Mafia Island Beach. Photo courtesy: Gill Penney — Wikimedia Commons
Once I flew from Dar es Salaam to Mafia Island to visit my father-in-law’s coconut plantation.
You would think I’d be impressed by row upon row of the hundred thousand trees that made up the plantation, or the sandy beaches that were exclusively part of the property. I overlooked these assets because of a few cashew nut trees.
It was that time of year when fruits hung from the trees and on the end was a single cashew nut. The smell of the fruit was intoxicating. If only I could catch a whiff of that scent now.