Going bananas over bananas!:

Gaston de ROSAYRO

Those tales I mentioned recently about the old Lake House characters are now legends that will live on in media folklore. Actually there was never a dull moment in the newsrooms even after everyone stretched themselves out on chairs and desks after beating stressful deadlines. Following a short rest during post-deadline calm many would be pacing the corridors looking to let off steam.

The place was always playful and wildly alive. Everyone was a willing foil in this madcap menagerie which was bursting with energy fun and passion that was allowed free rein. Many remember the shenanigans we used to pull on our good friends such as fake phone calls that visitors were waiting at the reception. One of us pretended to be the watchman at the reception and called a favourite colleague to inform him that his wife or some relative had called over.

The trick was usually played on the veteran we called ‘Flash Gordon’ who fell for it time and again. He would rush down to the reception and realizing that he had been taken for a ride would loiter around in the administration. Whereupon, the famous ‘Manitou’ would call and ask for him and say: “Flash this is Thanga (another colleague)…your brother-in-law is here looking for you.” And away would flash, Flash Gordon again. He would return to the ‘Observer’ Editorial shamefaced after a long absence.

I remember another sub-editor we called ‘Duds Doolittle’ who mostly handled the late edition of the Daily Observer. I had been on the 4 am graveyard shift and about to clock off when Duds called requesting me to stay on and prepare the late edition as his wife was in hospital expecting her second child. I obliged and after putting the edition to bed was heading home around 1.30 pm when I met Duds in the Fort on his way to office. His wife had delivered their second child, a boy.

He thanked me for standing in for him and invited me for a drink. He appeared ecstatic about the new born and informed me that the child was comparatively fair as opposed to his and his wife’s complexions. He then looked at me suspiciously and blurted: “Now, I hope you don’t make a joke about this at the office.” I actually didn’t see a joke in it at the time, but inspired by Duds’ distrustful remark I mentioned it to my colleague ‘Manitou’ the first thing the following morning.

By that time the story was spreading through the editorial like wildfire. It had its explosive finale when ‘Manitou’ walked up to an unsuspecting ‘Flash’ Gordon, shook his hand firmly and exclaimed: “Congrats, Flash, Duds’ wife has just had a baby boy.” ‘Flash’ with his hand still in ‘Manitou’s’ grip was quite tickled and said: “Thanks, but I swear I had nothing to do with it!”

Then there was all sorts of stories about ‘Nick Baba’ who was dubbed with different kinds of uncharitable nicknames suck as ‘Knickerless.’ I still recall Nick’s beautiful speaking and singing voice. He could sing anything from hymns, to English pop songs and the evergreens to Sinhala baila and English classics.

Nick’s old man who also worked in the office used to reconnoiter the corridors purportedly to spy on his offspring Nick and his brother. Nick and his brothers had to hand over their pay packets and salary slips to their mother, who in turn gave them bus-fare, cream crackers for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch.

But Nick used to sneak a couple of vadais and a big banana or two from the tea boy who hauled his trolley over to the busy editorial and paid for it from his secret cache which was concealed in a square pipe tobacco tin. One day he was spotted doing so by the old man. Nick promptly told him that it was I (Gaston) who had given him the Ana Malu, which he called ‘Ana Valu’. Exonerated by his minor perjury he continued doing so for some time and used to hide his spoils in his desk drawer.

The jokes really began flying just before the notorious riot in which Lake House was attacked. The staff were all asked to leave as the mob cacophony outside was getting worse. Some wag, swore that Nick came rushing in quite out of breath, heading for his drawer and yelling: “My Ana Valu, My Ana Valu!.” At the risk of his very life he retrieved his prized banana and sprinted to the exit. Talk about going bananas over bananas!