From the market, I proceeded to my friend’s house as we hadn’t seen each other for a while. He was there, as usual hunched over his computer. As a foodie with a big following on social media, this was only to be expected.

“Hello,” I said, settling on the sofa and placing the pineapple I had just bought on the coffee table.

“Gimme a minute, let me finish this,” he said, and continued with his work. That done, he got up and came over, but suddenly froze.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You brought this pineapple like this all the way?” he asked.

“Yeah, that was the only thing I bought and I didn’t want any plastic bag for it. Why should I add to the pollution?” I touted my green awareness.

“Plastic is not the problem here. Don’t you know buying pineapples is not politically correct now? You know the mainland has banned pineapples from Taiwan, right?” he asked, still frozen to his spot.

“I did read that, but Hong Kong is still importing it and it is being sold in shops. So I didn’t think it was a problem,” I reasoned.

“You know what they call Taiwan pineapples in countries like Canada and Australia now? ‘Freedom pineapple’. It could get you into trouble if someone thinks you are making a political statement,” he said.

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Maybe you can give me an old newspaper to wrap this in. I’ll try not to show it,” I said.

“That won’t hide the smell. If you are stopped on the way by some cop for inspection, he could get suspicious,” he said, as he returned with a sheet of paper and a plastic bag.

I was getting nervous but pretended to be unconcerned. “Then I will just throw it away when I leave here,” I thought I had the solution.

“DON’T DO THAT,” he was almost screaming now. He sat down with a thud on the sofa and looked at me with pleading eyes. “That is what they used to do during the 1967 riots. Throw pineapples. Only problem was they were bombs. Many were injured and killed. You don’t want to get arrested for throwing bombs, do you?”

I was visibly shaken now. “What do I do? I bought it already,” I said.

“Maybe we can make juice and drink it quickly. So there won’t be any trace of it,” my friend suggested and I agreed.

He called his domestic helper and asked her to make pineapple juice, adding instructions to throw away the waste as quickly as possible.

“I didn’t know things are getting so bad that buying fruits could get you into trouble,” I said.

“Pineapples have always been a touchy subject. Once I posted a picture of a pizza with pineapple on it and many people were furious. I got threats even from Sicily, saying I was appropriating their cuisine,” he said. “It could have started the third World War for all you know!”

“Food is fuelling tensions between people of different countries now?” I was appalled. “I always thought a full stomach made people calmer.”

“It, indeed, is! This pineapple row is now quite a prickly issue. People in Taiwan are being urged to eat as many pineapples as possible. As per calculations, they have to eat 18 kilos of it a day to consume what they would have otherwise exported,” my foodie friend was obviously keeping track of the situation.

“Can you eat that much every day?” I was amazed, as the helper returned with the juice and both of us disposed of the evidence in one gulp.

“Well, when patriotism is added in generous measure, such tasks become palatable, I guess,” he said, putting down his glass.

“Wish they would leave foodstuff and fruits out of such arguments,” I said.

“Not everyone is unhappy though. My Aussie friend is happy that China has banned Australian wine and beef. As a result, the prices have come down here and he is enjoying his steak and wine regularly. He was asking me if there was any chance of Beijing including beer to that banned list,” my friend said with a smile.

“But his wife is a bit worried as she is from Thailand. If China bans durian import for some reason, she would have to eat a few kilos of it every day to help her country’s farmers,” he added.

“This Game of Thorns is getting out of hand,” I said.

My wife is also worried, as she is from the mainland,” he said.

“What is she afraid of?” I asked.

“She says if this kind of patriotic flavor spreads into China, it could spell trouble as the country is the biggest producer of garlic. She is scared she may not cut muster if asked to eat kilos of that pungent bulb every day,” he said. “It could be a nightmare for me too if she starts chewing kilos of it.”

“I can smell trouble if that happens,” I was sympathetic as I said goodbye to him.

Patriotism becomes the flavor of the season when fruitcakes dictate policy, I thought as I waited for the lift.

(A fictional satire written by Hari Kumar, who is a journalist based in Hong Kong.)

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