Banana Man Versus Robin Hood

The epic battle between Banana Man and Robin Hood is finally over, and it seems that Robin Hood has won. The tautly stretched bow and notched arrow of Robin Hood have prevailed from their commanding heights, while the lowly bananas are sadly no more.

You may be thinking that Prof Madder is really living up to his name today, gentle readers, but don't worry - I will happily explain all this stuff before you call for the men in white coats to come running for me across the fields.

Banana Man and Robin Hood refer, of course, to a pair of little known features of the Kuching urban landscape that my wife and I first encountered some years ago. I am talking about a small road junction along the Foochow Road where on one side there is a sign-making firm and on the other, until recently, was a small dilapidated shop selling bananas.

The banana shop was not particularly notable except for two things. Firstly, every time our car topped the rise to pull up at the traffic lights directly opposite the shop, my wife and I always noticed the shining bare belly of the shop's owner, shining almost as brightly as the rows of bendy fruit that were always without fail out on display like yellow fish.

The second thing that was notable about the bare-bellied banana vendor's place was that it was hard to imagine how anybody could actually get into the shop to buy any bananas. It was situated smack bang in front of the traffic lights on the brow of a hill with virtually no space for any car to stop. And it was quite a walk from the nearest houses. Well, that's Kuching for you…

Yet every time we drove through that junction, there it was, the old man with his bare belly sitting next to his proud rows of yellow fruit, many of them turning black, but somehow always looking nice and yellow. And of course, whenever we passed the banana shop, the little children in all of us forced their way to the front of the queue. And we would start yelling "Banana Man!!" in salute to the man, his belly and his bananas.

This automatic tradition continued for a few years, but took on a new turn when my mother and father came to visit us in 2003. One evening, on our way back from a night on the town, we passed by the Banana Man's place as usual, shouting "Banana Man!!" at the tops of our voices (having already trained my mum and dad in just the right tone of voice and loudness of course!).

But my dad, always observant, was the first to spot the fateful being which would prove the final nemesis of Banana Man. And this is where Robin Hood comes in, because almost directly opposite the banana shop there is a large sign-making business. And its advertising logo, big and bright and brilliant, is none other than Robin Hood himself, or at least someone that looks like him, holding an immense pencil in such a way as to make us imagine it is a longbow full of pencils instead of arrows.

And you know what my dear dad did as soon as he saw that sign board? Of course! He started to sing "Robin Hood, Robin Hood, Riding through the Glen, Robin Hood, Robin Hood, with his merry men…." (from the 1950s TV version starring Richard Greene, for those of you who may remember).

And my wife and I would shout out "Banana Man! Banana Man!!" like opposing cheerleaders, to ward off the arrows of Robin Hood and, presumably, to help them to bounce off the bare belly of the banana seller……

So this pantomime continued long after mum and dad went back to England. Annie and I would drive up to the junction, she would call out "Banana Man!!" and I would intone "Robin Hood, Robin Hood……", as you do when you miss your parents…

However, we have recently discovered, to our profound sadness, that the banana seller is no more. The shop has closed down, and is now just a wall of blank, dark metal shutters. No more bananas, no more shining belly, no more Banana Man. But Robin Hood, straight as an arrow where the bananas were bent, still stands in his sign board on high, stretching his bow to take aim, perhaps at another innocent victim…….

Small things please small minds, you might be thinking.

Well, you might say that, but it shows us how our human brains like to try and make sense of the ordinary, mundane things they encounter every day. A relatively uninteresting little corner of Kuching took on a profound meaning for two passers-by, and that is what human experience and creativity are all about.

It's things like this that separate humans from animals. Or humans from bananas, anyway.

And that's the story I'm sticking to, when they come to take me away….