English: Back to Lake Tanganyika. In Marché-Katanga I meet Justin (you should pronounce it the French way) by the matumgulupoli sailswoman's mat, and he is delighted to introduce this wild-growing bush fruit to me. He fissions the hard shell to expose the white flesh adorned with black seeds and sprinkles on it a pinch of wonderful pink mixture of piri piri and crystalline salt (from the wooden vial below his right hand). I keep questioning that bizarr fruit and he keeps insisting that "...no one grows this. It's the good Lord that gives us this aliment in the wild wood".