Unwired in Coffee.
How it all came to be. -As told by my father
UnWired. Wire Hangers
My son, Auri Kyeni Ngui, just graduated from Blue Valley West High School in Overland Park, Kansas, and he is on the autism spectrum. I call him by his middle name pronounced [cheni] which means "light" in Kikamba, my tribal language. Kyeni used to love sculpting with wire coat hangers when he was younger, but now his passion has shifted toward culinary work. He navigates through countless food videos on YouTube, searching for the perfect recipe, just like a skilled pirate navigating stormy waves to find treasure. Kyeni's treasure is finding the perfect recipe that results in a perfect bite. As his father, I am constantly amazed by his exceptional ability to absorb and retain intricate details of his environment. He often echoes conversations verbatim that he's overheard days after they took place. |
One Sunday, during a sermon in church, Kyeni screamed, "Oh shit, this pan is damn hot!" in a sanctuary full of attentive congregants. Since then, I've learned to choose my conversations carefully around him. He is an information sponge even as he toggles between youtube videos on his iPad and his closet in search of wire coat hangers. In the same way that there is the treasure in food videos, he finds solace in the symmetrical shapes he thoughtfully sculpts from seemingly boring wire coat hangers.
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Diagnosis
Kyeni was diagnosed with autism at the age of two. Despite the heartbreak experienced by his diagnosis, I have made it a personal mission to understand autism better and discover ways to help my son. The good news is that here in America, numerous resources are available to families affected by autism – unlike many developing countries worldwide. Tragically, in many developing countries, poverty, poor education, and lack of awareness lead to low diagnosis and leave most children with autism hidden away in institutions and labeled as “crazy” or “mad.” Having visited urban communities and rural villages throughout Kenya, I have observed the plight of special needs children. Their obstacles in developing countries are worlds apart from those of similarly challenged children in the United States. My goal is for my son to be a beacon of ability and hope for many living with Autism in the developing world. We have many blessings to count on here in the United States, so helping others and giving back are just a few ways I’m raising my son. For the last 13 years, I have dedicated a reasonable amount of time and resources to organizing several community development trips and projects in Kenya (with the help of my family and friends here in the United States and in Kenya, of course). These projects focus on four key areas, education, agriculture, healthcare, and youth & women entrepreneurship. A few years ago, Kyeni and I visited Kenya to visit his grandparents, who live in a remote village called Kangondi, about 100 miles northeast of Mt. Kilimanjaro. The village is sprinkled with acacia, Mango, and coffee trees and whelmed by imposing hills and mountains rich in red volcanic soil. It’s the land where the sun augments the blues skies and smirks at the gleaming glitter of golden and silver rock as if to say, “I make you shine!”. The vibrant birds and tantalizing lizards on the scintillating rocks bask and glare back up to the sun in choral as if to respond, saying, “Yes, naturally!”. The village’s solicitous human stewards can only interpret this salacious conversation. For visitors, it’s a seducing and inebriating cultural ballad. |
CherriesDuring that visit to his grandfather’s farm, Kyeni had his first experience with the red cherry. One morning in the early days of our visit, Kyeni asked his Umau, which means grandpa in our tribal language Kikamba, if he would take him for a farm tour. Umau was happy to oblige, especially because Kyeni had verbally articulated his desire to tour the farm with his Umau. It’s never easy for Kyeni to verbalize his needs or express himself except for conditions related to his passion. So, this was a special moment for Umau. Kyeni insisted that I came along, and so I did.
