The coffee in my childhood

I was about five years old when I took my first sips of coffee. Before that time my mother would not let us drink it. Somehow she thought that for such young children it was not convenient.

Like any prohibition, not allowing us to drink coffee increased the expectation of knowing what that black liquid that had such a penetrating smell was all about. That smell accompanied me from the first days of my birth because with it, freshly brewed coffee began every day in my house.

As the years went by, my expectation grew and my desire to taste that which adults enjoyed so much increased; I must have been very young when I discovered the pleasure of drinking the funds that remained in the cups that were left on the kitchen tables. Those small portions had the peculiarity of tasting very good, since they concentrated a good part of the sugar that had been poured in.

In other homes, especially those of poorer people, things were different. There, children began to taste coffee almost as soon as they were weaned.

The main reason for initiating them so early in the consumption of coffee was that it allowed them to stave off hunger. Many of these children spent a good part of the day dipping pieces of bread or a piece of arepa (traditional corn bun) in a hot cup of a very diluted coffee, what we call guarapo. That way they forgot that there were no other things to eat.

My mother always reminded us that we were privileged children, since there were many, poorer than us, who had almost nothing to eat and had to distract their hunger by dipping bread in coffee. We, on the other hand, could count on a great variety of food.

That reminder was always accompanied by a call to gratitude, telling us that this was one more reason to feel grateful to those who had touched us in life.

Even at school age, coffee was part of our daily diet. But not black coffee, but coffee with milk. That coffee with milk was an indispensable component of the breakfasts we had a few minutes after getting up. Then, for the rest of the day, we didn't drink coffee again, that was the norm. Some exceptions were made if it was a weekend and the afternoon was very cold; on those occasions we would get some black coffee accompanied by sweet bread or a piece of cake.

In those childhood years I learned to establish the relationship between coffee and good manners, cordiality and friendship. In our house it was customary to offer a cup of hot coffee to all the people who visited us, whether they were friends or strangers. It was a way of inviting others to feel good with us. My mother always said that neither water nor coffee should be denied to anyone.

I have kept that custom of toasting coffee as a token of friendship throughout my life. My wife and I enjoy very much toasting coffee to all the people who visit our home. Anything can be missing in our pantry, except the necessary coffee to liven up a good conversation.

From those childhood years, I remember my mother talking about ladies who could read the future. All they needed to do was to see the residue that people left in their coffee cups.

I was very curious about all this and I imagined that those ladies were watching some kind of movie. Many times I asked my mother to take me to those ladies to see how they did it, I thought that maybe I could also see that movie. My mother would tell me that it was just hearsay. But I am sure that at some point she went there so that those women would tell her something about her future.

It is impressive how coffee is so strongly linked to the history of our lives. The more I think back, the more things come to mind. The coffee related stories are never ending.

Thank you for your time.

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