The Fruithole Courts - A mid-summer comedy

You could cut the tension in the air with a sharp knife. Feet shifted uneasily. Someone started finger drumming on the table, and then stopped abruptly. The silence after the weird outburst only made the tense air even tighter. Around the table, nature didn't give a damn. Fireflies danced around the intensity, making beautiful light patterns unconcernedly. At looking distance, a sparkling green pool... Well, sparkled. You've got to hand it to the Khabunds, a courtyard dining area was bliss. A chair was awkwardly adjusted. A bag fell on the soft grass and was hastily picked by mortified fingers. The crickets played their soundtrack.

"I think we are too early..." I looked up at the cause of the shattered tension, and peered at him closely through the pieces. The China man had an almost permanently amused expression on his face. I am by nature, not comfortable with people I just met. This Asian is particularly upsetting. He looked like a permanently, mischievous child. The bright night light reflected off his face, and it was very easy to really see him... He looked so abominably young.

"You know, if my manager were here, you would pay a fee to gawk at me." I scoff in disbelief. Typical... All these "YouTube Stars". I've heard of him and I've watched an episode of that show of his "On my way: A food travel journal". But, I'm not a fan... I don't even know him properly.

"Did I make you angry? I was just kidding..."

 "No, you can't make me angry... "

 "Why? Cos you got a really strong heart..."

 "No. It's because -"

 "- Helloooo Everyone... Austin..." A shrill, expensive voice rings out as it enters the dining area. Suddenly, everywhere smells like a million dollars in Rihanna currency - I miss the night summer smell. I don't even need to turn back to know who it is. Austin nods at her and the blonde Ken model she totes around. She flicks her hair, I secretly pray her neck snaps. She turns to me...

"Hello, Jael..." I grimace inwardly at her annoying smile.

 "Hello, Amy... Shawn..." I nod at them both. My God. How soon can we get this over and done with?

       **************************

"I have no idea and I don't care. Rise, just cooperate"

 "I am cooperating. I'm just... It's our honeymoon, Gareth. OUR HONEYMOON. And... And besides, you know I am not really comfortable eating around people."

"You eat with your family. Aren't they people?"      

"Strange people,"

 "But they aren't strange... They are celebrities."

 "Still... You know how awkward I am around new people." He sighs loudly.

 "I know, Rise. That's why you've got me. All you have to do is keep quiet and be cute. Okay..."

I glance down exasperated. Light reflects off the many gems in the long, black beauty I'm holding - A wedding gift. I blink at the blinding blings. I feel my stomach pits sink dejectedly down to my womb. Why doesn't Gareth understand that I don't were to do this. I don't.

"Can't we just tell them that we won't want to eat with others?" I pipe out. My throat feels dry and closed.

 "What? I can't hear you. You know how much I hate you talking inside you cheeks. Speak out."

 "I said..." My lips suddenly dry. "I said... We should tell them that we are not interested... In... In the dinner?" That gets to him. He finally turns away from his mirror and looks at me with a puzzled, angry expression. He still looks handsome though...

"And why would we want to do that?" He asks, joining his hands together in front of him. It always makes him look taller and right now, his tux is making it worse.

"Why would we do that?" My head down, I continue to fumble with the gown. The silence is very strong, but my mouth feels as if I can't even pull my lips apart.

 "I don't understand you. Do you know the kind of personalities are outside on that dining area? Amy Rivera... Amy Rivera and freaking Austin Chan... Rise, baby..." He comes to me on the bed, smiling wildly like Charlie found a chocolate factory.

 "Baby..." He only calls me baby when he is excited about something. "These people are a million pounds. If I can get them... These people... These celebrities... To invest in my... To invest with me... Think about it," He looks at me with those wide, green little boy's eyes. "Think about it. I'm talking about us becoming millionaires."

"But, we are okay the way we are."

 "Well, I am not," His face hardens again. He gets up and brushes his tux. "I want more... For you and me. Now Risette, get up and get dressed." He goes back to the mirror.

I look at the black gown again. Oh well, it's probably just for today.

      ***************************

"It better not go on like this, Vince. Else, I'm going to run mad. I cannot imagine, for the life of me, herding the entire family down again for this. This is torture."

"Relax, Helena. I'm positively sure this is a one off thing. They probably want to welcome us traditionally and properly, you know how all this native people are..."

"Really, Vince..." She stops halfway through our pseudo-sprint to the dinning area, and everyone pauses. "Really..." Her eyes spitting fire.

"Helena, I'm sorry. I mean... I meant..." Our big dad fidgeting whenever mom got upset, was the most adorable thing to watch in the world. "I mean... I meant... What am I even... I don't mean that native people are primitive, or..."

"That's exactly what you mean, Vince."

 "Yes. I mean, No... Babe... Okay, I'm going to replace that word with Africans... How about that?"

"Nope. Still racist..."

"But not to you anymore, Right?"

 "I don't care... It's still racist." Oh My God... At this rate, we are going to get to the table when everyone is already done eating. Dad really should have known better.

