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One Saturday morning, I accompanied my mother to the local market for our regular produce shop. My mother continued browsing when I offered to bring the shopping back to the car, which was stuffed into a little red trolley. It resembled a Mary Poppins bag – rather compact, but it was surprising how much you could fit inside. That's what we believed.

With the trolley heaving under the weight of an packed load of groceries, my mum rested a box of honeydew melons on top. She warned me to be cautious getting it back to the car.

All was going well as I made my way through the throngs of shoppers and out of the market. But as I was crossing the chaotically busy main intersection into the market, the trolley became lodged on the road divider in the middle of the road, and the box of melons fell to the ground. They scattered, spectacularly tumbling out towards passersby and stationary cars.

As the little walking man changed from go to red, I was stunned, mouth agape, trying to figure out how I was going to retrieve the melons rolling in multiple directions.

Suddenly, a group of three or four older women sprang to my rescue. White hair, head scarves and one with a cane – they appeared as if they had emerged of the same nesting doll. They didn't hesitate by the cars inching their way towards us. Completely brave, they just raised their hands to halt the traffic, in each direction. They gathered all the melons for me, not missing a single one, as I fixed the box to hold them.

I thanked them and they didn’t say a word, just smiled and waved me goodbye. I didn’t eat the melons – I was never a real fan of honeydew melon – but I share this anecdote frequently because I love it so much.

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