A Conversation with Maira Calderón

 

Buenavista Farm · Colombia

Unchained: Maira, before we talk about coffee, I want to ask you something else. Who are you—beyond the farm?

Maira:
I grew up in a very united family. We’re four siblings. We didn’t have much, but we were raised with a lot of respect. If my parents could buy something for one of us, the others understood they would get it later. And if it wasn’t possible, we understood that too. That’s something my dad taught us—when you can, you can. When you can’t, you don’t pretend.

I always liked kids. I used to say I wanted to study early childhood education. I connect easily with them. Now my nephews joke that I already passed that class with them.

What really defines me are the lessons my dad gave me: do things right, be fair, and if you know something, teach it. Everything I’ve learned came from someone else first—my dad, my grandfather. Knowledge is something you pass on, not something you keep.

Unchained: You left the farm for a while. Why did you go, and what made you come back?

Maira:
I didn’t leave because I didn’t like the countryside. I’ve always liked it. I left because I needed resources. I was about 18 and got a job in town. I worked there for a year. I’d come back to the farm on weekends, but life there was hard. Rent, food, transportation—it barely covered basic expenses.

Working for other people felt ungrateful. No matter how much effort you put in, it never felt like enough. One day my dad told me, “Come back. Here you don’t pay rent.” And that was it. I came back.

Unchained: When things get hard, what keeps you going in coffee?

Maira:
My parents. Always my parents.

I’m grateful for how they raised us, but there are many things they haven’t been able to have yet. We’re working toward building a new house—the one we live in was built by my grandfather and it’s very old now. Little by little, it’s falling apart. What’s holding it up is us.

That’s my motivation. To keep working so things can be better.

Unchained: Tell us about Buenavista. What does the farm mean to you?

Maira:
Buenavista is everything.

My grandmother left the farm to my dad with one condition: it could never be sold. It had to stay in the family, so everyone could come back—siblings, nieces, nephews, whoever wanted to.

For years the farm was abandoned. No one was taking care of it. When the pandemic started, we all came back. It was overgrown. We had to clear everything, rebuild, start again.

My grandmother loved when we sent her photos of how beautiful it was becoming. She used to say that everything done with love tastes better. Even rice. I believe that applies to coffee too.

Unchained: What have you learned about making great coffee?

Maira:
Everything starts with harvesting. If you don’t start well, nothing later can fix it.

We’ve made mistakes—leaving fermentation too long, too much oxidation. And you feel it later, in the cup. Coffee teaches you not to trust blindly. You have to pay attention to every step.

Before, we didn’t even drink our own coffee. We bought coffee from the store like everyone else. Now we dry it, roast it, and drink it ourselves. That changed everything. You start to understand quality. You start to care.

Getting a drying system was a big step. Before, coffee was just “pick, wash, sell.” Now it has meaning.

Unchained: With this business model —direct access, exporting, earning more— what changes for you?

Maira:
Quality of life.

For my parents. For my nephews. For the house. For the farm. For equipment that makes work better and safer.

It’s not about luxury. It’s about stability.

Unchained: And if someone chooses your coffee — what would you want them to know?

Maira:
I’d tell them to try it.

Some people drink coffee and it’s just coffee. Others drink it and say, “Wow.” I want them to try it, fall in love with it, and keep coming back.

Because behind every cup, there is a lot of work—and a lot of love.