What is probably the last "Fruit of the day" ever: noni

I'm not going to drag this out or tease you.
I found noni in the market.
I brought it home.
I may  now have PTSD.

Noni is bad. Really, really, really bad.

Day One: Hope
Look at that big grin. I have no idea what the future holds.

So, here we go. Noni are smooth and firm, a buttery yellow and look a bit like a tiny, lumpy pineapple. Inside, a very firm fibrous flesh surrounds lots of small black seeds. Oh, forget it. All this detached description is unfair to the horrors that follow. Here. Just look at them.

The guy at the market said they were for making a drink. He said to treat them the same way as sour oranges. So, yeah. I tasted them. Even Jonathan tasted them. Nothing. Tough, slightly juicy, and almost no taste. And yeah, I had heard of them before. I've seen that expensive juice in U.S. supermarkets. I'd heard it was a "cured" or fermented product. The guy at the market even said, "Take these firm ones and they will soften tomorrow." I thought I knew. But I had no idea.

Day Two: Realization
"soften"
"ripen"
Look, I am not naive. I know these are all just stages of decomposition. And I don't think I am particularly squeamish. I've dispatched my share of critters for the dinner table. I am versed in the fragrant arts of pickling vegetables and fermenting sourdoughs. I take pride in my composting skills. I'm a grown-up who's certainly cleaned up my share of indelicate things.

But here's the thing: noni stinks. I don't mean "smells strongly" I mean s t i n k s!

 On the morning of day two the skin was stretched and soft and the whole kitchen smelled--well--awful. The noni was moved outdoors to finish it's ripening process. I read some more stuff about noni.
This site which calls noni "the vomit fruit" should have been a warning.

Here I read, " It is sometimes called starvation fruit. Despite its strong smell and bitter taste, the fruit is nevertheless eaten as a famine food."
Did you catch that? In the detached scientific-ish definition of this fruit they point out that only people starving in a famine would eat this.

But even worse--This site  which is designed to sell the stuff says, "Most would describe the taste somewhere between "not too bad" and "really, really awful." The kindest way I heard our noni juice described was that it tasted like smoky coconut. However, another woman told us it tasted like rancid funky cheese. Personally, we find that the smell is far worse than the taste. While the taste of noni juice has never been described as good, most people we know get used to the taste, and even begin to like it...just a little."
I mean, come on, if that's the kindest the marketing department can come up with..

On the evening of day two, I was so amazed at the power of the smell, that I convinced Jonathan to give it a whiff. He did.

I. am. not. kidding: I haven't seen or spoken to him since.

.Day Three: Aftermath

for real: this picture is blurry because I am gagging

oh, the horror! I can smell it just by looking at this photo

When I woke up this morning, (from a nightmare-filled night, clearly fueled by this horrible stench) my top priority was ridding my immediate environment of this smell.

Keeping the fruit out of the house was not sufficient. The smell has permeated everything. I washed the container it was in, which just made my kitchen sink stink. The smell on my hands has proved intractable to soap, Fabuloso (a scented liquid disenfectant), and bleach.  The area of the yard where it was, (not IS--was) still smells like a week old laundry hamper in a locker room populated by gassy teen-aged demons from the deepest pit.

And here's something to note: We live in a place full of little critters. From stray mammals to hordes of ants and fruit flies--there has never been an occasion since moving to Nicaragua that I was the only living thing in a particular place. But near the noni? nothing. Not a single bug. In fact, after dropping it on a pile of compost in the yard that was buzzing with fruit flies, every single one, gone.

As for me? How will I go on? Well, it's far to early to tell. There will need to be a lot of healing. I'll have to try and convince Jonathan it's safe to come back to the house. I'll have to face my new fear of walking the market. I'll have to decide if I can live with the lingering smell, or if my hands will have to be removed at the wrist.

All I really know is this: noni smells very, very, very bad. Don't go smelling it for yourself. Your life is far too precious.