It was the mango season. All those juicy yellow mangoes hanging in the four trees in our garden. Typical day in my country, sun was warm, the weather seemed to be on its great days, so there we were my three cousins and I, all between twelve and fifteen, I should also mention that I was the least courageous. I was the one who would stay down when everyone was up the tree. I remember one day I got stuck on the tree and it took my mother and my grandma,may she rest in peace, twenty minutes to get me down. Fun times.
Back to the story, this time I decided to go up the tree to pick some mangoes as they always threw the unripe ones down to me. I had had it. I went up the tree with them. I stationed myself at the lowest branch as my cousins, who are female, soared up on the birds branches. One of the youngest found a good spot where all the mangoes were ripe and so unbelievably delicious so now we have two of my cousins sitting on one branch.
I wanted to prove that I was getting great at this. I headed to the branch the two cousins were at and I started reaching for the mangoes. Just as I was about to grab my first delicious one I saw myself flying. The branch broke. We all flew down. We fell on a pile of stones below us but luckily no broken bones, no-one was seriously hurt too. The highlight of the story is that one of my cousin got up immediately after the fall and went away while my other cousin and I lay there in pain and shock unable to move listening to the agonizing laughter of the cousin who chose not to go to the branch that broke.
Africa is where childhood memories are made. This makes it to my list of childhood highlights.
What’s your childhood highlight?
With love, Nelly