Update — August 2026: I originally published this article in January 2016 after interviewing two men involved in small-scale coca cultivation and cocaine production during a trip into the mountains surrounding San José del Palmar, Chocó.

I have kept the interview because it documents how two rural producers described the economics, risks and realities of the illegal cocaine trade at that moment in Colombia’s history. I have, however, removed some technical production details and outdated statistics. This article is intended as historical reporting—not as instruction, current travel guidance or an endorsement of the illegal drug trade.

San José del Palmar returned to international attention on August 10, 2026, when a magnitude 7.4 earthquake struck with its epicenter in the municipality. For my current coverage, read Manizales Earthquake 2026: Photos and Damage After Colombia’s August 10 Quake.

A Nervous Leap

Getting ready to head back into the mountains on my trusty steed, Daniel promptly falls asleep.

I was considerably less relaxed.

That night, I sat down with two men involved in coca cultivation and small-scale cocaine production. I have changed their names to protect their identities.

The conversation made me nervous then, and looking back a decade later, I understand why.

Colombia’s cocaine economy is easy to discuss in abstractions: cartels, guerrillas, interdiction, hectares of coca, tons seized and billions of dollars.

It feels very different when you are sitting across from ordinary rural men explaining why an illegal crop can become part of the economics of surviving in an isolated farming community.

Their story does not represent every farmer in Chocó, nor should it be romanticized.

But it was part of the Colombia I encountered.

And pretending that part of the country did not exist would have been less honest than writing about it.

The fact is that illegal drugs are big business and a part of life for many in this war torn and broken country.

For better or for worse the cocaine trade makes up at least 1% of Colombia’s economy if the authorities can be believed, even more if they are using their rose colored lenses to tell us pretty little lies.

Here are some cocaine facts:

• Cocaine is 2nd in the world for illegal drug trafficking output.
• Half of the total cocaine used internationally, comes from Colombia
• Despite being only 1% of Colombia’s economy around $10 billion is exported yearly.  (More yearly revenue than Google)
• Since 2001 USgov.inc has spent more than $6 billion on crackdown against Marxist guerillas and drugs.
• Colombia produced an estimated 487 metric tons in 2014.

The Interview

Here is my interview with Machete and his partner Juan (names changed for their protection):

What is your role in the production of cocaine?

Machete: We grow the crop, harvest it and then process it into pure high grade cocaine.

Can you tell me a bit about the process? 

Juan: He described a crude process in which harvested coca leaves were treated with several industrial chemicals before being converted into cocaine base and eventually a powdered product.

What struck me was not the chemistry but how casually they discussed working around toxic and highly dangerous substances.

That sounds kinda crazy, are there any risks? 

Machete: It’s a dangerous process, sometimes things blow up.  We have to be careful not to overheat when adding ingredients.  I have to be careful who I sell it to.  I could be killed fo selling it to a cartel from another pueblo or faction.  And it’s illegal, of course.

How do you know when it’s ready?

Juan: By taste.  We try a dab of the water/acid/cocaine mixture on our tongues.  Here, try some. ((Opens a big plastic jug)) Author Note: I can’t even imagine what kind of outgassing comes from that jug after adding gasoline and acid to the mixture.  That’s not even to mention I am chicken to try it.  I politely declined.

The way you talk about the process is quite businesslike.  How do you feel about producing cocaine?

Machete: The price relates to the level of danger.  Juan: We harvest the crop and produce the mercancia (goods or product), pay the vacuna (or bribe), and send it on down the line.  Things are pretty peaceful as long as we keep it in small quantities and not too often.  Danger comes from other cartels and shipping it out, when you have 15+ kilos to ship out, it gets pretty hot.  Each level comes with a risk.  Farm to pueblo: low risk. Pueblo to City: more quantity and bigger gains for pirate actions/betrayal/attack by other cartels.  There are always 3-4 people from producer to buyer and each one brings more violence to it.

Author’s Note: I discovered a few things when talking to them, better described as a general feeling for their situation.  In parts of El Choco it is mostly small scattered farms which do a little bit extra to make ends meet.  They are peaceful peasants, they avoid interacting with these people but it’s inevitable even if they aren’t producing cocaine.  Its’ all organized and runs like a business owned by violent people who are attracted to the danger.

Earlier you mentioned small quantities, infrequently.  What is your motivation?  Isn’t this your full-time job?

Machete: We want to stay simple farmers, we don’t want a reputation, or to end up in prison.  We have few plants, sometimes they come into season and then we make a little perico (cocaine).  It’s just a way to earn a little money, get a bigger paycheck.  Once in a while.

How much leaf do you need to make 1 kilo of cocaine?  How do you know if it is good quality?

Juan: 1 kilo is about 30 bushels of coca leaf.  From leaf to product is about 3 hours if you have a big enough pot.  We can earn more than the minimum monthly pay in Colombia per kilo.  As it passes through more hands it becomes a higher risk and is cut with more stuff as fillers and to make it last longer.  You know it has been cut with something if you shake a bit out and leave it.  Later, you return, if it looks yellow, it’s mixed with something.  If it is still white, it’s pure.

Another Author Note: I did not get photos of the process because I am a terrible journalist probably.  It was late at night, I was mentally translating from Spanish to English, while furiously taking notes.  Basically I forgot.  And to avoid any legal issues for me and them, it’s probably better that way.  So you’ll have to just take my word for it on the authenticity of my interview.  It wasn’t even the interview I had planned on.  I had planned to interview a cartel boss but he was a slippery guy and time ran short.  It was pretty much luck that these guys happened to come along and were willing to sit down and have a charla, or chat with me.

I had never used cocaine and had no interest in trying what they produced. My interest was in understanding why people in an isolated agricultural region became involved in producing it.

What I Understand Differently Now

Looking back at this interview ten years later, what interests me most is not how cocaine was made.

It is how ordinary the conversation sometimes felt.

These were not men sitting in a luxury compound surrounded by sports cars and armed guards.

They described themselves as farmers.

They talked about crops, income, risk and buyers with the practical vocabulary of people discussing a business—except the business existed inside an illegal economy capable of bringing prison, violence or death into their lives.

That contradiction stayed with me.

It is easy to tell rural communities simply to grow something else.

I have spent enough time around agriculture in Colombia to know that it is rarely that simple.

A legal crop needs roads.

It needs buyers.

It needs transportation, storage, stable prices and access to markets.

A farmer living hours from reliable infrastructure has to think very differently about what a crop is worth than someone looking at the problem from Bogotá or Washington.

None of that makes cocaine production harmless.

The violence attached to the trade has devastated communities throughout Colombia.

But understanding why an illegal economy survives requires more than condemning the people standing at the bottom of it.

San José del Palmar taught me that lesson long before most people outside Colombia had ever heard the town’s name.

In August 2026, a devastating earthquake put it in international headlines.

For many readers, San José del Palmar suddenly became an epicenter on a map.

For me, it was already a place of farms, families, cloud forest, complicated histories—and conversations like this one.

More From San José del Palmar

My Second Visit to El Chocó
Your return trip and further observations from the region.

Cacao Puro del Chocó: The Story Behind the Chocolate
Your firsthand story about cacao production on a family farm near San José del Palmar.

Savage Paradise: The Birds, the Bees and the Guerrillas
Your later reporting on wildlife, isolation and the region’s conflict history.

Manizales Earthquake 2026: Photos and Damage After Colombia’s August 10 Quake
Your current visual dispatch following the earthquake centered near San José del Palmar.