Jabu and I are talking as we walk back to the accommodation after work, discussing some piece of hospital political trivia, when his eye is caught by a gang across the carport. They are standing in a group talking and eating something.
“Hey, Ed, let’s go eat sugar cane.” We walk over and join the circle. Sugar cane eating generally seems to be the equivalent to “Afternoon tea” – an excuse to gather and make small talk.
“How do you eat it?” I ask.
“First you must peel of the outside with your teeth,” says one, Thulani. He demonstrates, rapidly stripping off the bark-like exterior of the cane and spitting it onto the pile that has collected at the centre of the group. I try. “Not like that, use your canines.” I try again with more success.
“Then bite off the inside.” I bite off a chunk of the white moist fibrous interior and chew. It is, as you would expect sweet and tastes a little of tree. I swallow.
“Don’t swallow,” says another member of the party, and she laughs as it sticks in my throat and I gag. I bite off another chunk and then pass the stick on.
“You don’t like it?” Jabu asks.
“Perhaps it is like coffee – I will learn to like it.” I say, and then, being a product of the neurotic fluoride age, nip back to brush my teeth.
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