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The Mud Crab

THE FRUIT MARKET AND THE MUD CRAB

I often went to the local fruit market in Angeles City with my father on Saturdays. It was a lazy affair as we wore shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops. My father often wore shirts with holes much to the dismay of my prim and proper mother who scolded him for his poor taste in attire. He had a confident look and a twinkle in his eyes as he put on his flip flops.

I think my father had a special liking to the fruit market for various reasons. He was in his element. The market is an interesting and dusty place of old stalls covered with different colored vegetables and fruits. Vendors tried to make eye contact and smile as we strolled down the market. Were the vegetables and fruits harvested from farms or picked from the wild? I did not know. It was also a place to rekindle relationships with his favorite fruit peddlers. He talked and smiled with his favorite fruit sellers.

My father was keen on buying new fruits to check them out. I can say with no hesitation that we found new, interesting, and tasty fruits. Fruits whose names I have forgotten. Some looked quite odd like they were alien eggs from outer space, perhaps they had profusion of seeds or large seeds, and they all had a unique taste. The Philippines possesses such a nice array of exotic fruits.

The market was also his coliseum and he was in the gladiatorial game of bargaining over the price of fruits and vegetables. He loved the jousting or bargaining as he would put on his poker face as the vendor did as well. I watched with mild interest as they would go back and forth over a few centavos with a vendor as if it really meant something. They would feign disgust with each other and pretend to be upset and make faces to accentuate their intense loathing for each other. It looked more like a negotiations in a hostile takeover of a corporation instead of bargaining for a clump of small yellow bananas. The price was finally agreed upon and the deal was finally made. Both parties would invariably smile and shake hands. My father got fruits and the vendor got money. Now they mutually liked each other again. I kind of liked the market and its dealings although my father was more amused than me.

One day at the fruit market a vendor peddled large mud crabs. Perhaps they were 8 inches wide. My father took the rational approach of buying one crab to conduct a culinary test. Its claws were bound by cheap rope made of long grass, and my father told me to hold the crab as we drove to our house. My father’s odd car was too old to have an air conditioner, so the windows were open. There was not much respite from the hot wind that hot day as it entered the car.

Of course, I was curious about the large mud crab as I visually examined it. Then I played with it a bit. That sucker had enough mobility to pinch one of my fingers. The pain was intense and excruciating. However, I was more afraid of my dad than the crab. I sat in agony for a few minutes in the car as the large mud crab clamped down on my finger. I was screaming silently. I know I was a boy, a stupid boy, throw rocks at me. After what seemed like an eternity of writhing in pain, the beast relented and gave me my finger back. I learned my lesson. Don't fuck with large crabs.

So, I got revenge on that bastard as he was served for dinner. I was not impressed. It tasted like mud. Duh! My mother, father, and I shared the crab. It was futile and pointless to try to get meat from a crab like that. Needless to say, we bought no more mud crabs, and my fingers were safe once again.