The Mango Thief

The Mango Thief

4/16/05

Ahmed Tharwat

It rested proudly in the middle of the plate on our table like a firm untouched virgin breast; its radiant fragrance presence was unavoidable. Growing up in Egypt as a youngster in a large family of 10, my mother would hide just about anything from us, from fruits to fish to sweets. But when it came to mango - the forbidden fruit, the divine goddess that everyone revered - she displayed it prominently for us to admire in the living room. You can't hide its ardent presence, its overwhelming enchanting smell.

The king of fruit, as Egyptians had called it for years, had a very special reverence in my household. After admiring it for weeks, looking at its beautiful erotic shape and occasionally sneaking a touch of its smooth sexy body. Eating a whole mango alone is out of question. My mom would usually stand tall before us, holding the fruit in one hand and carefully stripping its naked skin under the gaze of our adoring eyes.

Then she squeezed its soft thick body and transformed it to a heavenly rich juice. The suspense, the anticipation, was exhaustive. Then we all share its majestic juice in a communal ritual that bringing us all together in spiritual bonding. When you eat alone you consume, you deplete, you destroy, but when you eat with your family you share, you enhance and you build an experience that will stay with you for a long time.

On a hot summer after noon, I entered the living room, I found myself dangerously alone with the majestic mango, steering at me as if she wants to say something to me. This is the first time I have a private moment with the forbidden fruit. I touched its cold soft skin and I immersed in a deep though. What if I could stick my finger into its flesh or sink my teeth into its succulent chunky body? What if I could drink its sweet juice in an orgy of hedonistic self indulging that no one else could share but me, spreading its juice in the stream of my body, now it is all in me, I screamed inside, now it is all mine, and no body could take it away.

As I reached the illusion of the Promised Land a loud voice came down on me like a thunder screaming … the mango thief. It was a deep voice of guilt and restitution of all my brothers. The shill of shame overwhelmed my body and my hands froze, I left the room doomed and morally defeated, I felt as if I was kicked out of communal heaven into the sinful wilderness of selflessness, realizing that I will never enjoy a whole mango alone again without … guilt.

Ahmed Tharwat,
Producer & host Belahdan/ Arab American TV show

952-933-6825
www.belahdan.com