Have you ever felt so good about yourself and you smiled from ear to ear, then suddenly in a blink of an eye the feeling is gone and in its place bewilderment and cold calculations and not the Chererror’s calculus take preeminence . Well that’s how you feel when you are stealing your neighbour’s custard apple and they are all full of custard sweetness, then as you throw the peel down you happen to look down and realize that your old man is sitting comfortably at the base of the tree and is beckoning on you as the good Lord beckoned upon the wee little man Zaccheus, ‘Zakayo, harūrūka.’ The only difference being that instead of forgiveness awaiting you at the base, what awaits you is a thorough flogging of the ‘nyama ya serikali and everything Paragoi related. And by the way, when did the government decide that that part of the body belonged to them? Couldn’t they have chosen sth like the hand since it’s related to all matters tax? Join me we wonder together.
On the slopes of the mountain, custard apples aka ‘matomoka’ are also called ‘ngundi’ mongo. Story has it that mzungu ate them and said, ‘they are good, just like mangoes.’ The person of house ( mūndū wa nyūmba) only heard good and mango hence the name ‘ngundi mongo 😉.’