After eight years of ups and downs, we’ve decided to call it quits.
When I moved to Indonesia with my family in 2015, I had a clear vision: I wanted to start an entrepreneurial venture that involved farming and social development. After my career in the Marines, I felt compelled to use my skills to help people rather than contribute to military conflicts. I wanted to create something sustainable and enduring, something that would continue beyond my time in the country. Driven by my competitive spirit, I persevered for a few extra years than necessary.
At the same time, I had developed a passion for coffee. Years before I departed from the Marines, I had been a hobby coffee roaster. This experience gave me a basic understanding of coffee quality and the preferences of specialty coffee consumers. As I made the rounds of the country looking for opportunities local coffee farmers and exporters recognized this passion and approached me. They would exclaim, “Hey! You’re an American! You can help us export coffee to America!”
After learning the language, visiting farmer groups, studying the local coffee market, and partnering with my friend Aswan, we founded Bright Java in 2017.
I believed I possessed the necessary skills and enthusiasm to make a positive impact on the Indonesian coffee industry. Our mission was to enhance the overall quality of Indonesian Arabica. Most Indonesian coffee is processed using the wet-hulling method, resulting in a heavy-bodied, earthy-flavored coffee that lacks the characteristic qualities associated with high quality. To address this issue, we partnered with farmer groups and invested in the infrastructure of local coffee cooperatives to improve their post-harvest processes. Eventually, we established our own dry mill, gaining greater control over the sorting and final quality of our coffee. Along the way, we acquired some loyal customers and eventually supplied our green coffee to one of the top specialty roasters in the United States.
After eight years of ups and downs, that dream of transforming coffee in Indonesia through my small business? Well, it didn’t quite pan out as planned.
As an expat, processing and exporting green coffee in Indonesia proved to be a losing proposition. One of the biggest challenges was navigating the complexities of Indonesian bureaucracy. It was already tough to figure out the correct procedures, but then we had to deal with the government’s ever-shifting regulations. Every time I thought I had a system in place, the government would introduce an “improved” process, such as investment reporting, changes to export or visa regulations.
During every year-end holiday season, we had to cram a nightmarish amount of tasks into a six-week period. Our small team of 7 had to prepare the main harvest for exports and sell our main crop for the year, all while dealing with renewing our passports and stay permits. When that was over I had to deal with the stress of waiting for our shipment to arrive, pass through customs, and arrive at the receiving warehouse unscathed.
Another challenge we faced was with the very people we wanted to work with: the Indonesian smallholder farmers. Cultural differences were to be expected when we set up shop, but one challenge was hard to get around. Having lost Aswan to COVID (he didn’t die, he just left the business and moved out of the country. But the way I wrote it sounds more dramatic, doesn’t it?), I was at a disadvantage in dealing culturally with farmer partners.
It turned out to be difficult to have an honest conversation with farmers. Even some partners that were the longest-lasting, who’d been working with us for years, struggled to be upfront.
I would come to the farmers in a face-to-face meeting that went something like this:
Troy: Hey, we need five tons of coffee cherries. Can you get us five tons of cherry?
Farmer: Yes, no problem. We can do that.
But in the meantime, the farmers knew for a fact that they couldn’t do anything near five tons. They would say yes because they didn’t want to disappoint me to my face. Everybody smiles and feels good, and the meeting ends pleasantly, only for things to turn into a dumpster fire when they couldn’t deliver what was promised.
Indonesian culture (and Javanese culture in particular) is very polite and focused on “saving face” in an honor-shame society. Javanese farmers would rather tell me what I want to hear than disappoint me face-to-be. But in the end, they wouldn’t deliver what I needed. Culturally, that was okay for them, but to me, it came across as deception, not to mention an unsustainable business model when the products I’d been promised weren’t being supplied. We started to cut loose suppliers who proved untrustworthy. But that only started a churning cycle where, year after year, we replaced poorly performing farmers with others who eventually proved not able to deliver fully on the goods promised.
Helping local coffee farmers turned out to be all take and no giving on their part. Yes, we wanted to help them, but it dod not make for a good business model. Our business model’s focus on improving their harvest became pretty risky as green coffee profits are the leanest in the global coffee industry. The industry is built to where the bulk of the profit goes into a finished drink. All the risk of crop failure and reduced quality from unforeseen circumstances is pushed on the grower.
