Stealing From the Blind

On the hill where I grew up, something was always happening. With five girls and four boys, there were plenty of opportunities to get into trouble, annoy each other, or find adventure. Our home was surrounded by fruit trees—mango, coconut, custard apple, papaya, guava, and cashew. Beyond our yard, other properties had even more delights: breadnut (chataigne), passion fruit, soursop, red and yellow cherries, pomerac, plums, sapodilla, and many others that kept us well-fed year-round.  

Now, the breadnut was an unusual fruit—oblong, green, with white nuts inside covered by brown shells when ripe. Those nuts, once boiled in salted water, became a delicious treat. One day, two of my sisters gathered some breadnut, cleaned them, and decided to cook them on an open fire. They placed the breadnut in a large can, covered it with a lid, and set it over the flames, leaving it to simmer.  

It wasn’t long before my youngest brother wandered by, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.  

"What’s in the can?" he asked.  

"You shouldn't open it," I warned.  

But he was determined. Ignoring my words, he lifted the lid—and in an instant, hot steam burst out, hitting him full in the face. He screamed, stumbling backward.  

Our mother, hearing his cries, rushed outside. He clutched his face, whimpering, "I can’t see!"  

The steam had temporarily blinded him, and for three days, his world remained dark.  

During that time, he and I spent a lot of time together. We were close in age—he was two years older than me—and at lunchtime, our mother guided him at the table, helping him find his food on the plate.  

On the second day, she made a dish I adored: dumplings with codfish. The smell alone was enough to make my stomach growl. As my brother fumbled to eat, temptation got the better of me. Instead of helping him, I decided to steal one of his dumplings.  

I reached out, my eyes focused on his face rather than the plate. In doing so, my hand brushed against his.  

He paused.  

"Mom!" he called out. "Joan is taking my food!"  

I froze. I couldn’t believe my mistake—stealing from the blind and getting caught in the act!  

Our mother scolded me. "How could you do such a thing?" she asked, shaking her head. I had no excuse. It was, indeed, a silly, heartless act.  

On the third day, my brother whispered excitedly, "I think I see something!"  

Little by little, his sight returned, and soon, he was back to normal. Looking back, I realized how childhood perspectives shape the way we experience events. My siblings and I had feared his blindness would last forever, but our mother, with the wisdom of an adult, knew otherwise.  

Life often presents us with unexpected challenges, and how we perceive them makes all the difference. Sometimes, we assume the worst, only to be surprised by a positive outcome. That’s how life works—sometimes we steal, sometimes we stumble, but we always learn.