The Groundnuts I Did Not Buy

After prayers at church, I was walking home when I saw a man selling groundnuts. They looked exactly like the ones from the farm where I grew up. My mom still grows them. I hadn’t had any since I came to Mauritius.

I walked up to him, excited. I wanted to thank him for having them, ask where he got them, and tell him they looked just like home. But he was busy and barely answered me.

So I tasted one. It wasn’t the same. I didn’t like it.

That should have been the end. I could have said, “Not what I hoped for, thank you,” and left. Instead I stayed. I felt like I had let him down, and I started thinking about buying a bag anyway, just to make him happy. A bag I wouldn’t eat, with money I didn’t need to waste. Could you imagine that?

I kept apologizing and explaining, as if I had hurt him.

“If you don’t want it, then go,” he said.

He wasn’t angry; neither was he upset.

The disappointment I was trying to fix was never his. I had made it up. I came looking for a piece of home and a moment of connection. I got neither, and I tried to earn it back by pleasing him.

Being kind doesn’t mean saying yes to everything. I can care about someone and still say no, and my no costs them far less than I imagine.