Sweet Beginnings: The Story of Nanay Nida Abello

Badio, Numancia, Aklan — where Nanay Nida’s cacao journey began.

In many stories about farming, progress is measured by speed, yield, and scale. Success is often counted by how fast something grows and how far it travels. But in the backyard of Nanay Nida Abello in Barangay Badio, Numancia, progress follows a different rhythm.

Here, progress is measured in waiting.

In repetition.

In knowing when not to touch something yet.

Nanay Nida does not talk about cacao as a crop meant to be rushed into profit. She speaks of it as if it were alive, something that listens, waits, and responds only when treated with love and care. Each bean is checked by hand. Each stage is watched closely. Nothing is hurried, because rushing, she believes, strips cacao of its character.

As she often reminds those who come to learn from her, “Hindi basta-basta ang cacao. Kinahanglan gid pasensya.”

This patience did not come from books or seminars. It came from staying long enough to understand what the land quietly asks in return.

When Farming Wasn’t the Plan

Long before cacao entered her daily life, Nanay Nida’s world was shaped by sound, wires, and signals. She studied in Iloilo, first at the University of Iloilo, then at FEATI University, where discipline and focus were part of everyday learning.

When she moved to Aklan, her career followed a clear path. She worked as a radio operator at DYQM, later as a radio technician, and eventually in the telecommunications field. Her work demanded careful listening, attention to detail, and consistency. At the time, it felt like a complete life.

Farming was never part of the plan.

Tableya existed only in the background, something she did quietly at home, without pressure or expectation. Life was stable. Work was steady. There was no reason to imagine a different future.

A Small Beginning

Behind their house stood a few native cacao trees. They were not planted for business. They were not treated as an investment. For years, they were simply there noticed, but not pursued.

The first tableya Nanay Nida made was never meant for sale. It was pasalubong, prepared as a simple gift for relatives visiting from Iloilo. There were no labels, no prices, no plans to make more.

Then came the requests.

Another batch.

Then another.

Then someone asked if they could buy it.

Slowly, the hobby began to take more time. It no longer fit neatly around her work schedule. It was her husband who noticed the change first. He encouraged her to stop working and focus on what was quietly growing at home.

When Nanay Nida left her job, she did not think of herself as an entrepreneur. She thought of responsibility to the process, to the product, and to doing things the right way.

No Shortcuts, Just Practice

By 1994, she was already making tableya seriously. By 1997, she began selling it. There was no moment of sudden success. No big break. Only repetition.

Cacao, she learned, does not reward shortcuts.

From planting to harvesting, from drying to removing the skins, every step requires care. But fermentation became the most important lesson of all. This, she says, is where the soul of the tableya forms.

You know it is ready when it turns sour. That is when flavor begins to show itself sometimes fruity, sometimes nutty, sometimes woody, even wine-like. Taste, for Nanay Nida, is never an accident. It is the result of patience and discipline.

“Kung madali-on mo, malasahan gid,” she once said, explaining how cacao always reveals how it was treated.

Machines Help, Hands Decide

When proper equipment was unavailable, her husband became her partner in invention. Together, they built simple, DIY machines for mixing and processing cacao, tools made through trial, error, and necessity.

Still, some steps were never given up to machines. Tempering, in particular, is done by hand.

Nanay Nida is firm about this. “Ang paghalo it cacao sa tsokolate, hindi ina simple,” she says. “Kinahanglan kabalo ka ro imo ginahimo.”

For her, machines can help, but they cannot decide. Understanding does. Feel does. Experience does.

More Than Just Cacao

Before cacao became her main identity, Nanay Nida experimented with other natural products. Among them was talbos it kamote juice, which eventually became their main product and was later registered with the Food and Drug Administration.

In March 2005, she helped form a cooperative. It did not begin with cacao. It began with vegetables. What started with 33 members slowly grew to 119.

Support came gradually from the Department of Agrarian Reform, the Department of Trade and Industry, and other agencies that provided tools, training, and equipment. DAR later funded an expansion facility.

Despite this growth, Nanay Nida retained ownership of the land and most of the facilities. She stayed closely involved in daily operations, knowing that growth can easily weaken quality if attention is lost.

What She Shares and What She Keeps

Today, Nanay Nida manages around fifty cacao trees. Peak harvest comes between October and February. She sources fermented cacao beans from across the province, inspecting each batch carefully before accepting it.

She buys fermented beans at ₱150 per kilo, fully aware that only half of that weight remains after processing. Finished tableya sells for ₱350 per 500 grams. Still, she rarely speaks about profit.

Instead, she repeats a belief she has carried for years: “May pera sa pagsasaka.”

To her, this is not a promise of fast income. It is a reminder that farming, when done with care and discipline, has value and dignity.

She teaches generously. Many tableya makers across Aklan trace their knowledge back to her. Yet she keeps a small part of the process to herself, not out of secrecy, but out of respect. Mastery, she believes, must be earned through time and experience.

When Success Finally Caught Up 

Nanay Nida’s story is not about sudden success. It is about staying, staying with a hobby until it becomes a calling, staying with the land when it asks for patience, and staying committed to craft when shortcuts are available.

When tableya experienced a resurgence in Aklan around 2007, Nanay Nida was already there. Her hands were steady. Her methods were clear. She did not rush to meet the moment, because the moment had simply caught up with her.

Looking at her work now, it is easy to forget how quietly everything began. There were no big plans, no deadlines, no promises of success only time, care, and a willingness to keep going even when no one was watching.

Nanay Nida’s story reminds us that some journeys are not meant to be fast. Some are meant to be careful. And sometimes, the most meaningful work belongs to those who choose to stay long enough for the land to recognize them in return.

See the craft come to life.

If you’d like to watch and listen how Nanay Nida’s tableya is traditionally prepared and turned into a rich and warming drink. [click the image below]

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