By Daphisha Makri
2020, I hear of men struck with poverty, purchasing two dried fish with a few potatoes so they could make soup to feed their families. When my father economised on meat which he had just bought, I feared for a moment, but what I didn’t realise was that Jesus, who listened to my prayers, was gently reminding me that I shouldn’t be afraid. Luke 9:10. He reminded me of how He had fed the five thousand with a mere five loaves of bread and two fish. Blessings fill my home this desperate time when a deadly virus spread worldwide, killing millions in a matter of days.
The global lockdown isn’t only a threat; it is a reality, starving and depriving the poor of basic income as they strive helplessly looking for other means and ways to find food. Living in a third world country, governments can do but little to help provide food to the majority. So the people residing in villages (also because they now have plenty of time on their hands) turn to nature and start to sow various kinds of plants suitable to the climate and the regions where they live. This was also what I started doing. But used to holding a pen, made it difficult for me to use a hoe. Yet curiosity drove me to the backyard and I dug rows of holes, crushed organic manure with my bare hands and distributed each gaping earth generously, after which I gently placed the seeds and covered the earth with care. Some say plants don’t feel, but that didn’t stop me from humming a melody as I planted the seeds, and the bamboos overhead swayed. The rain drizzled just enough to quench the earth’s thirst that day, but the very next day, God sent sunbeams to where my seeds lay.
Soon my seedlings sprouted. They were merely little sprigs. I was tempted to pick one, so I could inspect my work thoroughly. But weeds taught me patience. I waited a little longer so they’d become more decipherable with growth. While I waited for days, the rain poured, the sun gave warmth and the wind refreshed them, as the bamboos continued to dance in excitement at the prospect of the harvest. Barely a month had passed, the green shoots stood firm on the ground. As they continued to grow, an inch or more every day, they danced along with the bamboos and the banana leaves, calling me, letting me know that it was almost harvest time.
I was so eager to pull out each one of the spring onions from its root, for that’s what my plants are, but it wasn’t the right time. I only broke a few drooping leaves and took them home. They were aromatic, full of flavour and juicy. I wanted more. Once, I took a fancy scissor and cut one of them off midway, but my father disapproved. Though some had already been cut and some broken off, I stopped. Where I live, the earth is like the “Garden of Eden”. Even if nobody tills the land, “streams rise from the earth to water the ground”. A mulberry branch cut off and thrown carelessly towards a cemented drain grows strong and even bears sweet fruits. Vegetables and fruits of various kinds grow according to their seasons. Big and strong bananas thrive amongst weeds; mulberries bear sweet fruits; ripe mangoes drop like infinite blessings in the Summer; tamarinds hang like jewelry; sohphie and litchis are sour and sweet temptations; pineapples proudly bear their crowns; warm peaches blush with radiance; guavas along with passion fruits and pomegranates hide gems inside; heavy lemons and tall sugarcane stalks stand proud and beautiful. The blessings are endless! All we need to do is to tame the weeds.
However, blindness and laziness have tamed us instead. We fail to give thanks, to care, share and multiply our blessings. We let ourselves run dry, blowing away with the dusty Trade wind, in the hustle-bustle of life and the long idle naps we take. It wasn’t until this Bane turned Blessing reminded me of the cool and pleasant earth that I felt it in my hands and felt life itself. I long to uproot and take my onion bulbs home, but Father is patient. He says, “Give them a little more time and love”. Blessings fill my home today. Every tree bears fruit. The wind aids generously. Every field turns green, and birds chirp and rejoice. And my Father smiles, looks at me and says, “Very soon, Eden will be restored.”
The global lockdown isn’t only a threat; it is a reality, starving and depriving the poor of basic income as they strive helplessly looking for other means and ways to find food. Living in a third world country, governments can do but little to help provide food to the majority. So the people residing in villages (also because they now have plenty of time on their hands) turn to nature and start to sow various kinds of plants suitable to the climate and the regions where they live. This was also what I started doing. But used to holding a pen, made it difficult for me to use a hoe. Yet curiosity drove me to the backyard and I dug rows of holes, crushed organic manure with my bare hands and distributed each gaping earth generously, after which I gently placed the seeds and covered the earth with care. Some say plants don’t feel, but that didn’t stop me from humming a melody as I planted the seeds, and the bamboos overhead swayed. The rain drizzled just enough to quench the earth’s thirst that day, but the very next day, God sent sunbeams to where my seeds lay.
Soon my seedlings sprouted. They were merely little sprigs. I was tempted to pick one, so I could inspect my work thoroughly. But weeds taught me patience. I waited a little longer so they’d become more decipherable with growth. While I waited for days, the rain poured, the sun gave warmth and the wind refreshed them, as the bamboos continued to dance in excitement at the prospect of the harvest. Barely a month had passed, the green shoots stood firm on the ground. As they continued to grow, an inch or more every day, they danced along with the bamboos and the banana leaves, calling me, letting me know that it was almost harvest time.
I was so eager to pull out each one of the spring onions from its root, for that’s what my plants are, but it wasn’t the right time. I only broke a few drooping leaves and took them home. They were aromatic, full of flavour and juicy. I wanted more. Once, I took a fancy scissor and cut one of them off midway, but my father disapproved. Though some had already been cut and some broken off, I stopped. Where I live, the earth is like the “Garden of Eden”. Even if nobody tills the land, “streams rise from the earth to water the ground”. A mulberry branch cut off and thrown carelessly towards a cemented drain grows strong and even bears sweet fruits. Vegetables and fruits of various kinds grow according to their seasons. Big and strong bananas thrive amongst weeds; mulberries bear sweet fruits; ripe mangoes drop like infinite blessings in the Summer; tamarinds hang like jewelry; sohphie and litchis are sour and sweet temptations; pineapples proudly bear their crowns; warm peaches blush with radiance; guavas along with passion fruits and pomegranates hide gems inside; heavy lemons and tall sugarcane stalks stand proud and beautiful. The blessings are endless! All we need to do is to tame the weeds.
However, blindness and laziness have tamed us instead. We fail to give thanks, to care, share and multiply our blessings. We let ourselves run dry, blowing away with the dusty Trade wind, in the hustle-bustle of life and the long idle naps we take. It wasn’t until this Bane turned Blessing reminded me of the cool and pleasant earth that I felt it in my hands and felt life itself. I long to uproot and take my onion bulbs home, but Father is patient. He says, “Give them a little more time and love”. Blessings fill my home today. Every tree bears fruit. The wind aids generously. Every field turns green, and birds chirp and rejoice. And my Father smiles, looks at me and says, “Very soon, Eden will be restored.”
