READER REPORT (24) WHY NOTHING BEATS BANANAS
GERARD O'NEIL www.stuff.co.nz 12/01/14
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If I wanted to identify a constant in my life,
I could say that my favourite food has remained the same ever since I can
remember. That favourite food is bananas!
I presume my first contact with bananas was as
a baby moving onto solids. I cannot remember that far back, but I do have vague
memories of my mother mashing up bananas to feed to my younger sister sitting
in her highchair.
By primary school age however bananas were
already on the top of my list of favourite foods. At that time, bananas only
came in one size (big), one type and from Ecuador.
As we lived on a farm and only went to town
once per month, our access to bananas was limited. In those days (the mid
1960s) we would arrive at the grocery store in the morning to hand over our
shopping list. We would then pick up our purchases in the afternoon.
Before the groceries were stowed in the car,
my mother would check off each can of Watties peas, baked beans or fruit salad,
with their one cherry. At the very end, she would always say: "Oh I forgot
to put bananas on the list."
By accidently on purpose forgetting to put
them on her list my mother would be allowed to select the bunches she desired.
At that time, clients were not allowed to touch the merchandise until it was
paid for. My mother would normally select one green bunch of bananas and one
bunch just beginning to turn yellow.
When we arrived home, while my father went off
to do the evening milking, us children would help my mother unload the car and
store the groceries. After the sacks of flour were piled up in the panty, a 5lb
wooden tea box of loose tea would be opened and while the kitchen filled with
the enticing smell of Ceylon, a few cups of the precious commodity would be
transferred to the daily tea chest.
It was then time to work on the many cans of
tinned produce. After the cans had been stored, the bunches of bananas were
finally placed in the fruit bowl. The child who had helped the most was allowed
to peel off the blue Ecuadorian banana sticker, one per bunch, as a prize for
their effort.
In the world of children, those stickers were
like gold. As not every family could afford bananas or even went to town, they
were traded for sweets, pencils or simply stuck on schoolbooks, to show off.
It normally took a week for the first bananas
to ripen. The anticipation was almost unbearable.
When they were ready, my mother would cut the
bananas in half and ceremonially hand them out. Sometimes I would follow my
father's lead and make myself a banana and sugar sandwich, but most of the time
I just ate my banana from the peel.
Sometimes my mother would treat us. Instead of
the usual marmite sandwiches in our school lunch boxes, she would surprise us
with banana and raisin sandwiches.
When I was in Primer 2, an Australian teacher
arrived in our small rural school. Everyone adored Miss Monroe. We especially
loved her telling us stories about life in Australia and how her parents had a
banana tree in their back garden and so whenever she felt like eating a banana
she would go and pick one - a bit of an exaggeration I was only to discover
years later. I think my desire to one day live in country where bananas grow
freely was born around this time.
When I moved to the tropical country where I
now live, my passion for bananas continued. I remember making myself a banana
sandwich soon after arriving. This made my colleagues laugh. They told me I had
just made what is called locally "the poor man's lunch" and politely
suggested that as an educated person I should not be seen eating such a
sandwich in public.
I discovered that in the local market there
are many varieties of banana on sale. My favourites are the big sizes but there
is a scale going downward, the smaller the sweeter. The smallest is only a few
centimeters long.
Their price however defies economic logic. The
smaller the banana the greater the price.
One of the things about banana plants is that
if you are not careful they can get away on you. On my parents-in-law's farm
there is a banana tree that for some time has been threatening to take over the
garage. My mother-in-law suggested I might like to remove it as my Christmas
holiday project.
I toiled for three days in the tropical heat
trying to avoid the snakes that seemed to love banana trees as much as I love
bananas.
When I had finished, I suggested it was a
shame to throw such good rootstock away and so asked if I could plant the stems
around a pond in the cow paddock. My father-in-law half heartily agreed, but I
suspect he did not like the idea very much.
Away I toiled for another day in the cow
paddock planting my banana stems. My father-in-law's cows spent the day in the
shade watching me. I suspect they were probably wondering what this mad man was
doing out in the midday sun.
By the end of the day, I was finished and very
pleased with my mini banana plantation.
That night I dreamed about year-round bananas
on tap.
When I got up the next morning to inspect my
previous day's work I was horrified to discover my mini plantation destroyed.
"Oh," my father-in-law said. "I
forgot to tell you, cows don't like bananas, but they love banana leaves!"
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