MEDITATION ON A BANANA

budha_banana_big

Meditation on a Banana

*

I am in my supermarket

looking at a banana

that’s come all the way from China,

just like that song by Leonard Cohen.

*

It was picked green/

washed/irradiated/

snap frozen/packed

& loaded into a metal shipping container

with thousands of other bananas

and shipped over the sea and far-away.

Once in my country it is unloaded/

trucked to a distribution centre/

chemically snap-thawed/

and trucked again to my supermarket

where they slap a sticker bearing a koala

on the banana and arrange it artfully on a shelf

painted black, so that the banana will look yellow,

instead of that sickly, greyish-green hue it assumes

when exposed to real sunlight.

Hunting Spider or Banana Spider (Cupiennius salei) sitting between Bananas, native to Central America

I look at the banana

with something like wonder.

Somehow it was more “economical”

to ship this sad specimen half way around the globe

rather than to try and grow it here.

Does that sound right to you?

It’s not like there’s a famine on or

that I live at the South Pole

or anything like that.

Used to be you could drive out of town

twenty minutes in any direction

and there’d be a banana farm.

Of course, it takes you longer than twenty minutes

these days, to get out beyond

the seemingly relentless urban seep,

spreading like a stain across the land,

housing estates sprouting on rich, red soil

where used to grow strawberries,

paw paws, pumpkin, beans,

a rich profusion of market crops

surrounded the city, now

replaced by a concrete and gyprock rim

of dormitory suburbs.

o-freelee-banana-girl-facebook

Perplexed, I took my banana to the cash register.

The checkout girl then patiently explained to me

the economics of the banana;

“It’s globalisation, innit?” she said and popped

her chewing gum,

“Rich Fuckers grow stuff or get stuff made

in Third World countries where they don’t pay

the peasants proper, then ship it over

to fat fuckin’ First World countries like this dump,

where they can undercut local products,

then they ship their money

to any shitty, little island that’s got a bank and no taxes,

all nice and legal and above board.

It’s called Free Trade, Darrl,” she concluded

“and that’s $3.90 for the banana.”

*

“Three ninety for a fuckin’ banana!” I shrieked.

*

“Well, what do you expect, ” she yawned,

and started filing her nails,

“it came all the way from China.”

devushka-banan

****

sybaritejpig

***

nov-27-corected

***

reverend-profile-red

The Reverend Hellfire;

WORKS ALL NIGHT ON A DRINK O RUM

HAULING BANANA’S TILL DE MORNING COME!!

***

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~ by reverendhellfire on November 27, 2016.

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