SHARING SCENT
Sage tea is enjoyed in most Palestinian homes. The tea is prepared for individuals, but more commonly for gatherings with family and guests. The scent of the sage tea fills the house during family gatherings. However, sage plants are not as prevalent in the diaspora as in Palestine. The leaves have to be imported to Qatar. My grandmother talks about how everything is different in Palestine; she says sage is grown everywhere, there. The Palestinian sage leaves have more value and meaning in the context of the diaspora because they come from “home.
The closest my grandmother can get to Palestine is Jordan. She visits Jordan every summer and brings back large quantities of fresh sage leaves. She dries the leaves in her kitchen as soon as she arrives to her home in Qatar. As it dries, the scent of sage fills her entire house. Her children stop by her sage-scented home to welcome her back, and to receive their annual share of the dried sage. She packs the individual portions in ordinary plastic bags, for her children to take home. She stores the remainder in an old cotton pillowcase, repurposed to keep the sage fresh throughout the year. The cotton fabric allows breathability, but keeps dust and insects out.
Celebrating the metaphoric resonance between the dispersal of sage leaves, and the displacement of Palestinians throughout the diaspora, I designed a new set of sacks to replace my grandmother’s pillowcase and plastic bags. The new sacks are made from tailored linen, to provide increased breathability as well as a level of transparency. The largest sack in the set is for my grandmother, and the two smaller ones are for her children. The shape of the sack, inspired by the pure form of an obelisk, is designed with a circular base. This base allows the linen sack to retain its shape and structure—unlike the pillowcase— as the leaves continue to be removed. The bag is tied by gathering the fabric and looping it through a blue glass ring, which is then secured by pushing a blue glass rod through the gathered fabric, secured against the ring. Opening the bag is now a ritualistic act. My grandmother slides the rod from the ring, and unties the linen, releasing the scent. My grandmother uses her hand to scoop up the sage, and the subtle scent lingers on her hands afterward. She transfers sage leaves into the sacks her children bring with them, when they visit. The ritualized dispersal and sharing of sage leaves occurs annually.
