Persecution complex

I have no pictures that do this little narrative justice. I would be great if it had been caught on video.
We left Saturday morning to drive to Nampula for the weekend. We had only travelled a block or so from our home and were approaching a major intersection. As we pulled to a stop we saw a woman in great distress with a pile of tomatoes fallen on the ground, most of which were crushed and broken. In anger she was stomping the rest of them to smithereens (I actually don't really know what a smithereens is, but I think that it is small and unusable). We surmised that she was carrying a basket load of tomatoes to sell at the market or roadside when she dropped it. She cut a pretty tragic figure there stomping in tears in the middle of the road.
Despite widely held opinions to the contrary, I am a compassionate soul. I asked Debbie to roll down her window and offer some money to the distraught woman--to reduce her loss and lighten her load. As she did so, the woman reached down and grabbed a heaping handful of tomato chunks and heaved it through the open window, accompanied by words of fury. The missiles plastered Debbie, me, and the car's interior and windows. Onlookers at this busy intersection looked on in amazement and amusement. We were somewhat surprised by the outcome of our largesse. Finally awakening from our shock, we drove on--spending the next seven hours in a sticky pizza-like state-- though lacking pepperoni.