Have a banana

A couple of nights ago I was in my apartment when I heard a light knock on my door. Thinking it was my neighbor, an Australian woman with whom I’ve become friendly, I turned on the porch light and opened the door. A rush of hot, steamy air pushed against the cool, air conditioned interior. 

A Yapese man greeted me with a sack by his side. He was wearing the traditional thu’u, the loincloth worn by men throughout the island, and was shirtless. On his feet were flip flops, and his teeth were stained red from chewing betel nut. Surprised, I said hello. He introduced himself, “My name is Robert,” he said. He was selling coconuts and would I like to buy some, pointing to the sack leaning against the railing. I thanked him and responded that I do not eat coconuts. “I have bananas, too,” he said, “I get them from the trees here and sell them.” I again thanked him and said I have some and do not need more. 

He told me that he has four children at home and pointed up the hill above my apartment indicating where they live; that he has been looking for work but has been unable to find any; that they are struggling and his children are in school, Would I buy some bananas? 

I said I would if he brought them later next week because I have enough for now. I asked how much he charged for the bananas. He hesitated and then replied, “One dollar.” That would be fine, but please do not bring me a large bunch, I said, I only need a small bunch. I again asked that he bring them by next week sometime and I would leave an envelope on the porch with payment that he could collect the next day if I wasn’t at home when he came by.  He hesitated again. 

“I have a lot of bananas,” he said, spreading his arms wide to illustrate the length of the stem along which they grow. “Please don’t bring any more than a small bunch,” I replied, holding my hands together as if cradling a cluster of the small fruit that is sold throughout the island and can be seen hanging from palm trees along the roads and paths. Unlike the South American bananas that are sold in the U.S., they are half the size and come in over a dozen varieties.

 I asked if it would be alright if I left the money in an envelope. Again he hesitated. I realized he wanted the money now. I offered to give him the dollar and turned to get four quarters from my purse while he waited patiently. He took the quarters and I again asked that he bring the fruit next week when I would have eaten the bananas that I had on hand now. He thanked me and agreed. 

“I’ll take the coconuts to the people who live down the hill,” he said, his red teeth shining as he smiled and picked up the sack of hard, round fruit. “Yes,” I said, “I’m sure they would be interested. They’re Filipino and use coconut in their cooking. My name is Joyce. It was very nice meeting you, Robert. Good night.” I closed the door as he left.

When I arrived home last night after having dinner with friends, three bunches of bananas, two green and one ripe, had been left along the edge of the window sill overlooking the porch. I now have more bananas than I can consume. I will find friends who want them and pass them along. But, after talking with my friends during dinner and relating my story, they have told me that I need to put a stop to what will probably become an unrelenting stream of more and more bananas.

He once found a buyer for his coconuts. The first time he sold the buyer perhaps three from his sack. But soon he was bringing a wheelbarrow full and leaving them on the buyer's porch. 

I do not want to become a distributor of Robert's bananas in my village. I will need to find a way to tell him that I cannot use so many myself.  Two of my dinner companions have lived here for several years and advised me from experience to not answer the door when he comes next time. He will tell me that he needs to charge his computer and will plug it into the outlet on the porch if I offer. Before I know it, they said, his family will come to watch movies on the computer as it charges. He did, I said, tell me that he has a tablet but hasn't been able to charge it recently, I did not offer to charge it for him or allow him to plug it into the outlet next to the front door. 

I am wrestling with their advice since I would like to support his small enterprise. What’s one dollar to me but a small amount of change when to him it is his livelihood to support his family? But I need to heed my friends' greater wisdom on matters of this type. 

In the meantime, how about some banana bread? Banana pancakes, anyone? Banana pie? Custard? Here, have a banana. They’re good for you. You know…all that potassium and vitamin A. Please. Take some.