\n<\/p>\n
J<\/span>anett and Erika Liriano grew up in Queens, the daughters of Dominican immigrants who pushed them to dream big. Their encouragement paid off: by the time they were in their late 20s, Janett had been named a Forbes 30 Under 30 Listmaker and was the chief of staff at a biopharmaceutical firm; younger sister Erika was making a name for herself in venture capital.<\/p>\n But something was missing. \u201cWe were both comfortable but not happy with our jobs,\u201d Janett said. \u201cI felt unfulfilled and anxiously wanted to move forward.\u201d But towards what, she wasn\u2019t sure.<\/p>\n In early 2019, the family gathered at Janett\u2019s Kew Gardens home to try a Dominican cacao and coffee drink her dad had made. Soon the sisters were daydreaming aloud about starting a chocolate company in the Dominican Republic<\/a> \u2013 until Janett lamented she was much too busy at work for a side hustle.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s when our parents were like, \u201cWhy don\u2019t you commit to your own projects?\u2019\u201d Janett remembered. \u201c\u2018With how hard you both work for others, you could change the country if you just chose to focus on doing what you really believe in.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n Janett and Erika had grown up hearing about their parents\u2019 hardscrabble lives in the Dominican Republic. The girls\u2019 maternal grandparents had worked as farmhands, and their father\u2019s family still owned a small cocoa farm. The country was not poor, their parents\u2019 told them, \u201cbut rather there was a lack of real value being created in a way that translated into opportunity for everyone\u201d, Janett said.<\/p>\n The Dominican Republic produces about 60% of the world\u2019s organic cacao<\/a>, but the vast majority of its export is raw beans. That means most of the $8bn profit created by the crop is made in the countries where the chocolate is finished \u2013 places like Belgium, Germany and the United States \u2013 while many Dominican farmers struggle to make ends meet<\/a>. Janett and Erika felt sure they could apply their experience and expertise to the cacao industry, but had reservations about setting up shop in the DR. \u201cWe didn\u2019t know much about the country from a business perspective,\u201d Janett said.<\/p>\n Making the leap would also require leaving their lucrative jobs. \u201cThere was a big part of me that was like, \u2018I\u2019ve got decent money, I\u2019ve got my savings,\u2019\u201d Erika said. \u201c\u2018Am I really about to go to the DR and just, like, hope it happens?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n The girls\u2019 parents reminded them that they had done the same thing when they moved to the US. What\u2019s more, they offered to join their daughters in the Dominican Republic.<\/p>\n What followed was the ultimate \u201cpandemic pivot\u201d, Janett said. In 2020, the sisters left their jobs and, with their parents, moved to the Dominican Republic \u2013 bouncing around Airbnbs all over the country \u2013 to learn everything they could about the cacao industry there. \u201cWe spent months following my dad around, sitting on the back of a pickup truck, trying to understand what was happening in the supply chain,\u201d Janett said.<\/p>\n They discovered that farmers typically sold their beans to the first tipo con un cami<\/em>\u00f3n<\/em> \u2013 guy with a truck \u2013 who showed up and that these buyers often took advantage of the farmers by paying low prices, delaying payments or even using rigged scales.<\/p>\n It\u2019s a phenomenon seen across the industry \u2013 and not just in the Dominican Republic \u2013 said Antonie Fountain, the managing director of the Voice Network, a coalition of NGOs and trade unions. \u201cWe call farmers \u2018price-takers\u2019,\u201d he said. In an extremely volatile market subject to climate shocks, \u201cwhatever the world market pays is what the farmers get, unless you find yourself a truly dedicated buyer\u201d.<\/p>\n