Gotowa bibliografia na temat „Dutch American farmers”

This article explores Toni Morrison's preoccupation with, and reimagining of, the landscape of the so-called New World. Drawing on scholarship that has investigated dominant discourses about freedom, bounty, and possibility located within the Americas, it identifies various counternarratives in Morrison's fiction, tracing these through the earlier Song of Solomon (1977), Tar Baby (1981), and Beloved (1987), but primarily arguing for their centrality to A Mercy (2008). The mapping of seventeenth-century North America in the author's ninth novel both exposes colonial relations to place and probes African American experiences of the natural world. In particular, A Mercy is found to recalibrate definitions of “wilderness” with a sharpened sensitivity to the position of women and the racially othered within them. The dynamic between the perspectives towards the environment of Anglo-Dutch farmer and trader Jacob Vaark and Native American orphan and servant Lina, is examined, as well as the slave girl Florens's formative encounters in American space. Bringing together diverse narrative views, A Mercy is shown to trouble hegemonic settler and masculinist notions of the New World and, especially through Florens's voicing, shape an alternative engagement with landscape. The article goes some way towards meeting recent calls for attention to the intersections between postcolonial approaches and ecocriticism.

Lettuce (Lactuca sativa) is a common consumed vegetable and a major source of income and nutrition for small farmers in Mexico. This crop is infected with at least nine viruses: Mirafiori lettuce big-vein virus (MiLBVV), Lettuce big-vein associated virus (LBVaV), both transmitted by the soil-borne fungus Olpidium brassicae; Tomato spotted wilt virus (TSWV), Tomato chlorotic spot virus (TCSV), Groundnut ringspot virus (GRSV), Lettuce mottle virus (LMoV), Cucumber mosaic virus (CMV), Bidens mosaic virus (BiMV), and Lettuce mosaic virus (LMV) (1). From March to May 2012, a disease on lettuce was observed in the south region of Mexico City displaying mild to severe mosaic, leaf deformation, reduced growth, slight thickening of the main vein, and plant death. At the beginning of the epidemic there were just a few plants with visible symptoms and 7 days later the entire crop was affected, causing a loss of 93% of the plants. It was estimated by counting the number of severely affected or dead plants in three plots. No thrips, aphids, or whiteflies were observed in the crop during this time. Twenty plants with similar symptoms were collected and tested by RT-PCR using the primers LBVaVF 5′-AACACTATGGGCATCCACAT-3′ and LBVaVR 5′-GCATGTCAGCAATCAGAGGA-3′ specific for the coat protein gene of LBVaV, amplifying a 322-bp fragment. Primers CP829F 5′-CCWACTTCATCAGTTGAGCGCTG-3′ and CP1418R 5′-TATCAGCTCCCTACACTATCCTCGC-3′ were used to detect MiLBVV (2). No amplification was obtained for MiLBVaV in any plants tested. PCR products of approximately 300 bp were obtained from four out of 20 symptomatic lettuce samples tested for LBVaV, but not from healthy plant and water controls. These results suggest the presence of another virus in symptomatic lettuce plants. Amplicons were gel-purified and sequenced using LBVaVF and LBVaVR primers. A consensus sequence was generated using the Bioedit v. 5 program. Both sequences of these Mexican lettuce isolates were 100% identical (Accession Nos. KC776266.1 and KC776267.1) and had identities between 94 and 99% to all sequences of LBVaV available in GenBank. Additionally, when alignments were made using ClustalW, these sequences showed identities of 99.7% to Almeria-Spanish isolate (Accession No. AY581686.1); 99.4% to Granada-Spanish isolate (AY581689.1); 99.1% to Dutch isolate (JN710441.1), Iranian isolate (JN400921.1), Australian isolate (GU220725.1), Brazilian isolate (DQ530354.1), England isolate (AY581690.1), and American isolate (AY496053.1); 96.2% to Australian isolate (GU220722.1); 96.3% to Japanese isolate (AB190527.1); and 92.8% to Murcia-Spanish isolate (AY581691.1). Twenty lettuce plants were mechanically inoculated with leaf tissue taken from the four plants collected in the field and tested positive for LBVaV by RT-PCR; 12 days after inoculation, mosaic symptoms were observed in all inoculated plants and six of them were analyzed individually by RT-PCR obtaining a fragment of the expected size. To our knowledge, this is the first report of LBVaV infecting lettuce in Mexico. Further surveys and monitoring of LBVaV incidence and distribution in the region, vector competence of olpidium species, and impact on the crop quality are in progress. References: (1) P. M. Agenor et al. Plant Viruses 2:35, 2008. (2) R. J. Hayes et al. Plant Dis. 90:233, 2006.

Coconut palm sugar Srikandi is different from other sugar. Coconut palm sugar Srikandi is derived from the raw material of nira obtained from coconut trees that grow on organic certification land. This organic certificate was issued by the Dutch Control Union, namely the EU Organic Farming certificate and USDA Organic certificate from America. In addition, there was already a halal label from LPPOM Central Java Province and PIRT Purworejo Regency Health Office. Coconut palm sugar Srikandi could reach the market in accordance with organic certificates that were Europe, America, Australia and Sri Lanka. This study aims to identify the marketing channels, marketing margins, farmer's share and the analysis of profit-to-cost ratios. The type of research used by the survey method. The research location was chosen by probability sampling method, that was in Loano District and Kaligesing District, Purworejo Regency as an object and coconut palm sugar tapper who is a member of Srikandi Women's Cooperative as the subject. The most efficient marketing channel research resulted with a marketing margin value of Rp. 15.000 / kg, farmer's share value of 53.13% and the value of profit and cost ratio of 9.78 are found on the channel III.

