Ode to The Mango Tree

Our first year in Uganda was filled with new experiences. 

Learning to decipher “directions” was a biggie. In the village there are no street signs, no billboards, no large well-marked buildings. There are foot paths winding through the compounds of the various villagers’ abodes, cutting through gardens, reaching bore holes, connecting one clan to another. 

And of square importance is the mango tree.

Need instructions to your friend’s house in the village? 

Most likely you will branch at the mango tree. 

Never mind that early on in your Ugandan experience you might not even know what a mango tree looks like, the directions will not waver except maybe to add that it’s the BIG one, or the small one, but beyond that? No help given, you’re just expected to take such directions as is and get on with your journey. Asking what a mango tree looks like could theoretically help you greatly at this point, but if you push for more explanation you will receive only additional landmark references for help, such as after the small ant hill or opposite Gundi’s place (not that you know who “Gundi” is--because in Luganda that means,  "That one who's name I can't remember right now!"),  Any further inquiries are answered without variation, because after all, "everyone" knows what a mango tree looks like! (A venture into the ins and outs of worldview would be tremendously insightful right about now, but we'll table that for another blog entry.)

Have an important discussion to conduct? 

Meeting under the mango tree is probable 

Waiting for an official to come with a signed certificate?

Do so under the mango tree, certainly they’ll find you there

You know that place next to the other place?

Invariably, it’s next to the BIG mango tree

Need to find someone who wasn’t at home or in the garden when you looked?

You should expect that they might be chilling under the mango tree

Hungry for meat of any sort . . goat, chicken, beef, pork? 

Butchers slaughter and set up for business under the mango tree. yum. yum. 

And so it goes in much of Africa. The mango tree is quite often the center of life in the village. 

In Uganda it offers up it’s fruit freely for any passerby in two prolific seasons a year. Anyone who has need of a snack may reach up to secure either a crunchy style (preferred by most, including my brood) or wait until it is ripe, soft and juicy (preferred by me and most older, non-Ugandan types.)

We have (had) a beautiful mango tree in David Family. It gave life for many years. Life in the form of excitement and danger. Like the time we heard screaming and saw jumping late one afternoon and ran over to find men and boys on top of the girls pit latrine with sticks. Seems there was a green mamba in the mango tree that was effectively eluding the group. In the end it was the winner, escaping all our attempts. We still ate mangos that evening, though. A snake can’t steal that joy!

Geoff points to the green mamba, but soon after it got away.

Our tree gave life in the form of the hugest, most monstrous mangos ever! I’m sure that’s a fact--perhaps undocumented by the scientific community, but still an actual fact. Most were the size of the head of a school-age child! I know because we often compared the yield to our kids’ heads for the WOW factor. 

circa 2009 Toby gets ready to enjoy one of the massive mangos!

And that mango tree gave laughter. Like the first time I realized the reason for the size of those mangos! But, my laughter immediately gave way to “EW!”  It’s position in the David Family compound? Directly next to that girls’ pit latrine which was the scene of the snake chase mentioned earlier. YUP! Those mangos were fed well!

Alas, now it is no more. 

Last week, due to the construction of a new style pit latrine and bath house, our David Family community mango tree was taken out by the construction crew. Seems the decision to trim a few branches changed to total removal in the middle of the deed.

I heard the crash of the tree and Aunt Lucy’s nervous laughter. “Uh, oh,” I thought to myself, as the massive mango legacy came careening to the ground and an era had come to an end. Sadness. No more oversized mangos to consume or pit latrine origin jokes to make. No more swing hanging from the big branch for the young children to spend their time on. 

And now, a personal testimony garnered this morning from one of our David Family sons who now studies veterinary medicine away at another location and is home for a few days of visiting.

“One day, not too long ago, I saw a nice looking mango, so I went reaching for it not noticing that just up there were wasps! So, on picking the mango the wasps fell down on me! About 3 stung me--it took me less than 2 minutes coming all the way from the very top of the tree to the ground. Just like that and I was down because the rest were coming for me. So, I felt bad because this season I had just gotten the wasps down thinking that the next time I came I could easily get a mango. But, now the tree is gone. I felt bad, but I hear that Uncle Clive has gotten a clip from it and has gotten it started.”

And there you have it. The central importance of the David Family Mango Tree refuses to be laid to rest.

I’m sure we’ll have another mango tree growing up somewhere soon in the compound to join our jackfruit, avocado and guava trees that are doing well. I don’t think, however, we’ll ever have the size of mangos we’ve been enjoying all these years.

Maybe I need to go find a place to ponder this loss. Surely under a mango tree somewhere.

An Eight Year-Old Pickle

Our recent newsletter was sent the end of last week and in it Geoff mentioned that I update the blog almost weekly. “Almost”. 

I’m thankful for that word for it gives me some wiggle room in my writing and posting in this space. 

It seems to us that we just live life down here. Each day flows swiftly into the next with seemingly mundane activities filling them. So I wonder, what might be interesting to share with you???? At the moment I could talk about how much noise is erupting from neighbor, Aunt Kate’s, house. Kakande and Aunt Kate, a group of young children and a couple of other people are all talking and laughing at once! I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it is obvious they are enjoying themselves. And their interaction is therapeutic for Kakande.

For one who was neglected and abused so many years, is now happy, calm, helpful, hopeful and truthfully a blessing to our community.

