“The Kindness of Tea”
Sophia Smucker
We stayed at Bethlehem Bible College during our extended period in the city, located only 15 minutes away from Star Street with its many markets. The first time we got to walk down this path I was struck with an understanding – I felt a sense of community and unity within chaos like nothing I have experienced. There are jewelry stores and pita bakeries and restaurants and rug stores and anything you could dream to want. Each of these stores was run by hardworking and kind people, all finding their place within the city and selling with enthusiasm and curiosity. One of these people was Sami, who commonly was found walking along the markets holding an older metal drink carrier holding tea from his shop. Sometimes he would run tea to other store owners so they could offer a cup to their customers, or he would just find someone to chat with. He was so social there was often a need to sit at his shop and wait for him to return with an empty tray, so we could then chat as he made his special tea.
Sami’s kindness and acceptance lingered in my mind. The first time a couple of us decided to go to the market, he greeted us, overjoyed, on the corner. After the initial hellos and advertising for his tea we were sold, and we followed him down a little alley on the side of the street. We walked down to see his shop; it had two green metal doors opened on both sides of the entrance in the side of the building, with stickers from everywhere covering it. Inside was his little cove, just enough space for a sink, some counter space, and an oven with tea kettles resting on it. There were dried herbs and tea leaves everywhere with little knick knacks in between. Outside, there were plastic chairs stacked alongside one of the stone walls; he helped us grab some to sit while we waited. He asked us where we were from, and joyfully showed us a picture of himself with Conan O’Brien. A couple minutes later he brought out his drink holder and gave us his special tea, the most beautiful cups you can imagine, with so many herbs and spices mixed in for the perfect warmth in every sip. As you might expect, we had to return to experience Sami and his tea multiple times.
Along the streets and markets, people are working for a living; this is what lets them survive, and sometimes the price for things mirrors that (rightfully so). With Sami, though, it was different. There was never a set price for the tea, but whatever we wanted to leave. The first time we asked for the price he smiled and just said leave however much you want, and he set off with a full tea tray to sell or give to others. As you can expect, this left us in complete confusion. Through this simple act of disregarding the price, the relationship was felt. There was a sense of trust in us for no reason, and of course while we paid, the sentiment was never lost. He made us feel a part of things, and he was excited for us to experience his tea and what he shares with the world. This was a common experience we were so lucky to have felt. The hospitality and kindness was never-ending, even though the people in Bethlehem have to deal with so many things that are out of their control including the Israeli military presence. Even so, the choice was always to accept and give, not only with Sami but with every Palestinian we got the chance to meet.
Another time we went to get tea from Sami, we asked him about his life. He told us about his family and how he and many of his siblings grew up above the tea shop. His father had the tea shop before him, and the business runs in the family. Even with our questions he didn’t spend much time on himself – he spent his time humming as he made his tea. He would serve us, and return back to singing and making more tea to take out among the shops leaving us to our tea. The next time we got tea from Sami, he recognized us. After we finished our tea outside and we sat for a little while longer, he came out from his shop with his big kettle and topped off our tea. Even when it seemed like there wasn’t more he could do for us, he did. I struggled with this, not the fact that he was so overwhelmingly kind and accepting, but… why us? Why Americans coming from a place that aids in the oppression of him and his people? I wondered how he could see us and not be angry – how he could have such love to share for people who get to live so ignorantly?
The last time we went to visit Sami and his tea shop, he asked how we were. He welcomed us immediately, and we all unstacked our chairs from the pile to wait along the alley for our tea. This time, he peeked out and welcomed us all into his little room to show us his secret recipe for his tea. This included a long process of reaching into different bags, inviting us to smell the different leaves, having us guess what kind of plant it was, trying to pronounce the plant in Arabic, or decipher its English translation. Through every step he let us watch and experience what he did, and how it comes together. In between every ingredient he would sing loudly, never forgetting the joy that always is served with the tea. He made sure we would never forget the taste of the love that was held within his lifestyle, within his tea that he made for everyone every day.
The whole experience with Sami moved me, not only because he shared his life’s work and passion but because his complete contentedness and acceptance of life was so evident. I ran into guilt on this trip often, for many reasons and often conflicting ones, which is something I’m still processing. One of the grandest ones I had to break down was the guilt of experiencing joy on this trip. I thought, how could I be taking pictures here, smiling, when there is so much pain being inflicted all the time and I’m here only because I have privilege? How can I be laughing right now when a great deal of the violence here is maintained because of my country’s aid to the Israeli military? How can I be faced with this situation I had been ignorant of for so long and smile with the people who are being hurt every day because of that very thing?
Obviously, I’m still figuring this out, and every day I wake up with a different understanding of it. I definitely don’t think the kindness being shown was given with any intention or thought – it was just there, like with Sami and his tea. I think of him now as I’m writing this…who is he sharing his tea with now? Eventually I found that there should not necessarily be guilt when finding joy in the presence of others’ trials, but there can be understanding of where that joy is coming from, and how to further that feeling and share it myself. Looking back now, the joy was in making connections with the people I met. The moments where I felt the most joy were when I was understanding someone, such as when Sami was sharing his tea with us. These connections and relationships we made were incredibly powerful through their simplicity; the resilience of the Palestinian people was resounding. Our country is supporting violence that needs to be talked about and stopped while most of us are living with no idea of the oppression taking place in that part of the world. People are getting hurt while just trying to live their lives with grace and joy, and through it all they have the greatest kindness to share. I will never forget the resilience and faithfulness of the Palestinians amidst their struggles, especially as illustrated by Sami and his tea.
