The Papaya Man, He carts his fruits and vegetables around with an antique motorcycle-drawn-cart: papayas, grapes, oranges, this and that, so forth and on. He broadcasts his coming from house to house by way of a loudspeaker: up and down and around my casa [my house], in San Juan Miraflores (Lima, Peru): he looks up at me, as I’m looking down at him, from my second story window, he stops…got my attention, he is better than a security guard, knows what is happening around him.
He wears a blue rosary around his thick brown neck, short in stature, broad and robust; he looks kindly at my wife, now looking at the fruit and vegetables: he picks out the biggest and most yellowish-green papayaweights it, he is smiling; ah! he made the sale, blessed be to the rosary.
He then starts his motor-cart back up again (it is 11:30 AM); not sure how it stirs, no handlebars, but nonetheless, he stirs it away, and down the street he sways, hands on the side of the cart…! The moment has passed, God has feed, both him and my wife, and perhaps me tonight!
#1287 3/24/2006 Note by the author. The nice thing about Peru, and Lima, is the old traditions are still alive, especially if you live here; the Papaya Man, the Bread Man, the Soda man, and so for and so on, come around and sell their goods, like it used to be back in the United States in the 50s.
See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com Poeta Laureado de San Jeronimo-Huancayo, Peru
