My Backyard, My Bronx

 By : Kerry McLean Jost

Kerry and Gregory's "pikliz" creations 

    

Being part of a farm share in the Bronx takes me back. Way back.

My relationship with vegetables and fruits began far, far away. I grew up with them nearby, so close I didn't even really see them. They were right in my backyard.

Within our stubborn border of hibiscuses strove one mango tree, three willowy coconut trees--the middle one permanently bent in surrender after the last hurricane, one fledgling lime tree, one cherry tree whose slender limbs always welcomed spindly, little-girl ones, and one avocado tree.

The hearty potatoes and sweet winter squashes we've savored from our Norwood winter farm share remind me of the tropical root crops near that avocado tree. Dasheens and yams nurtured by the rich brown earth, and beside them, the awe-inspiring pumpkins that my Uncle planted one year, one single dreadlock escaping his colorful tam.

Not far off was the big-leafed banana tree whose 'hands' could be counted on to flavor Grandma's Saturday breakfast of callaloo and codfish, dumplings, boiled bananas and fried (ripe) plantains. She sprinkled her pots liberally with love and the fiery scotch bonnet peppers growing next to our back door.

Here in the BX, imported scotch bonnets from the local store, plus flavorful red onions, radishes and garlic from our winter share and a dash of lemons, create the joyous, tear-inducing jar of "pikliz" we make each week. Yardie roots, Haitian connects and Indian influences happily collide, thanks to a farmer from Palestine's soil.

Bringing in the sweet this winter were the earthy carrots and juicy beets from our Bronx share. Their fresh sugariness made me recall the thickets of willowy sugar cane also in my old backyard, stretching to bless our neighbors to the left and the ones to the right. On many a warm evening on our island verandah, we'd sit with our friends and neighbors and regale each other with the day's comedies and tragedies over a bed of sweet, sweet, sliced cane.

I thank you, Norwood farmers, for building me a new backyard here in the Bronx. Many of us may be far from our ancestral homes today, but as we pull each straight-from-the-earth item from our biweekly box, your heart's labor succulently brings us all home again.