It was last September that I got to visit the town of Eggplant-ville. The guavas weren’t ripe yet, but that didn’t stop the kids from picking and eating them. They offered me some and laughed at the expression on my scrunched-up face.
Yesterday a young woman from Eggplant-ville stopped by our house with a huge bag of guavas. When I offered to pay her for them, she said, “I didn’t come to sell.” The heavy bag had been carried for over an hour, uphill, on a donkey and then the last half mile tied to the girl’s back in her shawl.
“These are the last guavas for now,” she said. “You won’t taste any more this year.” We sent her home with some flour and beans in exchange for her generosity and praising God for friendships in the surrounding towns.
