The first time I tried papaya was about three months ago in Mbeya. It was auctioned off at a church (as is often the custom here – interesting), and a member of the church purchased it for 1,000 TZS (a little less than a dollar) “for the Mzungu.” Ha! I was pretty excited – especially about trying it. However, when we cut it up to enjoy after lunch, I found it tasteless, squishy and overall, disappointing. I swore I would never waste my time on a papaya again and instead, focus all my effort on passion fruit, mango and pineapple.
As usual, Tanzania hospitality did me in.
The second time I had papaya, I was talking to Mama and Baba on the front porch of the orphanage after staying late one evening, and Mama offered me a slice of one she was cutting up. Inwardly cringing, yet outwardly eager to avoid coming across as rude, I accepted.
And what do you know? I found myself praying to be offered another piece! The taste was not bland, but subtle, the texture was not squishy, but soft. Suffering from passion fruit codependence and fearing a change in loyalty, I maintained my priorities for another two months (if you don’t count a brief rendezvous with South African papaya which, in my opinion, does not compare). Until…
Last week.
I returned from South Africa, desperate for the fresh fruit of Tanzania (As you can tell, I’ve become quite uppity when to comes to fresh produce. Oh and cashews too. And soda. Ok everything is better here). I tried a new stand on the way home from work (To which I won’t return. Those over-charging swindlers). After taking advantage of my desperation and over-charging me for my mango, the owner promised the papaya I chose would be ready to eat the next day.
The following week, Ally (Heidi’s house keeper) cut it up for me while I was at work. I came home to my beautiful papaya, a li perfectly iva (ripe) and sliced up in the way only Ally can. He also cut up a lime to squeeze over the papaya. I ate about half of this football-size fruit in 20 minutes, finished another quarter in an hour, and had to leave the house to avoid the last piece, which I happily finished this morning.
My first, and last, disgusting papaya.
cute story.