Coconut season

My house does not have as many coconut trees as other houses in the village. On the sand dune behind the house, my grandfather only planted two coconut trees, one fire coconut and one green coconut. On the rest of the sand dune, bamboo and other bushes grow wildly.

I don’t know if it’s because of the soil or not, but my two coconut trees and the rows of coconut trees in the village all have big skulls, each bunch is full of fruit. These summer days are the days when coconuts are at their best. The coconut meat is not too hard and the coconut water is just sweet enough, not too sour or too bland. Usually, the fire coconut is sweeter than the green coconut. But for my family at that time, every coconut was precious because it took 12 months for the coconut tree to produce a crop of fruit.

My father had to meticulously twist and weave dozens of dry banana leaves to make a satisfactory saddle. Carefully testing its sturdiness, he put a sharp machete on his belt, quickly twisted the saddle into a loop around his leg, and nimbly climbed up the towering coconut tree.

Below, we craned our necks to look until we felt dizzy. We could only see our father cutting coconut leaves and then coconut spathes. He dropped each item to the ground and at the end of that arduous climb, the bunches of coconuts laden with fruit were picked. The coconut leaves were split in half and woven beautifully to roof the hut to watch over the melons. The coconut spathes were flexible and strong, soaked in water, and then cut into thin strips to hang strings of tobacco. And of course, the most delicious coconuts were ours.

The first coconuts of the season had shiny green skins and fresh stems. The coconut water was slightly cloudy, sweet, and occasionally had a slight sour taste. The coconut flesh was not too hard, and could be grated with a spoon as lightly as if eating jelly. So we ate it all, but I was the hungriest, so I was given two coconuts.

In my village, coconuts are rarely sold in bunches or with their shells still on. Most people trim them, using a sharp machete to peel off the outer shell, leaving only the coconut skull and the thin flower-like stem on top. The bunch of coconuts with their shells peeled cleanly, when brought to the market, will be placed together with fresh watermelons still covered in powder.

Now my father is very old, his health is no longer good enough to be able to pick coconuts quickly. Even the banana leaf sledges have become a thing of the past when the safe and convenient coconut climbing tool was invented. However, every summer when I visit the village, I often see the carefully peeled coconuts with fresh stems like flowers still present in the corner of the market. It turns out that, in one way or another, the beautiful memories of the coconut season are still present in me. So that just by suddenly seeing the image of familiar coconuts, a whole sky of childhood comes alive. And so that before my eyes appears the image of my father quickly wearing the sledge on his feet to climb up and pick coconuts, the coconut trees planted firmly by my grandfather, cheering happily under the clear blue summer sky.

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