Yemen: Afternoon Qat Chew in the Team Lounge Circle

Afternoon Qat Chew in the Team Lounge Circle, Yemen

Context: The 2 p.m. Majlis

While qat chewing is widespread in many parts of Yemen, practices vary significantly by region, sector, gender, and community. In many urban centers, especially in the northern highlands, some Yemenis from different walks of life retreat in the afternoon into cushioned rooms to chew the fresh leaves of the qat [also khat] plant. By early afternoon in some cities, many workplaces slow or end for a variety of reasons, and some people gather for majlis conversations after the formal workday. In some contexts, friends or colleagues gather in a circle, shoes off, and begin a conversation-focused ritual in a relaxed setting. “Qat is our whiskey,” one Yemeni writer quipped, noting that when there’s nothing else to do in the afternoon, Yemenis will always find company in a qat session *. The plant has been chewed here for centuries, and today it remains a common social lubricant in many settings across class and region, though it is neither universal nor uncontested. Much like the 1950s American three-martini lunch, the qat majlis can be a setting where gossip is traded, disputes are discussed, and some deals are advanced. Some observers have claimed that qat sessions play a role in many business deals, though this varies by region, sector, and organizational policy.

Meet the Office Mafraj

A mafraj – the top-floor sitting room found in many Yemeni buildings – can be the stage for a team ritual in some organizations. Picture a Sana’a startup piloting a voluntary, qat-free majlis circle: on a scheduled day, interested employees climb the stairs to a sunlit mafraj or lounge. People may recline along the walls on floor cushions (diwan/diwān style) or choose chairs for accessibility, forming a U-shaped forum. A warm welcome rings out as latecomers arrive, some carrying tea, coffee, or fruit to share. In one corner, the team sets out water, tea, and coffee to share, while the office assistant pours tiny cups of bitter Yemeni coffee. There’s no formal agenda, but there is an unwritten rule: here, titles and ranks are set aside to encourage open dialogue. It’s not uncommon to find senior and junior colleagues side by side, and everyone is encouraged to speak, though deference by age, status, or tribe can still shape who talks when. This egalitarian ethos turns the mafraj into a pressure valve for workplace tension. Heated debate over a new project? It might flare here, but as the quiet reflection phase begins, voices often soften and laughter returns. By sunset, the team drifts back to reality, leaving behind a room full of spent leaves and the faint scent of shared stories. They’ll sweep it up tomorrow morning – and do it all again after lunch.

(Even high politics bows to this rhythm: in 1992, President Ali Abdullah Ṣāliḥ (often anglicized as Ali Abdullah Saleh) hosted rival party leaders in a series of qat chews to negotiate Yemen’s first elections, a ritual compared by some to Sweden’s fika *.)

Qat-Chew Ritual — Step-by-Step

Minute	Scene	Purpose
0–15	Gather & Prep: Colleagues drift into the mafraj, exchange greetings and jokes. Tea is poured and light snacks are shared, and any participants who do not wish to sit on the floor are offered chairs. Cushions are arranged in a circle with chairs available; some participants loosen their ties or change into a fūṭa (futa) wrapskirt for comfort.	Transition out of “work mode”; establish informal, equal footing.
15–45	Chew & Chat: The session kicks off with lively conversation. As everyone settles in with tea or water, conversation warms without any expectation to consume qat. The room buzzes with debate on news or office topics, punctuated by laughter and the clink of cups. The ritual setting and norms spark animated discussion – ideas flow more freely and junior staff are invited to voice opinions.	Open dialogue & ideation; reinforce team cohesion through free expression.
45–75	The Summit: The middle phase often becomes quieter and more focused as people pause to reflect or jot down thoughts. Conversations break into smaller clusters or hush entirely as each person drifts into private reflection (sometimes called the “Solomon’s hour” in local media accounts). In this meditative lull, some scribble ideas in notebooks; others simply enjoy a companionable silence.	Personal insight & creative thinking; a group “flow state” that also cools any earlier arguments.
75–90	Wind-Down: One by one, participants snap back to the present. As the session winds down, there’s a round of gentle ribbing about anyone who dozed off. The ritual closes with practical talk – tomorrow’s tasks, or a quick recap of any decisions made, which are then recorded in formal channels. Everyone helps tidy the room: collecting cups, straightening cushions, and ventilating the space. A final swig of water or spiced tea, and the team disperses, leaving the space clean and ready for the next workday.	Closure & reorientation; signal return to normal work-life (often, the weekend or evening begins here).

