Mango season is coming to a close, at least for the trees around my compound, but you'll still read some more posts based on journal entries written back in the days of the mango.
Somehow, Gambians can look into a tree and instantly identify the ripe mangoes. Fatou Bobo came to my backyard one afternoon to help me knock all the ripe mangoes out of my tree, or at least, all the ripe mangoes within reaching distance of my two-foot stick. She kept pointing out the ripe mangoes to me, and I kept trying to learn the identifying features.
Me: You, you know if a mango is ripe.
Fatou Bobo: Yes.
Me: Me, I do not know.
Fatou Bobo: You see here [she points to the tip of the mango and presses it] it is ripe.
I press where indicated. It is squishy.
Me: If it is this, it is ripe?
Fatou Bobo: Yes.
Me: But if you cannot touch? [I point to a far-off mango that has a large orange-yellow patch] This mango, it is ripe?
Fatou Bobo: No, it is not ripe. It is the sun that did this.
Me: Even if you do not touch, you know the mango is not ripe.
Fatou Bobo, with that smile unique to people aware of their great and secret talent: Yes.
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