Ugly Tomatoes

My mum was telling me about her childhood days again today over dinner. Somehow, the topic drifted to tomatoes, and she mentioned about how she had a wonderful neighbor (in the suburban neighborhood of Muar where she grew up) who grew tomatoes to sell at the market. And because the relationship between both families were really close, they usually made mutual, social exchanges. My maternal grandfather was the Chairman of the Luichew clan in town, making him one of the most influential men in the district, so the neighbor came to him often for small personal requests which he would try to help out if possible. In return, the neighbor would always give my mum's family tomatoes every week. Of course, they had to do business, so the best tomatoes got to the market, while the mishappened ones, or the ones with small bruises, dents, were given to my mum's family. In those days, to get free food was a blessing from heaven, no one really complained about how they look. And it was always appreciated. (Thank you to whoever you are, now I know how come my mum has her lovely, rosy cheeks. Man, come to think about it, every girl I've ever loved either had rosy cheeks or used a blusher often)

Anyway, back to the story. So that's how the subject of tomatoes came about. Then while I was collecting the dishes to bring them into the kitchen, a thought struck me.

If I were a tomato, which tomato would I be? The beautiful, sweet-looking one, the ordinary one, or the ugly, misshapen one? I assume the greatest goal of every tomato is to be consumed appreciatively by their... consumers. Then I thought about it.

The first one to be eliminated would be the ordinary one. Why? Because not all the tomatoes are sold at the end of the day. And since the ugly ones have been given free, and the beautiful ones bought, those remaining at the end of the day (and have to be thrown away) are these ordinary ones. Thus, if I were an ordinary tomato, I'll be nowhere near achieving my purpose for living.

The second one to eliminate (and alot of people might think me strange) I choose to eliminate being the beautiful tomato. Why? Because if you sit down and think about it, tomatoes aren't exactly the most outstanding of fruits. They're pretty tasteless, if not sourish, and a high percentage of it is just water. Thus, it isn't really noticed when eaten, even if bought at a price, and therefore not really appreciated specially. The ugly tomato however, came with symbolic meaning, representative of social ties, and with it, much love and appreciation. Moreover, my mum's family wasn't rich (which is testimony to my grandfather's charisma and social skills) and thus they always ate the tomatoes. Thus, when looking at the tomato dish today, she can still recall her neighbor and the close community ties that are pretty non-existent in Singapore today.

There's nothing wrong with being ugly, weak, easily-exploited or marginalized. God made this world to be full of paradoxes to fool man's greatest wisdom: rationality. And it's always the people that this world deems as invisible, forgotten, valueless, who God puts the most meaning and does the most number of wonders in their lives. So if you're an ugly tomato, there's no need to envy the beautiful ones. There's so much more in you that they might never find in themselves.



This is the paradox of beauty.



Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart. -Kahlil Gilbran

Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. -1 Peter 3:4