What you’d learned, after you’d realized, the importance of the crops that your father planted, translated…
After reading Mr. Straight-Up’s “Thankful for the Thieves” on September 19th, I’d felt, that strong sense of guilt rising up from the pit of my stomach, and I was reminded of something I did, that wronged my own, parents.
During the fifties, sixties, the export of banana to Japan brought the huge gains to the households, almost every single family planted the bananas, unfortunately, we only had two tiny patches of land, we’d had to plant the rice, the fruits, the vegetables, and the yams to raise the livestock, there’s NO extra land to use. For the sake of living, my parents filled up some land by the river, and started, planting the bananas too. With the fertilizing of the crops, the saplings grew taller and taller, as the fruits grew to form, my father would, wrap them up in plastic bags to prevent the bugs, and, as they became ripened, he’d, put the price tags on them, and had me sell them on the streets after school.
In the fifth grade then, I’d, always, kept my head super low, worried that I may bump into the naughty boys in my class who’d, called my name, those who’d, tagged along behind me. Other than worrying I might see my classmates from school, I’d also worried that the aunties may inquire, whose child I was, how old I am, why did I end up on the streets, selling the fruits? I’d felt these were, private matters, nobody’s business, and yet, they just, kept prodding, prodding. And because of that, I’d, hated, selling the bananas on the streets.
One evening, my father came home from the paddies, with that ashen look on his face, told my mother, that the bananas were, stolen, and now, we can’t even pay for the money we owed at the rice shops. As I’d heard that the bananas got stolen, I was ecstatic, thought, “Thank you, thief”, that way, I wouldn’t be, on the streets, selling them.
And yet, during that period of time, my parents became, stressed out about the meals that they’re having troubles providing for us, when my father got home from the fields, he’d, sat down on the doorsteps, and started, chain-smoking, and my mother didn’t say a single word at home, all day long. At that very moment, I’d finally understood, that the bananas my father planted was, our, livelihoods, and I was, so ashamed of the thought of gladness of the bananas being, stolen off the trees.
Ever since, whenever I had the opportunity to sell anything for my parents on the streets, I’d gone out, with my head, held high, because I’m glad, that I can, do my share, to help shoulder the burdens of household economics for my parents.
And so, this, is how you’d, matured, from watching your parents worried over money, and from before, you’d felt ashamed, because you felt, that selling the banana your father harvested was not what you’d wanted to do, but after the bananas were stolen off the trees, and you’d watched your parents worrying over money, you’d gained a brand new perspective on things.