Arthur "Mr. Okra" Robertson lumbers down Esplanade Avenue in his rickety pickup truck. Hot, sodden air blows through the open window and his sweat dampens the towel draped around his neck. Holding a jerry-rigged microphone in his hand, he calls out in a thick, furry voice, chanting a simple tune that is somewhere between talking and singing.
I have oranges and banana...
I have eating pears and apples...
I have peaches, I have plums...
I have cantaloupes...
I have watermelon...
Mr Okra passed away on Thursday of this week...
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