Effectâ in the community. I expressed surprise to one of the owners who freely offered his primary reason for buying: Indonique had tapped into a very broad market with tea. He wanted to broaden his market share in his neighborhood by association. Offering his customers our tea made his shop part of the new tea community. We all benefited from the highly infectious Tea Effect.
My thoughts were jolted back to the present in the wreckage of the shop when a well-armed National Guardsman peered through the same door my first customer entered to ask if everything was all right, if we needed water, or had injuries. A group of five more soldiers waited outside. It was a stark contrast to that first day, a very different emotion. I thanked them for coming down to help and apologized for not having tea to offer them. They laughed a bit and continued their rounds. We salvaged what we could over the next few days, sold what equipment we could, and concentrated on repairing our home. Daya took our children to Connecticut while I attempted to rebuild in New Orleans. In the end, rebuilding the café was hopeless. I joined my family in Connecticut.
Post-Katrina, we consider ourselves fortunateâfortunate that we live in a wealthy nation that offered a place to which we could evacuate, and the help of friends and family to rebuild our lives. So many around the world donât have these resources. Tea-producing regions in particular are vulnerable. The tea industry does little to alleviate this. Indonique was rebuilt with this in mind. We pledged to return 10% of every sale we make to the communities that pick our tea through Non-Governmental Organizations like Mercy Corps that can most effectively make change and provide oversight. Our accounting records are open and our website is dedicating percentages to organizations that fight the trafficking of children. We believe that if all industries did the same, we could alleviate poverty, disenfranchisement, extremism and the need for large military expenditures. Weâre rebuilding Indo-nique as a cause. The trick for us is to recreate that Tea Effect, so easily obtained in our shop, and duplicate it in cafés and retailers around the nation, to make the cause as infectious as the Tea Effect. Weâre in discussions now with brokers and venture capitalists to do just this. Perhaps the storm that caused so much misery will lead to something that will alleviate misery everywhere.
Fingers crossed.
Unfurled
BY D HEEPA M ATURI
Have you watchedâreally watchedâyour tea leaves steeping in your cup? At one time in my life, I would not have stopped long enough to do such a thing. During that time, I was a lawyer and a mother and a wife, and I barely paused to eat, much less contemplate the goings-on in a tea cup.
And yet, one day, thatâs what I did.
One evening, I sat down to tea with a good friend. I remember that I snatched that time out of my schedule, because she was soon relocating to another state. During our conversation, I reached into a tin of silken sachets and felt the lovely little bags slide and slip over my fingers. I placed one in a tea cup, poured boiling water over it, and then inhaled the scent of green leaves harvested from rich, fertile soil. And I watched those leaves, watched them swell with hot water and then twist and unfurl.
As I watched, I suddenly felt alone in the room. In that strange silence, I recognized that so much was swelling and twisting within my own head and heart that something inside me was ready to unfurl. I still recall that moment of stillness and clarity as the birth of my tea company and my own rebirth as an entrepreneur.
I was a lifelong tea drinker, but tea drinking certainly hadnât prepared me for tea entrepreneurship. After that evening, a great deal of research, learning, and work lay ahead of me. Those challenges, however, did not compare to the difficulty of foregoing my professional identity as a lawyer.
My thoughts were jolted back to the present in the wreckage of the shop when a well-armed National Guardsman peered through the same door my first customer entered to ask if everything was all right, if we needed water, or had injuries. A group of five more soldiers waited outside. It was a stark contrast to that first day, a very different emotion. I thanked them for coming down to help and apologized for not having tea to offer them. They laughed a bit and continued their rounds. We salvaged what we could over the next few days, sold what equipment we could, and concentrated on repairing our home. Daya took our children to Connecticut while I attempted to rebuild in New Orleans. In the end, rebuilding the café was hopeless. I joined my family in Connecticut.
Post-Katrina, we consider ourselves fortunateâfortunate that we live in a wealthy nation that offered a place to which we could evacuate, and the help of friends and family to rebuild our lives. So many around the world donât have these resources. Tea-producing regions in particular are vulnerable. The tea industry does little to alleviate this. Indonique was rebuilt with this in mind. We pledged to return 10% of every sale we make to the communities that pick our tea through Non-Governmental Organizations like Mercy Corps that can most effectively make change and provide oversight. Our accounting records are open and our website is dedicating percentages to organizations that fight the trafficking of children. We believe that if all industries did the same, we could alleviate poverty, disenfranchisement, extremism and the need for large military expenditures. Weâre rebuilding Indo-nique as a cause. The trick for us is to recreate that Tea Effect, so easily obtained in our shop, and duplicate it in cafés and retailers around the nation, to make the cause as infectious as the Tea Effect. Weâre in discussions now with brokers and venture capitalists to do just this. Perhaps the storm that caused so much misery will lead to something that will alleviate misery everywhere.
Fingers crossed.
Unfurled
BY D HEEPA M ATURI
Have you watchedâreally watchedâyour tea leaves steeping in your cup? At one time in my life, I would not have stopped long enough to do such a thing. During that time, I was a lawyer and a mother and a wife, and I barely paused to eat, much less contemplate the goings-on in a tea cup.
And yet, one day, thatâs what I did.
One evening, I sat down to tea with a good friend. I remember that I snatched that time out of my schedule, because she was soon relocating to another state. During our conversation, I reached into a tin of silken sachets and felt the lovely little bags slide and slip over my fingers. I placed one in a tea cup, poured boiling water over it, and then inhaled the scent of green leaves harvested from rich, fertile soil. And I watched those leaves, watched them swell with hot water and then twist and unfurl.
As I watched, I suddenly felt alone in the room. In that strange silence, I recognized that so much was swelling and twisting within my own head and heart that something inside me was ready to unfurl. I still recall that moment of stillness and clarity as the birth of my tea company and my own rebirth as an entrepreneur.
I was a lifelong tea drinker, but tea drinking certainly hadnât prepared me for tea entrepreneurship. After that evening, a great deal of research, learning, and work lay ahead of me. Those challenges, however, did not compare to the difficulty of foregoing my professional identity as a lawyer.
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