(Times can stretch a bit for special occasions, but for workplaces a 45–60 minute weekly circle is a recommended maximum.)

Why It Works — Chew, Chat, Connect

The majlis circle operates on social and cultural levels to bind teams together. Participants often attribute candor and connection to the structured setting, shared norms, and repeated practice rather than any substance. The familiar routine lowers barriers to participation and makes many people more talkative, alert, and willing to share without resorting to pharmacological explanations. This shared ritual context energises communication: brainstorming feels more engaging, grievances surface more frankly, and humor lands more easily. At the same time, the setting and social rules of the majlis foster psychological safety. By convention, everyone sits at eye level, dressed casually; floor cushions or chairs are both acceptable, and there are no conference tables or slide decks. The hierarchy flattening is intentional – in this circle, the intern can disagree with the CEO about a client strategy, and, when norms are upheld, it is received constructively. Anthropologists note that such rituals create a liminal space, apart from normal office constraints, where colleagues relate as family or tribe rather than boss and subordinate. Over time, the repeated act of meeting together becomes a symbol of trust and belonging. It is a shared vulnerability of sorts: much as Finnish sauna-goers bond through a common ritual, Yemeni co-workers bond through the shared cadence and conversation of the circle.

There’s also a subtle conflict-resolution magic at play. The early, higher-energy phase encourages outspoken debate, allowing issues to surface that might stay buried in formal meetings. Yet a later phase often brings calm introspection (sometimes nicknamed the “Solomon hour” for the wise decisions thought to emerge). By the end of a session, heated arguments have often cooled, though not always. Participants often leave the room on better terms, with a clearer plan for next steps. This cycle of airing grievances and then letting them go can defuse workplace tensions before they harden into resentments. Add to that the simple pleasure of structured social time and a sense of camaraderie, and it’s easy to see why employees return to the ritual. The ritual feels good, and feeling good together is the essence of team cohesion.

Outcomes & Impact

Within Yemeni organizations, afternoon social rituals can have tangible effects on team dynamics (for better and worse). On the plus side, some organizations report that project teams who regularly share a social majlis demonstrate closer camaraderie and communication than those who don’t. When work topics arise informally in the mafraj, key decisions should be made or ratified in formal forums so participation is voluntary and equitable. Managers often note that new hires who join an optional, qat-free majlis circle integrate faster, as the ritual provides a built-in orientation to the company’s social fabric. And much like Western networking over coffee, the majlis expands internal networks: an IT specialist who rarely talks to Finance might bond over conversation and laughter, uncovering process fixes in the process. Anecdotal accounts suggest that this ritual can spark idea generation. In the political realm, Yemeni activists have leveraged qat gatherings as brainstorming hubs – likening them to analog social networks where ideas for protests and community projects can germinate rapidly * *. By extension, a savvy product team might find their next big idea scribbled on a notepad during a brief quiet reflection minute.

