Haiti Stories - The Little Boy and the Orange Tree

Growing up in Haiti, my neighbor had a farm not too far from town. I used to go there from time to time to snack up on some fruits.

One Saturday morning, I grabbed my "ti kouto" a little homemade knife I made out of metal strapping, and headed out to the farm.

Half hour later, I was there. This time I felt like eating oranges... Zoranj Di Bwa, It looks like a sour orange but it is sweet.

There was this little "Pie Zoranj Di Bwa" (orange tree) not far from the Guayamounco river, and it was ohhh... so colorful... loaded with oranges. and so I decided to make of it my temporary treehouse.

So I climbed up the tree, and for about an hour, it was like McDonalds in the middle of countryside Haiti.

I ate... I ate... I ate... One after the other... I just kept on eating...

And then...

I couldn't get down!


My stomach was so full, I could not climb down that tree!

So I did the next best thing... I found a nice steady Y-shaped branch and decided to take a nap until my tummy could digest some of that sweet liquid.

With the Guayamounc river wind blowing, the sound of the stream, the chats of Haitian women gossiping as they wash their dirty laundry, and the sounds of men crossing the river coming and going from "Nan Bouk" to "Andeyo," it was one of the most peaceful naps I remember having on the Haitian countryside.

Risky... I know... but it would have been riskier trying to get off that tree on full stomach.


I wonder what happened to that little orange tree!

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All Comments (2)

Wawah says...

I love this story.

You mention "nan bouk", are you from Jean

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Patrick Gaspard says...

Like that little story.

Let's hope that the orange tree did not ended up in some kind of charcoal furnace.


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