A Taste of Kindness
I snap out of my daydream only when the plump form of an older woman in a black abaya swishes past me, stops abruptly and turns to face me. A flood of Arabic spills from her lips. My eyes widen, and I smile and shrug my shoulders in incomprehension. The eyes peering at me from behind her face mask are stubborn and insistent. She is not going to let me off easily, and says so. Well, that is what I imagine her saying. She looks at the paper in my hand, takes it from me, and marches me with a firm grip on my right arm towards counter number six. She pushes the paper towards the young woman behind the counter, not paying any attention to the tall Emirati man, whose business we are interrupting, with the well-practiced poise of a matriarch, who is not used to anyone flouting her wishes.
Another stream of Arabic ripples in the direction of the young woman, and from the corner of my eye I can see a big grin slowly spreading over the gentleman’s face next to me, although he does not acknowledge our presence in any other way, but simply occupies himself with renewed interest in the papers in front of him. With her orders issued, and without waiting for a reply, the matriarch pats me on the arm and turns towards the exit. My feeble “shukran” follows her retreating form like a sigh. She does not look back or indicate that she heard me.
“I am so sorry,” I mumble, but the young woman behind the counter smiles brightly at me. “No worries. She is very kind.” I wish I knew what the old woman said, but I do not dwell for too long on the exact words that were spoken, as before long I leave the post office with my new Emirates ID in my hand, grateful for having jumped the cue by about forty places. The kindness of strangers is often unexpected and astounding. For me, it never fails to conjure up images of the legendary hospitality of the Bedouin tribes, who once roamed this desert landscape.
In a world where everyone is pre-occupied with their own lives, and technology brings news to our fingertips and ears no matter where we find ourselves in the world, it is hard to imagine a life filled with vast empty spaces, where only human voices and camel grunts interrupted the silent movement of the dunes. News and life’s essentials were brought by people travelling on foot or camel, and the Bedouin tribes, living in the isolation of the desert, treated these travellers as honoured guests. Their hospitality was shown by sharing their precious gahwa, traditional cardamom spiced coffee. Drunk, not with sugar or milk, it was and still is served in small ceramic cups, no bigger than an over-sized thimble.
Brewed and served in distinct coffee pots called dallah, the coffee has always been spiced with cardamom, but other spices such as saffron, ginger, cinnamon or even rose water can be added. Although not strong, the cardamom gives it a distinct taste, and the bitter after-taste lingers for a while on the tongue. Brewed on an open fire, the coffee ritual can be seen as a symbol for sharing news, stories, and friendship, whilst strengthening the bonds between the people gathered around the dallah.
The cups were re-filled until a gentle shaking with the wrist indicated the drinker had enough, yet polite guests would never have more than three cups, as coffee was an expensive commodity that had to travel a long way from Yemen to reach the Bedouin tents, where the hosts were honour-bound to feed and protect their guests. A dhaif, or guest could, however, only avail of this hospitality for three days, during which food, shelter and drink would be offered.
The preparation, serving and drinking of gahwa still forms and integral part of Emirati hospitality, and the dallah is a favourite centre piece on roundabouts, and enduring emblem for the traditional life and hospitality of which the older generation often reminisce about. A time, when, despite hardships, hunger and poverty, people had time for one another.
Great post 👍
Thank you.
beautifully this
bridges cross culturally
gently awake 🙂
❤
I think I would like to interact with real people around a table, instead of interacting through “machines”, but sometimes that is the only way, and I must make do. Your coffee sounds better than the cup I am drinking, but I can imagine I am there.
I’ll drink one for you, Greg. 🙂
What a wonderful story! And you are so right. It is becoming harder to find silence and empty spaces in our crowded online lives. The time taken to be kind to others in real life is also harder to come by in industrialized countries, but it is always rewarding. 🙂
So true. And kindness is priceless.
I love the story of kindness and your connection of it to the broader theme of hospitality there. Very nice! How long have you been there?
Thank you. I have been here four and a half years, and my husband a year longer. We love our life here, and hope to add another couple of years to it.
This is a beautiful post. These rituals are soothing and can be likened to a formal dance. We have lost so much in our casual Western world. Thank-you Jolandi.
We certainly have, Clare. I like your comparison. Rituals are such intricate dances, and can be so enriching and enjoyable.
a beautiful reminder Jolandi about our lives and the people who pop in and out–without necessarily our invitation—for good or bad, our lives can be changed—may there be more good changes than bad—-
So true, Julie. Even the most fleeting connection affects and changes us in tiny ways.
A lovely reminder of the many strangers who offered me hospitality when I lived in Dubai and the fact that not being able to understanding each others language isn’t a barrier to kindness.
You are so right. Kindness is a universal language.
Truly one of my favorite posts! Beautifully written!
Thank you so much.
love being transported into the unfamiliar, the pleasure of living abroad and a reminder of being mindful to truly appreciate the sweet moments in life
It is these fleeting moments of connection and kindness that truly enriches life.
What a beautiful post. And a timely reminder of the Arabic traditions and hospitality.
Thanks, Gwen.
beautifully written!
Thank you, Tanja.
Looks like you had a guardian angel with you that day 🙂
I sure did, Lani. I was very grateful for this shortening in my wait, and it gave me such a precious story to tell and remember. It is good to be reminded of kindness that does not expect any repayment, and the ability it has to cross language and cultural barriers.
Fantastic! I can almost taste the coffee. And glad to know not to drink more than three, if I ever find myself in that situation!
🙂
Great post. Really enjoyed reading about your adventure with the older lady
Thank you, Sue.
As I was reading your eloquent lines I was reminded that not all progress is necessarily good or desirable, Jolandi. Our lives have become faster-paced, more individualistic, and more anonymous, much to our detriment. We need more hospitality and chatting over shared cups of coffee (or tea).
You are so right, Tanja. And being so focused on just ourselves are creating a lot of problems for us in the world, as we still have to function as a part of the group too. I think Covid-19 has brought this sharply into focus, although I’m not sure people are actually paying attention.
I agree, Jolandi. We seem to have lost the idea that we don’t exist alone and in a vacuum. and we sorely need to rediscover a sense of solidarity with the rest of humankind.