How to eat a mango

I love mangoes. I love mangoes so much that I agreed to come to Mali for two years and live in a mud hut, 100+ degree heat with no A/C, poop in a hole and eat only rice, millet paste and dirt sauce because I read that Mali had ‘the best mangoes in the world.” Thankfully, what I read was true and all the other stuff is worth it because the mangoes here are phenomenal.

My favorite part is not just eating the mango, but how. I was recently surprised by Americans who cut into a mango, befuddled by its mechanics and end up with reckless chunks, peels and a yellow sticky mess. I've always known mango eating as a ceremony that pays homage to the best fruit on earth. First, remove all white clothing and stand near a sink or easily accessible paper towel. Then cut the two large sides off the mango around the pit. Taking each halve, score the “meat” like a checker board, invert it so the perfect square pieces unfold into a flower. This method has relatively little mess aside from the pit section, which is peeled and the remaining fruit bitten off around the pit with nature’s floss as a takeaway. I had always assumed that everyone knew this was the proper way to eat a mango…I was wrong.

When I saw my first mango eaten by a Malian, it was barbaric; the way they bite right into the skin like an apple, and then suck the juice out through a hole. Once they had gotten most of the meat out, they’d pop out the pit, chew on the skins, then throw the remains on the ground for a donkey, sheep, or closest wandering farm animal to graze. And I rarely see a Malian eat a perfectly ripe mango; always the super tart green ones, or those way past fermentation. I would cringe, and even tried to show a few of them my method to no avail or impression.

As with every other Malian habit that takes some getting used to, at first I’m appalled and then shortly after the shock wears off… I’m integrated. Malian mango practices are now endearing, romantic and above all, practical. Of course they’re not going to take the time to cut, score and flower their mangoes. There are just too many mangoes to get through before the season is over and they’re all rotten on the roadside, who has time to waste with a knife? And lastly, once the fruit under the skin is exposed, it’s a race between you and persistent flies the size of dogs that swarm instantly and stick into the pulp.

I’ve since thrown away my meticulous scoring and flowering method and dive right into these huge, buttery delicious mangoes. I barely even rinse them off at this point (sorry Dr. Dawn!) I usually bite off the bottom, then peel away the skin with my teeth, eat the rest like an apple while doing the "Macarena" in a circle and waving the mango hand back and forth to keep the flies away. Then, with my upper body drenched in mango leftovers and flies at the ready, I race to a salidaga*, rinse off and wait for the next mango eating time to present itself, which is usually within the half hour. Ah, Africa redeems itself.

(For those of you who don’t know what a salidaga is, I guess I didn’t bless you with a “Peace Corps Mali” bathroom story while I was back in the states. Like an acid flashback I remember the graphic descriptions I gave to some of you, and for that I am so, so sorry… They are plastic tea pots filled with water used instead of toilet paper and running water… think about it.)