However, no assessment of qat at work is complete without the costs. The very same properties that knit teams together can undermine productivity if unchecked. A 2007 World Bank report estimated that Yemen loses roughly 25% of potential work hours to qat chewing, though estimates vary by sector and period. Indeed, some Yemeni professionals schedule important tasks for mornings, anticipating that afternoons may be slower or given to social obligations. Reports note that some organizations have introduced “chew-free days” to preserve mid-week output, while policies and practices vary widely across sectors and regions. There’s also a gender gap: traditionally, women are excluded from men’s qat chews (many women hold their own gatherings, but professional networking via qat remains largely male-dominated) *. This means female colleagues can miss out on the informal knowledge sharing and decision-making that happen in the mafraj. Some firms address this by organizing mixed-gender coffee or tea socials as alternative bonding breaks, or by explicitly inviting women to moderated sessions, though change can be slow in contexts with gender-segregated norms. Lastly, leaders must be mindful of health, legal compliance, accessibility, safety, and broader environmental and economic impacts. Qat is legal in Yemen, but it’s a habit-forming substance; excessive use can sap energy and focus once the buzz wears off, not to mention the financial burden on low-paid staff. Organizations should not host or fund substance use on work premises or time; instead, offer qat-free alternatives with water and tea, provide chairs and virtual access, and respect prayer and fasting calendars.

In short, Yemen’s qat ritual can foster solidarity and trust among some teams, yet it requires careful management to avoid productivity, health, and inclusion risks. It has persisted through civil wars, economic collapses, and social upheavals – even front-line soldiers have paused battles for their afternoon chew * – attesting to its deep-rooted impact on morale. As one executive noted in an anonymized interview, deals sometimes close in the mafraj, but organizations must ensure no one works or drives while impaired or fatigued.

Lessons for Global Team Leaders

Principle	Why It Matters	How to Translate
Leverage Local Culture	Aligning with a native tradition instantly boosts buy-in and authenticity. People relax when the setting is culturally familiar.	Identify an analog in your context (e.g., an afternoon tea or a volunteer activity) and weave it into the team’s routine without using substances or tobacco. Credit Yemeni majlis origins respectfully, avoid using Yemeni names or symbols for branding, and adapt with local input.
Egalitarian Space	In Yemen’s mafraj, everyone sits equally on the floor – flattening hierarchy encourages honest dialogue. When status symbols are removed, true opinions emerge.	Create informal forums where titles are set aside. This could be a weekly brown-bag lunch or a casual Zoom hangout where the CEO wears a T-shirt. Foster first-name basis interactions.
Structured Social Time	A ritualized break (same time, same place) becomes part of the company rhythm. It signals that bonding is as important as budgeting. Regular social “syncs” also prevent burnout by giving a mental reset.	Dedicate a recurring slot for team socialising. For example, a 3 p.m. coffee break or a ten-minute daily huddle with non-work chatter. Keep it consistent so it becomes an expected oasis in the workday.
Open Forum & Inclusivity	The qat chew’s open floor lets junior and senior voices mix. Its weakness, however, is excluding non-chewers or women. The lesson: rituals must unite, not divide.	Ensure your team ritual is inclusive. If someone can’t or won’t participate in the main activity (be it drinking, eating a certain food, etc.), provide alternatives so no one’s left out. Encourage sharing and listening across ranks.
Moderation & Boundaries	Yemen’s experience shows that too much of a good thing (or a good leaf) can hurt productivity. A ritual works best when it bonds people without derailing work goals.	Set gentle guardrails. For instance, limit social breaks to 30 minutes, or allow a longer one but only after critical daily tasks are done. If the tradition involves indulgence (sweets, alcohol, etc.), promote a “moderation culture” by example.

