Lynn White

The Melon Market

It was a small town,

Pec, in Kosovo now,

then in Yugoslavia.

It was 1966,

the year before watermelons became illegal 

in Palestine.

It was a small restaurant

with no menu

so communication wasn’t easy.

But the guy on the next table spoke French

opening up a channel of communication for us.

John wanted to eat melon

but there was no melon.

Our French speaking friend,

he was a friend by now,

Had a late night solution.

He took us to a large dry field,

a melon market, he said.

There were huge heaps of watermelons,

dark green globes waiting in heaps.

Each heap with its sleeping seller

resting on a bed of melons.

He shook one seller awake 

and carefully chose a melon.

We all went home with him,

he called the neighbours in

and there we had a melon party

eating great juicy slices 

with bright pink hues

off tin plates

in a small house in Pec in 1966,

the year before Israel banned watermelons in Palestine.

Watermelon Hues

Criminalised for a fruit,

for eating a fruit,

for growing a fruit 

for displaying its colours and hues

in a place where it should grow naturally.

Criminalised for a flag.

Criminalised for displaying its colours,

for wearing its colours,

for painting its colours

in the country where it arose from,

in the country where it belongs.

Criminalised by the occupation.

Criminalised.

But the seeds grew

and still they grow 

and spread

the seeds.

Seeding

The bomb blew up the water melon.

It exploded

shredding its pink flesh

and scattering its seeds.

The bombs blew up the water melons.

They exploded

shredding their pink flesh

and scattering their seeds.

Bombs

and more bombs

scattering seeds 

to make more water melons.