The Little Patch of Green
November 18, 2006
The taxi made its way along the narrow street, past the people riding motorcycles, bicycles, vendors pushing food carts and pedestrians. It lurched over the speed bumps clumsily, making my stomach go on a rollercoaster trip. Rows of houses crowded together like lost children afraid of the dark stood on either side of the street. Every now and then there would be a gap between them - a piece of land with wild vegetation, a miniature jungle – like a missing tooth. And then more houses and more people. And another piece of land, filled with green life, grass, and tall, majestic trees, brave soldiers trying to make a stand for the lost empire they once possessed.
There used to be a house, deserted, not far from where I live. I would pass by it on my evening walks, admiring the way the sun seemed to sink behind it, bathing it in soft colors and giving it an aura of mystery, a big rectangular house, with missing window frames, crooked doors, painted in fading colors washed away by time. Behind it, a lake, small and peaceful, guarded by coconut trees and tall grass; the house faced the street, a silent guardian. It also marked the entrance to a small village with big and beautiful houses.
Another free piece of land is across that street, a few hundred meters away. A marshy land overridden by green, with crawling plants and little yellow flowers like coins forgotten in the grass. The vegetation is so dense that it’s difficult to see through.
Behind my house there is another stretch of land where the birds sing with shrill voices every morning. It is the land of squirrels that come to the tree (now dry and almost dead) behind the fence that separates it from the building, ripping the bark, the same tree that was once the resting spot for a long grey snake. Monitor lizards live here together with the snakes, the birds and the squirrels. The green curtain of thick plants makes it impossible to see what’s behind, but the place is teeming with life.
The empty house is empty no more, people have come and conquered the land where it stood, proud and alone, turning it into a restaurant and an open market, bringing along the noise and the cars in the small parking lot. There are no more peaceful sunsets and the lovely picture of the empty house is but a memory. There is only the noise that promotes the market in loud songs and the smell of exhaust from the cars.
The marshy land is still there but probably not for long. Some people came one day with bulldozers and cut a deep road inside the green, exposing the swampy ground underneath. A sign is put at the front with a phone number on it. For sale.
The little jungle at the back of my house remains unconquered for now. How long will it last until people come and wage war on it I don’t know. I only hope it’s going to be a long time until that happens.
In these parts, the dominion of green is almost gone; the man rules the land now and under his power the little patch of green is dying a little every day.
We all have stories to tell. Sometimes we bring them forth and sometimes we keep them buried. Here are my stories. I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. 