The first stop was the cattle shed. He referred to the cattle as horses and didn’t express much interest. It’s possible he couldn’t understand why he was yet to see the video of the recipe that turned hay into that delicious bite the cattle enjoyed. To the animal's annoyance, he tried to pull it out of their mouths. The next stop was an area of the farm with seven-foot bushy and well-manicured even rowed green plants with bright red cherries. The landscape encapsulated Kyeni; his eyes widened and then came the smile. I can only describe it as a glowing smile telescoping into his innocuous soul. People that know him well refer to it as “that smile.” The light from “that smile” radiates in the hearts of those who can feel it. As Umau and I paused to calculate our next move, Kyeni eloped deep into the row of trees. He randomly picked the bright red cherries that weighed down the tree branches in admiration. Suddenly, he shoved a handful of cherries into his mouth. One of the effects of Autism is impulse, and at times when Kyeni gets excited, his impulsive nature takes over; this was one of those moments. Before we could stop him, Kyeni was eating coffee cherries and loving it. This marked his first experience with coffee. It was the genesis of an intriguing and complex life’s metamorphosis for him. It is a process not much different from the cherries in his mouth as they transform into a tortuously roasted bean packed with complex notes and aromas, ground and brewed into a liquid of ecstasy and delight. I grew up working those coffee trees whose berries Kyeni was now stuffing in his mouth. When school was out, my parents would take my siblings and me to the farm for vacations. Vacation meant working the farm and pruning coffee trees at different times of the year and harvesting the berries. Working the coffee plantation at 12 years old, I never imagined that I was paving the way for my son with Autism to eat coffee cherries. I loathed the daily toil to preserve the healthy coffee trees. I often wished that my parents would give up on coffee farming and uproot the trees. It was illegal back then not to tend or uproot coffee plants, and I loved my parents enough not to see them in legal trouble. |
Even though I hated working the plantation, I thoroughly enjoyed the end product. While everyone in my family preferred tea, I was ecstatic about drinking black coffee. The aroma of ground beans boiling in hot water got me excited. It was a construction of excitement and anticipation that would carry me to a space that brought me curious solace, a joyful experience curated just for me. I now wonder if this was what Kyeni experienced as he chewed on the coffee cherries.
The mouth full of coffee cherries incident at Umau’s farm got Kyeni and me on a deliberately biased quest to find Kenya coffee at local Kansas City coffee shops. Every time we found one, I watched my barista prepare my latte with the same anticipation I had at 12 years old. With every sip, I’d feel the taste of fruity notes in the espresso transporting me to a vivid segment of my youth growing up in Kenya and tending coffee trees. As my tongue reached for the foam on my lips, I’d suddenly be at the farm watching Kyeni chew on coffee cherries. Then curiosity would interrupt, and I would wonder, are any of these beans from Kyeni’s Umau’s farm? How can I tell? Then I’d cycle back to Kyeni and Umau at the farm. Silky foam on a latte made with whole milk is my absorbing retreat. Immerged in cherry
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Complex Puzzle
Kyeni’s mind is puzzlingly complex. How he navigates through life reminds me of the involved process of developing an immensely desirable flavor from a single coffee cherry. He is sometimes the bright red cherry packed with enormous potential; all wrapped up in Autistic membrane and pulp. At times he is the unnoticed-skinned green coffee bean. At times he is the bean undergoing the tenuous drying process; other times, he is browning, roasting, grounding, and brewing. All require varying levels of one indispensable variant: heat. Heat, for those close to him, is also known as the necessary tenacity and patience to endure the process of identifying and developing Kyeni’s potential. It’s the only way to get unwired by his carefully cupped blend of the atypically typical spectrum of his mental brews. It’s affirmation when I doubt that even though Kyeni’s life experiences are sometimes tenuous, it’s a photosynthetic process to nurture his disability to ability. The ability that will positively change others like him now and in the future.
When Kyeni was in elementary school, we were concerned about his inability to stay calm enough to focus and learn. After seeking medical advice, Kyeni was prescribed Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) medication that he had to take daily. On a summer morning, during one of our many quests to find Kenya coffee at local coffee shops in Kansas City, Kyeni’s mind was undergoing an intense moment of identifying and sorting mental beans to roast; the heat was on. He asked to taste my latte, but I declined and redirected him to enjoy his cup of blended strawberry limeade instead. I didn’t allow him then to have coffee because he was too young to endure its effects, so I believed.
What happened next was life-changing for both of us. My phone rang, and I reached to answer. In a split second, he settled on a mental bean, impulse. He grabbed my latte, took a big gulp, and swallowed. I sat in a gaze, not sure what to do next. He responded with a squawky stare back at me as if to say, see, Dad, I’m still alive. He then asked to go to the bathroom. After returning from the bathroom, I let him have the rest of my latte to cure his curiosity. I’d have to address the consequences when the time came. Nothing tragic happened. The rest of our stay at the coffee shop was one of my best experiences ever drinking coffee. I was back to my childhood's tranquil and peaceful place; this time, it felt different. Kyeni seemed to share that space with me. Kyeni’s wired and hyper state slowly turned into calm solace. He was unwired. We didn’t speak as we peacefully sipped our lattes. He was happy; I was confounded.