Eventually, I realized that the only way to do green coffee exports successfully would be to have more control over cherry by buying/leasing my own land with trees on it. That way I would cut out the supply risk in our business model, the smallholder farmer.
Well, that would have been stupid, because the reason I set up shop was to improve the lot of said farmer in the first place. To make my business work, I would have had to shove aside the very people I came to try to help. So, I was left in a quandary, feeling like there was no way to do this right. That was one of the driving factors behind our decision to shut down (rather than just pivot the business in a different direction).
While my business didn’t succeed, it’s clear the coffee industry in Indonesia has the potential for transformation. But that change would require coordinated efforts from larger players like governments and NGOs. Individual actors face too many obstacles, as the industry resists change, big producers are content with the status quo, and farmers lack incentives to improve quality. To unlock the industry’s potential, stakeholders need better motivations and a multi-faceted strategy, but for now, government priorities remain focused on quicker-yielding crops like palm oil and rice.
If I could start over, I would focus on thorough research and building partnerships with major coffee traders, importers, and roasters as investors before launching. I’d secure more upfront capital and collaborate with NGOs to provide farmers with essential financial training upfront, ensuring they were prepared as suppliers. Additionally, I would prioritize partnering with experienced local businesses to navigate cultural, regulatory, and operational challenges effectively, rather than attempting to tackle these hurdles alone.
Don’t get me wrong: the business wasn’t without its rewards.
One of the most rewarding moments for me happened three years ago. We went up the mountain to the very first village we started with. Representatives from the entire village threw a “Thanksgiving” party (Sukuran is the actual word to describe the gratitude party they held. No turkeys gave their lives that day). Alongside music and delicious food, everyone got up and had something positive to say about the impact and change we had made in their village.
This village had gone from individual families that only had 1500 or so coffee trees and were drying coffee on the ground in front of their home—to a community that pulled together and made a product that got exported to Canada as a specialty micro lot. Coffee went from an afterthought to a product that the community took pride in.
Another thing that kept me pressing forward was seeing some of the smallholder farmers and my employees go on to grow and succeed. One of the first farmers I decided to work with is now independent. He went out on his own and got his processing certification. With that, he’s become a certified processor in the country that people can look to and know his cherries are “the good stuff.”
Several of my former employees have gone on to work for larger, more successful companies by basically continuing parts of my business model with their new employer.
It’s rewarding to know that these coffee disciples of mine are carrying on my work.
While the state of our business played a significant role in our decision to relocate back to the USA, personal factors also contributed. We had two children who were attending college in the US. We sent them off with only a pat on the back, some new luggage, and platitudes, expecting them to navigate their passport country like seasoned natives. However, after witnessing their struggles, we realized that we did not want to do the same with our younger three children. Kid #3 is seven years younger than Kid #2, so we knew that it was only a matter of time before we would consider relocating for a period to teach her essential life skills such as driving, using a mailbox, and handling firearms (in the spirit of ‘Murica).
As our parents age, we’ve come to realize that our children haven’t had the opportunity to spend much time with their grandparents. Renda’s parents, for instance, have never lived close to any of their grandchildren. The decision to move back to be near them during their twilight years was a significant one for us. We also wanted to set a good example for our children, in hopes of ourselves not getting warehoused in a nursing home when we develop dementia and our bodies deteriorate.
We chose to settle in Saint Petersburg, Florida, to live in a house that’s just a 3-mile drive from Renda’s parents. I work as a government contractor, utilizing skills that remained sharp during my time abroad. Instead of taking on the stress of running a small business with seemingly little reward, I find a mental break in our beachy community.
Running a small business can be a grueling task, especially in a country not known for its business-friendly environment, while also trying to incorporate a social mission. It’s a challenging endeavor that requires a lot of dedication and perseverance. My advice to anyone thinking of doing something like this would be to stay your butt home.
Deciding to end Bright Java has allowed me to prioritize the well-being of my aging parents and my five children. The months leading up to the decision were extremely difficult. Afterward, it was like mourning the death of someone close to me. But now, a few months removed, I see that this was best for our family and my mental health.
How do you move on from business failure? I’m curious to know how others cope with business failure. Have you had to close a business? How did it go? What did you do afterward? Should I have done anything differently? Should I go back and give it another go? Let me know what you think. Or if you just want to keep in touch, drop me a line.