Mango Season

Like most people, I thought that the Caribbean islands had no seasons. We were all wrong. The Caribbean has two seasons: mango season and not mango season. There are also many different types of mango, and while I’m sure they all have scientific names, St. Lucians all refer to them by their predominant colors. I was lucky to have both a red-mango and a green-mango tree in my front yard.

Mangoes were a good way to make friends as they provided an easy excuse to visit your neighbor. “Hey! I have more mangoes than I can eat. You want some?” The neighbor would usually give you a parting gift as you were leaving their house.

“Do you eat the flesh?” my neighbor asked me one day after I had brought her a basket of mangoes and stayed for a chat. I guess light-skinned Americans have a reputation for being vegetarian. She went to the kitchen and came back with a few packs of deli turkey meat for me. This was a real treat, as many people slaughtered their animals for meat, and I missed those cheap sandwiches I ate during my first entry-level job made of white bread, thin sliced deli meat, and off brand Kraft cheese singles.

My neighbor was a retired teacher from the school where I was volunteering for the year as a third grade teacher, so we had become friendly acquaintances. As I walked up the hill to her house, I noticed political signs hung from verandas or protruded from front lawns much like one might see in The United States. Lucian elections were coming up. My neighbor had made a sign to display in the front window of her home. It said “Vote or create reading;” I had no idea what this meant. She also had a decorative plaque in her front room that read “Hard work never killed anyone, but why take the chance?” I think this may have been the national motto. 

I didn’t think I liked mangoes much. I’m from Seattle where mangoes come cubed in the frozen-food section so they taste like mango flavored chalk. The flavor of a mango that has been picked fresh off the tree is far more delicious, but the effort I was expending to slice into it, cut around the pit, and then barely manage to remove three percent of the flesh wasn’t worth the near-dismemberment of a hand. 

My neighbor taught me how to properly eat a mango. She handed me a yellow mango and took one for herself. She rubbed it on her shirt to clean it and gestured that I should do the same. She bit the tip of the mango and peeled it liked a banana—but with her teeth. I did the same, but with far too much aggression, and ended up knocking my front teeth together as I took the initial bite. We ate the mango flesh together in her yard, standing with our feet apart so that the juice wouldn’t drip onto our shoes. 

“What kind of mango is this?” I asked.

“Yellow mango.”

“I mean like... its official name . . .”“Mango Julie and they are the best here in Micoud.” Every village in St. Lucia has a type of mango they claim they grow better than anyone else.

This particular species of mango was sweeter than the others I’d tried. It tasted like it had been crossbred with a pineapple at some point. The meat was lush and didn’t leave strings stuck between your teeth.

“Can you tell me about your other mangoes trees?”

“My girl, I will teach you many things about the bush. Men want a good wife who know about the bush. Come.”

The sun was directly overhead, and I had the sweat to prove it. My neighbor took a cutlass for herself and handed one to me. This was completely unnecessary, as I had no idea how to manage one. We followed no trail as we walked through a grove of papaya trees which I assumed was part of her property. The smell of a dead dog wafted on the breeze, and I tried to bury my nose in my old, thin Gap tank top. 

We passed her three water tanks, which were full from the morning rain. In St. Lucia, having three water tanks is the equivalent to having a three-car garage in the United States.

The damn mosquitos swarmed any part of my body that I was not swatting actively. They buzzed in anticipation, landing on me so gently that I didn’t notice until my skin began to swell and I felt an insatiable need to itch. I swear to God if I catch chikungunya. . . 

We continued past the papaya trees and walked into the jungle which boasted some of the island’s finest produce: bananas, ginger, cinnamon bark, and, of course, a rich variety of mangoes. A family lived just beyond the tree line. The small, square house was very basic with a roof that looked like it wouldn’t survive hurricane season. I could see that there was an outdoor shower, as well as a laundry line that had been tied between two cacao trees. The woman sitting on the front stoop waved to my neighbor and spoke to her in Patois. I did not understand what they were saying.

We resumed our trek, still following no particular path. “Mango Long,” my neighbor said, handing me a skinnier, longer version of the Mango Julie. I peeled the mango as I had been taught, this time without knocking my teeth together. The flesh, which was firm and fibrous, became stuck in my teeth. It was not as juicy as the Mango Julie and had a milder taste. We wiped our hands on our pants and continued.

A mosquito tickled my ankle bone. I swear to God if I catch dengue fever...

After an hour, I started to burn despite putting on sunscreen, and I was getting a dull headache. Another mosquito bite . . . I was afraid that I’d catch Zika.

I was lost there in the jungle, but my neighbor knew our location at all times.

When my lesson in the bush was over, I returned to my house. My backpack had been filled with fruits and various leaves that could be boiled to make tea. I pulled my fresh clothes off the line and went inside to take a bucket bath.

Running water is a real luxury in St. Lucia, and one that I couldn’t always afford on my volunteer stipend. Bucket baths are taken by keeping a large bucket of water in your shower area, and spooning the water from it onto your body with a smaller bucket until you are wet. You soap the necessary parts, and then rinse yourself. The process saves an incredible amount of water.  

After my bucket bath, I made lemongrass tea, which is good for relieving headaches. I also peeled a mango tin kwem, which is good for making the skin and teeth look bright and beautiful. I ate it and then sucked the remains off the pit while sitting on my veranda and watching the sun set.