The color of a Capeverdean’s fantasy of Cape Verde is inevitably green. Green is the hope that never dies, the dreams that may never come true, but linger persistently in the people’s common consciousness, and the faith that brings new horizons closer, even if only in the heart of the people. Green is the color of nature at its glory and green is what we all wished Cape Verde would be. Instead the archipelago has been somewhat untrue to its name. The land has become naked as the green has gradually been uprooted to reveal a deep, and at times reddish, brown, the color of the mother skin. Nevertheless, there are still traces of times long gone, of places where one can become inebriated by those now quasi sacred fruits from one’s childhood. I had the pleasure of spending two days in one of those rare places.
On March 30th and May 1st, my brother-in-law’s firm celebrated International Worker’s day with a family picnic on their farm. There were all the trees that bear the fruits I mostly love: mango, goyaba, tamarind, papaya, coconut, tangerine, banana (not just any banana, but “silver” banana), and many others whose names in English I do not recall. There were sugar canes planted everywhere. These are used to make the finest rum known on the islands. There was water from a natural spring running to fill up an irrigation tank that we converted into a swimming pool for the picnic.
Most of us have heard of the description of heaven up in the clouds filled with angels dressed in white and playing the harp. I say, heaven is a green wide land filled with tropical fruit-bearing trees and with abundant spring water that empties itself on sun-kissed bay filled with crystal-blue, warm water that caresses one’s body with every stroke. If that’s heaven, I fear not death.
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