I AM pretty much a coffee addict by now.
But until I was about 37 or 38, I was a certified tea drinker only.
No doubt a habit reinforced by my early years as a teacher and missionary in Macau among tea drinking Chinese.
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I discovered coffee at my sister’s during my second trip to America.
She had this coffeemaker, and she taught me how to use it because I never had a coffeemaker in my life.
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Growing up in Dumangas, we used to have a coffee shop back in the days.
But we did everything traditionally: buy coffee beans by the kilos, sun dry them, roast them using rice hull as fuel, grind them manually (how did you think I developed my youthful biceps?), and pouring boiling water as we strained them using fine cacha cloth made from repurposed flour sacks.
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On hindsight, tea has made me constipated for most of my life.
I mean, didn’t we cure diarrhea with Black Cat tea in ages past?
So, wouldn’t it be logical to think that all the Liptons and jasmine tea in the world has caused me my hard BM?
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Psychologically suggested by my sister that coffee makes her go, coffee has now become a go-to laxative for me.
Often, a cup would make me go ever so readily.
But sometimes, just the smell of coffee, even before it is brewed, or even just a whiff from the opened container would trigger me to run to the bathroom.
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I don’t drink coffee for its supposed mind-clearing properties.
I don’t drink it to keep me awake.
In fact, I am known to drink coffee and go right back to sleep after I moved my bowels.
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These days, I have morning coffee so I could do my toilette, and shower, and start my day.
When I am a guest at somebody’s household, the morning coffee is often my time with the hosts.
It’s the time to discuss life, and talk about the small miracles and the often unnoticed gifts that we take for granted.
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People love to have coffee with me.
It’s an incontestable fact by now.
People like to buy me coffee, if only I have the time for them.
And often, I welcome the coffee talks.
Because, Why not?
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Spending time with people has been a great part of my life.
I consider it as my Christian ministry.
A ministry of accompaniment.
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I wanted to be a priest at one time in my life.
And just because I didn’t turn out to be an official clergy doesn’t mean that I abandoned my desire to minister to people as I envisioned a good priest would.
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I like hearing confessions.
And I like even more the absence of the burden in carrying these “sinful weights” with the seal of the sacrament.
I reconcile the sinners and God.
Or, at least, I provide them some perspective on their erroneous ways.
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And even if people disagree with my opinions, it only means that I’ve helped them verify and validate their ideas, and strengthen their resolves.
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One husband wanted to divorce his wife.
I told him yes, if that would make him happy.
He ended up staying with his “bitchy” wife.
Didn’t take my advice, but found his own happy.
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One wife wanted to divorce her husband because he doesn’t give good sex anymore.
I told her yes, sex is an important ingredient to happiness.
They divorced; and now, both are happy with different and agreeable sex partners.
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These things we discuss over coffee.
Because always, Why not?
I like having hard drinks with the men.
But nothing ever really gets done when everybody is talking drunk.
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Some men consult with me over wine (for me) and beer (for them).
And we could discuss things all through the night.
Most often, they don’t remember anything in the morning.
That’s why I prefer coffee talk.
It get things done!
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More and more, I see myself and people, and coffee talk missions.
I’m pretty sure I’m gonna do it when I am back in Iloilo, and traveling all over the country.
Because I just love meeting friends especially now that I have the time, and the capacity, to do it.
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I like the idea of Jesus breaking bread with people, and his closest disciples.
But when bread is expensive, I’ll take just coffee.
Black, strong, unadulterated.
Just honest coffee, please./PN
