Reflections of an American-Islander.

EVERY morning in my auntie’s sago palm kitchen, I pour boiling water over loose tea leaves in a red-rimmed strainer. I sip to start my day.

Some things transcend continents and cultures. Soccer is one of them, as photojournalists have shown with galleries of kids playing the game in all corners of the globe. Tea is another.

The beverage links a host of my recollections in a handful of locations. Barefoot in a Bedouin tent in the Jordanian desert, tea sweet enough to rot every tooth was served in a delicate glass. Mornings in Morocco began on rooftop terraces with fresh mint tea and a side of yogurt. Winter evenings when fruity tea was a defense against bone-shattering temperatures. Dainty teacups that my roommate brought to the States from China. A fragrant rose tea from Syria that was a gift from a friend.

Tea is a common creature comfort. It’s a warm welcome regardless of region.

Drinking tea is one of my oldest habits. I always have a hankering for a sip after a meal, on a lazy Sunday, or when I’m bogged down by a cold. In the islands, though, there’s more meaning in a cup. There’s a sense of community behind each serving, banal as that might sound.

I never drink tea alone here. Maybe that’s because I’m never alone (which also reveals a lot about the culture). When I report and meet sources in their homes, it’s a given that they’ll make tea for me. And it’s a given that I’ll accept it.

The phrase “kwai raga” is well known in the islands, even among those who are not Langalanga. In my family, the phrase is constantly repeated. As soon as someone enters the kitchen, he or she hears a loving squawk to sit down and drink tea. I’ve had to increase my water intake to counter the caffeine and prevent dehydration from so much extra tea.

Drinking tea is simply something we do yet also a huge component of the culture.

The additives are the only part of the process I avoid. My brothers are followers of the excessive sugar tradition, though. I jokingly scold them and warn of diabetes and other health problems that can result from too many tablespoons. Despite my public service announcements, they unload heaps of sugar into their mugs every time. They duck as they do it and hope I don’t notice.

Sweet or bitter, tea connects the entire world. India. Egypt. Argentina. Japan. Thailand. Tea is interwoven in all of their traditions. According to many, it’s a panacea and a daily necessity.

Americans seem to be the only ones who missed the memo on the importance of tea in the mornings, during meetings, or at other key points of the day. Overall, I think we’re coffee people. But many groups have retained their tea-drinking ways. Sweet tea served cold is a speciality in the southern United States. And of course tea was a tiny part of the country’s history with the British and the Boston Tea Party and all of that.

In the Solomons and many other countries, food is used to celebrate and unify and mark the resolution of conflicts. But as I see it, there’s a global kinship tied up in tea that other drinks or dishes can’t match. Its meaning might not be the heaviest, but it’s deeply embedded in our daily lives. It’s a ritual in and of itself.

I usually focus on differences, but tea is one similarity — between here and everywhere.