According to medical research, stimulants are believed to work by increasing dopamine levels in the brain. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter associated with motivation, pleasure, attention, and movement. For many people with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), stimulant medications boost concentration and focus while reducing hyperactive and impulsive behaviors. The quest for Kenya coffee in Kansas City allowed me to rediscover coffee in a new way, a natural nonprescriptive remedy to his hyperactivity. All based on that nugget of science. Kyeni no longer takes any medication for hyperactivity or impulsive behavior. I wonder why coffee has always been my peaceful and relaxing retreat.
In the Spring of 2019, Kyeni and I traveled to Kenya to visit Umau and Susu (Grandma). As soon as we arrived at the farm and after a summary of pleasantries, the first place that Kyeni wanted to see was the coffee plantation. I noticed that Umau was slow to oblige. After Kyeni’s relentless persistence, he broke the news. “The coffee is gone forever,” he muttered. Despite Kyeni’s inability to express himself verbally, a look of confusion was plastered on his face. “Come, I’ll show you,” Umau said as he took Kyeni’s hand, as they walked lockstep to the area where the coffee tree once lived. The land was littered with tree stumps; all the trees had been cut and uprooted from the roots exposing the deep red volcanic soil. Kyeni was in dismay. “Too expensive to keep,” Umau explained. It didn’t resonate. Kyeni grimaced and tried to dig deep to find the smile. He searched; it wasn’t there.
Kenya coffee, with its unique hints of tropical fruit, berries, and wine, is one of the World’s Five Best Coffees. Finding it in local coffee shops in Kansas City has become increasingly difficult. Why are many farmers in Kenya giving up on growing coffee while there is global demand for it?
Here is why, to quote Christopher Feran, a world-renowned Coffee industry consultant, “Kenya is a tricky place to work as a buyer. While in some origins, a smallholder would be able to grow and process their coffee as they please and then have a choice to either sell that parchment or dried cherry to any exporter in the country for immediate payment—or even secure their own export license and self-export—producers in Kenya are removed from the commercial market, their coffee passing through a Byzantine and colonial export system that centralizes sales through an auction system with exporters in the position of greatest power, sacrificing traceability and financial transparency along the way.
It means we can’t work directly—not really, anyway—and have to navigate through the labyrinth of the auction system to secure the coffees we want, all the while wondering where the $5 or $6 or $7 per pound we’re paying is really going.”
Kyeni’s expression as he stared down an empty field broke my heart. I felt the heat. I instantly realized that Kyeni’s brain was identifying and sorting his mental beans. I struggled to predict which bean he would pick and what he would do with it. Would he be drying, browning, roasting, or grinding and brewing it? I had to be prepared for whatever behavior this bean brewed: impulse, aggression, or excitement. I understood why the coffee plants were gone, but my inability to relay the reasons in language that he could understand was daunting. I had to find a way; something had to be done.
After the incident and numerous encounters with Ethiopia, Tanzania, and Rwanda coffee in local shops, I became discouraged. I gave up the quest to find Kenya coffee locally in Kansas City. Only until Kyeni’s teachers, Ms. Buehler and Mr. Guy noticed Kyeni’s interest in culinary work and asked me if it was ok if Kyeni took on a coffee job at school. I was elated by the opportunity for him to showcase his skills while serving others, and so was he. I can tell that Kyeni has completed a coffee shift at school when he comes home with a cheerful demeanor and an attitude of confidence. He adds a little extra pep in his step on those days. Here is what Ms. Buehler says about Kyeni and his coffee responsibility at school.
