An unlikely hangout

Before Abed Ellafdi emigrated from Rabat, Morocco to northern Virginia six years ago, a friend gave him a tip: When you get to America, go to the Starbucks at Skyline.

Situated between an Einstein Bros. Bagels and an Office Depot in a Falls Church strip mall, it faces a vast parking lot, beyond which is another strip mall, that soulless landmark of American commercial culture.

But inside is a world where Moroccans talk soccer scores, Egyptians discuss revolution and Somalis argue over politics, all in a coffee chain store that has become an unlikely hangout for immigrants seeking the flavor of home.

This café offers a rare glimpse into the immigrant Islamic community in the U.S. With many Americans' impressions of Muslims tinged with concerns about war and terrorism, places like this provide insight into an important mission field here at home.

After long days working as cab drivers, construction workers, scientists and business owners, they fill the outdoor seats each evening, mimicking old world cafés where men unwind and catch up over backgammon, hookahs and endless cups of coffee.

"It's really part of our culture, to come to the café and talk about the events that happen," said Ellafdi, an energetic 31-year-old who works in construction and lives in Alexandria. "As Muslims we don't drink, we don't go to the bar and hang out; we do this."

It's a largely male scene, and the men have been gathering here since 1997, a year after the Starbucks opened. A handful of Moroccans, Somalis, and other African and Middle Eastern immigrants who lived or worked in the neighborhood began to trickle in. They told friends to meet them there, and their friends told more friends, who began coming each day to linger over coffee and cigarettes.

That is what first drew Ahmed Abdullahi, 55, a cab driver from Somalia, in the late 1990s. "I had one friend from back home. He said, `Come, I'm taking you to introduce you to the community.'"

Now, Abdullahi lives across the street and comes sometimes two or three times a day. He sips coffee with other Somalis, and they chew on the problems of their homeland, the pirate problem, the fundamentalism problem. "Sometimes we talk loud. When we talk about politics, we get heated," he said, grinning sheepishly. "When native Americans see people talking loudly in a language they don't understand, they get scared."

But most customers take it in stride, either ignoring the chattering in Somali, Arabic and Amharic, or smiling at finding such diversity in the most unexpected of places.

Occasionally, American-born patrons will join in the conversations, including students of Arabic who have heard about this spot and want to practice their conversation skills.

From the immigrants' perspective, the long hours they spend there are good for business. "Myself, I spend almost $400 a month," said Abdullahi. "I get three grande lattes a day. There are people who spend more than that."

Here, Eritreans and Ethiopians whose countries were ravaged during a 30-year conflict sit together, talking about work and college days.

"The war is over now. We don't have to talk about it," said Solomon Yared, an Ethiopian computer scientist who lives in Alexandria. He sat recently with an Eritrean soil scientist who walks to the Starbucks regularly from his home in Arlington.

Sometimes the men come with children in tow. But they don't know whether their children will keep up the tradition as they grow older.

"We are the first Somali generation," Abdullahi said. "Probably our kids, they won't do this they'll be more integrated into society."

Some of the men are there at 5:30 a.m. when the Starbucks opens; some continue to sit out front even after the store closes at 10 p.m. If someone doesn't show up for a few days, the others will call to check up on him. If someone is out of work or new to America, they offer advice, and more. A few years ago, they dug into their own pockets and reached out to others on the Internet, raising $75,000 for the widow of a friend who had lived across the street and died of cancer.

The café is near two mosques, and many of the men have the call to prayer programmed into their cell phones, though some ignore it. When Ellafdi hears it he either goes to one of the mosques or slips around the corner to a cleaner part of the shopping center to pray on the ground.

Such cafés are places, according to Don Davis of the Strategic Church Network, where Christians can begin to establish lifetime relationships. "It takes longer; it's not a quick evangelism process," said Davis, who is trying to gather a "missional community" in the Hampton Roads area to begin a ministry to Muslims.

The goal is to build relationships by teaching Muslims how to use American appliances, taking them grocery shopping, and being a friend in a land full of strangers. "It has to be very real," he said. "They don't want to be converted. They don't like being used. They don't like being somebody's trophy. If they never convert, if they never become a follower of Jesus, then they're still your friend."

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

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