This began a week
ago when my phone rang and a lady, who obviously didn’t learn her English in Colorado,
the Midwest, or anywhere in America, began speaking. Did I own a wheat farm?
Well, yes. Why? They
want to interview me. About what? ((I’m thinking Department of Agriculture or
some other government agency with an active diversity policy in force.) Growing wheat, the answer.
Who wants to
interview me? Some people from Russia
want to know more about farming, and they would like to “interview” me. The voice informs me that she is a translator
for them. It will only take thirty minutes, she says. I guess I can spare thirty minutes. When?
I would be in
Loveland until Wednesday. Thereafter, I
would be at the farm. Would Friday work?
she asks. Yes, but I will be at the
farm. That would be fine with them. They are coming from Centennial.
So we set Friday
morning, 9:30 for the “interview”. I got
to thinking about it. There was
something fishy about this whole thing. Why
would Russians be interested in American farming? Were they guests of Rotary or CAWG or some
other organization?
Probably not, or
the sponsoring organization would have made the contact, not the interpreter. I shared the story with the Goodwife. She was intrigued and immediately began
planning to be at the farm 9:30 Friday morning as well.
Before long,
everyone I talked to said something like, “So some Russians are coming to visit
you, I hear.” I think it was Ben
Franklin who said, “Three may keep a secret if two are dead.”
I began to
prepare the Goodwife for a disappointment. “What
if they just want to sell me something?
What if this is all a ruse? I won’t
be surprised however this turns out.”
The Goodwife
was there by Thursday evening suppertime.
We tidied up the house some Friday morning, and at 9:30, I got a call
from the same lady. They were in the
vicinity, but weren’t sure if they were in the right place. They weren’t.
They had gone too far. They
reached a John Deere mailbox. They should
have turned by the one with six bullet holes in it.
They arrived
shortly thereafter in a nice crossover van with Colorado plates. “They” were Roman (pronounced ro.MAN, with
the “A” like “ah”), Regina (the “R” sounds different), the Russians, and Ilmira
(sort of like “Elvira”), the translator.
Ilmira came from Russia when she was twelve. She is a graduate of Metro State. She speaks very good English.
Roman’s family
has a factory in Russia that produces flourmills. Their mills are made for farmers, so that
they can “vertically integrate.” The
idea is for the farmer to turn his own wheat into flour and reap a greater
benefit from his own crop.
They haven’t had
much luck getting anyone interested. They
were sounding us out as to why no one is interested. Basically, they are trying to find out what
they can do to get farmers to take a serious look at their machines. They have a variety of sizes ranging from one
that could be set up in a garage, to a big one that would take a fair sized
building to house.
They had a sheet
of statistics showing what their machines would do, and how it should improve a
farmer’s bottom line, by several thousand dollars. They had a video showing various flourmills in
action. They have put a lot of work into
materials suitable for an ad campaign. They
asked us to critique them, which we did.
How did they get
my name, and why did they choose me? They
had been to the Colorado Department of Agriculture. The department wouldn’t give them any names
or addresses, but they did give them an organic directory, which lists organic
farms, names, addresses, phone numbers, etc.
Why me? I’m not a typical farmer by any stretch of
the imagination. Coming to our farm is
like entering a time warp, with all the old 50’s and 60’s equipment.
“You are a
farmer. You think like a farmer. You can help us understand how farmers think
and help us reach them with our message and our product,” Ilmira said.
Oh. Well, I guess I couldn’t argue with that, at
least the first two statements. So we
looked at their video and their proposed pamphlet and made a few comments. We brainstormed some ideas to get the word
out.
I suggested they contact
a Farm Bureau and put on a program for their annual gatherings, which would include a lot of farmers. They said they had contacted the Wheat
Growers, and at first, the director was enthusiastic, but when they went to
follow up, he was quite cool and wasn’t going to be any help. I said I wasn’t surprised at that because
they have sponsors like Cargill who aren’t too interested in having farmers
skip them in the chain of getting grain to bread.
I said Farm
Bureau was pretty independent minded (I might have said something like pig headed,
maybe ((there I go thinking like a farmer again)), and might be interested if
they thought any of their members would benefit.
We also
suggested a booth at the state fair, or the “Three I Show” in Kansas, or the
farm show at Island Grove in Greeley. I
had a Eureka moment and suggested they contact Beaver Valley in Atwood. They are wholesalers who have a worldwide
market for farm equipment. If they
agreed to handle the product, it would be a big boost.
They were happy
that we would take the time to talk to them.
They said most farmers they had tried to talk to didn’t give them much
time, though they had visited a friendly operator on the western slope. It takes about twice as long as it should to
visit with foreigners because everything has to be said twice, once in the
native language, and again by the interpreter.
A little after
twelve, we walked outside, looked at the millet, discussed what it would be
used for, looked in the barns at the antique machinery, took a drive up close
to a wind generator, and checked out the pastures from the road. We apologized that we had nothing to serve
them for lunch. They understood and
thanked us profusely. They left about 1
p.m.
We learned a few
things as we discussed problems with running a mill, such as getting a health
department license. In Russia, the
machine manufacturer has a lot of responsibility for seeing to it that the machine can be maintained in a safe an sanitary way. The flour miller is responsible for maintaining the facility, but isn't subject to all the inspections by health departments.
Workman’s comp
isn’t a big deal in Russia because of the free medical care if someone is
injured on the job. Only the most
dangerous jobs, such as coal mining, require insurance.
They don’t have
IRA’s. They have tried it in the past,
but someone always makes off with the cash, and the investors lose their
shirts, so no one is willing to try that any more. Instead, they find other ways of investing
for their retirement, such as owning and renting out an apartment. Housing is a very big expense. Retirees have a pension of sorts, but if they
have to pay rent, if they don’t own their own house, housing takes most of the
pension, leaving little for groceries or other expenses.
Keeping family members on the farm was one of
the selling points their blurbs made. Milling
flour involves some labor.
I didn’t volunteer to buy a flourmill set up. If I were a lot younger, I might.
Trying to get a picture of a wind generator
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