image designed by me on canva
Before I fell in love with coffee, I had a fondness for tea.
My childhood basically resonated around tea.
Children were not supposed to drink coffee, it was a known rule in my house.
If you grew up in a household similar to mine, you will understand the term, Bread, tea and egg.
They were a trio that always went together.
The most common breakfast I had growing up.
A memory I cannot forget revolving around tea is one with my grandma.
It was during one of those holidays when my mum decided she wanted to travel and so we did, just the two of us. My big brother was off in boarding school and we didn't know my little brother would ever exist that time.
So two of us embarked on the adventure to see her mother, my grandma. I loved traveling, the endless breeze, the peace that comes with it.
I really don't know what happened or why it happened but it was during that time my body decided it wanted to be sick.
So there I was, puking almost throughout the journey.
Eventually we made it.
The next day, my mum returned with what I dreaded most in the world, drugs, most especially those little yellow round ones that smelt awful.
To pacify me, she made me a cup of tea for me to take them.
According to her, the tea would ensure that I didn't taste it.
She lied to me because as soon as I swallowed the first one, I felt it everywhere.
So I did the one thing a smart child would do, I looked around, my mum was conversing with her mother.
Perfect
I quickly dropped the second tablet into the cup of tea and announced that I was done.
My mum looked at the still full cup and asked if I didn't want the tea anymore. I shook my head no.
That was the time my wonderful Grandma decided she was craving tea.
My mother offered to make her new cup but she insisted she wanted mine.
I reluctantly handed it to her hoping the tablet had dissolved.
I watched her with fear as she drank it slowly.
I knew I was in trouble. If she got to the end of that cup and the drug was still there, my mother would twist my entire being, sick or not.
I knew it the moment she swallowed it. Her eyes immediately traveled to mine and I froze.
She smiled.
I waited for her to report me. She never did.
Later on my mum went to cook for us to eat. Fried yam and egg specifically. It is a favorite food that has passed down two generations.
You know when there is something to be said and you are eagerly waiting for the other person to say it, so you are very uncomfortable?
That's exactly how I felt.
My grandma kept quiet. I finally spoke, "Why didn't you report me?"
She looked at me, "Why would I report you? What did you do?"
I was young but I knew a trap when I saw one.
"Nothing."
"That malaria drug tastes awful wouldn't you agree?"
I kept quiet.
"Okay. I know what I did. Please don't tell her."
My grandma laughed, "Your mother used to do this exact thing when she was little. But you know you need drugs to get better right?"
I nodded.
"So I will tell you what I used to do. A cup of tea won't fix it, neither will any mineral( coke, fanta or sprite). I used to make garri then put the drugs inside, roll it well then feed it to her. I promise you, you won't taste it all."
She never reported me to my mother. But whenever I walked around, she looked at me with an evil knowing smile.
I'm not sure she would even remember any of this now. But her words stuck with me and whenever the option for injection isn't available and I'm forced to take drugs, I put it inside garri(eba) for those that will understand even if there is no soup.
Tea holds a lot of memories for me.
Like the time my second cousins and I would gather around in the morning soaking crackers inside it, mashing it together and competing on who could finish it first.
Did I mention I was fifteen and they were six and eight?
I always won but no one judge me. I have always been a child at heart.
Fourteen years ago, my parents threw my brother and I the biggest birthday party ever. There were a lot of souvenirs. Some of which were teacups with our faces imprinted on it.
Luckily they didn't give it all away, I managed to save one.
It suffered in my hands during my lipton phase. It was also good for one thing, poking at my brother's big head since I couldn't do it in real life.
Some months ago, I was arranging my Dad's house, clearing things out and I saw it.
My mum, the greatest keeper of old things.
The side was cracked and the handle broken, our faces had almost faded away.
But it did bring a huge smile to my face.
I haven't drank a cup of tea in a really long time.
Writing this now, I think there is enough space for both tea and coffee even though coffee will always hold a bigger portion of my heart.
Tea made my childhood, that was in the past but I think there is still space for it in the future.
It's unfortunate that I'm in school and not in my Dad's house. I would have had lots of pictures to share.
Thanks for reading❤️❤️
All images are mine.
