Make Way For Bananas

Ah, January! It is such a beautiful month in Mazatlán.  Although the nights are chilly, daytime temperatures are often in the mid-70’s ~ warm enough for shorts and t-shirts.  Just south of the  tropic of Cancer, Mazatlan enjoys sunshine in January from 7:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m. Watching the sunset over the ocean, wearing only a light jacket, and then taking a walk through town before going home to cook dinner is only one of the things I miss on these cold, dark Denver days.

When my home was full of guests, January mornings were delightful. I loved sitting outside enjoying a cup of coffee with Eunice and Gordon, our guests from Saskatchewan. They joined us from every year for three months, from early January until late March. By December we couldn’t wait until they were back with us again, sitting at our outside glass table, laughing and talking about what we planned to do that day.

A small pack of other January snowbirds also stumbled out of their rooms to greet us every morning. Students from Finland and Australia waved goodbye and hurried off to their Spanish classes. Others, in no hurry, poured themselves a cup of coffee and joined us as small birds sang and showered in our fountain. 

Queen Mary, who once gave Neto a “gift” of a dead cockroach in a matchbox, was quick to pull up a chair at our table. Dr. Imposter, who wore a diaper on his head as a make-shift turban, listened intently to Neto’s stories of growing up in Mazatlán and moving to the United States. When the sun began to rise in the sky, it was time to start our day.

January brought interesting guests to our home. It also brought gorgeous tropical flowers. Hibiscus, bougainvillea and plumeria blossomed in our courtyard. Our mango trees, overwhelmed with blossoms, promised a huge fruit crop in the spring.

Yet, nothing gave me more joy than seeing our banana trees wake up in January and produce the most incredible flower I’ve ever seen. The first time I saw the banana tree flower outside my office window, I didn’t know what it was ~ a big, reddish-purple bulb that looked like a womb. And that’s exactly what it was ~ a womb full of baby bananas. The flower grew larger and larger until it finally peeled open, revealing an enormous bunch of tiny, green bananas.

I sang the silly Chiquita Banana Song to myself as we waited for the bananas to ripen:

I’m Chiquita banana and I’ve come to say

Bananas have to ripen in a certain way.

When they are fleck’d with brown and have a golden hue 

Bananas taste the best and are best for you.

Finally after months of waiting, it was time for Neto to cut down the bananas with his machete. His friend, Publio, stood nearby, ready to help catch the heavy bunch so it wouldn’t fall on the ground. 

Make way for bananas! A bunch of fifty bananas, or more, spread out on the patio table. Fifty fragile bananas that needed to be given away before the house filled with flies. 

For the next two weeks, I made banana muffins and cakes, banana pancakes and pie. I gave bananas away to anyone who would take them. My neighbor insisted that I should sell them on the street corner, but I preferred to give them to the nuns across the street. 

Now, when I go to the store and see small bunches of four or six, long perfect bananas, I remember the tree in my backyard and my short, fat, sweet bananas. And I wish I were there.