The mango season is here with us and I don’t feel like I’d do it justice if I don’t write a chronicle. That’s me, always thinking of Justice. Perhaps I should have been a judge 😂.Mango trees flower and bring forth juicy fruits yearly. You could say that their juiciness is on another level to an extent that our very own son of the soil from Mūrūgūrū- tha one and only Wahome Maingī mentioned them in a song, kūrī angī wendete ta macūno a iyembe. ‘There are others you love like the finger licking juice that oozes on your hands when you squeeze a mango with said hands.
Now, our mango trees were several miles down down the river’s valley. I still wonder why grandpa planted them that far. When going to fetch water downstream, the major motivation was the detour to that parcel that prided itself of two magnificent mango trees. They were a pair, you know cross pollination and all. Since the trees were tall unlike gakware me, you could only access the fruits by climbing the trees. So Asusena, our neighbour Betz and I climbed the tree and each one branched to their own side. We were almost pissing to mark our territories since there was no surveyor in the vicinity. We’d search for the juiciest fruit like a hen scratching the soil in search of the lost eagle’s razor. Haha and to think that I actually believed in that story. 😂 On finding that mango, we,d look for the most comfortable part of the branch and sprawl ourselves like a monkey as we emptied the contents of the fruit in our bellies. While eating you also surveyed for the next culprit and upon finishing, stealthily advance toward it like a cheetah stalking a gazelle. Somehow the juiciest ones were found on the edges since they had literally romanced with the sun. Now in my endeavor to capture the best mango and show off to my crew, I stepped on a dry branch and in the twinkle of an eye, a voice was heard in the bush as the branch broke and I started plummeting downwards at the speed of a rocket launching to the moon. However instead of launching upwards, I was launching downwards proving Newtons’ first law of motion to be notoriously correct. I was headed for a headon collission but not with the soft ground.Instead there were three cooking stones that had been erected by some dudes who used to grow tomatoes on that parcel of land. Due to the shade of the mango tree they had settled for that spot as the designated kitchen. So as I continued plumetting downwards, saying my last prayer and humming, ‘when the roll is call up yonder,’ Asusena shouted at the top of her lungs barely managing to say, ‘si ujishikile.’ I don’t know what happened but in that moment my brain managed to send an electrical signal to my hands, while my guardian Angel ensured that I passed through a split branch. I was able to hold onto the branch and the adrenalin ensured I was instantly looking for a safer place. Let’s just say that the descent down the tree was done, ‘nyitīrīire mara.’ Furthermore the climb uphill as we carried our jerrycans on our backs was done in eerie silence. Only weeks later were we able to speak about the ordeal and we only did it in hushed tones. Funny how, I still climb trees.

Published by Nyar Kaheti

Born and raised on the picturesque slopes of Mt Kenya, Nyar Kaheti is your girl next door vibe kind of girl. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, and listening to country music among other things.

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