BANANAS

The smell of very ripe bananas takes me right back to my early childhood – particularly to my grandparents’ home called Stonybrae in Southbroom, a coastal town in KwaZulu Natal. This is because my Grandpa used to store whole bunches of bananas in the cellar beneath their house, which could be accessed from a small wooden door along one side of the house. These bunches varied from being very green through to very ripe.

As if spending time at the seaside was not special enough for this landlubber family, having ready access to so many bananas whenever we wanted one made our holidays seem ‘extra special’. There was only one rule: we had to leave the overripe ones for my Grandpa. He enjoyed eating the really fruity bananas shunned by so many: the ones with their deep yellow skin already covered with brown to black spots; parts of the fruit inside were already of a ‘jammy’ consistency.

I have always enjoyed the taste of bananas and our fruit bowl is seldom without some. During the year I lived in Amanzimtoti, also on the South Coast of KwaZulu Natal, I regularly bought a supply from a vendor who set up his truck close to the beach front. He soon got to recognise me and would have the ‘right’ amount of bananas weighed and ready before I had even asked him.

His prices would escalate – even double – during peak holiday periods to the point when I dithered about purchasing his bananas. Seeing my hesitation, he looked me in the eye and with a perfectly straight face told me in a loud voice (doubtless for the benefit of other customers) what the going price was. When I reluctantly handed over the money, he winked as he gave me the change I had not expected. “Special customer, special price”, he told me quietly. I discovered he employed this strategy with all of his ‘regulars’. Once the holidaymakers had left, his prices would drop to what we were accustomed to.

Of course a song that will always be associated with bananas in my mind is the Banana Boat Song (Day-O) sung so beautifully by Harry Belafonte. As children we would sing this song with gusto, only we thought the words were ‘highly deadly black tarantula’ – it was years later that I realised he was actually singing Hide the deadly black tarantula!

A beautiful bunch of ripe banana

(Daylight come and we want go home)

Hide the deadly black tarantula

(Daylight come and we want go home)

The idea of coming across a black tarantula (always sung with considerable emphasis) has always sent shivers down my spine.