Overheard Café Conversations
By Habibah Hafeji
Photograph: Tomas Jasovsky
I sit here in this café in Leicester somewhere (ambiguity, purposeful) and cannot help but listen - okay, okay - eavesdrop in on the conversations that ebb and flow around me. At certain points, I am overwhelmed by an intense urge to go over and join in. The thirst for good conversation and subsequent connection is something that I am sure is an all too familiar longing during this mid-pandemic, post-lockdown era.
This is a letter to the people in the café that day who I so badly wanted to speak to but was unable to (out of politeness, the good ol’ British reserve and of course the small matter of the global pandemic):
To the two Indian teenage girls discussing their career options and love lives. Your contemplation of Pharmacy is what pricked my ears in the first place - probably a practical and sensible career choice in this climate, the work is steady and reasonably well paid and if you have other side interests like me; the work-life balance can be ideal. However, if you have a passion for something, want to pursue it wholeheartedly and have the drive and motivation to see it through, do your research then 100% go for it. This life is fleeting, live it fully. And about the boy. Run away. Delete him from your life. If he is being hot and cold, he is not ready or worth it - trust me. You deserve to be with someone who is sure they want to be with you.
To the two middle aged white women sitting at the table to the left of me, firstly I apologise. I realise I made a great show of furiously tapping away at my laptop and had my headphones on but in reality, I could hear every word of your conversation. Besides, words like ‘asian’ and ‘black man’ definitely pricked my ears and curiosity. You were discussing white privilege, what it meant to have it and whether or not you had it. I loved the way you were trying to conceptualise it and to genuinely understand what it meant. You spoke of your black and asian colleagues and their experiences and discussed at length how that had altered your views of the world - your conversation gives me hope.
To the young couple sitting close together on the chairs opposite, holding hands tightly under the table and not saying much, but just holding each other. You make me want to sob at what I have lost and make me feel optimistic about what I have to look forward to again. Thank you for sharing your love so openly and freely with the world, we need it.
To the Muslim couple on their first date darting furtive glances in my direction, trust me, we’re cool. I am not listening, do your thing, I’ve been there.
To the two elderly ladies who had no idea what the Track and Trace app was about and who the barista repeatedly asked for mobile phone details and only after several, ‘sorry dear? I can’t hear you very well dear’ - we learnt in fact you did not possess mobiles. Can I please find you post-pandemic and give you a hug?
Photograph: Nick Hiller
To the young, hip mum with a perfect pink balayage. Your child is adorable and thank you for looking over my stuff when I went for a loo break.
To the four Arab women who fluttered in with their floaty abayas and flurry of airy kisses, your Arabic was far too fast for me to follow. But I loved the urgency and passion with which you spoke like birds in all their native plumage, conferencing. The unabashed and proud pepperings of mashallah and alhamdulillah were the only things I was able to pick up and it made me reflect on the inseparability of your faith from your language and how you sacralise your everyday conversations connecting to Allah even as you sip your lattes.
And to the white man who came in wearing a mask, leaned across the flock of Arab women wearing niqabs and said, pointing to his mask, ‘look, look now we are the same!’ - I am still not sure what to make of that…
About Author: Habibah is a senior editor, writer and storyteller at CoL. She works as a hospital pharmacist by day and is writing a novel by night. She has a particular weakness for dark chocolate, coffee and sunflowers. She can be found tapping furiously away at her laptop in some quiet corner of a cafe somewhere about Leicester.
