In The Lands Of Coffee
Photo by Tzer Haw I gave our orders to the kedai kopi proprietor as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a white Good-morning towel. Flipping it over his shoulder, he yelled to the back of the shop, “Kopi susu DU-A! (two milk coffee)” His round belly raised proudly into the air, almost bursting the threads on his white singlet. His powerful voice, reverberating within the four walls of the shop, came to a crescendo at the last word. Babara, my visiting Canadian friend, covered her ears with her palms. “Wow, he’s so loud!” “You ain’t see nothing yet! Watch how the man there makes our coffee!” I nudged Mary to turn her head to the back area of the shop. The man, dressed just like the proprietor, was standing in front of a big round bronze pot with cooking gas burning menacingly underneath. He grabbed the handle of a long bronze spoon and – Pang! -- flipped open the pot with the other hand. Boiling water bubbled noisily inside. Without a single grimace at the mass of s...