Tea

“Tea,” he said.  “Tea is everything here.  If you go to someone’s home and they do not offer you tea, they’ve offered you nothing.  It matters not whether they’ve offered many other things; without tea, they’ve shown no hospitality.”

I thought about this for a while as I watched the tea being handed to others in the room.  Outside I could hear the hustle and bustle of Kabul.  The traffic cops repeatedly blowing a whistle, cars seeming to answer with their horns.  The rampant poverty lay just outside and the conversation was one of war, but there was tea.  It is really all quite civilized I thought.  Perhaps it is because it is so very British.  Or perhaps it is just difficult to argue with someone who offers tea. 

As pleasantries are exchanged, you first hear the rattle of a cup on a saucer.  It isn’t fancy, but it does look like fine china.  Sparkling white, perhaps with a floral pattern around the rim.  The cup and saucer are thin, almost like a set used by a little girl.  But it’s not the splendor of the tea set that counts; it is the tea itself, what it represents.  The gurgling sound of hot tea falls from a pot into a cup.  Eyes flicker toward the sound.  A sweet expression of satisfaction flashes across faces; they know they are truly being welcomed.  A small sweet is placed beside the cup of steaming tea; sugar or chocolate depending upon where in the country the tea is being served.  It isn’t necessary, but, again, demonstrates the hospitality being offered.  As you sip the tea, you can’t help but think you’re making a friend.

When Afghans come to visit an American office, tea is not always offered.  Thus, according to my friend, we’ve not shown hospitality.  Is it that we think it too quaint or backward?  Or have we simply forgotten our manners?   I reflected on this one day as I eavesdropped on two people talking about extreme differences between Afghans and Americans.  Are we really that different?  Tea.  It was the tea.  We’re really not that different I thought.

As I thought of this more and more, I began to realize that, culturally, there are similarities between Afghanistan and the American South (my home).  If you come to my home, you’ll be offered a drink as well.  And you’ll be offered tea in the first instance, although it will be of the iced variety.  You’ll also be offered anything else I have to drink (for those that don’t like tea) and likely something to eat as well.  I have yet to come to a fellow Southerner’s home and not be offered something (other places in the US may do this, but I speak only of my home).  On your second visit, you are encouraged to help yourself.  It is hospitality; essentially the same as the Afghans do.

Bt the similarities do not end there.  There is the deep-seated impact of religion.  Sure, the religious beliefs are different and some practices of Afghans and Southerners even objectionable to the other.  But there is no doubt that religion plays a prominent role in both places.  There is also a under current of governmental mistrust.  The independent streak among the people of both places admits of some governmental need, but not too much.  Finally, there is a sense of regional pride.  Afghans may be poor, but they are proud of their history.  It runs deep in the South too (there is also a similarity between Afghan poppy farmers and Appalachian moonshiners, but I’ll leave that for another time).

On the surface, we all seem so different.  We understand that at some base level, we’re all the same.  In other words, we all want a better life (however defined) for our kids, etc.  But some similarities aren’t really that deep.  All you have to do is look for them because they are there.  For me, it was the tea.