The Banana Lady: A Story of Unexpected Kindness
I’ve been volunteering here in Ecuador all over the country, from the Andes, to the coast, the Amazon, the cloud/mist/rainforests, for more than two years while putting in time towards permanent residency. In that time I have met some amazing people, and continue to have great experiences, many of which I post on my YouTube channel, Street Smart Travel.
I had to share this story with you from April of this year – a reminder that there are still genuinely good people out there, despite all the doom and gloom dominating the news cycle.
When Plans Fall Apart
This weekend, I needed to get to Vilcabamba for groceries and to run some errands. We’ve had torrential rains down here lately – the kind that wash out highway sections and take down bridges. The regular bus that normally stops in front of the finca? Gone. No service for days.
After waiting in vain on Friday and again Saturday morning outside the finca, a neighbor saw me standing there at 7:10 AM and delivered the news: “No bus because of the rains.” The highway and bridge had been washed out.
So began my improvised journey: walk 2 km to the main road, catch a camióneta, finally make it to town for shopping, lunch, and hitting the ATM – all those things you can’t do out here in the campo.
The Journey Back
On my return trip, I rode in the back of a camióneta – not in the cab, but in the open bed where you’d normally throw tools or other materials. Smart traveler tip: I deliberately didn’t buy bananas in town because I knew they’d turn to mush in my backpack during that bumpy ride back to the finca. Ask me how I know that…
Instead, I planned to stop at the small store in the pueblo to grab some bananas. Perfect plan, except… she was fresh out.
“But,” she said, pointing to a house nearby, “the lady over there has bananas. It’s not a store – just someone who lives in the campo.”
A Simple Question, An Unexpected Answer
I walked to the house and called out from the front gate. An older man appeared, and I explained my situation: looking for bananas, sent over by the store lady.
“Oh yes!” he said, calling to his wife. “Do you want ripe or green bananas?”
Now, green bananas and plantains are huge down here – used in all kinds of traditional cuisine from Tigrillo to patacones. But this gringo knows his limitations. “Ripe bananas, please. I know how to make a peanut butter and banana sandwich!”
His wife emerged with eight giant, beautiful ripe bananas. Her only question: “Do you have a bag?”
I pulled out my cloth bag, and she carefully placed the bananas inside. Then came the moment that stopped me in my tracks.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “How much can I pay you for these?”
She looked at me, then looked up at the sky and pointed heavenward.
The Universal Language of Kindness
I understood immediately. There’s a church right next to her house, and I sensed this was her way of saying: This is what we do. This is my duty as a person of faith.
It hit me – I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced anything like this. Such a simple thing: bananas. Not earth-shattering, no miracles, simply: I have something you need. Take it. Be well.
This would never happen in the city – not because city people are bad, but because the mentality is different. Urban life conditions us: no money, no goods. But here was pure generosity: I have bananas, you need bananas, I’m happy to help.
What Really Matters
That seemingly small gesture transformed my entire day, which had a rough start with the missing bus and early wake-up call. It reminded me why the campesinos – along with the mountain communities and indigenous peoples throughout Ecuador – are among my favorite people on Earth.
They restore my faith in humanity with their genuine warmth and willingness to help strangers. I may never see this couple again, but it didn’t matter to them. They could help, so they did.
The Bigger Picture
Don’t get trapped in the constant catastrophizing and negativity of non-stop news cycles. Yes, challenges exist, but so do people like this banana lady and her husband – salt-of-the-earth folks who go out of their way to help people they don’t even know.
These are the interactions you miss when you’re staying in hostels, hotels, or resorts in bigger cities. You have to get out there, connect with people, and sometimes you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the unexpected kindness of strangers.
I hope this brightens your day the way it did mine. This is one of many such stories that happen all the time in Latin America – small moments of human connection that remind us what really matters.
Happy trails, see you out on the road.