Maize cultivation in the Netherlands Columbus introduced maize in Spain at the end of the 15th century. At the end of 16th century, maize reached the Netherlands. However, the Dutch climate was not favorable enough to have the crop matured. Therefore, for a long time maize cultivation remained limited for study and observation. The Netherlands has not built up an old maize culture. On the other hand, Spanish and Portuguese farmers already cultivated plenty of maize in 1520. For the purpose of intensive livestock farming, the Netherlands started importing maize from America around 1850. After World War I, trade started again, but also research into the breeding of maize in order to make the Netherlands less dependent on foreign countries. After The Second World War, some farmers began to grow small-scale maize. However, it took until around 1975 before cultivation takes place on a large scale and a practical way of storage at farms has been developed. At present, maize cultivation is the largest crop in the Netherlands with over 216,000 hectares. This has led to a sharp change in the image of the historic arable landscape in 50 years.

Cucurbita maxima Duch. is one of the most morphologically variable cultivated species. The Center for Conservation and Breeding of the Agricultural Diversity (COMAV) holds a diverse germplasm collection of the Cucurbita genus, with more than 300 landraces of this species. Morphological and molecular characterization are needed to facilitate farmer and breeder use of this collection. With this aim, the morphological variation of a collection of 120 C. maxima accessions was evaluated. The majority of these accessions originated from Spain, which has acted as a bridge since the 16th century for spreading squash morphotypes between the Americas and Europe. South American landraces (the center of origin of this species) were also included. Eight morphological types were established based on this characterization and previous intraspecific classifications. A subset of these accessions, selected from these classification and passport data, was employed for molecular characterization. Two marker types were used; sequence related amplified polymorphism (SRAP), which preferentially amplifies open reading frames (ORF), and amplified fragment length polymorphism (AFLP). In the main, SRAP marker analysis grouped accessions in accordance to their type of use (agronomic traits) and AFLP marker analysis grouped accessions as to their geographical origin. AFLP marker analysis detected a greater genetic variability among American than among Spanish accessions. This is likely due to a genetic bottleneck that may have occurred during the introduction of squash into Europe. The disparity of the results obtained with the two markers may be related to the different genome coverage which is characteristic of each particular marker type and/or to its efficiency in sampling variation in a population.

Iskandar J, Iskandar BS, Azril, Partasasmita R. 2017. The practice of farming, processing and trading of tobacco by Sukasari people of Sumedang District, West Java, Indonesia. Biodiversitas 18: 1517-1527. Tobacco (Nicotiana tabacum L) is an original crop of Cuba, Latin America, discovered by Christoper Columbus in 1492 and introduced to Europe. Moreover, it was distributed to Asia countries, including Indonesia. Local people of Sukasari village, Sukasari sub-district, Sumedang district, West Java, has cultivated tobacco for a long time, since the Dutch colonial, based on local ecological knowledge transmitted by inter-generations. As a result, local people of Sukasari village have rich knowledge on the tobacco. Nowadays, however, since the agricultural lands as well as tobacco farmers have decreased, the local ecological knowledge of the Sukasari people have eroded. This paper elucidates the local ecological knowledge of Sukasari people, Sumedang District of West Java on landraces, cultivation, process, and local trading of tobacco. The method used in this study was qualitative with descriptive analysis applying the ethnoecological approach. The result of the study showed that the Sukasari people have predominantly cultivated four landraces of the tobacco. The cultivation of tobacco include the selecting of seeds, nursery, preparing land, planting, caring, harvesting and processing of tobacco products, requiring diligent efforts and high skill. Today, the cultivation of tobacco has many constrains, such as climate anomalies, decrease of agricultural lands, and the lack of finance; consequently, the tobacco farmers have less enthusiasm to cultivate the tobacco. As a result of decreaase of tobacco cultivation, the local ecological knowledge of the Sukasari people has eroded and may extinct in the near future.

The United States Census of 1850 was the first such survey in this country to require that heads of households provide information on their dependents. The process of interrogation caused a good deal of confusion and inspired numerous jokes. Francis William Edmonds's amusing portrayal features a father making a painstaking effort (counting on his fingers) to give the whitebearded census taker his family statistics, while his giggling children hide from sight. A reviewer who saw the picture at the national Academy of Design exhibition in 1854 described the main character as a "farmer, rough and awkward, reckoning in brown study the number of the boys and girls, evidently more at home in the use of the ox-gad, which lies on the floor, than in figuring." The small portrait print of George Washington just above the father's head evokes not only the genesis of the country's democratic political system but also the by then legendary admonition never to tell a lie. With its carefully delineated interior based on prototypes from Dutch genre scenes, the composition reveals Edmonds at his finest, taking a common moment from the daily life of middle-class Americans and turning it into a moralizing and socially critical tableau.Information taken from http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/2006.457 on May 25, 2012

