The sculptor-stone carrier with superhuman strength never ceases to be amazed by the weird ways of the Empire, and frequently repeats his catchphrase: “These Romans are crazy!”[break]
However, everything that appears crazy to a resistance fighter is an essential part of being in Empire. What Rome was to the Gauls in the fictionalized period of Asterix and Obelix, the USA is trying hard to become one in the present-day Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Pakistan and a host of other countries.
It appears that the bigger the Empire, greater its craziness.
The British proved a continuing relevance of that tenet during the Boston Tea Party in 1773, which was retaliation against the Tea Act, by promulgating Coercive Acts that then created conditions for the formation of an independent nation called the United States of America.
The Tea Party was an uprising against unjust taxes and an expression of democratic belief that there could be “no taxation without representation.” A group of twittering faboos – neologism for habitual Facebook users – has turned the essence of the resistance movement of 1773 against the imposition of Tea Act on its head.
Ironically, it is the same group that calls itself The Tea Party Movement wants that the taxation laws passed by the representatives of the people be repelled. Little wonder, the Tea Party presidential hopeful Michele Bachmann declared that she plans “taking our country back,” presumably to the group of ultra-conservative campaign fund contributors.
Despite her closeness to the Tea Party, it is not publicly known whether Ms Bachmann prefers tea to coffee. But if her public pronouncements are anything to go by, it is possible that the maverick from Minnesota is accustomed to some more powerful potions: Her panacea for slow economic recovery is that the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) be scrapped.
In an editorial, the Guardian noted that she “sounds almost unhinged to many.” In journalese, the noun “many” mostly stands for pronouns like me and we. But then, the British have little role in electing government officials in its former colony across the Pond.
The forty-something twittering Tea Partiers, who have become a force to reckon with in US politics on the strength of their networking abilities over Internet and cell phones, may be ambivalent about what they imbibe to decry democracy, but apparently the real people of their country love the second most widely consumed beverage in the world after pure water.
By one estimate, American consumed some 65 billion servings of the brew, which would amount to over 14 billion liters of fluid, 85% of which was iced tea.
In one of the volumes of the Asterix Comic series, Englishmen are said to sip lukewarm water “with a spot of milk” during “hot water breaks.” It seems that tealeaves had not reached the Blighty by then.
Once the foliage of a certain bush from the verdant hills of South Asia made it to England, traders of the East India Company discovered such a profitable business that they turned almost the entire population of their colonies into tea addicts.
Everyone, however, does not imbibe his or her cuppa in identical fashion. Among the absolute poor, the question, “Did you have your tea?” is actually a concern: “I hope you’ve had something to eat.”
Slightly above, but still low down the social ladder, are the laborers of the unorganized sector. A rickshaw-puller, for example, likes his tea extra sweet with lots of milk.
The brew then becomes a source of instant energy as it also helps fight hunger pangs on a lean day when there are not enough customers.
A little higher, blue-color workers of the organized sector prefer “strong tea,” which means more of everything—more tea dust, more milk and more sugar, and water boiled over higher temperature for a longer period.
A notch above the factory hand, admixtures begin to enter the kettle. Crushed ginger, powdered cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and bay leaf begin to flavor Masala Tea of clerks and accountants who want to spice up their drab and dull daily routines.
Moving further up, brands begin to make a difference in kitchenettes and pantries of the moneyed, and hence the mighty. Executives of commercial banks, entrepreneurs behind profitable INGOs, owners of prosperous trading companies, managers of thriving private airlines, or fixers at flourishing manpower agencies would not like to be served anything less than organic tealeaves from the gardens of Makaibari Tea Estate in Darjeeling.
It goes without saying that the crockery also has to be finest bone china, the cutlery silver, and everything has to be non-Chinese because one can never be sure whether anything bought with Yuan is genuine or merely more attractive replicas of the original.
Hot milk – always milk: creamer is for coffee, and dry milk powder is infant formula – and brown, white and low-calorie sugar and trays of freshly baked cookies accompany most of these tea trolleys, while connoisseurs prefer their cuppa plain and simple.
Pushpa Kamal Dahal drinks tea without milk and sugar, and so do Ram Chandra Paudel and Madhav Kumar Nepal. Probably because he has lost the sophistication of belonging to the ruling class, Mahantha Thakur is sometimes seen slurping white sugary brew from chipped Chinese cups in his party office.
Horror of horrors, the liquid he could be imbibing in the morning may have been made from instant-mix particles marketed by certain Swiss multinational that claims the contents of the packet to be coffee.
Now, that is so very petit bourgeois! No wonder, leaders of the Big Three have begun to distance themselves from the gentleman of Madheshi politics. Tea is hierarchy, and no true tea lover likes to hobnob with someone below his status.
Forget about politeness of teak-paneled tearooms of Europe and rituals in cozy cottages created specifically for tea ceremonies in East Asia, even a roadside Chiya Pasal owner of rural Nepal knows that serving tea is an art of judging a customer’s station in life. Gender activists love organic honey in place of sugar.
Human Rights defenders usually carry their own teabag but pay full for the glass of sweet milk and water.
The sachet of low-calorie sweetener does not imply that the person carrying it is a diabetic; she may have taken a precaution to save the lives of ants that invariably die in the sugar jars of teashops in hot and humid Tarai.
And of course, even a novice Chiya Pasalni knows that the really powerful people do expect the pot to be washed before being put on the stove. The glass has to be cleaned again.
The table needs to be wiped off with a wet and then a dry piece of cloth. The high and mighty prefers to be served light tea with slices of lemon on a plate and sugar on the side.
This is just a conjecture. But could it be that coffee drinkers want to be different and yet possess an egalitarian outlook? Cafés were places where revolutions were once planned.
High art was analyzed threadbare. Books were discussed. Poems recited. Manuscripts exchanged for peer reviews. Music composed in the mind.
Tea is served, coffee grabbed. One sips tea but drinks coffee.
The relationship between coffee and progressive politics—if there is a relationship, that is—needs to be studied in depth to ensure that beans from Argha and Kavre begin to draw the attention of political honchos.
The produce of Ilam—some of the best tealeaves in the world—can then be reserved for export to countries that drink it, chilled even during winter months in their climate-controlled salons.
By the way, Nepal too has its own corps of forever twenty-something health freaks who prefer iced tea when it cannot get hold of a can of diet Cola imported from Dubai.
When one has to be driven through Kathmandu’s chaotic traffic in an air-conditioned SUV for an hour to reach to the health club of a five-star hotel, iced tea is a good way to begin a half-an-hour session on the treadmill; the cocktail can wait until after the sauna.
A mug of piping hot coffee can induce a contemplative disposition; a tall glass of iced tea brings about a cheerful mood. Messrs Dahal, Paudel and Nepal should begin putting some ice in their bland and black tea.
The world has greatly changed from the time of Obelix: Romans of our day are crazy, but those who imitate them in every way are crazier. Should Michele Bachmann decide to visit Kathmandu, she would be pleased to discover that there are enough Tea Partygoers in Nepal to boost her morale.
The term “coca colonization” may now be passé, but who can stop drinkers of iced tea from thinking and behaving like Americans?
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