The Chai Tea Epiphany

The Chai Tea Epiphany

Location: Kabul, Afghanistan
Mission: Key Leader Engagement, Afghan National Army CID

The dust in Kabul has a specific taste. It’s ancient, metallic, and it coats everything—your boots, your lungs, your thoughts.

I was sitting across from a Colonel in the Afghan National Army Criminal Investigation Division. This was a "Key Leader Engagement"—military speak for a high-stakes conversation where trust is the only currency that matters.

As is the custom, tea was served. Chai.

It was hot, overly sweet, and spiced with cardamom. A gesture of hospitality in a war zone. I accepted it with a nod and a polite “tashakor” (thank you in Dari), sipping politely as we first wished each other’s families were in good health and spoke of simple non-work topics.

It was considered improper to directly enter into a discussion of work without first allowing for lengthy pleasantries. Only after the first cup of chai did we discuss ongoing investigations, training of investigators, investigative equipment needs, and pending trials.

The Ritual of the Flowers

Coffee was difficult to come by for the Afghan people and rarely offered as a drink. Typically, chai was offered to guests with a small piece of sweet candy. A simple gesture, but culturally significant. The status of the commander was often shown through the offerings of chai and candy to guests—and by the fresh flowers visible in the commander's office.

Working in Afghanistan, with routine visits to the Ministry of Defense, offices of Criminal Investigators, Military Judges, and the Hospital, I drank much more chai than I did coffee.

Yes, I had the big brand coffee pods and a maker in my office back at base, but it was not the quality of coffee I really wanted.

The Realization

On this visit, in that dusty office, surrounded by flowers and military protocols, I realized something.

Coffee isn't just a drink. In the chaos of the world—whether it's a war zone or a boardroom—coffee is a moment of order. It is a small, controlled ritual of excellence. It brings people together, sure, but it also centers you.

I looked at the Chai in my glass and made a silent promise to myself: When I get back home, I’m never settling for bad coffee or tea again.

Somewhere in the back of my brain, the seed was planted that led to this.

Western Reserve Coffee wasn't born in a boardroom. It was born in that moment of clarity in Kabul—where I realized that if you want excellence, you usually have to forge it yourself.