The Papaya Story

A privilege of being onboard the Africa Mercy in Liberia is the fresh tropical fruits served during the meals. One of the fruits being served this week is papaya. The suit taste comes because the fruit stays on the tree until it is almost ripe, which allows it to develop a natural suitness. Growing up in Rio we ate papaya several ways; unripe papaya cooked on coconut, papayas shake, and the best of all was papaya topped with sugar.

One summer, in my grand mother’s house in tall papaya tree, between the papayas, one particular papaya catches my attention. That papaya was yellow while the others were green. On a tropical fruit tree green means stop it is not ripped yet, but yellow means go for it. Didn’t take me long to find a bamboo to knock the yellow papaya down. There was only one problem; I was not supposed to take fruit from the trees without my grand mother’s permission, so I came up with a plan.

I walked around the house, as if I was minding my own business, returning to the same place where I found a papaya on laying the ground; right way I brought it to my grand mother: “Here grandma”, I said, “I found this papaya on the ground.” She calmly took the papaya. “Interesting, she said, while putting the papaya in a fruit basket, “papayas don’t fall from the tree by themselves”. Surely that was not the first time a city sleeker grand child had tried to fool grandma.