I have an unusual security problem. Someone seems to be breaking into my compound at night and planting papaya seeds.
When the dogs startle at some small sound in the dark reaches of the night, I no longer dismiss it as a creature in the garden or a falling banana plant on the riverbank. No, I suspect a cloaked figure is scaling my compound wall with large sack of papaya seeds on his back. With muffled but fiendish laughter, he flings them by the handful all over the garden.
They spring up like dragon teeth in the grass, under the eaves and suspiciously close to the kitchen door. When I ask my staff whether they’ve been tossing seeds around, they stoutly deny it. But there are papaya seedlings in the flower beds and papayas between the paving stones. No matter what seeds I plant in the flower pots, a little jungle of papaya plants comes up instead. Ironically, when I try to plant papaya seeds along the compound walls where I want them to grow, they never germinate.
I carefully prepared a bed for some new tomato plants, germinated from rare seeds. I dug out a deep trench, filled it with compost, and carefully tucked in the little plantlets. I watered them lovingly at dusk each day, and when I had to leave Bali for a week instructed Wayan not to forget them. A few days ago I remembered to check them. Only one pathetic plant survived, choked out by 14 thriving young papayas. I transplanted the volunteers along the wall where, of course, they immediately died.
I read an article about the propagation of papaya recently. “Remove the seeds from a ripe fruit and wash carefully to remove coating. Dry a few days, dust with fungicide and plant in fertile, well-cultivated soil, water carefully… What rubbish! Nothing — drought, floods or bad temper — can prevent a papaya from growing, unless you purposely plant it.
We carefully save all the seeds from the papaya we eat and either give them to friends or throw them down the steep riverbank (I’ve learned not to put them in the compost, which quickly became Papaya Central.) I have a vision that some day there will be a dense plantation of papaya trees along the bank, attracting legions of birds, bats and low-flying pterodactyls. But until now, as far as I can see, not a single seed has germinated there. They prefer to be in the garden.
Fortunately the fruit of my papaya trees are particularly delicious. I have two varieties, which Wayan calls coklat and mas. We all eat lots of papaya — me, my staff, Pak Mangku next door, the parrots and some of the dogs. Whatever the species it’s a remarkable plant, honoured around the tropical world for its health benefits.
Papaya is said to increase the metabolism and enhance sexual performance. I’d be interested to learn if any readers can verify these claims. Perhaps one day there will be ads scrawled inside phone booths for fresh papaya delivered to tourist hotels, along with the informal promotions for Viagra.
The seeds are supposed to dispel intestinal parasites and the bitter leaves, brewed into a tea, discourage mosquitoes from biting. I’ve heard that wrapping a piece of meat in a papaya leaf will tenderize it. Grated green papaya makes a fabulous Thai salad and can also be applied to the face as a revitalizing mask. Cooked, it is eaten as a vegetable. The sap of the papaya leaf is supposed to neutralize the discomfort of insect stings.
Papaya contains anti-oxidants and bioflavinoids, it has more beta carotine than carrots and more vitamin C than Kiwi fruit, as well as potassium, magnesium and calcium. Papaya helps nourish the endocrine system and encourages the body to produce more arginine, an essential amino acid that stimulates cell regeneration and benefits the skin.
The enzyme chymopapain, extracted from the milky sap of unripe papaya, has been injected into patients with herniated lumbar intervertebral disks who don’t respond to ‘conservative therapy’. (The results were not reported.) Papain, another enzyme, has an anti-coagulant effect. It is also used to treat commercial beer, as a meat tenderizer, in chewing gum and shampoo and, interestingly, in face-lift operations. Exactly how would a meat tenderizing enzyme be applied during this procedure?
But it’s not all sunshine in the garden of papaya remedies. The latex can cause skin irritations and, if eaten, severe gastritis. The enzyme papain may induce asthma and its sister enzyme carpaine can cause paralysis.
Papaya contains a proteolytic enzyme which soothes the stomach and aids digestion. The juice is used for warts, corns and skin defects, while the root is said to be beneficial for uterine tumours. In Africa, an infusion of papaya root is used for syphilis and the leaf is smoked to relieve asthma attacks. The Javanese believe that eating papaya prevents rheumatism. In Cuba, the latex is used as a treatment for psoriasis and ringworm. In South America, papaya flesh is used as a balm for wounds and skin inflammations, and eaten to rid the body of parasites. The Aborigines of Australia and Kahunas of Hawaii use the half-ripe fruit as a remedy for cancer.
Back in Bali, my staff are convinced that ghosts hang around papaya trees. Another version of the story claims that witches dance around the male trees at night. And today I was told that only forked papaya trees attract witches. It’s all very confusing, but doesn’t seem to affect the flavour of the fruit.
I look at my papaya trees with more respect these days. Perhaps, instead of resisting the remorseless invasion of seedlings, I should surrender to their persistence and start a pharmacy. Witch-free, of course.
