A Good Day for a Cup of Tea

The "Asian" part of Glasgow is about three blocks long and sits south of the city in a region called Pollokshields. There are about three food markets, two Halal butchers, and one barber shop.

I dropped by there yesterday to meet with the main youth group in my story--it was a high stakes day, in that I really needed the interview to go well. And I needed to endear myself to them so that they felt inclined to introduce me to some of the "at-risk" kids they're working with, as well as the local imam. The good news is that the interview went great-- the two fellows I talked to were incredibly knowledgeable and well-spoken. The bad news is that their boss, who had been rather standoffish from the beginning, turns out to be quite wary of journalists, thanks to a few experiences in which journalists swooped in, said they were going to tell one story and ultimately told another. (The most recent example is an article in the Scotsman, which, as it happens, is the very one I read to find out about this whole project. It begins... "A new weapon will be unveiled this week in the war on teenage gangs: Muslim Imams." "A new WEAPON?" exclaimed Umar, one of the fellows I interviewed. "That's the sort of sensationalist rhetoric that we're talking about," he continued to say-- "they would never use that language if they were talking about white gangs.")

Anyway, what that means for me is that I may not have access to the most important ingredient to the story-- the kids. Apparently, I could have met with them the day before yesterday (my lonely day) or the day before that, if only Umar had known... and he didn't know because his boss was giving me the runaround, because she's wary of journalists, and so on...

SO. More on how that goes later. In the meantime, I'm pursuing my back-up story, the one about this all-women mosque, Al-Meezan. I'm heading over there today to sit in on a "mothers and toddlers" support group. It'll be great.

Before I go though, I have to share this sweet moment I experienced yesterday. I was standing outside of this little market on Albert Drive (the three blocks mentioned above), and I had my microphone out, which of course looks very strange. As Umar had pointed out to me earlier, it looks like a police baton, which isn't exactly the message I was trying to send. Anyway I was trying to capture some sound of people walking by, conversing, etc., as well as the ding-dong sound the market's door made when people went in and out. Well, a couple people must have whispered that there was this weird lady standing outside pointing a police baton into the air as if to measure which way the wind is blowing. Eventually, a guy who must have been the owner came out from behind the meat counter and stuck his head outside, full of curiosity. I must have looked like a spy or a terrorist or a crazy person, but he seemed to give me the benefit of the doubt. He spoke very little English, but I explained that I was an American journalist, and I was recording sound. "Could I record some sound from inside your store?" I asked. At this point, I'd already called a cab, and it was on its way, but now I really wanted to go in the store. He nodded permission, and I followed him in, walking around and pointing the microphone in various aisles, to the cash register, and then the meat counter. In the background, some sort of sitar-based music played. When I was finally standing still, just getting the general sound of the place, he and two other guys in the store, stared at me.

"Da?" the main guy asked me. "Sorry?" I said, because that's how I talk here, like a Scottish person. "Tea?" he repeated. He pointed to a mug of chai he was about to enjoy. "Oh, thank you, but I have a taxi coming," I said. But as we stood there, I realized I was so touched by his offering so I said, "Actually, sure, I'll have some tea." He smiled and hurriedly handed me his mug. It was steamy and the perfect milky brown color of good, real masala chai. I took a sip. The best!! But before I could take a second sip, I saw my taxi pull up outside. "Shoot!" I said, and for a moment, I froze. Oh no, I thought, should I pretend that's not my cab? I want to enjoy this wonderful moment. But they all saw the cab too, and it was silly for me to have to call another one just for a few more sips of tea, so I looked over at my new friend and he put his finger in the air like, "Wait! I have an idea!" He said something to a boy I presumed to be his son, who then scrambled over to a corner of the store where disposable dishware sat on the shelves. He plunged his hand into a container of styrofoam cups and pulled one out, racing over and pouring my tea into it.

"Thank you so much," I said, and truly, I was just so touched and thankful. I bowed a little, cuz what else can you do? And then I left the store, the door ding-donging as I passed.