Fruits of fantasy | Sunday Observer

Fruits of fantasy

20 May, 2018
Call it sales strategy or survival tactics the somewhat beautiful rural girls at Pasyala, Kajugama have dazzled travellers for decades. These enterprising women have realized the basics of economics - that man is an animal with perpetual needs

The sight of smiling women, beckoning with waving hands unleashes an assault on ones emotions. Call it sales strategy or survival tactics the somewhat beautiful rural girls at Pasyala, Kajugama have dazzled travellers for decades. These enterprising women have realized the basics of economics - that man is an animal with perpetual needs. So when cashew nuts are available on supermarket shelves, what allures the human to stop at the hamlet of Kajugama? In order to unravel this mystery I set off on Thursday morning with my colleague Shan, driving past Nittambuwa and Yakkala hoping to meet the charming beauties of Kajugama.

From a distance we spot the first sales girl decked out in a traditional costume - a deep neck blouse that accentuated her cleavage. As we stopped the vehicle she greets us with a disarming smile. Chaya has been selling cashew for 20 years, beginning her bargaining skills as a school girl. Realizing that we are from the media she straightens her hair and asks me “Do I look good for a photo?”- I left that question to be answered by Shan. Talkative Chaya explains “My mother used to sell cashew those days, and I came after school to help her. I like to talk to people. Today I am married and have 3 children. My husband works at a garage”. She begins her day at 9 am and then goes home for lunch at noon, returning in an hour to continue her sales. Chaya and many like her depend on the travellers from Colombo to Kandy, targeting busloads of foreigners.

Their sales gain momentum on long weekends. I asked her if she had any other skill and she said “I can sew well, I have a machine at home. But I have got complacent with selling cashew”. The women are not that disconnected from modern life as they all had superior smart phones. It made me doubt if this ‘rural costume’ was exchanged on the weekends for slim fit jeans and T- shirt.

As we walked along the women start to look curiously and giggle as we pass them. Some hide behind the stalls avoiding the gaze of the camera. We came across a sixth generation vendor. Imalka Madushani a 23-year-old. She knows the sales routine well and tries to entice with a smile, feeling mildly embarrassed when she knew of our task. Her mother quickly steps in for a friendly chat.

She says “Our family has been doing this for almost 85 years. There was an ancestor named Sudu Nona in the village of Bataliya, Kajugama. It was this woman who collected cashew and began selling 100 fruits at 10 cents. Since then other women also joined her. The initial customers were all carters who were taking supplies”. Since then Madushani’s family has maintained the tradition. They have upgraded their wooden stall with a sturdy brick and glass showroom. I asked her for the prices and she grins pointing at the packs “The small packet is 100 rupees. The 450 grams pack is 1200 rupees and the 5 Kg pack is 15,000 rupees (a kilo is sold at a minimum of 3000 rupees). Madushani is adorned in a cheetha dress a frock made with frills from old Ceylon era. This stall opens early from 7 am and closes late at 10pm. By now our presence has brought upon much interest from the women and men of the area. A senior named Namaratna comes nearby. He says “We bring our cashew from Ampara and Kurunegala. In Colombo you may find cashew mixed with Indian cashew, but we won’t cheat you sir, this is original stuff”.

With the rays of the sun penetrating the thick foliage along the roadside Shan and I walk further down the road. Here a young woman named Danuja is manning the stall with her mother in law- Nalika Attanayake. This robust woman is the secretary of the Kajugama vendor’s society. She is thankful to the Ministry of Tourism who had recently gifted them with some sturdy kiosk styled stands. The women hope to get some sort of financial relief through a state bank.

Danuja says “We work 7 days a week. We only close the stall if we have to attend a funeral or a wedding. We depend on this income.” The young women at times have to encounter groups of young men who hurl sexual insults and jokes. This is certainly not welcome and the women feel disappointed. Yet business must go on so that the 50 odd women vendors can survive. At a nearby stall is a young mother, Iresha clad in a red T- Shirt carrying her 2 year old son. She is shy. She grins and dodges our questions but is happy when we take her picture. Many from Colombo now believe that it is cheaper for them to buy cashew elsewhere, and argue that the charms of Kajugama are a chapter from a faded past. Perhaps with all the feminine charms on facebook and instgram the rural smile of these women has lost is branding power?

Cashew is used in various forms of cooking and baking. It is a fruit loaded with vitamins, minerals and antioxidants. Peeling the cashew is no fun as it contains a toxic resin that irritates your skin. Two young girls at a stall tell me they are A/L students and declare they want to go to campus. This is a positive step. It is the pulse of the young generation from Kajugama. Education can liberate anyone. Perhaps in another 3 years the rural bliss of the kaju girls will vanish like the forbidden fruit in a land of human fantasy.

Comments