Transnational

Almost biblical proportion locusts in East Africa, storms in Brazil, the China virus, quakes and eruptions in a number of places, and down in Oz where the fires continued high 30s/40s forecast on the weekend. And this was forgetting for a moment the wars that were unceasing. There had been not the merest mention of the latter in today’s paper. It had been Mr. Modh. from Joo Chiat Complex, going back to his digs on his bicycle, who had reminded to add them to the list of concerns. In one of the newspaper articles a volunteer fire fighter in New South Wales reported flames crowning 150m above tree tops and embers the size of grapefruit…. After eight years here amid all the new fruits intro-ed to the palate and the brain, it was actually impossible now to visualise a grapefruit. It would simply not come back. Neither the size nor the texture. Was there a large seed within like for an avocado or mango? Had grapefruit been roughly the size and shape of a persimmon, or the smaller sour sop? Pomelo or durian, even smaller ones, were unlikely. Jackfruit of course was out of the question. Five hours later it was still a complete blank. Grapefruits had been missed if they had ever sat on the shelves of the supermarkets here; certainly there were none at Geylang Serai market. You had been a transnational from way, way back of course. All the way back to the beginning. Now you were a right proper one. (And weren’t we all.)