Part of the Sisterhood
Recently, I was invited by the magazine, Taiwan Scene, to write an article to introduce the tea master, Cai Guoxiang 蔡國祥 and his award-winning tea. Readers may look at the article in this link. As this article strictly focused on the tea master, himself, I was unable to allot the proper space and time to Mr. Guo’s family, and the lovely morning I had with chatting with his wife and daughters. In the piece below, I detail some insights, thoughts, and encounters that I had in the morning with his family. I am extremely grateful for the time spent with them that morning and hope that this piece expresses my gratitude to this lovely family.
Sister Flower
“In the summer we harvest 蜜香紅茶 Honey Fragrant Black Tea and 東方美人 Eastern Beauty. In the Spring and Winter we harvest 文山包種綠茶 Wenshan Baozhong Green Tea. Depending on the season, you’ll get a different flavor of the green tea. Because the plant is exposed to much more sunlight, the leaves will grow much faster in the Spring and have a more fragrant tang to the tea. In the Winter, the plants grow more slowly and are exposed to less sunlight, giving the tea a sweeter and more delicate flavor.”
Ke Tianze pours a cup of tea for me and sits behind the master chair in the tea house. Her husband, Mr. Cai, remains occupied in the tea “workshop” next door, his nimble hands attending to the tea leaves and machines all at once–a seemingly octopus of a man with his hands transforming into tentacles, able to operate all the machines with delicate ease and a sniper’s precision. Sent here originally to interview the tea master on his award-winning tea and methodology, my wife and daughter and I arrive the day after they have harvested the tea. We’re especially fortunate to be amidst the fermentation and processing. The workshop next door whirls with activity–a mosaic of hands, tea leaves, rotating gears, spinning tea driers, and clanking gears. I cannot get a word in with Mr. Cai who is clearly in the zone. Upon arrival, he gives me a pleasant nod, his eyes shining with his tea mission of the moment. I know not to get in his way, instead intent upon sitting back and chatting with his wife and their daughters during the morning.
Their eldest daughter who is 24 sits to her mother’s left side and drinks tea with us as we chat. Her passion is also related to creativity, timing, and artistry with plants, involving drying flowers and arranging them into beautiful works of art. She pulls out her phone and shows some of her recent creations to me, each flower arrangement prepared with patience and care. When words fail us, the pictures on the phone serve as our communication channel.
“Where do you work when you’re not helping out here?” I ask.
“Just some normal company as an administrative assistant,” she answers. When asked about her job in the city, the light in her eyes fades. Gone are the sparks of joy that flash when she shares the images of the flowers that she once again starts to scroll through with me watching.
I hear the gurgling of the tea bubbling up and boiling, ready for a 2nd steep.
Sister Color
Sitting behind us is Sister Flower’s 14 year old sister, working on homework with a backdrop of award winning tea boxes. She is a painter, and so we shall call her Sister Color. Her paintings are scattered around the walls of the tea shop where there is space for them. The tea awards her father have earned take up much of the space and are so numerous that any visitor to the shop might think that they are actually what is keeping the building together. When I ask Sister Flower and her mother how many awards her father has won, starting from when he was only 19 and still working with his father, she calculates a grand total of 82 awards over the years, including winning the most prestigious 特等獎 or Special Tea Award twice.
Sister Color is the quietest of the sisters we meet on this day. This is perhaps a reflection of her being the youngest, or it could be her particular age and being in middle school at the time. She is also preoccupied with her homework at the moment.
“I have a test coming up,” she says as she puts her head into her textbook.
Whatever the reason for her silence, her expressiveness shows itself to our small group through the works of art throughout the building. She and her mother lead us down the hallway past the smell of flowering fermentation. I ask to see more of her paintings. In the back room, out of sight from customers, there are a number of her paintings dating from when she was still an elementary school student. It’s easy to see the progression into more coloful experimentation from her paintings as a child to her paintings as a teenager.
“This painting is from a picture, not from when I was actually outside in the fields.” She points to the most colorful work on the wall–the subject matter is fully focused and mature. This is not an image of friendly cats or lounging animals. Instead we see a classic scene of Nature and humanity mixed together–farmers leaning over blossoming tea bushes–the deep mental image of a rainbow of clothing, bent-backed women, and conical hats to protect from the elements. The front room may have the tea awards on display, but the back room shows us the progression of a young girl blossoming into a talented artist. There is passion in all aspects of the building.
Sister Clay
Getting lost in conversation with Mrs. Ke and the two sisters, I lose track of my own daughter, Luna, who has wandered out to a hallway in between the storefront and the “art gallery.” When I go back to locate her, I am surprised to see her holding a miniature model of a bakery with even smaller, delicately placed clay miniatures of baked goods and cooking items inside. She quietly examines the interior of the tiny world while the third sister watches her with gently smiling eyes. This is the middle sister who is 22 years old. With a soft voice of an amiable English teacher and a ray-of-sunshine smile, her words roll off her tongue like the notes from a wind-up music box in a children’s fairy tale. She is used to speaking with groups of much younger students. Her hobby is making miniature models, assembling them out of clay and putting them together into a case that the family keeps in the hallway, much like a display case in a toy museum.
The moment when I stumble onto the exchange between Luna and Sister Clay has the two of them frozen in motion. I can sense my own daughter’s persona sparkling and enthralled by the miniature world that she cradles in her grasp. She holds the tiny bakery in her hand towards Sister Clay and the two of them lift it together, both of them stuck in time–the clock has stopped. I see the smile on Sister Clay’s face light up while Luna’s own lips silently mouth words that only she knows. She does this action from time to time, communicating to herself in her own world. From my own two plus years of experience of a father, I know that Luna wants to hold this miniature in her hand for as long as possible.
What impresses me about Sister Clay at this moment is that she delicately balances the miniature in her and Luna’s hand without ever forcing it or rushing my own daughter. There is an element of what Peter Senge refers to as “creative tension” in this moment, or “the gap between vision and desired results” as described in his book, “The Fifth Discipline.” In the end, Luna relents her hold and hands the bakery miniature back to its creator who places it in a case filled with 30–40 other models. With the creative tension now released, Luna accepts the fate of the bakery to rest in its rightful place.
“Sister Clay,” smiles at my own daughter and contemplates which of the items she will gift to Luna before we leave.
“I think I’ll give her the macaron. I saw her eyeing the sweets before.” She reaches into the case once more, her hands delicate like the petals of a flower. Luna’s eyes brighten, almost reflecting the painted yellow macaron’s hue.
Personal Mastery
As Sister Clay relinquishes her creation to Luna, I think back on these three lovely sisters. There is a Chinese term called 姐妹花 which roughly translates to “flower sisters.” The term refers to the deep bond of “sisterhood” that connects a group of girls (not necessarily blood relations) through their beauty, culture, talent, and interests. In my own mind I saw Luna receiving the baton of the yellow macaron not only as a physical hand-over, but also as an invitation for her to join their Sisterhood of 姐妹花.
On a deeper family level, I realize each member of the 祥順茶行 tea-household is filled with a dedication to the crafts that they are passionate about. Whether it is tea, painting, miniature clay models, flower arrangement, or running a business, it’s easy to detect a strong atmosphere of what “personal mastery” (The Fifth Discipline) harmonizing with the alluring fragrance of processed tea that permeates the air. When one has personal mastery, they know how and what they need to do to operate at their peak. The Chinese term 自我超越， or “to surpass oneself” is as powerful as the tea is rich in this environment. Each individual is encouraged to embrace their passions. There is a strong instinct to excel and pursue interests within this household. It runs in the family. And for one morning, my daughter is included in the Sisterhood.