-Bridget Brereton, Emilia Viotti Da Costa, Crowns of glory, tears of blood: The Demerara slave rebellion of 1823. New York: Oxford University Press, 1994. xix + 378 pp.-Grant D. Jones, Assad Shoman, 13 Chapters of a history of Belize. Belize city: Angelus, 1994. xviii + 344 pp.-Donald Wood, K.O. Laurence, Tobago in wartime 1793-1815. Kingston: The Press, University of the West Indies, 1995. viii + 280 pp.-Trevor Burnard, Howard A. Fergus, Montserrat: History of a Caribbean colony. London: Macmillan Caribbean, 1994. x + 294 pp.-John L. Offner, Joseph Smith, The Spanish-American War: Conflict in the Caribbean and the Pacific, 1895-1902. London: Longman, 1994. ix + 262 pp.-Louis Allaire, John M. Weeks ,Ancient Caribbean. New York: Garland, 1994. lxxi + 325 pp., Peter J. Ferbel (eds)-Aaron Segal, Hilbourne A. Watson, The Caribbean in the global political economy. Boulder CO: Lynne Rienner, 1994. ix + 261 pp.-Aaron Segal, Anthony P. Maingot, The United States and the Caribbean. London: Macmillan Caribbean, 1994. xi + 260 pp.-Bill Maurer, Helen I. Safa, The myth of the male breadwinner: Women and industrialization in the Caribbean. Boulder CO: Westview, 1995. xvi + 208 pp.-Peter Meel, Edward M. Dew, The trouble in Suriname, 1975-1993. Westport CT: Praeger, 1994. xv + 243 pp.-Henry Wells, Jorge Heine, The last Cacique: Leadership and politics in a Puerto Rican city. Pittsburgh PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1993. ix + 310 pp.-Susan Eckstein, Jorge F. Pérez-López, Cuba at a crossroads: Politics and economics after the fourth party congress. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1994. xviii + 282 pp.-David A.B. Murray, Marvin Leiner, Sexual politics in Cuba: Machismo, homosexuality, and AIDS. Boulder CO: Westview, 1994. xv + 184 pp.-Kevin A. Yelvington, Selwyn Ryan ,Sharks and sardines: Blacks in business in Trinidad and Tobago. St. Augustine, Trinidad: Institute of social and economic studies, University of the West Indies, 1992. xiv + 217 pp., Lou Anne Barclay (eds)-Catherine Levesque, Allison Blakely, Blacks in the Dutch world: The evolution of racial imagery in a modern society. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993. xix + 327 pp.-Dennis J. Gayle, Frank Fonda Taylor, 'To hell with paradise': A history of the Jamaican tourist industry. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1993. ix + 239 pp.-John P. Homiak, Frank Jan van Dijk, Jahmaica: Rastafari and Jamaican society, 1930-1990. Utrecht: ISOR, 1993. 483 pp.-Peter Mason, Arthur MacGregor, Sir Hans Sloane: Collector, scientist, antiquary, founding Father of the British Museum. London: British Museum Press, 1994.-Philip Morgan, James Walvin, The life and times of Henry Clarke of Jamaica, 1828-1907. London: Frank Cass, 1994. xvi + 155 pp.-Werner Zips, E. Kofi Agorsah, Maroon heritage: Archaeological, ethnographic and historical perspectives. Kingston: Canoe Press, 1994. xx + 210 pp.-Michael Hoenisch, Werner Zips, Schwarze Rebellen: Afrikanisch-karibischer Freiheitskampf in Jamaica. Vienna Promedia, 1993. 301 pp.-Elizabeth McAlister, Paul Farmer, The uses of Haiti. Monroe ME: Common Courage Press, 1994. 432 pp.-Robert Lawless, James Ridgeway, The Haiti files: Decoding the crisis. Washington DC: Essential Books, 1994. 243 pp.-Bernadette Cailler, Michael Dash, Edouard Glissant. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. xii + 202 pp.-Peter Hulme, Veronica Marie Gregg, Jean Rhys's historical imagination: Reading and writing the Creole. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1995. xi + 228 pp.-Silvia Kouwenberg, Francis Byrne ,Focus and grammatical relations in Creole languages. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 1993. xvi + 329 pp., Donald Winford (eds)-John H. McWhorter, Ingo Plag, Sentential complementation in Sranan: On the formation of an English-based Creole language. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 1993. ix + 174 pp.-Percy C. Hintzen, Madan M. Gopal, Politics, race, and youth in Guyana. San Francisco: Mellen Research University Press, 1992. xvi + 289 pp.-W.C.J. Koot, Hans van Hulst ,Pan i rèspèt: Criminaliteit van geïmmigreerde Curacaose jongeren. Utrecht: OKU. 1994. 226 pp., Jeanette Bos (eds)-Han Jordaan, Cornelis Ch. Goslinga, Een zweem van weemoed: Verhalen uit de Antilliaanse slaventijd. Curacao: Caribbean Publishing, 1993. 175 pp.-Han Jordaan, Ingvar Kristensen, Plantage Savonet: Verleden en toekomst. Curacao: STINAPA, 1993, 73 pp.-Gerrit Noort, Hesdie Stuart Zamuel, Johannes King: Profeet en apostel in het Surinaamse bosland. Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 1994. vi + 241 pp.

