Two days ago, on my way to school, I passed by a street where a shirtless man held green Indian mangoes as if holding a baby in his arm. From the street he gave instructions to his companion up in the tree to which branch to turn to. It may sound odd but actually it isn’t – they were picking mangoes in the city. Sometime ago I saw street sweepers busy harvesting mangoes in the middle of Quezon Avenue. I hope this does not come as a surprise that we have trees literally bearing fruit in the middle of our roads – I figured, there may be more, that there are six species of trees along Quezon Ave.: narra tree, nim tree, acacia tree, mahogany tree, gemelina tree and mango tree. The latter is the only one which bears edible fruit. Mango trees are remarkably resilient, even if soot-covered are fecund in seemingly arid places; this is sort of saying we have road-grown food.
We have paid little attention to this fact: we have fertile lands. Imagine instead of ornamental plants we grow sturdy fruit bearing trees along our road-islands? Vision Quezon Ave., lined up with the thick green shade of mango trees whose fruit is for anyone to harvest. Indian mango tree has proven itself sturdy in the city.
Speaking of which. For merienda I had green Indian mango yesterday. Its flesh snapped whenever I cut into it and pulled the knife upward. That crunchy. In its sourest Indian mango goes well with a pinch of salt or bagoong. Girls love this type of mango for some unexplainable reason. Once my friend offered me a slice which she dipped in bagoong. I was sent squirming on first bite. Pwede ng pang-sigang. But she just picked on them like potato chips.