Mindscapes - Adolescent Expression | [Essay] The Cheromoya Sprout

IIapa cracked the sky, sending sacred rays through the tempestuous storm of Pacha Mama (The Earth Mother). A sanctified parcel had been mailed down from the kingdom's holy heavens. 

The seed bled uncut diamonds that had been crowned by Inti herself. A stagnant layer was buried above it; a diabolical demon had tucked it into rest. The lurking shadows of the scorching sun took away the nutritious nutrients within it. 

Mama Kilya (The Moon God) ambled, sighing as she did, her sunrise rounds of an awaking earth. The grotesque storm was indeed arriving. As the weather became more radical, the gods cried gold waterless rain. The seeds yearned for a miracle. The storm had bathed the thought away, spiralling it down the drain. Hope was a fatal game for the seed, but all it could do was wait for checkmate. The starved seed became frail and suddenly forgot about the king’s check. The ghoul of the storm had expired, just like the future of the diminutive seed. 

The seed didn’t understand why it was sown if nobody would mother it. It thought a little more intently, its shell splitting down its spine. Was this all it was meant for? But why did the seed not know how captivating it would become? Did it not see an awaiting future? Not even true roots had yet been formed, its spotless coat now bone dry. The seed lingered for the day death would select it. Was it worthy of such a significant honor? 

In another pot, empathy was planted in the soil. A resting seed was placed in a moist bed and from there on it flourished. In this unique nursery, a Cherimoya seed was waiting to germinate. Native to South America it grew blissfully in a lush greenhouse in the heart of the Eastern Cape. Victorious, the seed powerfully stretched its first node out of the dirt. It was rewarded by the rapids of a waterfall keeping it snuggly attached to the earth's surface. The seed grew to become comfortable living between light and shade. Day by day the seed prospered and that was all that mattered. 

The Cherimoya seed was flourishing as it intended to grow into a warrior. No matter the response of the farmer this knight of an armoured seed knew its resilience. One day, its potent leaves caught the attention of a girl standing curiously in the forest of the garden. 

She was talking to the polite man about her desire to study horticulture science at university, but the wee seed could not understand the big vocabulary coming from this beautiful girl. 

“My abuelita is from Bolivia, ” The girl glowed with pride. 

“I am too!” The seed desperately wailed. But its mouth could only soak up water, it had no business yet to speak. 

The enthusiastic girl and the man suddenly made their way towards the eager seed. 
Tremulous, it wanted to conceal itself back into the twilight of the soil. 

“Here it is, but don't mention where you got it from, 

” The man winked while picking it up. 

“Take one for your grandma too, ” His smile shimmered. 

“Thank you.” The indebted girl expressed, holding onto its rim tightly. 

“Abuelita!” She excitedly called out after a parched long drive back home. 

“I got you a surprise!” She shrieked. 

Small tears filled her granny’s eyes watering the ostentatious seed below. Grandma's history was unfolding within this plant. 

“I grew up with this plant on my farm,” She said, laughing tears of joy. 

“This is part of who I am. You brought Bolivia back home with me,” She sniffed. 

Blushing the seed grew ever so slightly. 

~ Emily Carter ~