21/07/2025
𝐓𝐞𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐲, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!
A Somali proverb says, "Nin aan dhul marin dhaayo ma leh," which means, "He who has not traveled has no understanding." It’s true; travel enhances one’s experience and wisdom. And in the summer of 2024, that proverb came to life for me. I finally made it back to Somalia with my family after ages. The second we landed, it felt like the universe was saying, "Yeah, you belong here." Honestly, it was like stepping into a warm hug. I had been waiting for this moment forever, and there’s nothing like that feeling of finally being home—where everything feels so real: the weather, the views, the vibes—total homecoming energy. I love traveling to other places around the world, but nothing gave me the same feeling as going to Somalia and seeing my people again.
𝗧𝗲𝗮 𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗦𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗣𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝘆, 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲!
Now, let’s talk about tea. In Somalia, tea is EVERYTHING. Everywhere we went, no matter who we were with, tea was always on the table, even if people didn’t have much to give. Tea isn’t just a drink; it’s a way of life. It’s the ultimate symbol of "you’re welcome here"—a bond of kindness and connection that doesn’t depend on what you have, just on who you are.
For Somali nomads, tea is way more than just sipping something hot. After traveling long distances, they gather around a fire, sip tea, and share stories. It’s a moment to unwind, reflect, and just be. Tea brings everyone together, no matter how far they’ve traveled or what they’ve been through. It’s that constant, familiar comfort.
When the tea brews, the smell of cardamom, cinnamon, and cloves fills the air. It’s like a warm blanket for your soul. And when someone offers you tea, it’s not just hospitality—it’s an invitation into their world. Even when things are tough, that cup of tea reminds you that some things never change. Sitting there with my family and strangers, I realized that tea is more than just something to drink—it’s a living tradition. It's a way to pass down wisdom, a symbol of the things that connect us across time.
Tea is the thread that runs through Somali culture.
And the tea itself? Don’t even get me started. Whether it’s Shaah Bigays (black tea with cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves) or Shaah Cadays (same tea but with milk), it’s next level. And yeah, I’m that person who loves it sweet. I try to avoid the sugar, but every time I ask for “no sugar,” they give me the sweetest tea anyway. You know what? I don’t even mind. It’s like a little surprise, and I’m low-key here for it.
There are many milk options in Somalia, like powdered, goat, or camel milk. Also, since I’m lactose intolerant (ugh), I had to get creative with milk. Camel milk was the winner. And surprise, surprise—it didn’t make my tummy cry, so I was happy about that. I’m all about my oat milk coffee or matcha in the Netherlands, but there’s just something magical about the tea back home.
𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗶 𝗪𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻’𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗵.
We traveled from Garoowe to Eyl, which should’ve been a 220 km trip, but the roads made it feel like we were traveling for days. Still, the stops? Pure gold. We'd pull over, pray, and grab tea at these Somali-style cafes where you sit outside on plastic chairs, talking with the locals. Every stop was full of familiar faces and easy vibes. I watched my mom sit down with the women serving tea, and it hit me how, no matter where we are, all Somali mothers are the same. They sip their tea slowly, drop wisdom, and somehow make everything feel timeless. We might not always agree on everything, but that slow sip of tea and the maah maah? That’s just part of being Somali.
Tea is more than just a drink in Somalia. It’s that reminder that, no matter how wild life gets, there’s always a place to stop, sip, and reconnect. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need to remember: home, family, and the little moments that make it all feel right.
But as comforting and nostalgic as those moments were, I couldn’t ignore the undercurrent that runs through so many conversations in Somalia: patriarchy. It’s everywhere. It’s in the way women serve the tea while men get served. It’s in the expectations wrapped in tradition, and the way people still act like a daughter’s freedom is something that needs to be managed. Don’t get me wrong—there’s beauty in the strength of Somali women. The way they hold entire communities together, drop knowledge, and still find time to roast you for not knowing how to properly pour tea. But that strength is often born from necessity, not choice. It’s wild how a woman can be the backbone of everything and still be expected to shrink herself to fit inside what tradition allows.
Somali women deserve more than survival. They deserve to rest, to take up space and maybe—just maybe—to be served the tea for once.
By Eman Osman one of the diaspora of SSCKH.
