Papaya

For the last year and a half, I have been following the progression of a papaya tree growing in my backyard, just outside my kitchen window. It actually grew out of my compost pile, just a few months after I moved into this house. I preserved it, and watered it, and have watched it grow steadily, spurting rapidly in the wet months.

Papayas, unbeknownst to most outside of the tropics, take about 6 months from flower to ripe fruit. It is a slow process. So, when my tree bloomed, and I confirmed it was a female, I was very excited by the prospect of my very own papayas. I have been eagerly watching their development since February. Just last week, the fully formed fruit started showing streaks of yellow on their otherwise dark green skins. Almost ready!

Two days ago, upon entering the kitchen to brew my morning tea, I noticed that the three yellowist fruits had been removed from the tree. Not fallen to the ground (I checked), but plucked. This morning, a fourth was missing.

The only people that have been in the compound are my neighbors (it s a shared compound, meaning that there is only one gate to the fence around both our houses), and the landlord's handyman, who periodically comes by to tend to this or that. I haven't seen him come by in a few days. Which leaves me to conclude that my neighbors are picking my papayas.

Now, I know that I probably have more money than they do (although, their house is much larger), and that I can go and buy ripe papayas as the market up the street, but I am still very bothered by this papaya theft. I would never go and raid their garden, plucking the nearly ripe peppers or squash that they have planted. I have never gone into their back yard to raid the dozen banana trees there (though I would have like to!). To me, it has always seemed clear that although it is a shared gate, they stick to their side, and I to mine. Its true that they sometimes come into my backyard to clip shoots from a couple of the green plants there that they like to eat, but those are in the back, wild part of the yard, and I didn't see it as the same as raiding a garden or picking my papaya. I did find it very odd that when their dog died, they buried her in the back of my yard. But their side is all planted in banana trees, so even that I could rationalize.

The disappearance of the additional papaya today pushed me over the edge. I had decided to let them keep the first three, and be satisfied with this next ripe one. It was actually there when I woke up, but gone by the time I got off my skype call with Ali. I determined to confront them.

When my neighbor came home a few hours later, I asked him if he was picking papayas from the tree. He got a very guilty look on his face, said 'please wait, one minute, one minute' and ran away. He came have several minutes later with a papaya, and said that the landlord gave it to him yesterday, and that he didn't know it was from my tree. I told him that I was happy to share the papayas from the tree, but that I would at least like to get some. I think he was lying, both because of his demeanor, and because I was home all day yesterday, and I didn't see the landlord didn't come by (if he wasn't lying then I just confiscated a papaya that was gifted to them). At any rate, I now have one papaya. It's still not quite ripe (I would have left it on the tree a couple more days), but hopefully will continue to do so on my kitchen counter. I am very pleased to be able to taste at least one.

But I'm also feeling rather guilty about begrudging my neighbors a few pieces of fruit. How selfish can I be really. I tried to tell my self that its the principle of the matter. But what principle? That I should not share my fruit with someone who will enjoy it? I have no need for it really. So why can't I overcome this feeling of being somehow wronged? Am I that deeply entrenched in the ownership notion of my capitalist upbringing? I had already thought to bring them some of the fruit when it was ripe. So the outcome isn't very different. I don't like that this is bothering me so much; don't like what it says about me. But there you have it folks. I don't like people messing with my papaya.