Get Them Coco Down

There are these 2 coconut trees.

My mum grew them years ago. Just 2 petite sized coconut trees on the front lawn. Back then, they barely bore any fruits. And when they did, strangers would’ve already borrowed them without permission in the middle of the night. Which was very frustrating.

So much so that my mum used to tie an eery looking red knot around the coconut trunk. A miserable attempt that she resorted to in hopes of driving thieves away at the glimpse of her fake coconut curse. Something which ultimately failed and backfired because the thieves had obviously memorized the fake coconut removing spell themselves.

However, recently, they seem to be bearing coconuts by the dozens.

And if it was visible to the common eyes, you’d know that Tara had been eying in it for at least half a century, 3 weeks, and 5 days ago. Yup, even before my mum even thought about growing coconut trees. Or when fake coconut spells were conjured.

But she was a point above those thieves. Because she asked. With permission. I think it had something to do with her age and her inability to pull off climbing, plucking, and carrying coconuts the size of her head back to KL without being caught. It’s just a feeling but I might be wrong.

So my dad got the maid to cut down some coconuts for her. What initially was requested as 2 coconuts, was pushed into 4, and finally 7.

Exhilarated. With stars literally shooting straight out of her eye sockets and drool oozing from the side of her mouth, nostrils, and ears, she insisted on heaving all 7 coconuts into the car trunk herself. And no no. Not one by one. As in simultaneously ALL 7 into the back of the car. Amazingly, she succeeded in balancing the fifth coconut with her scrawny arms when everything crumbled. Yes, she has freakishly incredible strength and determination.

Finally, she accepted help from the adults.

While this was happening, she took a coconut, lightly dropped it, and rolled it onto someone’s car bonnet. While this was also happening, one of my dad’s friends who was enjoying every bit of Tara’s actions up til that moment, quickly jumped into his car, started his engine, and sped off. Without properly saying his goodbyes. How rude.

Here’s a photo of Tara’s second batch of coconuts.

I read somewhere that virtually every part of the coconut tree has some human uses. And I bet Tara can also find a thousand and one uses for them too back at home. Home. Where she lives on the 8th floor. With a permanent stained record of throwing things off the balcony. Like her pacifier. Certain decorative items in the living room. And the maid’s handphone.