"Um... Excuse us." A sharp, strong voice cuts through my parents arguments, and we all hastily shift out of the way. That handsome British investor guy mom was gushing about, passes in a cloud of very strong, male perfume. His pretty, little French wife pressed close to him like a shy, dressed up black doll. She smelt like fruits. The scents mixed together was like standing next to your crush in a beautiful sea of flowers. We stood still in the silence of their lingering perfume, for some time.

"Woah! Mommy, I love that guys perfume. Can you buy it for me? I'll go ask the name."

"Raw, you are not old enough to use a perfume. And secondly, even if you were, I wouldn't buy you that distastefully strong perfume. Okay. Now, let's all go to join them." Distastefully strong. (Snorts in amazed amusement). Please... My mom adores this perfume. She even tried to get Dad to use it one time, she is not aware of my knowledge of this. The entire battalion marches out to the dining area, and I think my heart stopped beating for a sec... Or two... Amy Rivera-Manning.

"Okay, everyone find your seats." I stood where I was, completely unmoved by my mother's fuss. Amy Rivera was the "IT". You know... Like, the main thing. Like... The main... You know what, she is just very popular and beautiful. Two- time Miss Florida ( How can you win a beauty pageant twice?) And a one time Miss Tourism USA. I met her for the first time, when she acted as "Dahlia Summers" in "The Princess crashes a Party" and I fell in love. I'm not a lesbian though, or anything... Her nice body, long legs. I wanna design a cloth for her. Please, Lord. I would totally go up to greet her, but we tried to when we all first arrived, but she was in a bad mood. She is smiling now, though. Should I try? But, what if...

"Gail!" I jerk around.

"My God! Find a seat, young lady," she says through clenched teeth. Oh right... Um... A seat... I look around. Yes! The seat next to Amy Rivera's super cute pilot husband is empty. I run to it. Talk about proximity. They smell like... Well, like expensive celebrities smell I guess. But, the scent is heavenly. She is talking with that Chinese YouTuber from "On my way".

"Nature is so beautiful, Austin. I totally agree. You know at first, I didn't want to come out to this joint dinner thing. But, being here... Shawn..." She holds his hands, her eyes sparkling. "It's so romantic. The aura... The atmosphere... These Africans are talented, I wouldn't have thought it."

 **********************

Of course you wouldn't have. We are the dumb ones. The human monkeys. I shake my head, as I approach the kitchen. If I have to keep serving all these haughty white people, I will run mad.

"Caisi!"

 "Mama. I'm here already," I say, as I enter. She is bent over slicing onions. The pervasive onion smell is so strong, I start crying. Mama is not though, I don't know how she does it. I think it comes with being a mother.

"Are you done setting the table and serving the water?"

 "Yes, Mama." She finishes the onions, turn them into a sieve and starts on the tomatoes.

 "Mama..."

 "Yes."

 "Why do we do this?"

 "Do what?" She is listening, I can tell from the way she sits upright as she works, but she doesn't take a break.

 "Bringing all the guests out for a joint dinner? Why?"

 "My dear... I thought you have been told why all this years..."

 "I have, but I don't understand it. I mean... So what if Baba Adoud's first customers were a family? Why do we continue it?"

 "Uh huh... What don't you understand?"

 "What kind of family tradition insists that all the guests in the hotel eat together? See, Mama... Those people I see are going to tear each other's limbs off." She gets up with the basin full of cut tomatoes.

"Hmm... I don't know what to tell you. Our family is bent on keeping this tradition. More than 3 generations have been in charge of this place and they all did the same thing. We cannot be different. If they want to tear each other's heads off, then it is none of our business. They wanted an African vacation and they got it. Our job is to serve them. Shikina. Got it." Mama talks with so much authority in her voice, that I have no choice, but to nod slowly like a sad lizard.

"Good. Now go get me that bottle of oil. And for God's sake, Caisi, wash the vegetables. Quickly. I need it for the sauce..."

  ********************

"Now!"

 Every single little chatter stops. All eyes turn to the director of the hotel and his almost perpetually, deep set, red eyes, and his creepy smile.

"Now..." He gets up dramatically.

 "Now, I am sure we are all enjoying ourselves... Brace yourselves. It's time for dessert." His wife comes out onto the courtyard, closely followed by the young Gardener's daughter ( Have they been hiding there? ) They are both bearing large, colourful Calabash pots. They set it down ceremoniously. The director clears his throat.

"This is our signature dish, the pride and joy of the Khabunds," This man voice gives off tough Morgan Freeman vibes. " I all are wondering why this joint dinner. Well, many years ago... When this little Inn was first made by Our Great-great-great grandfather, Baba Adoud, the first travelling guests were a large family from Dutch South Africa..." He paused dramatically. I'm not sure he knows that they are called Dutch Afrikaans, and not Dutch South Africans.