“Upon first meeting, it wouldn’t take anyone very long to recognize the two best qualities of Auri Kyeni Ngui - his smile and strong work ethic. Auri has never been one to take the backseat in tasks; he is always the first to offer a helping hand and seeks all opportunities to learn and try new things. Since the fall of 2019, Auri has been involved in making and serving coffee in a student-operated coffee shop at both the middle and high school levels. Auri is the epitome of “service with a smile.” Even as a middle school student, Auri has always taken his responsibilities in vocational settings very seriously, as he recognizes the value of his work and appreciates the opportunity to work with his hands and serve and connect with others. With visual support and adult supervision or guidance as needed, Auri volunteers at his high school’s coffee shop twice a week, delivering coffee around the building with a mobile Coffee Cart. In this role, Auri is responsible for brewing fresh coffee and stocking the cart with all other necessary supplies for coffee and hot chocolate; the cart is then rolled throughout the building, where Auri is also responsible for making orders and assisting with orders the payment process. Auri is highly motivated in the setup and operation of the Coffee Cart, but his personality shines most when interacting with customers; he is thorough, enthusiastic, and engaged with all steps of the product and customer processes. It is nearly impossible for customers to walk away from the cart and not have a smile on their face - which pairs so well with their fresh coffee that was brewed so enthusiastically. Auri enjoys getting to know staff and students across the building and is eager to interact with new and regular customers, as he seals the transaction with a signature high-five or handshake. While steps of processes and the ins and outs of social interactions can be learned and addressed as needed, Auri’s authentic motivation and innate desire to help others are something he naturally brings to the table. He is, truly, one of a kind.”
I’m sincerely grateful to Kyeni’s teachers for recognizing his abilities and allowing him to serve others with coffee being the vehicle. Unbeknown to them, coffee has tentacles deeply embedded in many facets of his life and family. I’m also grateful to the Blue Valley school district for designing and offering programs that provide opportunities for special education students in the LIFT program to learn while developing and enhancing their real-world skills. As I mentioned earlier, many students with special needs in the developing world lack the opportunity my son is lucky to enjoy as an American. For this reason, I strongly encourage and advocate for students and educators to travel to a developing country and collaborate with their peers in those countries in a symbiotic professional development process. It’s exposure and learning experience that not only sharpens skills such as diversity, equity, and inclusion but also brings a renewed appreciation for opportunities for all in the United States.
Kyeni’s passion for his coffee job at school has reinvigorated our dwindling enthusiasm to find Kenya coffee in local Kansas City coffee shops. Our purpose is better refined this time around. We intend to develop and start working on his senior-year project. Our bold goals are two-fold, first, to affect real change for a coffee farmer in his Umau’s village of Kangondi, Kenya, and second, to seek to understand better the impact of coffee in mitigating the Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) effects of Autism. So as the 2023 academic year winds down, Kyeni is excited about the upcoming summer break. Unlike my parents and I did growing up, we will take a father and son trip to Kenya to work coffee. The end of our trip will coincide with the start of his senior year, which will also be time to collaborate with his teacher and support staff to incorporate the project as part of his IEP. Kyeni could not save Umau’s coffee farm, but he will work to keep another coffee farmer in Umau’s village. I believe there is an opportunity for more scientific research to confirm the effects of coffee as a natural remedy to unwire those on the Autism spectrum. Our strategy will be a collaborative process between stakeholders in education, agriculture, and coffee roasters to design and execute a data-driven project that produces qualitative and quantitative outcomes.
Kyeni’s mind is puzzlingly complex. How he navigates through life reminds me of the involved process of developing an immensely desirable flavor from a single coffee cherry. He is sometimes the bright red cherry packed with enormous potential; all wrapped up in Autistic membrane and pulp. At times he is the unnoticed-skinned green coffee bean. At times he is the bean undergoing the tenuous drying process; other times, he is browning, roasting, grounding, and brewing. All require varying levels of one indispensable variant: heat. Heat, for those close to him, is also known as the necessary tenacity and patience to endure the process of identifying and developing Kyeni’s potential. It’s the only way to get unwired by his carefully cupped blend of the atypically typical spectrum of his mental brews. It’s affirmation when I doubt that even though Kyeni’s life experiences are sometimes tenuous, it’s a photosynthetic process to nurture his disability to ability. The ability that will positively change others like him now and in the future.