The European protein production deficit in livestock feed is currently being covered by soy imports, especially from America. However, these imports are being criticised for social, ecological and economic reasons. In order to close the European protein gap, alternative protein sources are increasingly being searched for. The use of insects represents an innovative approach, highlighting their advantages of high protein content and good nutrient composition, as well as their sustainable production methods. To establish insects as innovation in the livestock industry, their acceptance along the value chain is essential. The present study analyses the acceptance of insects as an alternative protein source in feed by poultry and pig farmers in France (n=84) and the Netherlands (n=182). The study results indicate that French and Dutch livestock farmers would use insects as an alternative protein feed, because their usefulness and benefits are paramount. The importance of support by family and farm members as well as colleagues is confirmed in this study, whereas perceptions of effort and risk are not significant influencing factors. Furthermore, age, gender, freedom to choose feed components, and nationality do not significantly determine the main effects of the model. Overall, the results of the study indicate a positive perception in both countries of insects as feed, which is a good prerequisite for the introduction of insects as feed as an innovation.

In the 1980s, an extremely successful Nescafé Gold Blend coffee advertising campaign dared to posit, albeit subliminally, that a love relationship was inextricably linked to coffee. Over several years, an on-again off-again love affair appeared to unfold onscreen; its ups and downs narrated over shared cups of coffee. Although the association between the relationship and Gold Blend was loose at best, no direct link was required (O’Donohoe 62). The campaign’s success was its reprisal of the cultural myth prevalent in the West that coffee and love, coffee and relationships, indeed coffee and intimacy, are companionate items. And, the more stable lover, it would seem, is available on the supermarket shelf. Meeting for coffee, inviting a potential lover in for a late-night cup of coffee, or scheduling a business meeting in an espresso bar are clichés that refer to coffee consumption but have little to do with the actual product. After all, many a tea-drinker will invite friends or acquaintances “for coffee.” This is neatly acknowledged in a short romantic scene in the lauded feature film Good Will Hunting (1997) in which a potential lover’s suggestion of meeting for coffee is responded to smartly by the “genius” protagonist Will, “Maybe we could just get together and eat a bunch of caramels. [...] When you think about it, it’s just as arbitrary as drinking coffee.” It was a date, regardless. Many in the coffee industry will argue that coffee—rather than tea, or caramel—is legendary for its intrinsic capacity to foster and ignite new relationships and ideas. Coffee houses are repeatedly cited as the heady location for the beginnings of institutions from major insurance business Lloyd’s of London to the Boston Tea Party, J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series of novels, and even Western Australian indie band Eskimo Joe. This narrative images the coffee house and café as a setting that supports ingenuity, success, and passion. It is tempting to suggest that something intrinsic in coffee renders it a Western social lubricant, economic powerhouse, and, perhaps, spiritual prosthesis. This paper will, however, argue that the social and cultural production of “coffee” cannot be dissociated from feeling. Feelings of care, love, inspiration, and desire constellate around “coffee” in a discourse of warm, fuzzy affect. I suggest that this blooming of affect is not superfluous but, instead, central to the way in which coffee is produced, represented and consumed in Western mass culture. By exploring the currently fashionable practice of “direct trade” between roasters and coffee growers as represented on the Websites of select Western roasting companies, the repetition of this discourse is abundantly clear. Here, the good feelings associated with cross-cultural friendship are figured as the condition and reward for the production of high quality coffee beans. Money, it seems, does not buy happiness—but good quality coffee can. Good (Colonial) Feelings Before exploring the discursive representation of friendship and good feeling among the global coffee community with regard to direct trade, it is important to account for the importance of feeling as a narrative strategy with political affects and effects. In her discussion of “happy objects,” cultural theorist of emotion Sara Ahmed argues that specific objects are associated with feelings of happiness. She gives the telling example of coffee as an object intimately tied with happy feeling within the family. So you make coffee for the family, and you know “just“ how much sugar to put in this cup and that. Failure to know this “just“ is often felt as a failure of care. Even if we do not experience the same objects as being pleasurable, sharing the family means sharing happy objects, both in the sense of sharing knowledge (of what makes others happy) and also in the sense of distributing the objects in the right way (Ahmed, Promise 47). This idea is derived from Ahmed’s careful consideration of affective economies. She suggests emotions neither belong to, or are manufactured by, discrete individuals. Rather, emotions are formed through social exchange. Relieved of imagining the individual as the author of affect, we can consider the ways in which affect circulates as a product in a broad, vitalising economy of feeling (Ahmed, Affective 121). In the example above, feelings of care and intimacy attached to coffee-making produce the happy family, or more precisely, the fleeting instant of the family-as-happy. The condition of this good feeling is not attributable to the coffee as product nor the family as fundamentally happy but rather the rippling of happy feeling through sharing of the object deemed happy. A little too much sugar and happiness is thwarted, affect wanes; the coffee is now bad(-feeling). If we return briefly to the Nescafé Gold Blend campaign and, indeed, Good Will Hunting, we can postulate following Ahmed that the coffee functions as a love object. Proximity to coffee is identified by its apparent causation of love-effects. In this sense, “doing coffee” means making a fleeting cultural space for feeling love, or feeling good. But what happens when we turn from the good feeling of consumption to the complex question of coffee production and trade? How might good feeling attach to the process of procuring coffee beans? In this case, the way in which good feeling seems to “stick to” coffee in mass culture needs to be augmented with consideration of its status as a global commodity traded across sociopolitical, economic, cultural and national borders. Links between coffee and colonialism are long established. From the Dutch East India Company to the feverish enthusiasm to purchase mass plantations by multinational corporations, coffee, colonialism and practices of slavery and indentured labour are intertwined (Lyons 18-19). As a globally traded commodity across a range of political regimes and national borders, tracing the postcolonial and neocolonial relations between multinational companies, small upscale boutique roasters, plantation owners, coffee bean co-ops, regulatory bodies, and workers is complex at best. In what may appear a tangential approach, it is nonetheless instructive to consider that colonial relations are constituted through affective components that support