Hallo from Kampala. The rains have come, the chickens are scratching and life goes on. Farmers are out there clearing, sowing their seed, planting, hoping for a bountiful harvest. A lot is happening. Lots of work, lots of rain and hopefully in a few weeks... lots of mangoes. Season gurus predict a bumper harvest of mangoes in Kampala. They say a big harvest follows a long drought such as the one we just had. I hope they are right.
The mango-rightness sensors that reside in the lower corner of mine and some mango savvy persons' ears and can feel whether the mango is ripe or not, can tell whether it fell ripe from the tree or it was ripened under ashes, also hope the gurus are correct.
On the way to our bookshop in Ntinda today, I saw a tree laden with still green mangos. Some men and boys were trying to hit some of the few hanging low enough to reach. I felt like eating one of those raw mangos; cut up with paprika and salt. Yummm.
My neighbour has fat purple ones the size of a small footballs hanging out of his trees. His mangos are not ripe yet. In the past, he has run races with little children in our village who have taken a liking to his garden right around this time. A little girl named Molly ( not her real name!) has been caught trying to make three of the happy mangos her own without growing them herself.
My neighbor, a compassionate real pastor (there are so many non-real pastors in Kampala)... took the case of Molly and the mangos to her Dad's home and asked her to bring the mangos back. Molly later revealed she had hidden the illegal stash in one of the trenches near the real pastors' home and not even in her house. The offended real mango owner cajoled the Dad not to give her a beating, got the mangos back and it all ended well.
Happy Mango Season.
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