by Anthony David Vernon (December 2025)
In those days when Batista reigned, when we thought the mosquitos did not bite and sun did not scorch, all seemed well. Yet, of these days, the histories do not have much to tell. And now there are few living who can tell of these days, and those who can share of these perhaps misremember. But of those who could maybe recall was Sensato.
Sensato, spent his days at ventanitas hoping to find anyone who would heed his warnings, “The tree of knowledge of good and evil shall never be slain. Indeed its roots run deep. But black sap is oozing now, and the villainous roots shall shoot up again!”
Most ignored what appeared to be the rambling of Sensato, except for Mago, “You think you speak words of wisdom, Sensato. But what is this all about? Have you had one cafécito too many? Have you found Eden? Is The Garden in Habana or Santiago?”
Sensato looked up, and as he glanced keenly at Mago. Sensato had not intended to open his burdened heart to Mago, he had spoken aloud now use to speaking to himself. But he knew Mago as if by magic, and knew this mocking boy was the one who must receive his warnings.
Sensato asked of Mago, “Are you one to steal good fruit? One must understand that fruit is fruit, and that it does not reach its full potential until it is ripe. To misuse unripe fruit is worse than to just rob a man of what he has tended: it robs the world and hinders a good thing from fulfillment.”
Mago had not intended to engage an elderly patron in incoherent philosophy, he had simply wished to be un jodedor. Alas, we all make mistakes. Still now Mago felt it was his duty to humor the old man.
“I do not claim wisdom like you have from the passing of years. But I know well enough the disappoint truth that those who mean well may often do more harm than those who let things be. I should have left you be, but now I feel as if it would rude to not let you tell me what you wish to tell me. Why to you speak of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil? Why do you accuse me of robbing fruit? When you have explained all of this to me I will order my cortadito and be on my way,” Mago stated.
“How do you not see the connection, you like many others eat of bitter fruit and toss out good fruits. You are an omen, I remember there were only men like you in the days that Batista became a dictator and Castro usurped his power. You must learn to eat of good fruit, those fruits which have found their proper ripeness and not hand out rotten fruits,” Sensato warned.
Mago became frustrated, “Why do you speak in metaphors? I would not misuse green fruit now or ever! I have no use for unripe platanos! I think your words are as unsound as a platano that has been in storage for too long! What should I consider of trees or fruits? Do men consider the fulmilment of the life story of a tree before they cut it down? I simply make use of what is around, and if the next Batista or Castro comes then I shall live with them accordingly. And my fruits shall be my own, I cannot consider the fruits of a nation I have never lived in. Nor can I let the paranoias of the old country shape the new. You tell stories like José Martí, but at least he had the decency to die in battle for what could have been my country. Do not speak of fruit when you let Cuba’s plantations die. You brought your seeds to the United States, and so this is where we have grown our crops. And traded our platanos for strawberries, our arroz for corn. Let us eat fruit, steal it, or play with it, it is all the same. Dictatos shall rise and fall, and our seeds will find themselves upon new soils, no matter what fruit we produce.”
While hanging his head Sensato slowly said, “Whoever tends a tree and guards it from blights has something to live for. They let that tree produce more abundantly and allow for the continuing of its kind. Trees are not judges. Do not all my words give you answers?”
Mago quipped, “Can you find no answer in the past for all your age and historical lore? I am less learned, I could make your whispers of concern clear to you. You are haunted by the past. So much so, that you holler incoherent warning about dictators coming to the shores that granted you a new home.”
Sensato shook his head, “Peace makes things slack. What is to be done now?”
And with those words, Mago went to order his cortadito at the ventanita.
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Anthony David Vernon is a continental philosopher and literary writer who writes in a variety of styles on myriad subjects. He has been twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize and currently works as an adjunct professor of at multiple South Florida institutions.
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