I worked in a large refinery.

Part of the local industry

and I was very pleased to be,

a useful person at last.

I was quite young and truth to tell

I worked very hard, was doing well.

So they put me on shift with Ali Abdul

and this is the story of that.

 

Now “Graveyard shift” can be dull,

when all the controls are doing well.

You could almost wish for an alarm bell,

to keep one awake through the night.

Ali sat there with eyes all glazed

and I was feeling rather dazed,

when he made a suggestion that truly amazed.

Lets have a cup of Chie.

 

Now tea was not my favorite brew

and coffee I found just would not do,

I preferred milk, water or the odd beer or two

but Ali might be offended.

So not to snub or appear too snooty

I said, “go ahead and make us some tea.”

And as he disappeared smiling happily.

I felt quite pleased with myself.

 

To make our particular brew, you see.

We put tea and water in a “billy.”

Then boiled it all quite furiously,

Untill it looks ready to serve.

We used a steam coil to boil the tea

and the coil collected a lot of debris,

with tea leaves, flies or a passing bee,

which tended to effect the flavor.

 

Now it’s one thing to politely agree

to have a social cup of tea but –

if I could have guessed, what was to be,

I might have been more careful.

For hygiene, I think, is a state of mind

and trying hard, not to be unkind;

in the East they seem to be quite blind

to what I take for granted.

 

After a while, back came Ali.

With this gruesome mess that he called chie.

The surface of which was quite scummy

and with out thinking I said, “strain it.”

“OK” he said, with alacrity.

Which should have been a warning for me,

for we didn’t have a strainer, you see.

He went and fetched a FLY SWAT!

 

The fly swat in question was old and used.

The red border gone, it was well abused

and I wasn’t even a bit amused

to see what he intended.

This fly swat had killed a fly or two

and parts of a cockroach were still in view

and through this messy insect stew,

Ali poured my tea!

 

“NOT through the fly swat,  Ali”,  I cried.

My stomach was churning, I almost died.

“It’s OK sahib Dawie,” he quickly replied.

“I didn’t use the new one!”

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria, June, 1986