Dole

In the summer of 2011, Dole, the huge banana company, invaded Sri Lanka. I know. It sounds bad, doesn’t it. What made it even worse was at the time I was eating a huge yellow, long, juicy banana. It was probably Dole’s. I had no idea at the time that eating bananas could be so baneful. I had no idea that at that precise moment, 6000 miles across the world, a great tragedy was happening. An island was being invaded. I like to think of it as a movie, a boat racing along the coast, out into the big, blue ocean, then slipping in unawares to the island, crashing their banana boat

so gracefully into the soft, soft silver, golden sand. The sand shrouded their footprints. None of the villagers could see them; or maybe they just couldn’t stop them. Dole and their army marched up the coast into the first line of coconut palms. They took out their swords and started swashbuckling their way forward, into the deep and impenetrable jungle which some said the evil Yakkhas had cursed. They looked around. They sweated. Just like Jesus. They fought off their demons. They finally made it through, and then, on the other side of the jungle, they got an incredible, impressive, altogether amazing point of view.

The island was spreading out before them. Far ahead of them the land was so, so green. There were beautiful animals, lions and tigers and zebras, a massive stampede. There were watering holes. And of course there were wildebeests. Of course there were deer. And of course there were giants, the emperors of this place, the noble pachyderms on which I wish to focus, the very real ELEPHANTS of my story. They did nothing to deserve this. They wanted to live on an island that was full of peace. This, it seemed, would be a distinct impossibility.

Dole

and this is how I started my communication with Shermin, nearly 6000 miles away.

 

It was such a simple word. But the fact of the matter is, I think I was cursed.

Nothing I did turned out right. The truth of the matter is I was possibly (probably) anorexic. I was just waiting to die. I mean that literally. I wrote letters to myself saying FUCK FUCK FUCK you’re FAT FAT FAT and sometimes it was even worse than that. I found myself at a cliff. I looked down at my friends.

It wasn’t a very nice place. but my Mom and Dad always looked after me. They’re part of the reason why I’mw writing this story. Iw ant them to be proud of m e.