DAY 3. Tea that no one has heard of and the butterfly effect.
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Simply put, the butterfly effect is a theory where very small changes can cause big and unexpected consequences. But more on that a bit later. Let’s start with Madagascar tea.
Madagascar tea
Once, Madagascar’s tea industry was significant. Not as large and important as in Georgia, but different regions had several big factories and thousands of hectares of plantations. Today, a little over 300 hectares remain, along with just one factory. The reality is that, apart from a few tourists and a handful of locals, almost no one knows anything about Malagasy tea. What is produced in that one factory is either consumed locally or exported to Kenya. There it is most likely blended and sold as a Kenyan product.
Once, Madagascar’s tea industry was significant. Not as large and important as in Georgia, but different regions had several big factories and thousands of hectares of plantations. Today, a little over 300 hectares remain, along with just one factory. The reality is that, apart from a few tourists and a handful of locals, almost no one knows anything about Malagasy tea. What is produced in that one factory is either consumed locally or exported to Kenya. There it is most likely blended and sold as a Kenyan product.
That makes sense, since what’s mainly produced here is CTC (crush,tear,curl) black tea (and a little green tea for the local market), used primarily for tea bags. And in general, no one really cares globally where exactly the leaves for the tea bags come from. We thought we knew by now where tea is produced and where it isn’t, but we too first read about Madagascar’s tea industry only a few months ago.
The story of Malagasy tea is similar to Georgian tea, Daga coffee, and who knows how many other stories—at some point there were grand plans and good intentions, things started with enthusiasm, and then the system collapsed. Politics changed, people were replaced, subsidies ended, and producers couldn’t adapt to real market conditions. Since the production volumes were small in global terms, it was difficult to find buyers, and the factories were closed.
All in all, Malagasy tea feels like a very renegade thing. Even more exotic than Georgian tea, and judging by the growing conditions, we believe the potential for quality is there. It may sound a bit absurd again (like many of our renegade ideas ), but we are seriously thinking about how we could give the world a chance to taste a tea that no one has ever tasted before— good quality Malagasy loose leaf tea…
Madagascar tea compared to Georgia
In Madagascar they harvest lower quality leaves and rightly so, since for CTC it would be a waste to apply the strict “two leaves and a bud” standard. In Georgia, a very good harvest day means 10 kilos, while here it’s over 100. In Georgia, a picker earns over 3 euros per kilo of leaves collected, while here it’s less than 5 eurocents. How we could structure things in a way that would also bring real benefit to local people still needs more thought and analysis.
In Madagascar they harvest lower quality leaves and rightly so, since for CTC it would be a waste to apply the strict “two leaves and a bud” standard. In Georgia, a very good harvest day means 10 kilos, while here it’s over 100. In Georgia, a picker earns over 3 euros per kilo of leaves collected, while here it’s less than 5 eurocents. How we could structure things in a way that would also bring real benefit to local people still needs more thought and analysis.
The butterfly effect
Right next to the tea plantation runs a nearly 100-year-old railway. The French built it with sleepers and rails received from Germany as reparations after the First World War. And it still looks like a 100-year-old relic—rails bent and crooked in places, some sleepers missing. Yet every day an almost equally ancient train runs along it, 163 kilometres from Fianarantsoa to Manakara. Two days a week the wagons are for passengers, on other days for goods.
Right next to the tea plantation runs a nearly 100-year-old railway. The French built it with sleepers and rails received from Germany as reparations after the First World War. And it still looks like a 100-year-old relic—rails bent and crooked in places, some sleepers missing. Yet every day an almost equally ancient train runs along it, 163 kilometres from Fianarantsoa to Manakara. Two days a week the wagons are for passengers, on other days for goods.
A few years ago, a study concluded that if this railway were to stop operating, Madagascar would lose 100 000 hectares of forest. That’s a bigger area than the size of Madeira. Why? Along the east coast of Madagascar, many small farmers grow fruit within tropical forests. They use the train to bring their harvest to markets in the country’s central regions. With the money earned, they buy rice to feed their families. If the train stopped running, they would have to cut down their orchards and forests to grow rice or potatoes for their own subsistence.
So, the continued existence of this rickety 160 km railway means the preservation of a forest bigger than Madeira. That is the butterfly effect. And in a way, what we are trying to do with our Renegade project is also a butterfly effect. We’re not just selling a product, but a story. And even though our field is small and our factory tiny, through these stories we try to create something bigger.