Te gusta habas? Pedro wanted to know. I have no idea what Habas are, much less if I liked them. This wasn't one of those questions that I could bluff my way through - it would be dangerous territory to say I like something and not know what I was signing up for.
Pedro repeated the word, Habas, te gusta Habas? I still didn't know.
With a sigh, he left me in the potato patch he had just finished sowing, he trudged back to his stone-built shepherd’s hut and shut the door. Had I offended him? Had work ended for the morning? I stood and waited, just in case he came back
After several minutes, I heard the door squeak open again and he trudged back. Bless him, he was a bit out of breath but then again, his hut was a bit of a distance away, across our land and the other side of the donkey path. As he got close to me, he asked again - Te gusta habas? - and opened his hand out show a little pile of broad beans nestling in his palm.
Si si si!!!! I practically jumped up and down. Not only do I really love broad beans, especially being a vegetarian, but I now knew the secret meaning of habas. Pedro and I were connected once more. Let the sowing begin.
Pedro now began working the land nearer the house. This was not as flat as the potato patch, it started OK but then the slope increased as if it was almost doing a courtsey to the sea. As he dug the land and made channels ready for the habas, I was a little surprised to see that they were neither horizontal nor vertical to the path at the side, but at an angle. Maybe he read my mind, or did I ask?
Ah, he said. You do them like this so that the rain water doesn't run off too fast. Nor does it run off to slowly. So always make them at a 90-degree angle. Luckily he gesticulated enough so that I could understand. It made a lot of sense and this was something to remember.
Thank you so much Pedro, I said, thank you! And look how much you've planted! Hay mucho - there's a lot! This was an understatement.
Mañana, he said, mañana I will finish. OMG. This was going to be habas city.
