Tea time

I have been lent a book called “Three Cups of Tea” – the by-line reads “One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace One School at a Time”. It’s apparently a multi-million US bestseller, which goes someway to explain the ridiculous way they’ve chosen to capitalise every word in their by-line. Americans love capitals. I think they secretly want to be German. And even Germans wouldn’t capitalise the verbs. Americans are uber-Germans. You heard it here first.

Anyway, turning the book over and judging it from its back cover, the basic premise is a traveller (or if we’re American, a “traveler”) in trouble is moved by the kindness of people he finds in Pakistan. And he builds them a school. And then another school. And so on, until he has built lots of schools.

This all sounds very inspiring. I think this sounds like a remarkable thing to do. If you have a bit of time and want to do something nice for a community, why not build a school? The part that bothers me is this quotation:

“Here we drink three cups of tea to do business: the first you are a stranger, the second you become a friend, and the third you join our family, and for our family we are prepared to do anything – even die.” – Haji Ali, Korphe Village Chief, Karakoram Mountains, Pakistan.

Woah. Hang on a second. You’ve lost me. We don’t know each other, so we have a couple of cups of tea and become friends, I can get on board with. That sounds fine, and I like nothing better than a strong cup of tea with a chocolate hobnob. It is a fine way of bonding.

But if we’re still a bit thirsty and reach for the teapot a third time… suddenly I have to lay my life down for you? We only met an hour ago.

Going by their rules, this also means that I have to sacrifice my life for the three dodgy workmen who removed the rowan tree (and my three remaining sunflowers) yesterday. This seems a bit harsh, because whilst they did their job effectively and reasonably tidily, I don’t really value them as I do my family, if I’m honest. And I’d be a bit irritated if one of them phoned tomorrow and asked for both my kidneys, citing the three cups of tea rule.

This also means though that Mrs Nunn is definitely immortal, as she has drunk so many cups of tea (averaging 7 per hour) that pretty much everyone in Western Europe is honour-bound to lay their life down for her. Perhaps this book is onto something after all.

Anyone fancy a cuppa?