our tea was always black
at first loose leaf
three teaspoons full
and one for the pot
strong with milk
in flowery porcelain teacups
on a flowery saucer
because fat funny mugs
hadn’t yet caught on
grandma said to be dainty
and stick out our pinkies
like a princess
in our teddy pyjamas
we spilt tea everywhere
more on the saucer
than in the cup
and we dunked our rich tea biscuits
and slurped to our heart’s content
in Morocco
i experienced sweet green tea
in oriental glasses
served by a man with a moustache
and a twinkle in his eye
i was surprised by his wife
she looked sixteen
and held a toddler in her arms
she winked at me
and taught me to make
the most exquisite
melt-in-the mouth
biscuits
i had been told
women in Morocco were submissive
i found them proud and assertive
at least amongst themselves
they laughed constantly
the green tea flowed and
the sun reflected
in the brown yellow and green steamy hues
comforted me so much that my cultural angst began to lift
