Of Tea, Khaya Cookies, and Words

Once in a while I do the cafe thing--carry my laptop, go to a cafe that has wi-fi, plug in the gadget, buy something (I figure it is a good thing to buy something if I am going to occupy a table for a couple of hours).The purchase entitles me to a passcode for the internet and use of the restroom, especially if I am in this one cafe chain that specializes in both coffee and tea. Ok, right now I am in one of them, avoiding a story I am supposed to be working on (because I have to remember some specific details of the Chivi and Mazvihwa of the late 70s).

This place has the African theme going on big time. They carry coffees from Rwanda, Uganda, Kenya and Ethiopia, and they have varieties of Indian and British tea. Nothing new in this; I have been here before. However, their latest addition,which cost me some change before I was even able to connect to the internet, is a little house-shaped container of tiny cookies called Khaya, a product of South Africa. The container did not give me a chance to think about exploitation of resources and all that because the words on it state clearly that the product was introduced to create jobs for many unemployed men and women in
South Africa and USA. You can't beat that.

So with African things all around me, Khaya cookies to munch on, and Earl Grey to steep and sip (my entitlement to the Wi-fi and toilet)I am daring words to reveal their mystery.

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