Cutting mangos in the dark

Oh my goodness, the internet and electricity are still working, so I'm taking the opportunity to post as much to this blog as I physically can before my fingers fall off...

Last week, I decided to by mangos for my family. Mangos are so delectably delicious that I eat one almost everyday and that day, I decided to share the love with my family. For those of you who weren't aware, mango is my absolutely favorite fruit in the whole entire world, and I am definitely thriving here in mango country. Anyway, there are three or fruit stands on the way to school everyday, so buying them is never a difficult task(unless the ones being offered aren't ripe). This day, I had to decide how many to buy: there are 13 other people at my house, plus whoever may be visiting...and if we say a two thirds of a mango for every person...mmm we'll go with 6. Luckily all the options were sufficiently squishy. Now, mangos are not expensive, so 1500 CFA later (~$3.40), I was on my way with a bag full of mangos. It's times like these that I wish I knew how to cart things around on my head like a true Senegalese. When I arrived home, I told my sisters that I had bought mangos for dessert, and smiled as their faces lit up.

After dinner, I went to my room and retrieved my precious mangos and brought them to the little area outside the kitchen. Not being familiar with the kitchen, seeing as I'm hardly ever allowed in there, I fumbled around to find an appropriate holding receptacle and cutting utensils. And after employing the help of my ten year old cousin Christoff, I did find them. So there we were sitting on the steps, holding mangos and knives, when what should happen? The electricity goes off. Again. Alrighty then. Well, why should a little darkness stop us? I put my mango down and went to find my cellphone and flashlight in my room. I now keep them both in convenient places because of this. (P.S. whoever designed my cellphone was a genius, because it has a built in flashlight that is ridiculously convenient in cities that don't have reliable electricity) Portable lights in hand, I returned to the steps where our mangos sat waiting to be cut. So in the meager lighting, Christoff and I started the long journey of cutting those mangos.

The mango is a unique fruit: skin thicker than an apple but thinner than an orange, a long flat and wide pit, and pulpy squishy juicy yet solid fruit. Even with the help of a knife, the task of eating a mango is never neat and clean. The first cut oozes with the sweet and sticky nectar, and proceeds to drip all over. The more involved you get the more nectar and pulp you are likely to get on your hands and under your fingernails. Each chunk cut from the skin or pit is slimey and slick, and if you aren't careful will slip right between your fingers. The lack of seeing ability was just an added challenge to make the whole game more fun. So there I was, plopped down on some stairs, next to a ten year old senegalese boy, cutting mangos in the dark, trying desperately not to drop any pieces or get mango juice on my skirt. Conversation was slim, as we were both concentrating, but everytime something got dropped or juice spilled, snickers could be heard from both of our mouths.

In the end, the fruit is the reward for all the hard work. And believe me, the sweet and tangy treat couldn't be a better reward. All of that painstaking cutting is worth it when you get to sink your teeth into the juicy morsels, overwhelming your taste buds with tangy goodness. What's more is that evening, I got the added reward of sharing the experience with my family. I'm pretty sure there is no one in this world that doesn't enjoy a good mango.

As I was sitting there in the dark, covered in sticky mangoness, I started to think about how me moving to Senegal is a lot like that experience. (Forgive me and my analogies, but that's just how I roll) I was thinking about how I had eaten countless mangos over the last couple of weeks, and yet every one was as challenging as the previous one. Each mango is just as sticky and messy and hard to eat. Moving to another country and immersing myself in a completely new culture is hard. I've been to other places before, and am far from being ignorant about world travel. I think that I underestimated the effect of culture shock because I figured I had done it before, so I could do it again no problem. But it was just as sticky and messy as the last mango. When I first got here, it was like trying to figure out how to do something familiar in the dark. But the longer I sat in the dark with those mangos, the easier it got to cut them and not worry about getting messy. The longer I've been here in Senegal, the easier it's gotten to figure out my way around and not worry about making mistakes or having awkward moments (goodness knows I've had plenty of those).

And that's about all I have to say about that.

P.S. It was so hot yesterday, I could see my fingers sweat.