The Origin of Coffee: Kaldi and the Dancing Goats

The origin of coffee? I never really thought about it. When I was a kid, coffee was always around. My parents drank coffee, my grandparents drank coffee, all the adults I knew drank coffee. I assumed I would drink it too when I was older, and of course, I did.

But there must have been a time before coffee. I don’t remember coffee making an appearance in any of the Bible stories I learned. Esau sold his birthright to his brother Jacob for a cup of stew (or in older translations, “a mess of pottage,” not coffee (despite some speculation by early coffee chroniclers).[¹] Jesus changed water into wine, not coffee. Maybe if coffee had been around, he would have changed some of the water into coffee, for after dinner.

Maybe that’s what “B.C.” in those timelines meant: “before coffee.” Or even the modern, more politically correct version “B.C.E.”—maybe “before the coffee era”?

In any event, according to popular legend, the origin of coffee can be traced to the day, maybe a thousand years ago, when an Abyssinian (Ethiopian) goatherd named Kaldi observed his goats prancing and frolicking about. Kaldi had previously found the behavior of his goats to be “irreproachable,” so he knew that something unusual was going on.

When Kaldi investigated, he saw that the goats were merrily eating the red berries and shiny leaves of an unfamiliar tree. Kaldi decided to try some, and when he did he joined the dancing goats and became “the happiest herder in happy Arabia.”

Some time later, a passing monk observed Kaldi and the goats. When Kaldi told him about the berries, the monk thought they might be the answer to his prayers—literally. It seems that the monk was always falling asleep in the middle of prayers. When he ate the berries, he stayed awake.

The unnamed monk came up with the idea of drying and boiling the berries to make a beverage. His fellow monks loved the new drink because it encouraged them to pray—and it tasted good too.

So now that I know about Kaldi and his goats, if someday—in the far, far future, of course—someone calls me an “old goat,” I’ll just smile, have another sip of coffee, and maybe do a little dance.