Coming-of-Age Tea Ceremony

Anthony Mitchell

Today, one of my guides, Tenga, took me to see an important facet of culture here on the islands, the coming-of-age tea ceremony that people perform when they turn 20, after which, she informed me, they are considered to be an adult.  Before leaving for the ceremony, my guide entered my room wearing a simple white robe, of what appeared to be linen, with golden trim.  In her hands was another, identical robe which she explained I would have to wear.

We met another of my guides, Shoi, at the venue for the tea ceremony, a large, wall-less, roofed platform about 20 feet from the shore, connected to land by a 4-foot-wide bridge.  The platform had numerous intricate carvings in the wood of the columns, many in the shapes of various fish and some in the shapes of the myriad of aquatic creatures that populated the legends of the island people, some of which had been told to me upon my arrival.  On the platform were about 25 chairs, set on the shore-side of the platform, and in front of these, on a low dais was a long sitting table.  On the table were nine different flower arrangements, placed in front of nine richly dyed and embroidered floor cushions.

Many of the chairs were already filled with others who had donned the same white robes as us. Taking a seat towards the back of the platform, we waited for a few minutes.  I noticed that on the dais, to the right of the table, was a stringed instrument, roughly the size of two shoeboxes set end to end, that sat on the lap of a man dressed in the now-familiar white robe.  Looking behind us, toward the bridge, he began to pluck his instrument as a line of eight people came up the center aisle, towards the dais.

Each of these eight wore yellow robes with roses of red thread on the chest, and, as the man played the instrument, they proceeded to the dais, and took their seats.  As the musician finished his first song, he began another, slower one, as a young lady, dressed in a green robe also headed to the dais.  Behind her was an even younger boy and girl who were dressed in the same kind of green robes as the young lady, the little girl carrying the tea-making accoutrements and the boy carrying a neatly folded yellow robe, like that worn by the dais-sitters.

When the procession of the young girl and the boy reached the front of the dais, all was set upon the table and everyone waited a moment until the musician finished his song and began another.  The lady proceeded to begin boiling water on the small clay stove that the girl had brought.  While the water was boiling, the lady placed a cup in front of each of the yellow-robed.  When this was finished, she took a large porcelain bowl and poured the boiling water into it, taking a small jar of powdered tea herbs and whipping them into the boiling water, creating a frothy green tisane.  The lady took the bowl of tea, lifting it up from the table, and began gingerly pouring it into each of the cups she had laid out.  

When she was finished, she glanced towards the musician as he began yet another new song and the two children each came to her sides, helping her out of the green robe, and putting the yellow one over the silken under-robe.  All of this was done in a slow, deliberate, highly ritualized manner, and when she had done, the lady took a seat in the center of the dais, and the children placed a cup in front of her as well.  Each of them took a side of the porcelain bowl and, lifting it up, poured the last of it into her cup.

At this point, another song began to play and all those on the dais drank their tea.  This lasted for some time, and the audience all waited patiently until they finished.  When this happened, all of those on the dais rose and followed each other in an orderly line down the bridge and back to shore.  Then, my guides told me that we were allowed to get up and leave as well.

After the ceremony, my guides informed me that it marked the start of the lady’s adulthood, because she began by preparing the tea for the older members of her family, but after shedding the green robe of her youth and then donning the yellow robe of the mature, she was served by her two younger siblings as is tradition.  When I asked about the music, Shoi told me that the order of the songs and the songs themselves were invariant and very sacred.  The entire process was highly choreographed and ritualized, as I had suspected.  For some time I have also been wondering about the significance of the number nine to this culture, to recur so frequently, and I plan to ask my guides about this soon.