Greenfruit: Notes On A Story

#ShortStory #FlashFiction #Literature #SmokeLongQuarterly

Recently, I had a piece of very short fiction (Flash fiction) published in Smoke Long quarterly.

• You can read the flash story titled Greenfruit.

• And the (really fun!) interview where I discuss the inspiration behind the story.

In this blog post I will be discussing the step by step behind-the-scenes of Greenfruit, enjoy!

Here is the first thing, Greenfruit initially did not have that title. I named the story ROSE because when I was creating it, I wanted to summarize something I wanted the story to convey – hope.

And, why did I choose that name, Rose, to do that? What about a rose signifies hope?

Well, that is easy enough to answer. I wrote the very first line (which didn’t make it to the final version of the story!), back in February.

Early in the year in Nigeria, the harmattan winds are strong, the air is dry, but around February and March, the weather begins to change over to what will be the lush, rainy season. The trees begin to prepare – they sprout shy, small flowers among their leaf-bare branches (not actual roses, but just as red). It always makes me feel like they are preparing in anticipation for a better year.

And I always hope for a better year, anyway.

I think we all do. I am the sort of person that as pragmatic as I am, I want to dream of the future being better. I want tomorrow to hold out a fresh wet branch and bring on better things.

But I tend to be shy about hope. About hoping. The hope I have, as strong as it is, is always tender

and I often worry – a bit breakable.

So I cannot help but admire trees and their boldness. There they are, growing tiny yellow, pink flowers on the ends of branches that do not even have leaves!

Not worrying about how ridiculous they might look in the present moment for wanting to give themselves a bright, fresh start.

by Lamidi Rafiat. Can you spot the young, red flowers at the end of the branches of these trees? Bare of leaves, but blooming again all the same

This is a picture a friend took back at the start of 2019 when I used to go for Saturday morning jogs in a nearby field.

Also by Lamidi Rafiat. But with me staring at the tree this time. Ha-ha

That picture illustrates something about seasons changing, and about how I could lean into the natural world as it changes into yet another time period – and hope.

THE BOY IN THE STORY

The boy in this story has to make a choice. And while it is an important choice to make, I don’t think it is quite as important as the reason for the choice.

I think that, the choices we make are just as important as the ethos underneath what choices we make.

What is the real factor behind what we do? Behind what we choose?

Do we choose out of hope or despair, or resignation?

In the choices we make, are we giving ourselves a chance, over and over again despite the humdrum and cruelty of the world we live in?

Are we trying again?

I was put in a situation some years ago where I was forced to ask myself that question.

It was in 2018, I started a new year, and I was also starting a new phase in my life. I had crossed over the hurdle of one of the hardest examinations I had written. I was starting out clinical rotations.

And it felt so bright to be in that time. And it was easy to feel that way too; it felt like the air I was walking in was friendly, open and almost celebratory. I would walk past the trees with their loud blooms and be so excited by them, be just as excited and hopeful for the year to start.

I was really excited about that year. Ha-ha.

But it turned out to be one of the most chaotic years of my life.

A lot happened in that year; fights with people I really loved, the end of friendships that were very dear to me. A crazy workload. A lot of frustrations. An incredibly turbulent relationship that I was more than happy to eventually get rid of.

At the end of that year, I was drained. When 2019 started, I did not have the strength in me to muster the courage and ease I walked into 2018 with.

I just wanted the year to go by, and act like it did not even see me. Ha-ha.

There is something about this though; it means I had lost the courage to be hopeful. Or to be loudly hopeful.

Looking at it now, I realize the amount of courage, the amount of hope that is required to take a look at the future, and believe it can be better.

Especially in the context of a present that feels like a war. That feels like it could eat you up if you even dared to move too loudly, to move too boldly.

I eventually dared to do this very thing, I dared to hope but it wasn't easy.

WHAT TO DO ABOUT THINGS YOU CANNOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT.

The boy in the story is placed in a much different situation that I was.

One that I have to admit, is incredibly difficult for anyone.

In the line of work that I do, I have to see sick patients. Some patients who are really sick, and never get better. No matter what anyone tries.

Although, it was not because of this that I began to question the fairness or unfairness of the universe. How it seems like the world can be perfect – trees blooming and making fruit- and then everything goes up.

I had been questioning these things for a while - it was not because of the work I do that I began to ask those questions – but they seemed even more relevant in the face this.

In the face of the unfairness of pain; what is the rhyme or reason?

How can we look at pain, and at death, and dare to hope?

So, I wrote a story about this – not to answer the question, but to define the question, to define the problem that many people have to deal with.

C.S Lewis’ The Problem Of Pain is an amazing meditation on the seeming entropy – the randomness - of pain and how we as humans are betrayed when we realize the disorderliness of suffering. Suffering holds nothing sacred, if you let it, it will eat you up and leave nothing behind.

I reread The Problem Of Pain during the lockdowns – when we were all dealing with the pain of having the world as we know it thrown out of shape.

And I found its honesty to be comforting, how it did not mince words about how much pain just hurts.

How we are allowed to hurt, and acknowledge the depth of that hurt, but also, I found hope in how the book told us we do not need to just sit back, and let it go on hurting.

We get to fight back too, to try against the things that try to extinguish every last bit of us.

I don’t think we can fight back pain without a good deal of hope. It is essential. And, I think what we hope in is very crucial. We cannot stand in the face of the darkness of the world, and hope in something that is not strong enough to fight the evil in it.

So what is that thing? For me, it is the faith I have in God.

I often think about it; that there is something very precious inside of us, that if we let the suffering in the world corrupt, then we have lost a bit of our humanity by rolling over, and not fighting back.

Life is meant to be lived fully. We cannot be fully human if we roll over and let bitterness, fear and hurt rule the way we look at the future, or at the present. And I am deeply, deeply grateful that we do not have to give up.

If you remember (or know ha-ha) the Greco-Roman telling of how evil got into the world, then you will know what Pandora’s Box is.

Basically, Pandora was given a gift by the gods, and asked not to open it. (A very odd gift)

She did eventually, and out of that box came all of the evil in the world; wars, suffering, famine, death and all of those things. Pandora was distraught, but after she managed to close the box back, she heard a voice calling out from the box. That voice was the last thing that the gods gave to the world; Hope.

Someone said that giving the world hope is a double edged sword; is it wholly good to give people the chance to fight something that could very well kill them?

Well, I ask, is it fair to give them nothing at all to prepare them for the small chance that they might win?

WHY THIS STORY?

I write stories, poems, essays, and even these blog posts to be signposts; reminders to myself about something that I found on this journey through life. I find something important, and I write it down. i write it here, or in a story or in a poem.

It is better that the lesson is remembered the easy way – through art, compared to the hard way, through life.

And for this story, I wanted to remind myself that –despite suffering and hopelessness, try. Again.

We only really lose when we give up.

And even if this blog post or art didn't exist,, aren’t we lucky that the natural world creates that reminder for us, year in and year out; we get to watch the trees, watch the earth try again. (I mean, climate change is a real thing, but you get what I mean).

I hope we always remember to hope. Over and over again no matter how many times we have to. And to do the hard, honest work that it requires of us.