and fuel economic and political exchange (Stoler, Haunted). Again, Ahmed offers a useful context for the relationship between the imperative toward happiness and colonial representation. The civilizing mission can be redescribed as a happiness mission. For happiness to become a mission, the colonized other must be first deemed unhappy. The imperial archive can be described as an archive of unhappiness. Colonial knowledges constitute the other as not only an object of knowledge, a truth to be discovered, but as being unhappy, as lacking the qualities or attributes required for a happier state of existence (Ahmed, Promise 125). The colonising aspect of the relations Ahmed describes includes the “mission” to construct Others as unhappy. Understood as happiness detractors, colonial Others become objects that threaten the radiant appeal of happiness as part of an imperial moral economy. Hence, it is the happiness of the colonisers that is secured through the disavowal of the feelings of Others. Moreover, by documenting colonial unhappiness, colonising forces justify the sanctity of happiness-making through violence. As Ann Stoler affirms, “Colonial states had a strong interest in affective knowledge and a sophisticated understanding of affective politics” (Carnal 142). Colonising discourses, then, are inextricably linked to regimes of sense and feeling. Stoler also writes that European-ness was established through cultivation of an inner sense of self-worth associated with ethics, individuality and autonomy (Haunted 157). The development of a sense of belonging to Europe was hence executed through feeling good in both moral and affective senses of the word. Although Stoler argues her case in terms of the affective politics of colonial sexualities and desire, her work is highly instructive for its argument that emotion is crucial to structures of power in colonial regimes. Bringing Stoler’s work into closer proximity with Ahmed’s postulation of State happiness and its objects, I am now going to suggest that coffee is a palimpsestic cultural site at which to explore the ways in which the politics of good feeling obscure discomforting and complex questions of power, exploitation, and disadvantage in global economies of coffee production and consumption. Direct Trade In the so-called “third wave” specialty coffee market that is enjoying robust growth in Australia, America, and Europe, “direct trade” across the globe between roasters and plantation owners is consistently represented as friendly and intimate despite vast distances and cultural difference. The “third wave” is a descriptor that, as John Manzo describes in his sociological exploration of coffee connoisseurship in privileged Western online and urban fora, refers to coffee enthusiasts interested in brewing devices beyond high-end espresso machines such as the cold drip, siphon, or pour-over. Jillian Adams writes further that third wavers: Appreciate the flavour nuances of single estate coffee; that is coffee that is sourced from single estates, farms, or villages in coffee growing regions. When processed carefully, it will have a distinctive flavour and taste profile that reflects the region and the culture of the coffee production (2). This focus on single estate or “single origin” coffee refers to beans procured from sections of estates and plantations called micro-lots, which are harvested and processed in a controlled manner.The third wave trend toward single origin coffees coincides with the advent of direct trade. Direct trade refers to the growing practice of bypassing “middlemen” to source coffee beans from plantations without appeal to or restriction by regulatory bodies. Rather, as I will show below, relationships and partnerships between growers and importers are imagined as sites of goodwill and good feeling. This focus on interpersonal relationships and friendships cannot be disarticulated from the broader cross-cultural context at stake. The relationships associated with direct trade invariably take place across borders that are also marked by economic, cultural and political differences in which privileged Western buyers engage with non-Western growers on low incomes. Drawing from Ahmed’s concern that the politics of good feeling is tied to colonial nostalgia, it is compelling to suggest that direct trade is haunted by discourses of colonisation. At this point of intersection, I suggest that Western mass cultural associations of coffee with ease, intimacy and pure intentions invite consumers to join a neocolonial saga through partaking in imagined communities of global coffee friends. Particularly popular in Australia and America, direct trade is espoused by key third wave coffee roasters in Melbourne, Portland and Seattle. Melbourne Coffee Merchants are perhaps the most well-known importers of directly traded green bean in Australia. On their Web page they describe the importance of sharing good feelings about high quality coffee: “We aim to share, educate, and inspire, and get people as excited about quality coffee as we are.” A further page describing the Merchants’s mission explains, “Growers are treated as partners in the mission to get the worlds [sic] finest beans into the hands of discerning customers.” The quality of excitement that circulates through the procuring of green beans is related to the deemed partnership between Merchants and the growers. That is, it is not the fact of the apparent partnership or its banality that is important, but the treating of growers as partners that signifies Merchants’s mission to generate good feeling. This is a slight but crucial distinction. Treating the growers as partners participates in an affective economy of excitement and inspiration—how the growers feel is, presumably, in want of such partnership.Not dissimilarly, Five Senses Coffee, boutique roasters in Melbourne and Perth, offer an emotional bonus with the purchase of directly traded coffees. “So go on, select one of our Direct Trade products and bask in the warm glow you get knowing that the farmer who grew the beans that you’re enjoying is reaping the rewards too!” The rewards that the growers are deemed to be receiving are briefly explained in blog posts on the Five Senses news Web page. I am not suggesting that these friendships and projects are not legitimate. Rather, the willingness of Five Senses to negotiate rates with growers and provide the community with an English teacher, for example, fuels an economy of Westerners’s good feelings and implies conventional trading produces unhappiness. This obscures grounds for concern that the provision of an English teacher might indeed serve the interests of colonising discourses. Perhaps a useful entry point into this narrative form is founded in the recently self-published book Coffee Trails by Toby Smith, founder of boutique Australian roaster Toby’s Estate. The book is described on the Toby’s Estate Web page as follows:Filled with personal anecdotes and illustrating his relationships developed over years of visiting the farmers to source his coffee beans, Smith’s commentary of his travels, including a brush with Jamaican customs officials and a trip to a notoriously dangerous Ethiopian market, paints an authentic picture of the colourful countries that produce the second most traded product in the world. [...] Coffee Trails has been Smith’s labour of love over the past two years and the end product is a wonderfully personal account of a man fulfilling his lifelong dream and following his passion across the world. Again, the language of “passion” and “love” registers direct trade coffee as a happy object. Furthermore, despite the fact that coffee is also grown in Australia, the countries that are most vivid in the epic imagination are those associated with “exotic” locations