The Festival Of The Mango

After attending the festival of the coco and tamarind I couldn’t believe my luck when the next festival was announced. It would be the festival of the mango – which is another favorite of mine. When we arrived after a short 2h trip from Barranquilla in the little town of Pendales the festival hadn’t really begun yet. Also on this first day we left at 14:00, leaving us with very little time to explore the town and talk to some of the organizers to learn what the program of the event was going to look like. In the evening we the organizer took us to one of the big old mango trees of the village to have a little interview about what the festival contains and some of the history of the village. However, the countless mangos that had fallen from the large tree distracted me. So during the interview I pick one of the mangos up and bite into the light orange fruit after peeling it a little with my mouth. The flavor that I got to taste was something else entirely. It wasn’t the usual sweet mango taste of the ‘mangos azucar’ that one could buy for next to nothing in Barranquilla. It had an entirely different spectrum of flavors; I think my best attempt at describing it would be a mix of lychee with mango, combined with the perfect amount of sweetness. Now the texture was buttery and without the slightest trace of those hairy fibers that love to get stuck in between your teeth for days. Without doubt this was the best mango I had ever tried in my life – and I say this after trying numerous mangos in the Philippines and Kenya, both of which like to fame themselves with their delicious mangos.

“Haha, I am guessing you like it?” Fernando says as he sees the expression of complete bliss that had emerged on my face.

“I am speechless.” I reply, and take another bite.

“They call this one as the mango corazón (mango of the heart), however in the this region we named it ‘pecho de la señorita’.” He continues.

Back in the car, I had taken a couple of the mangos with me, Natasha asked me: “Did you understand what ‘pecho de la señorita’ means?”

“No, what is it in English?” I answer while putting the mangos in my bag.

“Difficult to translate, but I would say it probably means ‘Maidens breast’, basically the boobs of a woman.” She tells me giggling.

“Ah damn, if I would have known that I would have at least laughed, that was why the interview ended so awkwardly then.” I reply. Just looking at the mangos though it did actually have something like a nipple growing out of the mango – that combined with the sweet, delicious taste made the name kind of obvious.

The following day we drove back to Pendales for the rest of the festival. I start by talking to one of the farmers about cultivating mangos and decorate the trees lining the streets with bags filled with the colorful fruit in the process. Then we try to get to Luruaco for lunch. Unfortunately some earlier rains had caused the ground to become swampy – Roger gets into the car, the wheels spin a little bit and dig themselves deeper and deeper into the mud. In the end I cannot even see the front wheels anymore. Multiple tries with stones and branches prove hopeless against the sticky mud. Luckily another car comes to help after half an hour of mishaps to pull the car out of the mud. During this process the whole car had started to be covered by the dirt. Looks like it would be an expensive next car-wash.

Around mid-day the festival really started, people started filling the small village and on stage a dance announced the festivals beginning.

“Noah, go up on stage – the mango eating competition will take place in a few minutes. Don’t worry about winning or not – just eat a few so we have the scene of you participating for the show. Or actually, please don't even try to win, because you'll feel terrible for the rest of day.” Jhoy says and I push myself through the crowd to climb up the stairs leading to the stage. There already were two men who I would be ‘competing’ against. One was a big Venezuelan guy who was visiting too, and the other a rather drunk local. I sit to the right of the stage with the drunk in the middle and the Venezuelan to the far left, a big bucket filled with small ‘sugar mangos’ is plopped in front of us.

“HERE WE HAVE: THE GERMAN TO THE LEFT, HERE OUR VILLAGE REPRESENTATIVE AND TO THE RIGHT THE VENEZUELAN. WHO WILL BE THE WINNER OF THIS COMPETITION? LET’S FIND OUT; COMPETITORS, BEGIN EATING... ...NOW!” The announcer shouts in his deep voice and the people start to cheer and shout. I slowly bite into the first mango, appreciating its flavor as long as possible to allow myself to constantly be eating but not overeat. At the same time to my left the drunk was racing to become the winner, he threw the mangoes in his mouth, whole, and spit the pit out a few seconds later. At the same time spraying mango juice all over the place, every time I reached for the bucket to grab a new mango a river of sweet mango juice flowed over my arm out of his mouth. ‘How lovely.’ I think – I look over to the far left of me and see the Venezuelan, he was definitely giving it his best. His entire shirt, which had been a white football shirt, was now covered in orange juice and little fibers. Both of them started building big piles of pips and mango skin in front of them while I continued to passionately consume every single one of my seven mangos until the competition ended.

“AAAAND THE WINNER IS: DIEGO REPRESENTING OUR BEAUTIFUL PENDALES, AFTER EATING A TOTAL OF 39 MANGOS. CONGRATUTLATIONS!” The announcer shouted to finish the competition. As I get down from stage the music had begun playing and I started dancing a little bit. A few minutes later I start feeling the light droplets of rain on my arms and face.

“Let’s go to Erika's house – I don't want any of the equipment to get wet.” Jhoy says and hurries into the protection of a roof with Roger and Róberth following with the second camera and the mic. All of a sudden torrential rains start pouring from the sky above which in the end cause and early finish to the festival due to the electricity being cut. Also no one really wanted to dance in 2 feet of water – we manage to save ourselves in the car and drive back to Barranquilla. Also giving the car that had been completely caked in dirt the wash it needed.