Black Beans

Gabby, Bea and the Black Beans of Nicaragua

By John Taylor; 30 July, 2005

I worry constantly about the picky eating of our offspring. A horrible
diet, worsened by the fact that their mother is no lover of veggies
herself. My longtime, despairing joke to her is that if a Czech person
ever met a veggie in the street they would cross to the other side and
avert their eyes. When I harp long enough she reluctantly reaches into
the freezer, dumps a pile of bagged mixed veggies onto a plate, partly
warms it in the microwave and presents that repast to already
skeptical little ones. Secretly, all of them believe that I am
hopelessly harebrained.

In desperation of late I pulled out all the stops and openly told
scare stories to persuade Tomaso and Silvie at least to nibble on a
vegetable. I do not have to go far for story material; my sainted
mother prepared full, balanced meals for the family but never ate
herself, contenting herself with white bread downed while cooking in
the kitchen. I tell them the harrowing story of her wasting illness,
the slowest, most painful death imaginable. I would not wish such an
end on my worst enemy. It started as cancer of the breast and
eventually ended up as cancer of the body. When I retold this the
other day, dwelling for a long time on a sad time which I would rather
forget Silvie for once finished off her mother's batch of partly
unfrozen mixed veggies soaked in Campbell's mushroom soup sauce. Then,
when I cooked a mess of fresh vegetables in the new solar oven the
following day it was as always, they distained even a taste. I did not
even try. The first use of the solar oven was fairly successful, but
the second time they were more bleached than cooked. I think I need to
improve the seal to the upper glass somehow.

Today I came up with another ploy. Why not simply translate the
findings of nutritional science reported by the press directly into
Gabby and Bea stories? One spate of Internet based articles about
black beans last week furnished the material of the following story.

One day Gabby and Bea were asked to come to Nicaragua to help with
their dietary crisis, known to the world as the Black Bean Problem...

I refused to begin the tale until Silvie had sampled at least one
black bean, a can of which I added to this week's bean medley salad.
Mixed bean salad has become my dietary staple over the past months. I
stipulated: "You have to know what black beans taste like if you are
going to understand this story." She balked for a long time but such
is Silvie's love for Gabby and Bea that finally she picked out one
lonely black bean, lifting it gingerly on the tips of two fingers,
carefully wiping it over arms and table to remove all hint of my
horrible, poisonous olive oil and vinegar dressing, and rolled it over
lips and tongue. When it seemed certain that the bean would not
resurface, I finally started the story.

Managua is the capital of Nicaragua and here all rich people in
Nicaragua cluster. When they get bigger paychecks they go straight to
the big city and buy big houses and stick out their tongues in mockery
at the poor peasants in the countryside. "We are rich now, nya, nya,
nya, we live better, we eat better, we have better education, we are
better in every way. We never have to eat your horrible burritos made
with black beans." When they hear this poor people lowered their heads
in shame and feel sad. Whenever peasant children do well at school,
get "A"'s and finally attain better jobs, they do the same thing, they
too move to Managua, throw out all their black beans and get in their
big cars and drive to McDonalds for a hamburger. Then they go home and
mock parents, brothers and sisters, saying,

"Bla to you, I do not have to eat a single burrito. We do not even
have to go near a Taco Bell. On Monday we go to McDonald's, on Tuesday
to Wendy's, on Wednesday to Harvey's, and so forth. You have nothing
but your black beans."

Doctors meanwhile made scientific studies and found that the rich were
getting sicker and that the humble diet of the peasant was healthier,
thanks in large part to the black bean. But nothing could persuade the
rich that their fatty diet was killing them or indeed the poor that
their beans were any good. It was time to call in Gabby and Bea. The
fox and wolf went to Baha'i local assemblies with a plan. Every
Assembly called rich and poor together in a single meeting and
projected these words of the Master on the wall.

"At whatever time highly-skilled physicians shall have developed the
healing of illnesses by means of foods, and shall make provision for
simple foods, and shall prohibit humankind from living as slaves to
their lustful appetites, it is certain that the incidence of chronic
and diversified illnesses will abate, and the general health of all
mankind will be much improved. This is destined to come about. In the
same way, in the character, the conduct and the manners of men,
universal modifications will be made." (Abdu'l-Baha, Selections, 156)

Then Gabby and Bea presented the doctors' requirements and
descriptions of what a simple, natural diet would be, along with their
questions about how to get people to eat it. They also asked about
cutting back on the underlying problem, self-enslavement to lustful
appetites. Gabby and Bea asked:

"What suggestions do you have for `universal modifications' in conduct
and manners?"

To everybody's surprise, the rich were silent. They were flummoxed.
The poor had the most ideas, and being schooled in hardship, they
proved the most willing and morally capable of changing their
lifestyle. After visiting many villages and getting to know the
country mice and spending much time consulting with the city mice in
Managua, Gabby and Bea took the plan to stage two. Rich and poor got
together and made up a better diet, not a richer or poorer diet but a
better one. Everyone got together and agreed upon goals to aim for
over twenty years, over ten and over one year. They hired dieticians
and cooks and teachers; once everybody knew where they were going it
was simple, like the diet they were aiming for. They made things
happen according to a timetable.

It was the custom in Nicaragua to lift a conquering hero onto the
people's shoulders and throw her in the air. When they came back to
visit Nicaragua every year, Gabby and Bea were lifted on stronger,
healthier, happier shoulders. They were therefore thrown a little
higher each year. At the tenth year, Gabby and Bea hit the ceiling. It
was decided to hold the ceremony outdoors. The twentieth year of the
plan marked the time when all vices had been eliminated. People had
learned to love virtue, to cling always to the Golden Mean. Slavery to
lusts and desires was rare and highly disapproved of. The Nicaraguan
diet was ruled by the WHO to be at optimum for every citizen -- that
means that they ate the best diet for the genes of that body in that
economy. The black bean had become a staple not only here but, on its
own merits, included in the diets of all, around the world. Gabby and
Bea went to many places in the world, picking out the best parts of
the poor people's diets, and everywhere they were first to learn a
new, world diet. But the Nicaraguan country mice were the most famous
of all, hired to work around the world as dietary consultants, as food
plan executives and teachers of virtue. Gabby and Bea were so
acclaimed that they had to wear parachutes when thrown in the air. As
they floated to the ground they sang praises for the One who had got
them there, `Abdu'l-Baha, the Master, the perfect exemplar.

--
John Taylor

badijet@gmail.com