I am in awe of her fighting spirit.
During a recent visit to Ardene Gardens in April I came across a fallen rotting mango. I picked it up and brought it home with me. I cracked open the husk to reveal the delicate pip inside. I did damage her slightly but regardless I wrapped her up in wet paper towel, placed her gently inside a ziplock bag and left her in the sun to germinate. Days passed, weeks passed and today I wondered if I’d damaged her so badly that I’d need to cast her on my compost heap.
I am in awe of her fighting spirit. She has grown roots and a new leaf is gently unfurling to boast her resilience despite me. I am overjoyed with gratitude and the lessons she has taught me today
Thank you Little Mango 
A little time has passed in my day where I shared this same photo on my WhatsApp status. I received a beautiful message from a friend it read …(with her permission, of course)
“Your photo of the sweet little mango tree really made me think about my late mom-in-law…
My Indian mother-in-law was obsessed with mangoes. Mangoes are quite an integral part of Indian cooking, featuring heavily in pickles and chutney, which always accompany a traditional meal.
She used to make her own mango pickle, using a recipe she stored in her head, and which, in fact wasn’t even so much a recipe, but a knowing – knowing exactly how much of everything to add to make it uniquely hers. Other people (even her sisters) make their own, of course, but it just never tastes like hers. She always used to say ‘your hands have to be born to it’…and therein lies my problem! While I can read and follow recipes with some modicum of success, my hands were clearly born to do other things!! And so my husband’s favourite pickle stays beyond my reach.
It was always a gamble when a new batch was produced, and she insisted it wasn’t ‘too hot’. The mango marinating in the masala and oils could either be a family-friendly version, or it could be only for those who grew up eating lava! In the beginning, when I was still building up tolerance, she would kindly show me how to take a piece of pickled mango and rinse the masala off under the cold tap, leaving behind a delectable morsel that made my mouth pucker, my eyes water and my nose run with its tartness! The best culinary exploration one could wish for!
There is a mango tree in her garden – tall and prolific, having earned itself quite the reputation amongst friends and neighbours. There was never a shortage of takers when it came to mango season, and when the East London winds obliged and did the picking all by itself, it wasn’t long before the ladies from the community arrived at the gate with their bags and the will to bend over and pick up countless mangoes, despite arthritic joints and painful backs!
Mangoes are picked at different stages of their development, depending on the requirements of the pickle or chutney that needs to be made. The under-developed and not-ripe-by-a-long-shot fruit was the one needed for the pickle. The softer and sweeter, much riper fruit was reserved for chutney, and the fully developed, sun-ripened fruit was best eaten as-is, cut into little cubes and served with ice cream when company was polite, or, when it was just us, the delightful and messy experience of eating it sliced off the pip – no need for fancy cubes!! When the juice drips down your arms and off your elbows, you know it’s a good mango! And when it was just us girls, her and I, in the kitchen once everyone had had their fill and had retired to the couch to watch cricket to aid digestion, we would suck the sweet flesh and juice directly off the pip, all while she told me stories of how this was a sought-after treat when she was a young girl in India. Some things you just don’t grow out of….
Now, as we navigate a world without her and my father-in-law (both lost within a week of each other), we have had to sell their home, along with the mango tree, of course. What a pity we couldn’t ‘rehome’ it so that it could stay with us; what a pity we couldn’t have one more season of fruit; what a pity that the joy that tree brought her cannot be bottled so that we could unscrew the lid and experience her essence one more time.
But the family who bought the house were more excited about the tree than the actual house (or so it seemed!), so maybe it is time for the tree to provide for a new, younger generation. Maybe her legacy can live on in that tree and its abundance- and maybe we can find peace in knowing that the circle of life is, indeed, reflected in nature as the tree continues to do what it should, despite the loss around it.
That beautiful photograph of your young tree made me pause…and now you can see why❤️”
What a beautiful story woven with so many wonderful memories. Thank you Annie, I hope the new owners gift you with some mangoes from your precious Mom-in-law’s mango tree