Implementation Playbook

Map the Culture: Start by identifying a bonding tradition that resonates with your team’s local culture or common interests. In Yemen one example is the majlis tradition; for workplaces use a qat-free analog such as tea, a shared meal, or a volunteer activity. Poll your team: “What informal activity would bring us together?”
Secure a Space: Physical environment matters. Set up a comfortable, dedicated area for the ritual – think lounge or café space rather than meeting room. (If your team is remote, create a virtual “lounge” video call with no agenda.) Decorate or set the space to evoke the intended vibe, offering floor cushions and chairs for accessibility, and ensure ADA/ergonomic review and hybrid access.
Set a Schedule & Stick to It: Consistency is key. Pilot with 2–4 teams for 6–8 weeks at 45–60 minutes weekly, schedule outside customer-critical windows, and make it known that this is voluntary team time. In many Yemeni contexts, workdays often run roughly 8 a.m.–2 p.m. for multiple reasons, and many chews happen afterward. You might not shorten work hours, but you can, for example, block every Friday afternoon for a team social with no meetings. Publish it on calendars to normalize it.
Define Ground Rules: Clearly communicate the do’s and don’ts that keep the ritual positive. Company guidelines should prohibit on-premise substance use or indoor smoking, keep any social gatherings beverage-only, and require a legal/EHS review for any off-site, off-hours events. For your ritual, publish ground rules including voluntary opt-in with a respectful opt-out, no attendance tracking by managers, equal voice with turn-taking, confidentiality, and accessibility accommodations. If the activity carries risks, establish limits such as timeboxing to 60 minutes, no work or driving while fatigued, documented decision logs, and safe transport for any after-hours events. Make sure everyone, especially newcomers, knows what’s expected.
Lead by Participation: Leadership should not just permit the ritual – they should embrace it. Yemeni managers who join a qat-free majlis circle signal trust and camaraderie. By joining your team’s ritual (be it a game, a break, a meditation session), you demonstrate that this is a valued part of your culture, not an “off-duty indulgence.” Over time, consider rotating who “hosts” or leads the ritual to build shared ownership.
Monitor and Adapt: Before launch, share a one-page plan linking to strategy with opt-in and privacy details, and then periodically check in on how the ritual is affecting the team. Is it still enjoyable? Inclusive? Do people feel it’s a burden? Solicit feedback anonymously if needed. You might find, as some Yemeni organizations did, that a daily event is too much – so switch to weekly. Or if some team members don’t participate, tweak the format to be more accessible. Treat it like any strategic initiative: use brief, anonymous measures (e.g., Edmondson 4-item psychological safety, a 1–3 item belonging check, airtime evenness, cross-team reply rates) with team-level aggregation and 90-day data retention, and iterate.

Common Pitfalls

Turning a blind eye to exclusion: Yemen’s all-male qat clubs teach us that a bonding ritual can inadvertently marginalize. Ensure your tradition doesn’t sideline a demographic (gender, remote staff, etc.). If your “team drink” is beers at a pub, for example, consider those who don’t drink alcohol or have family obligations – provide options or alternate venues.
Overindulgence or overtime: A good ritual can go bad if it consistently stretches too long or encourages unhealthy excess. Yemen’s afternoons lost to qat are cautionary *. Set gentle time limits (and stick to them). If the activity involves consumption (calories, caffeine, etc.), keep an eye out that it doesn’t impair health or next-day performance.
Management lip service: If leaders endorse a team ritual but never join in, employees will see it as forced fun. The power of rituals lies in shared experience across levels. Don’t delegate your culture.
Abrupt shutdowns: If you must reform an ingrained ritual (perhaps it’s hurting productivity or budgets), do not ban it abruptly; consult participants and co-design a respectful alternative. Yemen’s history shows attempts to abruptly ban qat have sparked backlash *. Instead, work with the team to find a compromise or a healthier alternative, honouring the spirit of the original tradition.

Reflection & Call to Action

Every workplace has stress, hierarchy, and targets – and the Yemeni majlis tradition illustrates how a shared ritual can help people step back from pressure for a time. In a workplace lounge, colleagues relate more informally in a structured circle while the day’s worries ease. Do not import or use qat or tobacco in workplaces; instead, adapt the underlying idea in a qat-free, inclusive, and compliant way that credits Yemeni majlis traditions and partners with local cultural advisors where possible. It could be as simple as a weekly “story circle” or as novel as a team hobby club. The form matters less than the method – a regular, inclusive practice that fosters belonging. A commonly expressed sentiment is that the majlis opens space for candid conversation. Create a culturally respectful, qat-free version of a circle, and build community intentionally over time. In the end, the teams that thrive are those that make consistent space for connection through shared, inclusive routines.