Nostalgic Brews

Morning beverages were divided into three. Coffee, Tea and Hot chocolate. Aside these beverages there was nothing more that would characterise and ideal breakfast for us, at least when it came to drinks. And not just that. The three beverages were specific to each member of the family. Coffee for my Dad, two tea spoons of sugar and liquid milk. In the event that liquid milk is not available, a full table spoon of milk was used as a substitute.

Mom’s was Tea. The actual one. It was mostly made from lemon grass gotten from the backyard or flavoured tea in a fancy container gotten from herbs or a specific type of flower. She’d have that with a dollop of honey. Any other thing added, according to her, would reduce or nullify its efficacy. And then there was us, the children, with heaped spoons of Milo or Ovaltine beverage and equally heaped spoons of milk. We had specific mugs as well and as we sat on the dining table, each drinking their own beverage, it felt perfect. The ideal breakfast.

We as kids were restricted to our hot chocolate but on the occasions that we needed detoxification according to Mom, she’d give us steaming hot lemon grass tea or Lipton as a way of cleansing. What we were on no occasion allowed to drink, was coffee. For a long time my parents were strict on their view of coffee and its effects on kids. And since we were very thin and had an aversion to eating then, my parents thoughts were that even a little sip of it would dry us to our bones.

“You don’t even have flesh to carry you around, and you want to take coffee. What will remain?” Lol. I hope non-Africans would understand that this is a typical African parent kind of reprimand so no one really feels bad about these types of things. Anyway, when my Mom would say this, we got the message that coffee was out of bounds. Then the time came when studies started getting more intense. There were competitions, and contests of all forms. We needed something to aid us stay through the night. And no, placing our feet in a bucket of cold water to read had lost its efficacy.

Then came the little compromise. “You can have coffee but only when it’s very necessary and that too, only a cup. Of course, we’ll be the ones making it for you. You know how expensive these things are.” African parents would always add the cost of things so you knew that it was no joking matter. My parents were no exceptions.

We were just about entering secondary school then and we of course saw ourselves as big kids so we tried to allay the fears of our parents that we wouldn’t misuse the opportunity and make them lose their faith in us and thus, we would abide by all their rules as it pertains to coffee. Did I flout that rule and go overboard when I was feeling extra pressured? Yes. And I was caught a few times with repercussions to follow. But I’d had a taste of coffee. And while I wasn’t particularly fond of it because it was bitter and hot chocolate tasted nice, it at least did its job of keeping me awake when I needed to.

There’s another one I no longer see around. It was called Cowbell coffee. It was an insane discovery because this coffee was instant, and was ready-to-make. In the sense that it contained milk, so I didn’t need to add anything and it was ready to drink as far as I had my hot water. It was like the Calvary or something. I binged on nothing else and even though I knew that the taste was not authentic and the type of coffee my Dad drank tasted more like coffee, I felt good with this one.

Although on more serious levels when I needed to study, I didn’t drink it. I remember one time when I had a test the next day. I drank two cups of my beloved Cowbell coffee and began to read. The next thing I remember was waking up by 7am the next morning. So much for coffee, lol. I just knew that the better option was to stick to the regular coffee or grab a can of Nescafé from the store. As I’m an adult now, my family no longer bother with whether or not I drink coffee. But my Mom still regularly sends me videos on WhatsApp stating that coffee has now been deemed cancerous.

I only laugh because almost everything is deemed cancerous as far as African parents’ WhatsApp groups are concerned but I try to line it up by eating good food to supplement for whatever is being “taken away” just so Mom feels better.

Jhymi🖤

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_{All images are mine.}

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