The fruit-vendor's daughter

My usual fruit vendor is a pleasant Indian lady. I never asked her name although we make small chit chat whenever I pass. She isn't the cheapest, but her produce is superb. This convenient drive-by on the way from school is a perfect stop for my daughter who has always delighted going there in portugal season to order a heap of citrus, a hand of bananas or a huge wedge of watermelon which vendor-lady will happily cut so my eager primary schooler could get a few runny chomps on our way home.

Anyway, the other day we stopped to find her revising spelling homework with her own daughter (age 7) calling out words like extremely, busy and many others which the child spelled to perfection (even though the pronunciation was a bit countrified). I was a little surprised to see the child was wearing the uniform of a private school with a very good reputation in Port-of-Spain. I complimented her daughter's academic ability and was pleased to hear the mother tell me that she was indeed pleased that the school took reading very seriously and gave special help to those children who were behind the class. Duly impressed when I considered that this mild mannered fruit-seller on the corner of a dangerous 'ghetto' neighbourhood, also a terrible place to be at Carnival for the fete Deejays noisy boom, boom, booms, worked early hours setting up from 8 sharp and working late into the afternoon to make sure her daughter got a sound local education.

Dare I optimistically suppose that such humble people in Trinidad will someday inherit this country--those who work consistently to ensure that their children succeed not just because they want better for them than their own meagre existences but also because they have made the decision to care and to love.