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.