Where is Cocoa?

Where Is Cocoa? Once, the mornings in Ogoni smelled of cocoa. The air carried a soft, bitter sweetness as pods were split open under mango trees, and laughter followed the sound of beans tumbling into baskets. Cocoa paid school fees, built zinc roofs, and taught patience—because cocoa took time, and time rewarded care. Then, quietly, cocoa disappeared. Not all at once. First, a few farms were abandoned. Young people left for the cities, chasing faster money. Old trees aged without pruning. Middlemen stopped coming as often. The farms fell silent, and the stories of cocoa began to sound like folklore. Years later, the world started asking again: *Where is the cocoa?* Chocolate factories expanded. Prices rose. Global demand surged. Countries that held on to cocoa smiled all the way to the bank. But Ogoni did not smile. At the market square, elders shook their heads. “We had this,” they said. “We *still* could.” The land was fertile. The knowledge remained. What was missing was belief, structure, and support. While others exported tonnes of cocoa, Ogoni imported chocolate made from beans that could have been theirs. The greatest loss was not just money—it was opportunity. Jobs not created. Skills not passed on. A legacy paused. Yet, beneath the soil, the land remembered. One farmer planted a seed again. Then another. And a question began to rise with the seedlings: *If cocoa once thrived here, why not again?* Because cocoa never truly left Ogoni. Ogoni only stopped looking for it.