Our Story
Karaya Bean celebrates cacao as ritual shaped by island soil, Taíno roots, and family legacy
Our Roots in Cacao & Ceremony
Long before cacao became a global product, it was sacred. Across the Americas, Indigenous cultures treated cacao as a plant of power — used in ceremonies, offerings, and healing rituals. On the island now known as the Dominican Republic, the Taíno people, native to the Caribbean, held cacao as a symbol of connection between land, spirit, and community. It wasn’t just food — it was medicine and meaning.
Honoring the Taíno & Atabey
Among the Taíno’s revered figures was Atabey, the goddess of fertility, fresh waters, and the moon. She represented the divine feminine and the life-giving energy of the earth. One of her most iconic images shows her with hands resting on her cheeks — a gesture of contemplation, stillness, and strength. This sacred posture inspired the Karaya Bean logo, a tribute to Atabey and the deep ancestral spirit that still lives in the land.
The name Karaya itself is one of the many Taíno names for the moon. This symbolism runs through everything we do — honoring the rhythms of nature and the stories of those who came before us.
The Dominican Republic – Land of Abundance
The Dominican Republic is one of the most fertile and biodiverse islands in the Caribbean. Volcanic soil, tropical rains, and natural forest canopies make it ideal for cultivating high-quality cacao. For generations, smallholder farmers have worked this land with care, often using sustainable, organic methods passed down through families. This cacao is deep, complex, and rooted in tradition — just like the people who grow it.
Pablo de Luna — A Legacy of Labor & Love
My grandfather, Pablo de Luna, was one of those farmers. On a small piece of land on the north coast of the island, he built a home for his family of 14 children, using resources entirely from the land. He was a small dairy farmer who also grew cacao and coffee, slowly expanding his farm with quiet determination. Like many farmers, he sold his harvest to larger producers, often without recognition — but his labor and generosity made a lasting impact.
He employed local women during harvest seasons, donated part of his land so the government could build a hospital, and filled our childhood with stories of the past. My siblings and I often stayed at his home, where we helped hand-pick coffee cherries, carry sacks of cacao up steep hills, and witness the full process — from fermentation to sun-drying. One of my last memories of him is helping harvest cacao. He never asked for help — we offered, because we saw how much he carried alone.
He was a man of few words and a heart full of humility.
Returning Home After 15 Years
In 2006, at the age of 12, my siblings and I moved to New York City with our mother. We wouldn’t return to the island for 15 years. During that time, my grandfather passed away, and I never got the chance to say goodbye.
When I finally returned, I was overwhelmed by the desire to reconnect — with the land, the stories, and the roots I had left behind. That journey home was the beginning of Karaya Bean — not just as a brand, but as a way to honor legacy, ancestry, and land. A way to give cacao the ceremonial, grounding, and purposeful presence it once had — and still deserves.
