This morning I posted this on Facebook:
“On this 70th International Human Rights day, I am sitting with a nice, hot cup of tea, looking out at the snow falling, as if on cue, just in time for me and my daughter (who gave me the flattering mug!) to get in the Christmas mood and start putting up the decorations.
Thousands of miles away, by contrast, the people who grew the tea I’m drinking face blistering hot sun, carrying back-breaking loads of tea (they’re paid by weight), and the danger of meeting wild elephants on the way back to their two-room huts… That’s why a group in Assam is calling on us to observe Human Rights Day as *Tea Workers Rights Day*.
So please join me, if you will, as I raise my cup of Munnar tea, raise your Tetleys, your PG tips, your lapsang suchongs, your Earl Greys, your Lady Greys and your decaff Tesco own brand… and make a toast “To tea workers’ human rights!”
And then maybe go and make some toast to go with your tea.”
Moments later, Facebook, doubtless having detected a whiff of altruism in my post, suggested that I might like to add a ‘donate’ button to my post to raise money for my “charity”.
But that’s the awful irony – why should workers in a multi-million pound global industry, producing the second most popular drink in the world after water, including brands that are named and prized for their distinctive quality – Assam, Darjeeling, Ceylon – be in need of charity? Or, indeed, in need of food rations from their employers?
This industry, which is predicated on cheap and plentiful manual labour, and on low, low prices – restricting the ability of those employers to pay decent wages – needs a jolly good shake up.
And it starts with you making that toast.
I mean the toast to tea workers rights, not the toast you made to go with the tea.
Sabita Banerji 