Tea for Two

I go to my little market almost every afternoon with Dolly. There is a tea shop there, run by a man (I’ll call him Mr Cha) who is always sweaty and his white singlet is always dirty and his teeth are black from all the paan he chews. But every time I walk past he gives me a huge wave, usually some free food and asks me if I will visit his house. And every time I smile and say either “ar ek din” (another day) or “aajke na” (not today). This has been happening since I arrived two months ago. To tell you the truth, I never had any intention of going to his house. I had visions of him, Dolly and I sitting in his house and not really knowing what to say. But the other day he said, “When are you going to come? You ALWAYS say “another day”. So WHEN?!’ And with that, I was locked in, Eddy.

Today I finally said, “Ok. Today. I’d love to go.” His beaming, black smile warmed my heart.

Dolly and I went to finish our shopping. When we came back, Mr Cha was frantically rushing around, getting ready to, I assumed, take us to his house. He was putting some ready-made tea from his shop into a jug and some biscuits into a little bag. He handed them to a young boy and sent the boy to us to lead the way. I wondered who was going to look after the shop while we were gone, but then I realised - Mr Cha wasn’t coming.

The village was very close to the market and when we arrived we were warmly greeted (except for one little baby who took one look at me and screamed) by Mr Cha’s family (about 30 people). Mr Cha’s dad bore a significant resemblance to Gandalf and he had the same air about him that I imagine Gandalf would have if you were to meet him in real life. Needless to say, he had a warm smile and a long, white beard. Dolly and I were led into one of the homes; A tiny little room, big enough for a bed and a couple of wooden chairs, one bideshi, one local and about 30 family members, all squashed in the doorways to get a good look. Dolly and I were served the tea and biscuits from Mr Cha’s shop (no one else ate or drank anything) and we had a nice chat (I wowed them with my Bangla). It was very hot, and one of Mr Cha’s female relatives took out a hand fan and fanned me for the duration of our time there. I met Mr Cha’s two gorgeous sons, one of whom is in Year 5, but reading at a Year 8 level – he has been given a scholarship for him to attend his school. Mr Cha’s sister told me that she wanted me to come back another day and spend the whole day. I took a couple of photos of everyone as we were leaving and the best part was looking at their faces as I was showing them themselves on my digital camera.

Throughout my time there (about half an hour) I couldn’t help but imagine the reverse situation in Australia. It is with great sadness that I realise again and again that us westerners could never come close to offering this type of hospitality.

When I left the village I went back to Mr Cha’s shop to thank him and show him the photos. He can’t quite know how meaningful this offer of friendship was for me – he probably doesn’t realise that he has changed my life forever, for example. The first thing he said to me was, “I am very poor”. If only you knew, Mr Cha, how much better off this world could be if more people were as poor as you.