You didn’t think you had heard the last about my love for mango, did you? Nope! Here is my ode to mango.
As my last week in Ghana draws to a close I’m already beginning to become nostalgic. Nostalgic for the fresh coconut juice and coconut meat on a hot day. Nostalgic for the sweet sweet Cape Coast pineapple. Dole pineapple is a joke. Nostalgic for Fan Ice and Fan Yogo in their little packets. Nostalgic for street food such as peppery goat kebab, roasted corn with coconut, roasted plantain with groundnuts, and waakye. Nostalgic for red-red (fried plantains and beans stew) from Korle-Bu’s canteen and Ghana fried rice with chicken served with coleslaw and shito (oh excuse me, black pepper *rolls eyes*). But most importantly, I am already nostalgic for my dear dear mango.
Oh mango how I do love you
Sweet, luscious, succulent, sumptuous goodness
Oh how I cherish our private moments when I can let your juice get all over my face!
Oh king of all fruits
How many clothes have I stained with your sweetness?
You just send thrills of pleasure through my body….
Okay! I should probably stop there as it is probably getting steamy for some of you naughty minds!
But seriously. I will miss the mango. The ones in the US imported from Guatemala and Mexico are just not the same. I don’t know if it is the quality of the soil or if it is because those mangoes are marked for export, or if it is because they just don’t care or what, but the mangoes in the US are just not the same. I still enjoy them, they are after all mangoes, but it is not the same pleasure, you hear?!
If I were rich like the superstars I would have a private jet to have mangoes flown to me daily! Daily I say!