Feb 4, 2008

A Short Mango Story from my childhood

Dey Say
Highland lands were just a stone’s across the rail tracks was our playground just opposite to what was Netto chicken farm. The chicken farm is now home to a very sizable Mormon house of worship. Now when I say playground I mean a piece of land that we cut the grass and put in a dirt cricket pitch to play wind ball cricket. This was not a playground that was provided by the municipality. As a matter of fact if you go looking for this playground all that you will see are houses. Yes, Highland lands are now a busy housing settlement.
It is one short story about a special Mango Rose tree that is gone now. It was located across the rail tracks on our make shift cricket ground (now a housing settlement). It was a beautiful Sunday evening and four of us went to the grounds to hang out. Obviously we ended in the mango tree because there were quite a few red looking mangos with some yellow on them – they were ready for the picking. Fraff, Bucky, Drake (all nick names) and I climbed the tree and it was speed up the branches to get the best mango. Well after picking one each we settled down on top the tree chatting and eating the mangos. Mr. Bucky wanted to get one mango that was a little out of reach but he insisted that he could get it. I wasn’t paying attention but all I heard was a crack and he sailed past me and hit the ground with a groan. We were all in shock and literally raced down the tree. Fortunately, we did not end up in the Arima Hospital because the ground under the tree was not that hard but he limped away from the scene. Well boi, when we knew that he was ok it was ‘fatigue and laughter galore’. I remember and see it like it happened yesterday.
So my friends, do you have a mango story? More importantly, what are some of the mangos that you ate as a kid and did you eat some that I did not mention here. I am sure you can recall making mango chow (Rose Mango was the best for that as far as I am concerned) with that special Trini yellow pepper ah lil shadow benny for flavor and of course a touch of salt – gosh those were the good ole days!






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