Chapter 22 "The End is Near"

Mango season  at the Manbulloo Limited farm is coming to an end. Rainfall, heat and time have caused the fruit to ripen a bit faster than expected. The trees are nearly empty. The picking teams have diminished, some already starting at the farm in Queensland. Everyone is talking about leaving. Travelling. Moving on. Leaving mangoes and Katherine behind. No more mango rash. No more sap burn. No more work boots. No more red dirt in every crease. No more sore backs and wounded hands. But not quite yet…

The days are slower and so are the pickers. Less fruit means less work. Everyone is more relaxed and only worried about earning less than expected. Everyone’s job is easier… except for mine. For the past few days, the fruit that rolls out in front of us is, to put it plainly, shit. Gone are the days of falling asleep on the table, singing and daydreaming to my heart’s desire. There we are, 4 women, in a battle against the soft, overripe, over blemished fruit. Our arms, hands and wrists move like an octopus harvesting his garden in the sea, they scramble, throwing fruit left and right, catching it right before it goes somewhere it’s not supposed to. The floor around us is carpeted in mangoes. The reject bins are overflowing. The bulk line is exploding. A few seconds here and there to take a sip of water and on goes the chaos. Overripe fruit that feels like a waterballoon explodes on the belt and on our table and makes everything sticky and smelly. The job is getting less and less fun. 

Only 2 more weeks.