Udara. Agbalumo. These are a few names I grew up calling this fruit. I don’t know why I am suddenly craving the sweet/creamy seeds and tart interior of this fruit. Maybe it is because I am going through a tough time right now and all I want is to be home with my family but instead I am continents away from them. I can’t afford a ticket and they can’t afford it either. I remember that my father hated it when we would buy udara and consume it at home. He banned it from our home because he said it was a local and dirty fruit that gave people worms. This made the experience of eating this fruit whenever I could so exciting for me because it was such a taboo in my home. I enjoyed the fleshy and tart interior and sucking on the sweet creamy seeds until I was left with brown and shiny seeds. I loved udara! I remember it three ways:
- If when you squeezed it, it was too hard and if when you ate it was too tart/had very little juice, it was not ripe enough. It was not at it’s best.
- If when you squeezed it, it was quite soft and had some juices already leaking from the top and it was just the right amount of tartness/sweetness and had so much juice, it was ripe. It was at it’s best.
- If when you squeezed it, it was too soft and had too much juice and tasted sour, it was over-ripe. It was past it’s best.
I did not eat udara very often while growing up but when I did, it was such a treat for me. I miss that excitement. I miss my family. I miss my country. I miss my home. I am longing to be home.