To my beloved friend TEA-شاي

On a rainy night, I found myself writing a letter to a beloved one. I write this letter to someone who has never let me down, he was always there, in the good and bad days, watching me grow through the years and through all the phases. Dear reader, I wrote this letter to my beloved friend, "TEA," in Arabic "شاي."

To my dear friend tea,

I am writing this letter while sitting in my room, watching the rain gently knock on my window on a cold night somewhere in Manchester. Maybe you are watching me now as I gently drink you.

I just wanted to thank you. If you haven't noticed, I want you to know that you have had a major role in my life. Since I remember myself, I have been drinking you, hiding from my mom because I wasn't allowed to have you since you have caffeine. But as I grew up, I started my day with you and ended it with you. If I'm happy, I will come to you, and if I'm sad, I will come running to fall into your warm hands. If I fail an exam, I will seek you, and if I pass, I will also drink you. If my day is so bad and I feel overwhelmed, the idea that I will go home and have a cup of tea with my family will keep me going.

Tea, in our culture, is more than a hot drink, it is a way to bring people together, to grieve their loved ones with a cup of tea, and to celebrate the birth of new life with a cup of tea. In Sudan, we have a tradition called شاي المغرب (Maghreb tea). Maghreb is the time when the sun sets, it is like a holy hour in the house dedicated to tea (most of the time with milk). We drink it with love and passion. It is an hour when you take a break from your worries and problems, entering a different dimension where only happiness and relaxation are permitted.

You have been there for most of my life, you listened to my cries and my dreams. You listened to my disappointments and my hopes. Oh, tea, you cannot imagine how much you have helped me when my mind was full and my heart was empty, when life closed her doors and expelled me, when my beloved ones turned their backs on me. Thank you; every sip feels like a gentle kiss. You are not going to my stomach, but to my soul.

Your friend Ibn Munir