Mango

It was the summer of 2000, which for some reason sounds futuristic, and at the time it felt like it. It was a new era of so much more. My discman blasted Destiny’s Child into my ears, I couldn’t wait to get home and play The Sims and the nokia 3310 was soon to be exposed to the world not knowing that years later it would be a popular meme about how indestructible it is. What a time to be alive, and I didn’t even know it yet. I’d learn a lot about myself this summer, this lesson would come to me through something I’d least expect – mangoes.

I know that sounds odd, but see here’s the thing. I’d have many moments like the one i’m about to share with you. Moments that, while small and seemingly insignificant have given me the look in the mirror that I needed in order to grow, to become more – something. Whatever that something might be, brave, wise, or just simply have the audacity to try to be something more than I was. My grandma, she taught me the first lesson that I can ever remember learning.

“Ma’am, please calm down”

The security agent said hoping to get my grandma to stop making a scene.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” She raised

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but you cannot take mangoes across the border,” He stressed. “Let me take those off your hands”

“You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I know you’re just going to take my mangoes home with you.”

Me, shy, 7, and with an aversion to conflict, stood quietly next to her. Looking up at her as I held onto her pant leg trying to pull her to leave and just give up these stupid mangoes and avoid having everyone else in the airport stare at us. I didn’t know what the big deal was. She brushed off my grip and pulled my hand and dragged me over to the bench at the entry of the security gate.

We sat down and she pulled her bag of mangoes onto her lap and handed me a few. They were so big I needed both hands to hold one. My grandma pierced a mango with her thumb and effortlessly ripped open the skin and shoved it into my hands.

“Eat!” She urged.

“Ma’am.” An agent called to her as he stared with his hands on his hips.

“You said I couldn’t take them across the border. You didn’t say anything about eating them!” She grinned giddily “See baby girl, don’t ever let anyone take anything that doesn’t belong to them. Especially juicy mangoes. Now eat up! We have about 13 more to go.”

My eyes widened at the thought but I pierced my teeth into the mango anyway. I could not believe how juicy it was. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how parched I had been in this hot Antiguan airport with no air conditioning, beads of sweat falling down my temple. This was the best thing I’d ever tasted in my entire life. I suddenly understood exactly why my grandma was ready to risk it all. Needless to say, I did not need any further motivators to eat more of those mangoes before our flight. My grandma looked down at me proudly, my face covered in the juice from the mango, probably looking as if I’d tasted food for the first time. We indulged even more. We were a force to be reckoned with. Though, thirteen mangoes later, both grandma and me were nauseated and conked out on the flight back to Canada. I thought I could never eat every again I was so full, but every summer since, I treat myself to a bag of mangoes, just for me and her. Then, one day, just for me, in honour of her.

It’s been 22 years. Twenty-two years and I can never forget the sheer stubbornness of my grandmother. A trait I can never forget simply because, I inherited all of it. When life gives you mangoes, don’t ever let anyone take them from you.