Dear fish lady,

To the woman with the fish, and the x number of children, and your talk about skirts and clothing you want from us, and today, your talk about ”mampalahelo”:

I am sorry.

We bought fish the first time you came. I wish I could have said that it tasted delicious and we want to be your regular customers.

We told you we would not buy “androany” today, when you returned the second time.

You left right away and told us something we did not understand.

When you came back today you hurt me. I probably hurt you too.

It hurt me to tell you “Azafady, tsy mividiy trondro isahay.” It hurt me that I didn’t have more or kinder words to use to tell you that I didn’t want to buy the fish because it would get wasted and that I was sorry I could not help you by buying it. It hurt me to know that you are probably struggling to survive.

It probably hurt you to see a vazaha with money refuse your kindhearted offer. It probably hurt you because of the walk or effort it took you to come with fish for us that we didn’t want. It probably hurt you if you had seen both our computers and both our smartphones and homemade chocolate-zucchini-oat bread and Nutella on the table.

We gave you a skirt so we would not feel as bad, so we could help, and so you would go. You lit up when you saw it. You said “faly”, which means “happy”. You smelled the pink skirt. You smiled. You wrapped it around your neck, then draped it over your arm, thanked us, and left.

It hurt me that I thought with dread that your sweet, kind-looking, but begging gaze will probably show up on our back porch again, unannounced, wanting more from our gold-mine of wealth. Will we give more? Will we be harsher? Do we have a third option?

I googled the word you kept saying: “Mampalahelo”. Yes, it sounded familiar, and I was right, “the state of being sad”.

I am sorry I cannot help you much. I am sorry I have to be harsh. Haha…I’ve failed at being harsh. You don’t make it any easier with your sweet, old, tired face. It is hard to refuse your convincing tricks.

Until I learn a better way, the best I can offer is to refuse your offer with kindness and grace. I need to refuse your dependence. I don't want to refuse you.

Reviews

[Bala Gorthi]

Sometimes we all do feel sorry that we cannot help others the way they expect. But we need to refuse..
I liked your story and the concept..
Keep sharing more...

[LolaNicole]

I love the truth this speaks. It shows vulnerability and compassion.