It's not the serene quietness of the botanical garden I used to live in, but it can emit its own pleasure at times. There are a few spots where my nose is assaulted by horrific odors from the sewage and my vision is besieged by piles of garbage along the roadside, just as there are a few spots where the palm tress sway with grace and the skyline hosts a red rose sun. If I turn my gaze to the left at just the right moment I can see the sandy beach leading up to the water of the lagoon. From my distance it is as beckoning as the ocean.
Trees have always held a special allure for me and I spend quite a bit of time examining the palms and their fruits. I keep track (loosely) of the banana bunches and wonder who will ultimately pick them and whether they will be for sale or if someone will have the immediate pleasure of snacking on the sweet fruit.
It was with shock then, and sadness, that as I passed one day I noticed the trees had all been chopped down. The bananas hadn't merely been harvested, the small groove had been dessicated. The palm leaves appeared to have been chewed up and spit out. The trunks hacked into and left bare and exposed to the sun.
I took it as a metaphor for how my new year has been progressing. I am my own worst enemy here in Abidjan, and I am a formidable foe. I have battled my thoughts, been stunned by my emotional reactions and become paralyzed in my physical expression. No part of the normal me escaped the supervillan me unscathed. Not this January. It was a heck of a month. So it seemed fitting, just perfect, exactly like my world to walk by one day and see one small bright spot in my morning destroyed.
Except a few days ago I was walking by, lost in my thoughts when I looked up suddenly to a surprising sight. The banana stumps had all sprouted beautiful, bright green shoots. I stopped in my tracks and just watched them, unfurling with new life in the hazy morning light. I was breathless. I wondered how and when the new shoots had blossemed and gotten so tall. Maybe it happened over the weekend? But really, where was I and how could I miss something so grand?
Among my better qualities is a strong sense of justice. If I had been willing to accept the ruined banana grove as a metaphor for my life, then I was obliged, by default, to accept the baby shoots springing forth out of the garbage as a sign of something too. And it is February. Things are definitely looking better this month. I'm not going to go too much farther ahead than that.
 |
| One lovely, banana leaf unfurling |
 |
| Banana grove surrounded by garbage and remnants of the trees that used to be |