When Kyeni was in elementary school, we were concerned about his inability to stay calm enough to focus and learn. After seeking medical advice, Kyeni was prescribed Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) medication that he had to take daily. On a summer morning, during one of our many quests to find Kenya coffee at local coffee shops in Kansas City, Kyeni’s mind was undergoing an intense moment of identifying and sorting mental beans to roast; the heat was on. He asked to taste my latte, but I declined and redirected him to enjoy his cup of blended strawberry limeade instead. I didn’t allow him then to have coffee because he was too young to endure its effects, so I believed.
What happened next was life-changing for both of us. My phone rang, and I reached to answer. In a split second, he settled on a mental bean, impulse. He grabbed my latte, took a big gulp, and swallowed. I sat in a gaze, not sure what to do next. He responded with a squawky stare back at me as if to say, see, Dad, I’m still alive. He then asked to go to the bathroom. After returning from the bathroom, I let him have the rest of my latte to cure his curiosity. I’d have to address the consequences when the time came. Nothing tragic happened. The rest of our stay at the coffee shop was one of my best experiences ever drinking coffee. I was back to my childhood's tranquil and peaceful place; this time, it felt different. Kyeni seemed to share that space with me. Kyeni’s wired and hyper state slowly turned into calm solace. He was unwired. We didn’t speak as we peacefully sipped our lattes. He was happy; I was confounded.
According to medical research, stimulants are believed to work by increasing dopamine levels in the brain. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter associated with motivation, pleasure, attention, and movement. For many people with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), stimulant medications boost concentration and focus while reducing hyperactive and impulsive behaviors. The quest for Kenya coffee in Kansas City allowed me to rediscover coffee in a new way, a natural nonprescriptive remedy to his hyperactivity. All based on that nugget of science. Kyeni no longer takes any medication for hyperactivity or impulsive behavior. I wonder why coffee has always been my peaceful and relaxing retreat.
In the Spring of 2019, Kyeni and I traveled to Kenya to visit Umau and Susu (Grandma). As soon as we arrived at the farm and after a summary of pleasantries, the first place that Kyeni wanted to see was the coffee plantation. I noticed that Umau was slow to oblige. After Kyeni’s relentless persistence, he broke the news. “The coffee is gone forever,” he muttered. Despite Kyeni’s inability to express himself verbally, a look of confusion was plastered on his face. “Come, I’ll show you,” Umau said as he took Kyeni’s hand, as they walked lockstep to the area where the coffee tree once lived. The land was littered with tree stumps; all the trees had been cut and uprooted from the roots exposing the deep red volcanic soil. Kyeni was in dismay. “Too expensive to keep,” Umau explained. It didn’t resonate. Kyeni grimaced and tried to dig deep to find the smile. He searched; it wasn’t there.
Kenya coffee, with its unique hints of tropical fruit, berries, and wine, is one of the World’s Five Best Coffees. Finding it in local coffee shops in Kansas City has become increasingly difficult. Why are many farmers in Kenya giving up on growing coffee while there is global demand for it?
Here is why, to quote Christopher Feran, a world-renowned Coffee industry consultant, “Kenya is a tricky place to work as a buyer. While in some origins, a smallholder would be able to grow and process their coffee as they please and then have a choice to either sell that parchment or dried cherry to any exporter in the country for immediate payment—or even secure their own export license and self-export—producers in Kenya are removed from the commercial market, their coffee passing through a Byzantine and colonial export system that centralizes sales through an auction system with exporters in the position of greatest power, sacrificing traceability and financial transparency along the way.
It means we can’t work directly—not really, anyway—and have to navigate through the labyrinth of the auction system to secure the coffees we want, all the while wondering where the $5 or $6 or $7 per pound we’re paying is really going.”
Kyeni’s expression as he stared down an empty field broke my heart. I felt the heat. I instantly realized that Kyeni’s brain was identifying and sorting his mental beans. I struggled to predict which bean he would pick and what he would do with it. Would he be drying, browning, roasting, or grinding and brewing it? I had to be prepared for whatever behavior this bean brewed: impulse, aggression, or excitement. I understood why the coffee plants were gone, but my inability to relay the reasons in language that he could understand was daunting. I had to find a way; something had to be done.
