Hawai'i Ways, Hawai'i Days
Forbidden fruits, lifelong fantasy

By Orlando Tumacder
Pearl City resident

I'm a crack seed connoisseur. Since small-kid time, I've had a sweet-sour tooth. For me, no other local snack is as onolicious. Yes, I enjoy chewing on cuttlefish legs and munching on Maui potato chips, but I'd rather suck seeds. Arare is appealing and an iso peanut is so tasty, but seeds are no ka oi. Football olives, shredded mangos, crispy cherries — how they broke da mouth. Li hing mui? I adore it.

Tai Sing Store on the corner of Cane Street and California Avenue in Wahiawa — that's where you'd often find me in the early 1960s when I was a boy, ogling the many jars filled with those delectable preserved fruits. But never did I make a purchase, for they were too expensive. The old Chinese proprietor, weary of my loitering, would shoo me away, saying, "You go now. If you no buy, no come my store." With a heavy heart, I'd depart.

But once, I did make my fantasy come true. For a week, I skipped school lunch and saved the quarter Mom gave me each morning. Doing so was risky, for Mom warned me many times that such a practice would incur her wrath. If my teachers or classmates believed our family was too poor to afford lunch, Mom would die of shame.

That Saturday morning, I leapt onto my beat-up Schwinn bike and raced to Tai Sing. As usual, the old man glared at me when I approached. But when I pointed to the mango seed and said, "I like 75 cents," his jaw dropped. "Where your money?" he asked with skepticism.

I pulled three quarters from my pocket and showed them to him. "Gimme 75 cents worth," I repeated.

He broke into a smile. He placed a white paper bag on the scale, grabbed thick, sticky slices of mango with his tongs and stuffed them into the bag. I paid him, then took off to Wahiawa Theatre.

With the remaining 50 cents, I bought a ticket to the matinee and a large cup of Pepsi. For two hours, I slurped and sucked and sipped. When the seeds were gone, I tore the bag open and licked it clean. Don't ask me what movie was showing that day; I cannot recall. But I can tell you that for one all-too-brief afternoon, I knew bliss. All was well with the world, for I had just savored a slice of heaven.

A few years ago, I read an article regarding the factories in China where most seeds are made. Some of them were far from sanitary; rat hair and droppings had been found in some batches (come to think of it, my taste buds have detected a strange and unusual, albeit not entirely unpleasant, flavor at times). More bad news. I learned that preserved fruits contain cancer-causing additives. Like cigarettes, some packages of seeds even had warning labels. Auwe! Such information is as welcome as 'uku in my mattress.

To eat or not to eat; that is a no-brainer. As a middle-aged adult greatly concerned about my health, I can no longer indulge in these now-forbidden fruits. Alas, crack seed, I must forsake you. How I will miss the many times you have gladdened my heart and fulfilled my desires. Thoughts of you will linger, no doubt, but I must be strong. To yield to temptation, to succumb to my longings, can only do me harm. Perhaps someday, when your salt content is lower, when you no longer pose a threat of any kind, we can resume our love affair. I pray that day will come soon. Until then, aloha.

Here are haikus I've written in tribute to my beloved snack.

Entering the shop
The saliva starts to flow
Quick! Buy rock salt plum

• • •

Sweet mango slices
I eat plenty and when pau
My fingers all red

• • •

Big bag Yick Lung seed
Downed with two cup Foremost milk
Constipation cure

• • •

Valuable seed
If I drop one on the floor
I eat 'em still yet