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July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes at the end of the story.
“I think I need a bananaquit.” Randy closed eBird with a sigh.
“Bananaquits are not why we’re here,” Ethel reminded him, and shut her laptop down for the night. They hadn’t come to Guatemala for bird watching, but it traveling with Randy had been more fun than Ethel imagined. She was the veteran reporter; he was the novice who’d gotten lucky when Ethel’s usual photographer had a nasty bout of food poisoning. At first, Randy reminded Ethel of a dog, following too close at her heels and looking for scraps. His hidden talent, though, was knowing every bird that flew by them. Ethel was initially annoyed at how he pointed out every grackle, oriole, and pigeon, but she’d come to like it. He saw things that Ethel had never paid attention to before.
She just couldn’t let him be distracted by them.
“I know. It’s all about the bananas, isn’t it?”
“Not all about the bananas. There’s a human interest story, too.” She yawned.
“Yes, but bananas are the most important part.” He rose from the bed where he had been sitting. “Who are we meeting with at the banana farm tomorrow?”
“Balam Tun. Review your notes on her before you go to sleep. Originally from Los Platanos, university in the United States, mad as all hell at Chiquita,” Ethel told him matter-of-factly.
Randy frowned. “Banana bastards.”
Tun’s farm was more than a two hour drive outside Puerto Barrios. The only reprieve from the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes had been Randy’s sharp eyes. They were too far out from civilization for eBird to work, but he wrote down the names of every bird he saw and heard on the way. Ethel was relieved when the bumpy ride was over, but Randy only said, “no quetzals, no bananaquits.”
Tun was a tall, broad-shouldered woman who greeted them warily, hands propped on her hips. They sat in her kitchen. Tun poured herself a glass of ice water, but didn’t offer any to the reporters. “So, you Americans got bored of your Cavendishes and wanted to see a real tul?”
At the look of confusion on Randy’s face, she said, “Banana. It’s the Q’eqchi’ word for banana.”
“We are interested in bananas, of course,” Ethel said, maintaining her well-honed professional composure. “But we also want to hear about your experience about starting your own farm, and how your hybrid bananas are helping fight against exploitation of Guatemalan people and resources.”
Tun huffed, got up from the table, and grabbed something from the counter. What she brought back was a rosy pink cylinder, fleshy and slightly curved. Randy blinked several times. Tun finally cracked a smile. “Why do you look so surprised? It’s just a banana.”
“I’ve never seen a banana that was pink,” Randy replied.
“Or not banana-shaped,” Ethel added. The fruit was long and thin, with a fat ball at its stem.
“It’s not as sweet as a Cavendish, but it’s resistant to Panama disease. And it’s a banana that only I have a patent on.” Though Tun tried to hid it, the pride was evident in her tone. “And no way in hell are those banana barons every getting their grubby little claws on it.”
Ethel and Randy sampled the fruit, finding it pleasantly firm and sweet, with a faint aftertaste of vanilla. “Would you mind if we toured the farm and took a few pictures? Our readers would love to see how everything works around here.”
Tun’s expression became stony. Ethel had seen this before. Tun was obviously protective of her work, and wasn’t going to let any Americans look at it too closely. Ethel would need to find a way to soften her if they were going to get anything of real substance.
While Ethel tried to find the right thing to say, a bird chirped outside the window.
“A bananaquit!” Randy announced. “Right outside!”
A slow smile tugged at the corner of Tun’s lips. “You like bananaquits? They’re all over the groves this time of day.”
“Omigosh, Ethel, did you hear that? Bananaquits! Here!”
Ethel wanted to remind him that he was a professional, not an excitable child, and they were supposed to be doing an interview. But Tun laughed. “Nice to see a fellow bananaquit lover. Sure, let’s go take a look.”
Ethel followed behind them, bewildered. Randy told her about all the birds he’d seen so far, while Tun gave him tips for spotting quetzals.
It wasn’t all about the bananas after all.
No, I have not lost my mind.
Thanks to fellow FFM author Damon Wakes, bananas have become an important part of FFM every year. But this year everyone was invited to join in. Today was a challenge day!
Element 1: Oh dear, we seem to have picked up too many flashback prompts for today’s challenge. Your story must include TWO of them. (They do not necessarily have to be word-for-word. Please just be sure Hydra can perceive their delightful presence.)
OR
Element 1: Every sentence of dialogue must include the word “banana”. If you choose this option, you must include a good amount of dialogue. Don’t be un-delightful.
OPTIONAL ELEMENT: Can you do both? You need to ask? The answer, of course, is: delightful! Doing both options is also a valid, if entirely optional, option.
I did both. 😱 I think it should count if I use “banana” in another language! The prompts I used were:
- I think I need a bananaquit. – by WindySilver
- bananas are the most important part – by FlashFicMonth
- “Why do you look so surprised? It’s just a banana.” – by bookcrusher
This challenge would have been a lot harder, except I’ve been reading Waste Wars by Alexander Clapper. I’m not far into it yet, but the first chapter is all about the United Fruit Company (which later became Chiquita) and Guatemala. Combined with Eating to Extinction by Dan Saladino (easily in my top 10 favorite nonfiction books), we had a story. Also: birbs.
Overlooked Books 