After the incident and numerous encounters with Ethiopia, Tanzania, and Rwanda coffee in local shops, I became discouraged. I gave up the quest to find Kenya coffee locally in Kansas City. Only until Kyeni’s teachers, Ms. Buehler and Mr. Guy noticed Kyeni’s interest in culinary work and asked me if it was ok if Kyeni took on a coffee job at school. I was elated by the opportunity for him to showcase his skills while serving others, and so was he. I can tell that Kyeni has completed a coffee shift at school when he comes home with a cheerful demeanor and an attitude of confidence. He adds a little extra pep in his step on those days. Here is what Ms. Buehler says about Kyeni and his coffee responsibility at school.
“Upon first meeting, it wouldn’t take anyone very long to recognize the two best qualities of Auri Kyeni Ngui - his smile and strong work ethic. Auri has never been one to take the backseat in tasks; he is always the first to offer a helping hand and seeks all opportunities to learn and try new things. Since the fall of 2019, Auri has been involved in making and serving coffee in a student-operated coffee shop at both the middle and high school levels. Auri is the epitome of “service with a smile.” Even as a middle school student, Auri has always taken his responsibilities in vocational settings very seriously, as he recognizes the value of his work and appreciates the opportunity to work with his hands and serve and connect with others. With visual support and adult supervision or guidance as needed, Auri volunteers at his high school’s coffee shop twice a week, delivering coffee around the building with a mobile Coffee Cart. In this role, Auri is responsible for brewing fresh coffee and stocking the cart with all other necessary supplies for coffee and hot chocolate; the cart is then rolled throughout the building, where Auri is also responsible for making orders and assisting with orders the payment process. Auri is highly motivated in the setup and operation of the Coffee Cart, but his personality shines most when interacting with customers; he is thorough, enthusiastic, and engaged with all steps of the product and customer processes. It is nearly impossible for customers to walk away from the cart and not have a smile on their face - which pairs so well with their fresh coffee that was brewed so enthusiastically. Auri enjoys getting to know staff and students across the building and is eager to interact with new and regular customers, as he seals the transaction with a signature high-five or handshake. While steps of processes and the ins and outs of social interactions can be learned and addressed as needed, Auri’s authentic motivation and innate desire to help others are something he naturally brings to the table. He is, truly, one of a kind.”
I’m sincerely grateful to Kyeni’s teachers for recognizing his abilities and allowing him to serve others with coffee being the vehicle. Unbeknown to them, coffee has tentacles deeply embedded in many facets of his life and family. I’m also grateful to the Blue Valley school district for designing and offering programs that provide opportunities for special education students in the LIFT program to learn while developing and enhancing their real-world skills. As I mentioned earlier, many students with special needs in the developing world lack the opportunity my son is lucky to enjoy as an American. For this reason, I strongly encourage and advocate for students and educators to travel to a developing country and collaborate with their peers in those countries in a symbiotic professional development process. It’s exposure and learning experience that not only sharpens skills such as diversity, equity, and inclusion but also brings a renewed appreciation for opportunities for all in the United States.
Kyeni’s passion for his coffee job at school has reinvigorated our dwindling enthusiasm to find Kenya coffee in local Kansas City coffee shops. Our purpose is better refined this time around. We intend to develop and start working on his senior-year project. Our bold goals are two-fold, first, to affect real change for a coffee farmer in his Umau’s village of Kangondi, Kenya, and second, to seek to understand better the impact of coffee in mitigating the Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) effects of Autism. So as the 2023 academic year winds down, Kyeni is excited about the upcoming summer break. Unlike my parents and I did growing up, we will take a father and son trip to Kenya to work coffee. The end of our trip will coincide with the start of his senior year, which will also be time to collaborate with his teacher and support staff to incorporate the project as part of his IEP. Kyeni could not save Umau’s coffee farm, but he will work to keep another coffee farmer in Umau’s village. I believe there is an opportunity for more scientific research to confirm the effects of coffee as a natural remedy to unwire those on the Autism spectrum. Our strategy will be a collaborative process between stakeholders in education, agriculture, and coffee roasters to design and execute a data-driven project that produces qualitative and quantitative outcomes.