It remains a fond memory,
that chilly August evening in a tiny Filipino village on the side of a mountain,
cozied up in a rustic hut with our gracious fellow-worker and hostess,
listening to the rain falling on the tin roof.
She was ready to relax a little after a long day of work,
and she invited us to watch an episode of Agatha Christie's Poirot with her...
one of my favorite detectives ever.
Yes, of course, we'd love to!
It was one of those moments that have a strangely surreal quality,
when, in the middle of that episode,
Hercule Poirot began to demonstrate the best way
to cut a mango.
To his fellow characters in the movie,
it was an exotic, puzzling fruit.
To us, nestled in that Filipino village,
it was a common, everyday snack,
growing in the trees all around us.
There, as the rain on the rusty tin roof almost drowned out all sound,
we sat mesmerized, watching Poirot's knife do
what ours had done countless times;
and two very different worlds collided,
just for a moment in time...
in the heart of a mango.