such as Ethiopia and Jamaica. This is arguably registered through the sense that these locations were where Smith encountered danger. Having embarked on a version of the quintessential hero’s journey, Smith can be seen as devoted to, and inspired by, his love-object. His brushes with uncivilised authorities and locations carry the undertones of a colonial imaginary, in which it can be argued Smith’s Western-ness is established and secured as goodwill-invoking. After all, he locates and develops relationships with farmers and buys their coffee which, following the logic of happy objects, disperses and shares good feelings.Gloria Jean’s Coffees, which occupies a similar market position in Australia to the multinational “specialty” coffee company Starbucks (Lyons), also participates in the dispersal of coffee as a happy object despite its mass scale of production and lack of direct trade capability (not unexpectedly, Starbucks hosts a Relationships campaign aimed at supporting humanitarian initiatives and communities). Gloria Jean’s campaign With Heart allocates resources to humanitarian activities in local Australian communities and worldwide in coffee-growing regions. Their Web page states: “With Heart is woven throughout Gloria Jeans Coffee houses and operations by the active participation of Franchise Partners, support office and team members and championed across Australia, by our With Heart Ambassadors.“ The associative message is clear: Gloria Jean’s Coffees is a company indissociable from “heart,” or perhaps loving care, for community.By purchasing coffee, Gloria Jean’s customers can be seen to be supporting heartening community projects, and are perhaps unwittingly working as ambassadors for the affective economy in which proximity to the happy object—the heart-centred coffee company—indicates the procurement of happiness for someone, somewhere. The sale of good feeling enables specialty coffee companies such as Gloria Jean’s to bypass market opportunities associated with Fair Trade regulatory provisions, which, as Carl Obermiller et al. find in their study of Fair Trade buying patterns, also profit from consumers’ purchase of good feeling associated with ethically-produced objects. Instead, assuring consumers of its heart-centredness, Gloria Jean’s Coffees is represented as an embodiment not of fairness but kindness, and perhaps love, for others. The iconography and history of direct trade coffee is most closely linked to Intelligentsia Coffee of Chicago in the USA. Intelligentsia describes its third wave roasting and training business as the first to engage in direct trade in 2003. Its Web page includes an image of an airplane to which the following pop-up is linked: “Our focus is not just identifying quality coffee, but developing and rewarding it. To do this means preserving and developing strong relationships despite the considerable distance. At any given time, there is at least one Intelligentsia buyer at origin.” This text raises the question of what constitutes quality coffee. It would appear that “quality coffee” is knowledge that Intelligentsia owns, and which is rewarded financially when replicated to the satisfaction of Intelligentsia. The strength of the relationships in this interaction is closely linked to the meeting of clear conditions and expectations. Indeed, we are reassured that “at any time” an Intelligentsia buyer is applying these conditions to the product. Quality, then, is at least in part achieved by Intelligentsia through its commitment to travelling long distances to oversee the activities and practices of growers. This paternalistic structure is figured in terms of “strong relationships” rather than, perhaps, a rigorous and shrewd business model (which is assumedly the province of mass-market Others).Amid numerous examples found in even a cursory search on the Web, the overwhelming message of direct trade is of good feeling through care. Long term relationships, imagined as virtuous despite the opacity of the negotiation procedure in most cases, narrates the conviction that relationship in and of itself is a good in what might be called the colonial redramatisation staked by an affective coffee economy. Conclusion: Mourning CoffeeIn a paper on happiness, it might appear out of place to reference grief. Yet Jacques Derrida’s explication of friendship in his rousing collection The Work of Mourning is instructive. He writes that death is accommodated and acknowledged “in the undeniable anticipation of mourning that constitutes friendship” (159). Derrida maintains close attention to the productivity and intensity of Otherness in mourning. Thus, friendship is structurally dependent on impending loss, and it follows that there can be no loss without recognising the Otherness of the other, as it were. Given indifference to difference and, hence, loss, it is possible to interpret the friendships affirmed within direct trade practices as supported by a kind of mania. The exuberant dispersal of good feeling through directly traded coffee is narrated by emotional journeys to the primordial beginnings of the happy-making object. That is, fixation upon the object’s brief survival in “primitive” circumstances before its perfect demise in the cup of discerning Western clientele suggests a process of purification through colonising Western knowledges and care. If I may risk a misappropriation of Sara Ahmed’s words; so you make the trip to origin, and you know “just” what to pay for this bean and that. Failure to know this “just” is often felt as a failure of care. But, for whom?References Adams, Jillian. “Thoroughly Modern Coffee.” TEXT Rewriting the Menu: The Cultural Dynamics of Contemporary Food Choices. Eds. Adele Wessell and Donna Lee Brien. TEXT Special Issue 9 (2010). 27 Feb. 2012 ‹http://www.textjournal.com.au/speciss/issue9/content.htm›. Ahmed, Sara. “Affective Economies.” Social Text 79 22.2 (2004): 117-39 . -----. “The Politics of Good Feeling.” Australian Critical Race and Whiteness Studies Association E-Journal 5.1 (2008): 1-18. -----. The Promise of Happiness. Durham: Duke UP, 2010. Derrida, Jacques. The Work of Mourning. Eds. Pascale-Anne Brault and Michael Naas. Chicago; London: U Chicago P, 2003. Five Senses Coffee. “Coffee Affiliations.” 27 Feb. 2012 ‹http://www.fivesenses.com.au/coffee/affiliations/direct-trade›. Gloria Jean’s Coffees. “With Heart.” 27 Feb. 2012 ‹http://www.gloriajeanscoffees.com/au/Humanitarian/AboutUs.aspx›. Good Will Hunting. Dir. Gus Van Sant. Miramax, 1997. Intelligentsia Coffee. “Direct Trade.” 28 Feb. 2012 ‹http://directtradecoffee.com/›. Lyons, James. “Think Seattle, Act Globally: Specialty Coffee, Commodity Biographies and the Promotion of Place.” Cultural Studies 19.1 (2005): 14-34. Manzo, John. “Coffee, Connoisseurship, and an Ethnomethodologically-Informed Sociology of Taste.” Human Studies 33 (2010): 141-55. Melbourne Coffee Merchants. “About Us.” 27 Feb. 2012 ‹http://melbournecoffeemerchants.com.au/about.asp›. Obermiller, Carl, Chauncy Burke, Erin Tablott and Gareth P. Green. “’Taste Great or More Fulfilling’: The Effect of Brand Reputation on Consumer Social Responsibility Advertising for Fair Trade Coffee.” Corporate Reputation Review 12.2 (2009): 159-76. O’Donohoe, Stephanie. “Advertising Uses and Gratifications.” European Journal of Marketing 28.8/9 (1993): 52-75. Smith, Toby. Coffee Trails: A Social and Environment Journey with Toby’s Estate. Sydney: Toby Smith, 2011. Stoler, Ann Laura. Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule. California: U California P, 2002. -----. Haunted by Empire: Geographies of Intimacy in North American History. Durham: Duke UP, 2006. Toby’s Estate. “Toby Smith’s Coffee Trails.” 27 Feb 2012 ‹http://www.tobysestate.com.au/index.php/toby-smith-book-coffee-trails.html›.

