When we first spot the men who teach us about the Cape Verdean concept of “morabeza”, they’re picking congo beans on a terrace hacked out of a rock face hundreds of metres above Santo Antao’s Paul Valley. With our local guide Claudio Evora translating, Mark Rammers, the photographer for the trip, asks whether he can take their picture.
Two hours later, we’re perching on hand-carved stools outside the taller of the two, Adrienne’s, thatched cottage, listening to zouk and sipping home-roasted coffee. Every so often, our hosts disappear into the greenery and return clutching papaya, guava cherries and sour tangerines with green skins, which they peel daintily and present to us in bite-sized segments. I feel like a spoilt child being doted on by two benevolent uncles. Or a deluded captive being fattened up for sacrifice.
