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Updated: June 11, 2025
Here and there deep groves of oranges, the broad-leafed banana, and sugar-cane, skirted the bottoms of the valleys, through which the streams were occasionally seen, rushing in white foam over their rocky beds.
The Café des Exilés, to use a figure, flowered, bore fruit, and dropped it long ago or rather Time and Fate, like some uncursed Adam and Eve, came side by side and cut away its clusters, as we sever the golden burden of the banana from its stem; then, like a banana which has borne its fruit, it was razed to the ground and made way for a newer, brighter growth.
He seemed very amused by everything. "You you a spacer, no?" he demanded. By now a small crowd had paused and was watching the scene. Alan nodded. "Lemme show you how, spacer," the vender said, mockery topmost in his tone. He snatched the banana back from Alan and ripped back the rind with three rough snaps of his wrist. "Go on. Eat it this way. She tastes better without the peel."
On both sides of the river were banana and palm trees. There were beautiful plants and flowers of many colors. The light shimmered on the flowing river as the rowers pulled the oars and sang their songs. "What will happen if the Okoyongs are on the warpath?" Mary asked herself. "What will I do then?" Mary knew the answer. "I will put my trust in God and not in man."
"There, that's the case, Cleek," said Narkom, after a time. "Do you make anything out of it?" "Yes," he replied; "I make a good deal out of it, Mr. Narkom, but, like the language of the man who stepped on the banana skin, it isn't fit for publication. One question more, Sir Henry.
It interested Mr Pickering that The Man retained his English accent even when talking privately with his associates. For practice, no doubt. 'Come and get a banana, said the girl. And they went off together in the direction of the house, leaving Mr Pickering bewildered. Why a banana? Was it a slang term of the underworld for a pistol? It must be that. But he had no time for speculation.
It was August Bank Holiday, and they had gone out on to the heath together to see the people wonderfully assembled. Coming back across the burnt-up grass, strewn with paper bags, banana peel, and the cores of apples, he hooked his hand into her arm. "What is to be done with a child that goes about all day thinking and thinking and not telling anybody what she is thinking?"
On the opposite banks are numerous native villages, which are seen peeping through the cocoa, banana, papaya, and other bushy shrubs, with which every hut is surrounded. Near the ancient capital is the fortress to which the unhappy Prince of Genea withdrew when the Dutch conquered the kingdom, and where he lost his life fighting desperately.
"It's it's a new kind of banana," said Bumpo, for he and his brothers and sisters were very fond of the soft red and yellow fruit. "No, it isn't a banana," said Mrs. Monkey. "It's a cocoanut." "I never saw a cocoanut as big as that," spoke Mappo, for his papa had brought some smaller, round nuts to the tree-house, and had said they were cocoanuts.
Beyond the door was a banana tree, with ten-foot leaves, and a little black monkey loping around under it, sort of indifferent. Beyond the banana tree came thick woods. A woman came out of them with a basket on her head, up the path to the tower. The monkey yelped and went up the banana tree. "Dios!" says the woman, when she came to the door, and she put down the basket and ran.
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