Fruit Fruit Fruit

In the past two months I have had two run-ins with the fruit in our backyard and the neighbors.

The first was with a bush Nelton grew called cocona. A neighbor lady, who lives upstairs, so she knew it was there as she can look out her window down into our backyard, stopped by and asked me to sell her some of our cocona. Right away I wondered if I should, but Nelton hasn’t really been eating it, I reasoned, and there was plenty. I thought of telling her to return to deal with him, but sorta felt foolish at doing that too.

I invited her in to harvest some, expecting she would only take a reasonable amount, and set back to peeling my potatoes (Mistake #1). I decided that I would use the money earned as an offering towards a church project. I didn’t just want to give her the fruit and make a habit out of it. Sometimes generosity in this culture does more harm than good, a lesson I’ve not easily learned.

After several minutes I had my first inclination that she didn’t only have a few in mind. Sure enough, before long she appeared in the kitchen door with half a bag plump full.

She asked me how much I wanted for it. Now, I really don’t know anything about this fruit, or what it’s worth. So I figured she could decide what was fair and pay me accordingly (Mistake #2). When I told her that, she responded “50 centimas la cocona.” Directly translated this means “50 centimos (roughly 18 cents) the cocona.” I sorta took it as 50 centimos each cocona (Mistake #3). I agreed and felt decent about my little deal.

Within a few minutes, Joe (a teen-ager who spends most of days here with us) appeared at the table and set down four coins, three 10’s and one 20, “the neighbor brought this by for the fruit.” Well, did I translate poorly. 

I went outside to find 3-6 of his precious fruits left on the vine, unripe, or course. The day didn’t rush by as I awaited my husbands return to grace him with news of my ridiculous business transaction. I started the conversation by asking how much cocona costs, “I don’t know, maybe like 5 for 1 sole. It’s kinda expensive right now. Why?,” noting my face, “What did you do?” 

I dryly relayed the story, and thankfully he found humor in it. Although he had only recently promised the fruit to his sister, who was going to make fruit juice to sell, he wasn’t upset. He just used it to teach me a lesson about selling things. I had been gathering things for a sort of garage sale to raise money for church projects, but he said everyone would just try to haggle me down to next to nothing. I decided I could find a better use for my time and unwanted things. And I determined to really take the lead on such things as Nelton’s garden.

The second incident was just the other day. There is a plantain/banana tree in our backyard. When we began renting a stock was growing and Nelton gave it to the Landlord, because we already had some from the jungle. But was in the contract.

Well, the day before the wall went up, the landlords daughter came by and said something about her “plata” that fell. “Plata” is slang for money. I asked again, thinking maybe she dropped her money out the window into our backyard. Only the second time I understood her correctly that she had come to get her fruit from my backyard.

Now, I have been waiting and letting that fruit grow and not cutting it prematurely as it would make great smoothies and other snacks. Remembering the cocona incident, I found my backbone and said, “but that’s my fruit.” She said, “it’s yours?” I confirmed that last years produce was theirs, but this year was ours. “Oh,” she said back, “but pastor [Nelton] told me to come chop it down.”

Another dilemma. If Nelton did tell them to come get it and just forgot to tell me, I’d look like a greedy jerk for saying it’s MY FRUIT! Plus, I knew the wall was going up and the fruit would probably be in the way so it had to come down, maybe he just thought they could get it and save us the trouble. I thought about calling him to confirm the story, but that would only make me look like an untrusting American or something. So I said, “well, he didn’t say anything to me, but if that’s what he said, go ahead.”

I was kinda stewing the rest of the day, waiting for Nelton to get home. If he did just give it away, why didn’t he tell me and at least give me to chance to have some? And if he didn’t give permission, I’d be even more mad that she lied to me!

When he got home it was one of the first things I asked him. Indeed, he had not said anything about the fruit! He said that they talked about fruit from the last harvest, but not this one. He said, if he would have given them some, it would have been half, but of course, it wasn’t really a big deal to him.

Okay, I didn’t really care about the fruit too much anymore, I was mad that she lied to my face without even flinching! And about my husband. the rest of the day I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The next morning I work up with it on my mind. I thought, “who cares, just forget about it.” But then I kept thinking if I don’t confront the lies, who will? If I don’t say anything, I’m just letting her keep on her way and I’m saying it’s okay when it’s not.

I was a little more stressed by my conviction to confront. The rest of the day I was thinking of every way to confront. If I just accuse off the bat, that’s not fair, maybe she did take something he said the wrong way. But if I give her a chance to say something, she’ll probably just lie about lying. Nelton said I should just tell her, “I don’t like being lied to. Nelton didn’t say anything about the fruit and while I don’t care about the fruit, don’t lie to me.” Direct and to the point, but it doesn’t give her a chance to tell her part of the story.

Well, I should have heeded his advise. When I talked to her I said, “Nelton said he didn’t say anything about the fruit. When did you think you heard something?” She explained that he didn’t tell her, he told her mom and she was just coming to do what she told her to do. He wasn’t there to check her story, and again, I don’t know what conversations he’s had. So I reminded her that he didn’t say anything about this fruit, and that I don’t like being lied to. She pretty much slid out of it by putting it on her mom though.

Who knows if I even did any good?