For the unattached, upwardly mobile city slicker, the motto that “Whenever is tea time” may seem like the quaint relic of a by-gone age – a time when there were full-time residence manufacturers for whom tea time was the only social task and tea making art in which they reveled. Of what use is tea, and also that has the time anyhow? For a while, in the blissful lack of knowledge of youth and also lack of experience, I genuinely believed that tea as a drink was on its means out. What’s even more, unless you are fluent in the cooking arts, the initiative will require to be copied numerous times prior to you serve the best mug of Fahari Ya Kenya Tea. It is this reasoning which leaves packets of tea leaves covered in dust on the grocery store shelves as pop and juice are zapped up and sipped.
All that altered for me the day I vacated town to rent out accommodation in an industrial center near our country home. On market days, all members of the clan would certainly come down from the different ridges, and also, my home came to be the ritual stop where clan participants caught up on local gossip on their means to and from the market, with the tea running freely at my expenditure. It mattered little to these relatives that I was absent or that I lived by a month-to-month spending plan on a fixed revenue. For some, it was the only favorite they would certainly get all week, and our Teatime results ended up being a luxury not to be missed, whether they had business at the marketplace or otherwise.
Lofty suitable and city conventions apart, I was instantly very grateful for the liberalization of the tea market and also the regional availability of great Fahari ya Kenya tea that made it possible for me to provide a constant stream of freshly made tea mugs without declaring bankruptcy. By the time I resurfaced in the suburb, I was affixed and shorn of both innocence and status-seeking. With both feet strongly on the ground, I came in person, day after day, with the out of proportion percentage of Kenyans that live below the poverty line, where a cup of tea is the unifying factor, in delight and also in sorrow.