Falling Mangoes
So I’ve gotten this new job. Am Employed. I go to an air-conditioned office every Monday-to-Friday morning, write questionnaires, schedule interviews, sit in pointless meetings, drink free coffee with a splash of free milk while scrolling the free internet on one of my two free laptops. Living the Dream.
Of course, having nothing to do on a tropical island may better resemble what most harried Marys would think of as Dream-like. But those days had outlived their welcome. I’m happy to have interrupted the endless hot hours reading and writing at home. Grateful that I don’t need to lug my sweaty self over to the sweaty library to charge my computer.
More bittersweet, though, has been the abrupt end to afternoons spent wandering around and sinking into aimless chats with neighbors. Several budding friendships have withered. When I get home from work I dive into the ocean, and then I dive into my dissertation. Not much time left for learning the Bel language or trading sweet potato recipes.
Yesterday waiting for the boat I ran into Priscilla and got to chatting, only to hear that her sister Rachel got married — to a different man than the father of her kids whom she’d hitherto been living with! And moved to Yabob! Three weeks ago! Rachel was my old fishing partner, one of my first friends on the island, and I’d known nothing about all that drama.
So out of the loop I cannot stay. Once we were back on Krangket I stifled the urge to go home and fall into my laptop, and instead accompanied Priscilla back to her house to chat.
While Priscilla’s dad was telling me about an entertainer from the highlands who swallowed a snake as big as a tree trunk last Saturday, we heard a THONK. Priscilla squealed and sent one of the little kids to fetch the fallen fruit.
Yes, it seems that long heralded moment has arrived. Mango season!!!
I am taking this as a non-subtle sign. When I get out of my rut and wander, gifts rain from the heavens upon me. OK heavens, noted!
