I 'heart' mangoes...

...so I think it's only fitting (lest the gods strike me down) that my first post should be about the succulent fruit!

Me & mangoes? - we go back a long, long way. I believe when I die, they will die with me. Period.

Nigeria. 1981. I was 7 yrs old. Just arrived from England. Everything fascinated me. From the lizards that would nod a 'howdy do' as they passed me by - to the cockroaches who were really black butterflies. And I watched goats bleat 7 times before pushing beauty-full small dark balls of shit out their butts - and watched the way these dark pellets would cascade to the ground and settle in a unique constellation.

I can't remember exactly when I met my 1st mango but I can imagine I was probably going about my business (as most Little Miss 7 yr olds do) - and the mango came bouncing along saying 'eat me' and I said 'are you sure?' and it said 'Mm-hmm'. So I did.

And the sun shone through my little belly for the rest of the day.

That night, like most nights, when there was yet another sudden electricity cut and my grandmother felt her way around for the kerosene lamp, I told her not to worry tonight, and patted my glowing belly.



Hey, if you've got nothing better to do, check out my mango shrine. (no kidding. I do have a mango shrine.)