Or I could talk about the little girl who has accompanied her mom to work today. Her mother being the one who helps us in our house during the day.  The precious little one has a love/hate relationship with Bubbly, the dog. She wants to say hello and pet her, but the big black furry head is bigger than her own and her courage melts away as Bubbly approaches. 

It is quiet at the neighbors on the other side, the Okoth’s, as Ketty is resting and unable to receive visitors at the moment. Uncle Okoth either takes the young twins to school with him or they play in our compound, or the David Family compound or at Aunt Kate’s house.

The twins greet you!

The older Okoth children are gone at the primary or secondary schools, busy in their classes. Kimberly and I visited with Ketty yesterday as there were some medicines to talk about and some health issues to discuss. Of course, we laughed and prayed together, but the stay was brief. Ketty will be here until June 30th when the follow-up evaluation will take place in Nairobi. Please pray with us for the complete healing of her esophagus. IF there is no evidence of disease at the evaluation, she will need only another six months of chemotherapy and there is a slight possibility that we might be able to manage that from here. No promises at this point, but we’re hopeful. Please pray!!

I also returned for the first time this term to the primary school this week for the Bible reading portion of the primary 2 class. They were very well behaved and attentive. Of course, telling the story of Saul chasing to kill David, but David always being the victor due to his devotion and honor-laden character toward both God and Saul is a very exciting tale. They were riveted. Thank you Lord for the action-filled truths brought by your word!

The kids were off of school a couple of days ago. They spent their day entertaining the neighborhood toddlers, played baseball, rode bikes, laid in the field while staring at the sky, quietly read some of their school books,

and Toby made a plaster of paris fossil for his science studies.

Today they made a bunch of noise after school as they continue to try to beat our recent bean harvest out of the pods and into a state which can properly dry in the sun. This was a project started over the weekend and the kilos of beans continue to add up: American black, Honduran Red and local red and white. Harvesting is hard work, but a lot of fun. Giving your boys sticks and the permission to swing them wildly and bring them down with a loud smack--awesome times. Of course they had to be pretty careful, too, since there were plenty of younger kids who found that swinging a stick at a mound of beans is an excuse to get wild and crazy.

And speaking of wild and crazy .........TODAY is the 8th anniversary of our arrival at New Hope here in Uganda!

In these past eight years we have not lived for ourselves. Our door is rarely closed, our table a place of welcome for the ones who land at the door as we’re eating, our schedule often rearranged by the urgent, our hearts knit into a tight weave with the children and staff with whom we work. We have gotten ourselves into a pickle one might say--never fully at home anymore in the U.S., and not fully a part of the intricacies of the culture here.  

Even three days ago, as we approach eight years of trying to learn how to live here while producing the least amount of offense, the kids and I received a lesson in proper terminology at the hands of dear former neighbor and close friend Uncle Tony. He had stopped by for the answer to a short question and stayed for a very pleasant 1.5 hour visit. That’s what you would expect here--extended impromptu visits. Our lesson involved how the kids should answer when asked, “Is your Mom home?” Toby had answered Uncle Tony’s question with, “Yes, my Mom is home.” Uncle Tony pointed out that by saying “my” in the presence of Acacia, Toby made it sound like perhaps Geoff might have another wife somewhere--as if Toby’s mom and Acacia’s mom were two different people. We all laughed at that one, but Uncle Tony continued. Apparently, there should be no pronoun in front of Mom at all. They shouldn’t even say, “our Mom is home,” because it sounds too exclusive. In this community we simply say Mom without any specification of “ownership” so as to keep the feeling inclusive and welcoming to everyone who interacts with me. Hmmmmm, not sure how I feel about being everyone’s mom. But, we’re here for relationship and, though stretching, I’ll give it a whirl.

And so, that’s how our days fly. It’s difficult to believe we’ve been back here for almost 8 months after last year and our brief bout with cancer! 

My previous blog talked of a recent difficult situation that rocked my usual contentment of being here in Uganda. I still haven’t fully recovered, to be honest. Many others on our staff have had more interactions with immigration/embassy officials of late and such have been frustrating, unpleasant, seemingly unfair and challenging. Hearing of their “adventures” has served to keep my dissatisfaction alive. I am fighting to rekindle my ability to take things in stride. My fight includes some crying out to God for His grace and mercy; times of reading the truth in His word and letting it direct my behavior while looking for things for which I can express thanks. 

Here’s one: Yesterday and today I had the privilege of talking and praying with two dear friends who listened and prayed with me over these issues and I also spent some time in concentrated prayer alone as well. When I focus on the injustice the anger rises and I feel frustrated because I know I cannot change things on my own. I have come to a reawakening of the need to pray for God Himself to change things. Spending time expressing my frustrations to Him, praying to Him and asking Him to change things keeps my focus on His power and sovereignty rather than my inablility. It is not a new truth that He is in control, but I temporarily acted like I believed I actually had control over the outcome of many of these injustices, and that is where I failed.

I’ve not conquered yet, and I only will as I continue to lean on His wisdom and understanding.

In 2007 when they were 3, 4, and 5, they enjoyed apples for a snack!

I hope this open window allowing you to peer into our lives this week gives you a broader picture of life at New Hope. Today we complete eight years of living and serving here and tomorrow we start our ninth year. So short in many respects, but the majority of our kids’ lifetimes! 

Now they are 10, 11, 12 and though they still enjoy apples, they have also come to LOVE grasshopper snacks! They insisted that Beth, our lovely housemate, try one. She tried ONE, and probably never will again. But, at least she tried!
Thank you for your prayers and support through the years! Without your generosity, it would not have been possible.