Do you like Mangos? Do you like Diego Mangos? Or Long Mangos? Or do you like the sweet tartness characteristic of Round Mangos? Did you even know there were more than five species of Mango, all of which have their own devotees and inimitable tastes?

 

How about bananas, do you like bananas? The green ones or the yellow ones? The fat, short ones or the long, slim ones? The tiny ones or the big ones? Do you like them fried? Boiled? Grilled? Just plain? Do you, as I do, love the fat ones sliced up and boiled in coconut milk and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar? Yes, yes, you do — or would.

 

Who would have thought that one of the innumerable advantages of being a Peace Corps Volunteer on a tropical island would be tropical fruit?

 

Yes! One of the benefits of living in a country that has yet to enter the supermarket era of all foods all year round is that seasons and regions come to be identified with their respected fruits. For example, here in Madagascar, mango season begins in December and lasts until about March. By November, however, people are already starting to talk about the impending deluge of mangos and indeed have already begun to consume unripe mangos in the form of what is locally called “lasary manga,” or, “mango salad.” The mango salad is made by grating unripe mangos, chopped chives and tomatoes, a little vinegar, and finally salted to taste. People here eat the salad here like a condiment on everything, but its mostly used as a side dish with beef kabobs and fried cassava.

 

Ripe mango season arrives like a quietly impending storm. You see, it hits different areas of the country at different times so there is a small window of time where you can purchase ripe mangos, for a premium mind you, from surrounding areas and then garner face from people by giving them as gifts. The market is the true barometer of mango season, however. My market is divided into neat little sections, with the fruit peddlers neatly stationed in the southwest corner. At first all they carry are these bulbous green mangos called “manga-esoo,” which are used to make the mango salad. These are sold in bunches of five for the absurd price of one-hundred ariary (about five cents). (Try to imagine this writer’s apprehension as he handed over five cent’s worth of money for five mangos, mangos which I believe sell for no less than eighty-nine cents apiece at your local American grocer. This writer, being new to the whole cheap mango thing, made sure to make steady eye contact with the fruit vendor, searching for any sign that his calculation had been mistaken and incredulously placing each mango within his market basket, and then departed briskly from the market for fear of being pursued by the authorities.) Slowly, ripe mangos enter the market. At first supply is low, demand is high — each ripe mango costs five cents apiece (if you can believe that). But after a week or two, prices come down to the standard five cents a bunch.

 

Mango season is nice for many reasons aside from the obvious one of gorging yourself daily on delicious golden-orange mangos. First, people cherish it. In my experience, supermarkets leave little left to cherish in terms of seasonal foods and regional delicacies. The closest thing I can think of, in the Midwest at least, is sweet corn season. Sweet corn season in Wisconsin is one of the few times during the year that you might be better off driving down an old country road than you would be driving straight to your local commercial grocer. There’s nothing inherently good about that. Obviously it would be more efficient to go to the grocery store over a farmer’s market or local farmer, but the latter is more conducive to creating connections, in more than one way. One way you make a connection is with another human being. You interact with someone who’s put time and labor into growing food for consumption. A second way, is you are more connected with the land. If you eat according to the seasons, you are in a very real sense, living in harmony with the environment. You know what and when the land is capable of producing. Obviously, this is easier and more fun on a tropical island devoid of harsh winters, but I think it’s worth thinking about.

 

Here in Befandriana one of the local specialties is a species of mango called round mango. Round mangos are uniformly green and, well, round. They lack the red and yellow hues and the oblong, somewhat-conical shape of typical mangos found in America. Inside they are more yellow than orange, and have a distinct tangy-sweetness that I reluctantly confess is — Starburst-y. Another type of local mango is the long mango. The distinguishing feature of long mangos is their copious amount of veins. Veins are the things that get stuck in your teeth as you bite toward the pit of your typical mango. Long mangos, however, are completely comprised of veins. The downside of this is manifest: Do not eat unless within range of floss or toothpicks. The upsides are firstly that long mangos are comprised of significantly more juice than other mangos, which means an especially succulent mango. A second advantage is that if you don’t enjoy flossing, the social implications of walking around with a mouthful of mango veins is a very good incentive for keeping up with your dental hygiene.

 

(I should note a second hazard that has been known to afflict prodigious consumers of long mangos. Occasionally, should one dispense with the rituals of civilized eating, throw forks, knives, and spoons to the wind, and instead opt to simply consume long mango after long mango, alone, sweaty, and pressed for time during his or her break, by simply masticating mouth to mango (the way mangos should be consumed in this writer’s opinion), there is a small chance that the juicy residue could leave an orange ring around the eater’s mouth, which would, were such an event to occur, lead his or her colleagues to stare impolitely and propel the eater, perhaps already paranoid about his or her excessive mango consuming habits, to all but sprint to the nearest source of water and vigorously scrub his or her face all the while still being watched by suspecting colleagues and students. Eater beware.)