Banana Leaves: A Zuihitsu

Camila Cutter

I remember when I first started washing my own laundry. I could never pour in that heavy detergent jug without making a splash.

As a kid, I could never participate in making the Christmas Venezuelan hallacas with my family. My mom’s fingers flicked cumin into the guiso. My grandma quickly cubed up the red bell pepper with a sharp knife.

I used to wonder what it was like to drink from a real glass cup at a restaurant, not the flimsy kid’s paper ones.

I stand on my tiptoes reaching for the wooden spoon. I stir the broth around. My grandma hands me a plastic stepstool.

I hated tomatoes and carrots growing up. I always picked out the tomato chunks from pasta or pizza. I always picked out carrot pieces in soup. 

My grandma guides me on how to flatten the dough on top of the banana leaf. The palms of my hands press the dough down. She hands me a spoon filled with the perfect amount of guiso to place in the center of it.

I remember the first time I used a Sharpie. It wasn’t anything like a Crayola marker. It stained our leather couch.

Now, when cooking family dinners I enjoy chopping up all the vegetables. I even taught my grandma a faster way to dice them up.

My mom guided me on the right way to fold the hallaca in the damp banana leaf. Fold gently to not break the leaf, or you’ll have to toss it and use another one. The more mistakes made, the more banana leaves tossed.

I still don’t like tomatoes, but I’m okay with small chunks in food now. I like carrots too. I try to get extra carrots when I have chicken noodle soup.

My mom tried to teach me the correct hallaca tying technique. My grandma taught me better. She was the one who taught my mom anyway.

Whenever my mom cuts onions and I’m nearby, they never sting my eyes. Now as I chop the onions, the acidic juice stains my hands in its aroma, and my teary eyes face the sting. 

The ice cubes clink around the condensated glass in my hand. The restaurant is filled with chatter from other tables around us, also with clinking glasses.

My grandma reaches for a stepstool to grab something from the top shelf in the cabinet. I walk over and reach my arm up to grab it.

I pour in the heavy jug of laundry detergent. Only a small drop touches the floor.

Each banana leaf requires time to wash. After all, the best hallacas take time and skill.

Camila Cutter is a ninth grader at CHS. She enjoys spending time with family and friends, and especially loves the holidays and family traditions. She's been a tennis player since she was little and enjoys the sport and competing in tournaments. She also enjoys traveling to see new places and try new things.