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Bahamian Entrepreneur

My Mum has done well for herself as an entrepreneur after leaving the Bahamas a year ago. When she came here, she teamed up with my reclusive neighbour Miss Knowlton, and to make mad money, they went into business selling things that they cooked, baked and made at a local farmer's market. They tapped into the yuppie market, the organic fad and the home-baked no-preservative trends.

They also make all-natural goatmilk soap and cremes from the flock of goats that the ladies bought from another neighbour, the petting zoo guy, when he decided to get out of the petting zoo business.

In a constant lookout for new product ideas, and new sources of revenue, the ladies have this unusual bush telegraph, looking for raw materials for their enterprises. One of them is church, and the woman's group, and the volunteer work that they do with the old folks (it's funny because oftentimes they are older than the folks that they call old).

We live in the Lanark Highlands and have plenty of wacky neighbours. One of them grows huge pumpkins in an effort to get into the Guinness World Book of Records. There is a particular species of pumpkin called the Atlantic Giant. This year, our neighbour was disappointed because the world record was broken again and the competitor came from the States. The old record was 436 pounds and someone grew one that weighed 439 pounds.

For some reason or another, this wasn't a good year for pumpkins. There were lots of them, but there wasn't any size to them. The guy who grows them in our neighbourhood, heard about Mum and Miss Knowlton's ventures, and offered them all of the pumpkins that they could carry away.

The ladies thought that they first would carve some jack-o-lanterns for Halloween, and then they would make pumpkin pie, pumpkin chutney, pumpkin preserve and a pumpkin face mask to sell at the market. They were particularly interested in the jack-o-lanterns to try and lure some kids to our door. We live so far out in the country, that we got one kid one year, and there hasn't been any since for a few years.

They went in Miss Knowlton's little puddlejumper of a Jeep knockoff, and when they got to the neighbour's pumpkin patch, they were in for a bit of a surprise. There wasn't a pumpkin there that weighed less than 75 pounds, and a couple of them were at the 200 pound mark. They phoned me at home, and I went and lifted a few of the smaller ones into the back of Miss Knowlton's jeep. I swear that the springs were riding on the axle with the pumpkin load.

Then the women went nuts, making the pumpkins into 'stuff'. There were huge stock pots boiling away for the preserves and such, and they made enough pumpkin pies to feed an army. They carved two of the largest ones for jack-o-lanterns and the end of the laneway. Pumpkins are tough, and Mum cut herself quite deeply while carving the pumpkin. I had to use Mum's Honda Four-Trax and the trailer to haul them out there.

The Saturday before Halloween, they took their pies and such to the market. It was their first day at the market where they suffered a loss. They couldn't give the pies away. They managed to sell some pumpkin chutney, some pumpkin pommade, and little bags of fried, salted pumpkin seeds, but the pies were a bust. Nobody wanted to buy pies. As the day dragged on, they kept lowering them till finally the price was 99 cents for a big pie, and still no takers. For the last half an hour, they gave pies away for free, and still had half the amount that they started out with.

On the way home, they stopped at the food bank, and the food bank gladly took the pies. And then came Hallowe'en night, and not a single kid came to the door. The pumpkin caper didn't turn out very well, and the ladies were none too pleased at going into the hole in the pie production department. Mum was philosophical and said that God would give them a profit in Heaven because they gave away the pies to the poor. Well as it turns out, God was prompt in returning the profit.

I mentioned to the pumpkin guy that the ladies went bust on their pumpkin caper. He smiled and said that the money wasn't in the pumpkins, but in the seeds. Everyone wants to buy Atlantic Giant seeds for their own gardens -- and if the seeds were organic, then they would go like hotcakes.

I was under the impression that the ladies fried up all of the seeds for the salty snacks. It turned out not so. I told them what the pumpkin guy said, and they went and retrieved the seeds from the compost pile. They dried them out, put them 5 to a pack in envelopes, and put a price of $1.99 on the pack. I printed up some labels with 'Atlantic Giant' and some stats on the size that they grow too, along with a picture from the Internet.

On Wednesday, there is a small organic market at a local crossroads that runs for a few hours in the afternoon and evening. They took their seeds there, along with some other stuff, and sold out before quitting time. And they recouped all of their money on the pies, and still came home with a profit.

It looks like Linus of Charlie Brown fame was right about the Great Pumpkin, and they got their just rewards. I'm a believer now. And the bonus for me was that I get my pick of the candy that they bought for the kids who never came.

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