, it hit us methodically and mercilessly. I don't think I've ever been closer to despair than I was then. I had no income, no money for more than one meal a day, I went into debt—it was awful. Slowly but surely, I climbed out of that deep hole, and then I decided to diversify. Today, I have about 100 chickens behind the house, which I sell to small restaurants, neighbors, and anyone else in town.

It's a small but steady source of income, but even though I love taking care of the chicks, and even though they are very tasty (no hormones, no antibiotics, with plenty of room to roam), my heart and soul are entirely invested in the coffee.

This year, I have three bags that scored 85, but someone else helped me with the preparation. Now, I'm convinced that this is the way forward for smaller growers with less than a hectare, like myself: produce one or two high-quality micro-batches and build a relationship of trust and close collaboration with one or two roasters.