"They stayed for quite some time, and together they invented this beautiful dish before you..." Someone hits a large, resounding note. It's the director's son, Prak with an African talking drum. As he drums, his mother and her helper lift up the covers of the large pots. "Prepared with Coconuts, bananas, apples, plantains, boiled corns, oranges, avocados, pineapples, mangos... With a special appearance by the African star apple, and with Honey and goat milk dressing, and with our own secret ingredient," he winks. "Beautiful people, we call this the Fruithole." Oh... So, that's how this place got its name... I thought it was given that name because there were so many gardens surrounding it. Oh well... Wait, did he just say a secret ingredient?

**********************

So, dinner was going pretty well. Amy Rivera ( she won't have you call her by any other name ) was immersed in a deep discussion with Austin Chan about the best beach holiday resort, based on sea food dishes ( Me? I happen to favour Asian sea food... Don't judge). Her cute eye candy of a husband, stuck in an investment discussion with Gareth Sawthorne. All around the table, the children were constantly chattering and Jael, that odd poet lady just stuck to silent munching. The parents were stressed and the little French lady was calm. Daddy Khabund was at the head of the table, and the Khabund kids scuttled around, serving. Generally, the situation was quite normal. But we all know it won't stay normal, don't we?

"Hahaha... Your arguments are pretty solid, Austin. But, I still can't see myself preferring An African or Asian Beach to the beautiful Caribbean shores. No offense, Mr Khabund."

"None taken, Mrs Manning. After all, it's everyman to his... or her likes, or dislikes. Here, we say "Osondi Owendi". What's good for you may not be good to me." He ends with a wise smile.

"Definitely, definitely... Ha... I am so loving this place right now. It's just peaceful and..." A tough, retching sound is heard and everyone turns to investigate. It wasn't a nice sight.

"Oh My God! What the hell is that?"

 "I'm so sorry... Sorry everyone... Di, what happened?" She asks the child in a soft tone. And then, she addresses everyone. "I'm sorry everyone. She is usually more comported than this. It's probably the jet lag." She laughs nervously, digging through her bag for a wiper or something... "... First time in a plane -"

"- I don't care. Nobody cares. Just clean up the nonsense. Eww... Now, you've spoilt my appetite. Just clean it."

 "I already said I was sorry, didn't I?"

The scrawny looking Gardener's daughter runs in with a wet rag, and a bucket. The entire table is disconcerted.

"Oh thank you my dear, thank you. She almost never does this."

 "Oh please... You should train your dumb kids properly, and stop telling lies. What sane child will just... do this? Especially, a 7 year old..." The embarrassed mom hastily cleans the mess, in the longest of all short silences. Then she draws herself up as she stands..

"I did train my children well. This wasn't supposed to happen. And I already apologized -"

"- when you've already spoilt all our appetites? Really?"

 "Look, I do not care about your stupid appetite, you don't look like you eat much -"

 "- Oh, I eat plenty-"

 "- Doesn't show -"

 "- That's the whole point, darling. I'm not a fat moron like you." Okay...

 "Agreed. You're a nasty, anorexic bitch. We have nothing in common." A horrified gasp escapes Amy Rivera, and I'm sure a few other people.

"Did you just call me a bitch?!"

 "Yeah, I did. And, that's because you are behaving like one..." She states in a matter of fact way. Stunned silence "There is absolutely nothing here... Everyone is cool with the fact that kids sometimes do stuff like this... Why are you making a big deal out of it? You just got married, you are going to get kids. What happens when -"

"Oh, shove it. My kids... When we decide to have them... They will be perfect, okay. Not rowdy and foolish like this untrained animals you tote around, and call kids..."

"Now hold on a -"

 "- No, no... Babe, I got this. Did you just call my kids, animals?" The kitchen girl hastily retrieves the stained rag from her hand. She inches further, eyes on the target. The target remains, unmoved.

"Yes. I did. Watcha gonna do 'bout it?" The angry mom turns to her husband, frustration in her eyes.

 "She called my kids animals... She... This twiggy witch..."

 "Yo, Aussie. That's enough you hear me. Shut it." The Aussie can't hear her. She takes off her earrings.

"That's it."

 "Bring it on. Ya stupid Aussie..."

 "I AM FROM NEW ZEALAND." She crashes into Amy and holds her neck in a tight lock. Everybody rushes in, except of course Risette, Sawthorne's little wife and Jael, with her strange locks. They sit still, staring through empty eyes.The staff stand around, calm, watching the ensuing fracas. Mr Khabund, on his high chair, a shadow of a smile on his lips, an amused twinkle in his red eyes.

Someone throws the yam porridge first. And then, it becomes a carnival. Food items graciously dancing through the brilliant night sky. Children and adults, food stained but not giving a damn, rolling and screaming and shouting and pulling. The Khabunds keep watch, another Fruithole ritual night concluded...

Mr Khabund looks at me, and gives me a wink. I take out my journal, and a little camera I scored from winning a debate with my obnoxious little sister.

I duck to avoid a flying chicken leg. This is... Interesting. My only interest here is the secret recipe.

 Oh... And I'm not Chinese, I'm Korean.