Writing in the wake of King George's War, Edmund Burke, together with his cousin, offered the first comparative analysis of European settlement patterns in the New World in his Account of the European Settlement of America (1757). Although Burke never crossed the Atlantic, he was still able to provide insights into the ‘comparatively weak’ state of Spanish settlement in New Mexico, the lack of ‘towns and villages’ in New France, and the defects in James Oglethorpe's plan in Georgia to create a colony based on small, independent farms. This article examines patterns of European settlement in selected portions of the Americas (South, Central, and North America). It also considers the primacy of towns in Spanish America, settlement in Luso-America, the settlement patterns that developed in France's New World colonies, merchants and traders in Dutch America, and the ‘planting’ of British North America.

The Archaeology of New Netherland illuminates the influence of the Dutch empire in North America, assembling evidence from seventeenth-century settlements located in present-day New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and Delaware. Archaeological data from this important early colony has often been overlooked because it lies underneath major urban and industrial regions, and this collection makes a wealth of information widely available for the first time. Contributors to this volume begin by discussing the global context of Dutch colonization and reviewing typical Dutch material culture of the time as seen in ceramics from Amsterdam households. Next, they focus on communities and activities at colonial sites such as forts, trading stations, drinking houses, and farms. The essays examine the agency and impact of Indigenous people and enslaved Africans, particularly women, in the society of New Netherland, and they trace interactions between Dutch settlers and Europeans from other colonies including New Sweden. The volume also features landmark studies of cooking pots, marbles, tobacco pipes, and other artifacts. The research in this volume offers an invitation to investigate New Netherland with the same sustained rigor that archaeologists and historians have shown for English colonialism. The many topics outlined here will serve as starting points for further work on early Dutch expansion in America.

