The little café that’s meant the world

Beccy Leach

It may be a beautiful spring day but while the sun is blazing outside, I’m sipping tea in a dark basement of a coffee shop, with dim artificial light. And yet I choose to do this, saddened that it’s the final time.

Why? It’s where I’ve spent thousands of hours over the past eight years or more, socialising in that basement gloom with people who have lit up my life.

People who’ve found sanctuary in Wales – and friendship in a Cardiff café. The basement belongs to the city centre branch of Little Man Coffee, a former post office in the 1960s Rapport building.

The café closes this weekend after 11 years in business.

I can’t really remember Little Man Coffee opening but I do recall, in its early days, colleagues at my workplace arriving with take-away coffees from there, praising the quality and flavour.

As a tea drinker, that meant nothing to me but I soon came to love the relaxed atmosphere of the place and its friendly staff.

Games

Most importantly for me, since early 2017, it’s become the home of our little social group where we’ve welcomed hundreds of refugees, asylum seekers and anyone who likes a chat and some games.

So many people have passed through. Most had been forced to flee their own countries and faced huge challenges. Some of their stories are harrowing.

But we’ve tried to help them make new connections. To rebuild their confidence. And their lives. And we’ve watched and marked their achievements with pride.

Take Mudasser, who we first met in the group when he had recently fled the violence of Sudan. We watched him work hard to improve his English and pass his exams, to the point where he’s now studying pharmacy.

“It was more than just a café – it was where we made new friends, built lasting relationships, shared laughter and celebrated birthdays, Eid and Christmas together for eight amazing years,” said Mudasser, at news of the café closing.

“We played games, shared moments over good food and conversation and created a true sense of community.

“Thank you to everyone who made Little Man such a special and unforgettable part of our lives.”

It was an experience I stumbled into. I’d been volunteering at Oasis refugee charity when I had a chat with one of the managers about encouraging some of the people there to move away from their comfort zone and engage with the wider community.

That’s how our “Coffee and Conversation” group started. That was supposed to be a working title but somehow it stuck.

When I spoke to Little Man owner Rob Cooper tentatively about the idea of us meeting every Saturday morning in his café, I was expecting resistance. Isn’t that what every café owner hates? People outstaying their welcome and not spending enough.

But Rob was enthusiastic from the start. He even let us bring in our own food and snacks and offered us the basement for free, except on the rare occasion when someone else was booked.

After lockdown, I received a message from Rob: “Please come back and meet in the café. You’re the sort of people I really want here.”

The fact that we had downstairs to ourselves meant we could have guest speakers, live music, art sessions and, most importantly, lively games and celebrations.

For our first meeting, we were a group of just nine. In our party last week – our final time in Little Man – more than 20 people came, including some who we hadn’t seen for years.

Our relationship with Little Man extended further when my husband and I set up a social enterprise offering bike tours of Cardiff.

We struggled to find a base until, after chatting to Rob, he offered space in the storage area he leases at the other end of the building.

It felt like the perfect fit: our guests could have a good coffee and a snack in the café before we set off.

The name “Little Man” was chosen by Rob (who’s by no means small) as he wanted to be the little man making his mark.

He’s reluctantly closing the café because of economic pressures. His other branches in the Riverside area of Cardiff and in Swansea will stay open, and the delivery business will still operate.

Our weekly group meetings will also continue but as we struggle to find a new base, I’ve come to realise what a one-off the café was.

“It wasn’t just a building or a routine stop in the week. It was the first place when I arrived in Cardiff six years ago where I was met with warmth and kindness,” said Nesrin from Sudan.

Ali from Syria said: “You begin to build a relationship with a place once if becomes tied to your memories. Little Man has been the backdrop of both joyful and sorrowful moments in my like, making it a truly unforgettable spot.”

It’s not the only place to shut in these challenging financial times, but for us, this was more than just somewhere to eat and drink. These independent cafés can be such an important part of the community.

I never got to try the coffee. Some habits are hard to shake off. But I leave with appreciation of the past lives of others, thousands of miles from that basement. Enriched by getting to know them.

And while I don’t remember the day the cafe opened, I’ll certainly remember with huge sadness the day it closes its shutters for the final time.