Ananas
The outsized machete in the street vendor’s hand came down with sharp force on the leafy top of the pineapple. The fruit gleamed yellow in his brown hand. With two sharp blows he decapitated the fruit and sliced it open down the middle.
‘Ananas,[i]’ he said with quiet pride. As he smiled, I could see the dark gaps in his mouth where teeth should have been, and the lopsided way the gaps made him smile. But his pride in the pineapple was palpable. He wanted us to enjoy the fruit. He passed each of us, my lover, my son and daughter, a pineapple and swiftly pocketed the notes I gave him.
I contemplated my pineapple. Where do you start eating it when standing in the noisy streets of Port-Louis in Mauritius? I took my pineapple gingerly in my right hand. The prickles on the outside stung momentarily as I examined its surface. The skin was a browny-grey colour, speckled with sharp prickles. Each prickle grew from its own prominent pore. The glossy flesh inside the skin, crosshatched with veins, was dripping golden beads of moisture.
With my left hand, I broke off the top ring of fruit. My fingers tingled with sticky moisture. I raised the circle to my lips. The first caress of pineapple juice on my lips brought me a thrill of refreshment. Standing in the muggy streets of humid Mauritius, I felt clean and cool. The pedestrians rumbling by along the busy street simply rushed past me. In my zone of silence, I barely noticed their presence.
My teeth met resistance as I bit into the pineapple, as if to tell me, take your time, relish the experience, ravish me slowly. As my teeth pushed through to the sweetness between, I felt juice spatter the palace of my mouth and squeak along my teeth. The juice was so powerful that it partly anæsthetised my lips.[ii] It felt sticky on my chin.
Then the taste of the pineapple. It was sweet and tart in my mouth, the flavours doing a ballet of balance on my tongue, the effect so exquisite I was aware only of this ropy mess of fruit in my mouth and the sticky substance spilling from my chin onto my hands and shirt.
I swallowed and started to say something to my beloved and my two smaller beloveds. But each was equally submerged in pineapple that words would have spoiled the moment. I did know that for just a few rupees we had become the wealthiest people in the world[iii].
‘Ananas!’ shouted the pineapple seller hoping to catch more people with his sticky fruit.
[i] Columbus brought pineapples to Spain under the name piña de Indes, pine of the Indians. It is known in Latin and French and most other languages as ananas, perhaps after a village in South America called ‘Añanas.’
[ii] Pineapples contain a substance which ‘eats flesh’, so their juice feels tingly on the lips. This substance bromain is used as a meat tenderiser.
[iii] When they were introduced to England, pineapples were such a rarity that they were worth thousands of pounds, and were displayed at the dinner tables of the nobility. Persons of a more middling rank could hire a pineapple to show off under your arm as you walked around the town.
Featured image courtesy Tasting Mauritius: https://tasting.mu/street-food-restaurants-ile-maurice/local/lananas-le-roi-des-fruits/
copies of my memoirs Skerricks are still available from me: $22.50 + $15 postage in Australia. Email TedWitham1@tedwitham
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