Abstract Walt Whitman Was Born on May 31, 1819 IN THE LONG ISLAND village of West Hills, some fifty miles east of Manhattan. He was descended from two branches of early American settlers, English on his father’s side and Dutch on his mother’s. His paternal ancestors included Zechariah Whitman, who came to America from England in the 1660s and settled in Connectioncut. Zechariah’s son Joseph moved across the sound to an area near Huntington, Long Island, where he became a farmer and local official. He gained large land holdings that came to be known as Joseph Whitman’s Great Hollow. His descendants acquired even more land and established a five-hundred-acre farm that became the Whitman family homestead. In the late eighteenth century his property was overseen by Nehemiah Whitman and his colorful wife Phoebe (better known as Sarah), who spit tobacco juice and swore liberally as she barked commands at the slaves who worked the land.

Archaeological excavations at Fort Orange, Beverwyck, and outlying farms have yielded faunal deposits from a variety of contexts: residential, business, military, and agricultural. The assemblages examined revealed that colonists consumed not only meats from domesticated livestock but also a great variety of wildlife species, such as wild turkey and deer. Venison deer remained an important meat throughout the seventeenth century, and that it was probably an important trade commodity, as it was hunted and bought from Natives. These data form the basis for investigating subsistence and trade practices, as well as social interactions between the Dutch and Native Americans.

This chapter traces the history of Brooklyn, which enjoyed the advantage of location over the other five European settlements on the western end of Long Island. It mentions the European expansion into former Lenape land that was considered slow, even with the significant assistance of African slaves in the clearing and cultivation of new farms. The substantial involvement in the slave trade of Manhattan-based merchants in both the Dutch and English eras made New York and its hinterland a major center of African habitation in the northern American colonies. The chapter talks about Joshua Sands and Hezekiah Beers Pierrepont, who had important effects on Brooklyn's future. Their stories gain a glimpse of the city and suburb that flourished during the coming years and the close connection between the individual entrepreneurship and the communal religiosity of Brooklyn's Yankee leaders.

Abstract In 1808, Louis, a Cape Town slave who worked as a tailor and was married to a free woman, led a remarkable rebellion against slavery. Following plans hatched with two Irish sailors for the Dutch East India Company, who assured him that there were no slaves in Great Britain or America, Louis traveled into the countryside with his two supporters. They deserted him on the morning the uprising began. But Louis, posing in the uniform of a Spanish sea captain with a smart blue jacket and ostrich feather hat, began marching from farm to farm informing slaves that the governor had ordered their freedom. Christians, he announced, should be bound and brought to Cape Town; they would be shipped overseas and their land distributed to the enslaved. By the end of the day, well over three hundred people had joined the marchers, who moved quickly, but relatively peacefully, gathering arms and ammunition, horses, and wagons; on a few farms they smashed furniture and windows. Most notable in the testimony of those captured that evening was the explanation of their motivation. The Secretary of the Court of Justice reported that all those taken into custody “without exception, declared that they had not the least reasons for complaints against their masters, but on the contrary they had been well treated.” Rather they were expressing a profound desire for freedom. Nearly three decades were to pass before these dreams were realized.

Everyone lives with risk, every day. In the United States, more than 100,000 persons die from accidents every year, nearly half of them on the country’s roads. Worldwide, an average of more than 5000 coal miners perish underground annually, a toll often forgotten by those who oppose nuclear power generation on grounds of safety. From insect bites to poisoned foods and from smoking to travel, risk is unavoidable. Certain risks can be mitigated through behavior (not smoking, wearing seatbelts), but others are routinely accepted as inescapable. A half century ago, long before hijackings and airport security programs, the number of airline travelers continued to increase robustly even as airplanes crashed with considerable frequency. Today, few drivers or passengers are deterred by the carnage on the world’s roads, aware of it though they may be. Risk is part of life. Risk, however, also is a matter of abode, of location. Who, after experiencing or witnessing on television the impact of a hurricane, a tornado, an earthquake, a volcanic eruption, a flood, a blizzard, or some other extreme natural event, has not asked the question: “Where in the world might be a relatively safe place to live?” Geographers, some of whom have made the study of natural hazards and their uneven distribution a research priority, don’t have a simple answer. But on one point they leave no doubt: people, whether individually or in aggregate, subject themselves to known environmental dangers even if they have the wherewithal to avoid them. Many Americans build their retirement or second homes on flood-prone barrier islands along coastlines vulnerable to hurricanes. The Dutch, who have for many years been emigrating from the Netherlands in substantial numbers, are leaving for reasons other than the fact that two-thirds of their country lies below sea level. From Indonesia to Mexico, farmers living on the fertile slopes of active volcanoes not only stay where they are, but often resist even temporary relocation when volcanic activity resumes. From Tokyo to Tehran, people continue to cluster in cities with histories of devastating earthquakes and known to be situated in perilous fault zones. Fatalism is a cross-cultural human trait.