Tears were shed on buying day,
the farmers lose their lot,
the weighting station changes its way,
for reasons, they know not.
The farmer’s sweat goes to waste,
nine months of waiting down the drain.
The toiling,
early morning dew,
empty school,
all the sacrifice was to no avail.
Payday vanishes in thin air,
the station changed its style.
The wailing of the farmers was of no concern to the heartless supervisor on duty.
“The directive came straight from the boss,”
He told them angrily.
The pay station changed its style and it caught the farmers unaware.
Reject fruits strewn on the floor of the buying station, in overbearing heaps,
while tired and exhausted farmers,
overwhelmed,
sit in a corner and watches,
and the transport operator though he sympathizes,
set to demand his due.
The supervisor reminds them,
“The old plan is no more,”
he said in a hostile and uncaring tone.
The banana day has become the saddest day on the almanac,
the village farmer’s labor goes in vain,
laborers unpaid, and bills at the village shop carried to the next week.
The news interrupts the morning errand, “The ministry of agriculture in a news release today reported that banana production in the island dipped by 98%” when compared to the previous year,” the newscaster said, and the banana farmer listening smiled as he knew this was protest by the farmers for the inconsiderate treatment meted out to them at the selection station.