Les mangues se cachent pour mourir

   Here, the nights aren’t always a moment of calm. With the muezzin blaring out every morning, sometimes at 5 o’clock, sometimes until late at night, and with the monitor lizard who, it would seem, becomes very active between the top tile and the roof, we are often subject to “micro wake ups”. It’s strange to hear a big mass running around. I would have guessed a giant rat what with the comings and goings and the snuffling around the wiring, but the housekeeper says that it’s a monitor. The amount of noise makes me inclined to believe him. Now what is less reassuring is that these beasties climb trees. I wouldn’t dare leave to go out into the inner courtyard in case I find myself nose to nose with such a creature who had decided to use the mango tree as a ladder!

   Rarely during the day, though from the beginning of the evening, we also hear the sound of falling mangos, often “knocked about” by the tempted bats. It’s incredible how delicious they are here. Never do I find a spoilt one and they always have a fabulous, sugary taste. A real pleasure! I had had a similar experience with the victoria pineapple in Mauritius. No need to choose – it’s always perfect!

   I, who cherished my baby mango tree with its 20 fruit, now have to pick up 20 a day, not including those that are indulged in by birds. Nowadays, the distribution to the employees occurs almost daily. There’s a huge mango tree near their entrance that’s close to collapsing under the sheer weight of the fruit, though it’s bearing them slightly late.

   Ah, the chameleon didn’t lie, the rainy season may not have started just yet, but in any case, we’ve had some big thunderstorms during the night and we’ve woken to a grey sky and some rain on this 19^th of May. A rarity! Due to the omnipresent sand dust, the walls are dripping (bottom-right).