Imagine standing behind a busy counter in Johannesburg, steam hissing from the espresso machine while customers check their watches, desperate for their morning fix. For ten years, Kabelo Jori has played this exact scene, sliding cups across the wood to commuters who rarely think about the dirt, the rain, or the hands that made their morning possible. Now, he’s leaving the chaos of the city behind for the rolling green hills of Rwanda.
He beat out 83 fellow Starbucks baristas in a gruelling selection process to earn a spot on the 'Origin Experience' trip. This isn't your typical company reward; it's a deep dive into the very roots of the industry. Since 2004, Starbucks has been sourcing beans from this East African nation, choosing to build relationships in a country still healing from the scars of the 1994 genocide. Coffee became a critical tool for national recovery, effectively stitching a shattered society back together through agriculture.
In 2009, the Kigali Farmer Support Centre became the first of its kind on the continent, proving that global brands could do more than just extract resources. Agronomists work there daily, teaching smallholder farmers how to treat their soil and improve yields while keeping the planet in mind. With nearly half a million Rwandans relying on coffee for their daily bread, this industry is the lifeblood of the economy.
'Before, mastery felt like precision, recipes, technique, consistency. Now, mastery feels like connection. It's understanding the hands behind the coffee, the soil, the story, and carrying that with intention every time I serve a cup.'
For Kabelo, the purple apron he wears back in South Africa has always symbolised high-level technical skill. He spent years obsessing over the perfect grind and the ideal temperature, pushing himself to get every pour just right. But standing on Rwandan soil, he says his definition of mastery has fundamentally shifted. It’s no longer about how fast he can pull a shot; it’s about acknowledging the long road that bean traveled before it reached his machine.
A change in perspective
Returning to his local store after this trip, Kabelo expects his rhythm to change. He talks about his hands 'slowing down'—not because he’s lost his touch, but because he’s finally aware of what he is holding. He wants to move with intention, knowing exactly who in the Rwandan highlands ensured that this specific batch met the standards of a premium global chain.
When he asks a customer to take that first sip, he isn't just selling caffeine anymore. He is sharing a quiet moment of presence, a brief pause in a fast-paced South African life. He believes that if people stopped for a second to really taste the work in their cups, they would hear the story of an entire nation.
He has a simple challenge for his regular customers: treat your coffee like a conversation rather than a commodity. It’s easy to ignore the origin of our food when we live in cities like Joburg or Cape Town, but the coffee chain from Kigali to the Cape suggests we should be paying a bit more attention. By the time he steps back behind his bar, he will be a different person. He'll be more grounded, less concerned with flashy technique, and more focused on the deep, messy, human reality of the trade.
Kabelo doesn't just want to be a professional who serves drinks; he wants to be a steward of the story that started in Rwanda over two decades ago. As he prepares to head home, he’s left with one lingering thought about what a perfect cup truly feels like. It’s not about the taste notes or the foam art. It’s that exact second after the first swallow, when the drinker falls silent, everything else fades away, and they are fully present in the moment.