Mango Mornings

A short story by Kathi Satchel

Dee Finau took her little brother’s hand, waved goodbye to their mother and the baby, and set off down the road for school. Their mother was distracted by the toddler chasing a piglet with a stick and forgot to warn Dee that the Latu’s dogs were out again. By the time she had the toddler disarmed and remembered the dogs, Dee and Ofa had turned onto the Liku Road and were out of sight. Oh well, she thought, Dee knows how to deal with dogs.

As the children rounded the corner out of their mother’s sight, Dee dropped Ofa’s sweaty little hand and wiped her hand down her shorts. “Come on, let’s see if there are any mangoes left on the Big Tree.” She broke into a run, her plastic slippers slapping the road sending little puffs of dirt into the air. If she arrived at school with a few extra mangoes to share, Amanda and Lina would let her sit with them at lunch. Amanda might even share some of her palangi food, exotic looking treats from another country.

The mango tree stood in a patch of unfarmed land that no-one claimed, with a dark, wide canopy unstunted by pruning. Ofa stood at the bottom of the tree, and watched Dee climb up through the branches, kicking off her black plastic slippers as she went. Her tough, skinny legs pushed; her arms pulled until she was in the lofty part of the tree where small, green mangoes nestled amongst the veined leaves, too high for casual passers-by to pick easily. She plucked the fruit, shoving one into each pocket and threw a few more down to Ofa who tried unsuccessfully to catch them. The ground was soft and sandy, and Ofa giggled as he darted about picking them up. That would be enough for today.

Dee felt about with her foot for the branch below. As the ball of her foot took her weight, she felt a leaf tickle the side of her foot.

“Molokau, molokau!” Ofa shouted.

Dee looked down and saw the huge black pincers of a giant centipede, hundreds of spikey orange legs scuttling along the branch. Her auntie had been bitten by a molokau while sleeping in her own bed just a few weeks ago. She had told them the story at great length and with relish, repeating the bit about how the bite was so sore it felt like she was stabbed by a big kitchen knife again and again. Dee had never been stabbed; she wasn’t even sure her auntie had been. But Dee was sure that a molokau bite would hurt even more than when she had stubbed her toe so hard that her toenail had turned black and fallen off.

With these thoughts flashing through her head, she flung herself out of the tree and tumbled to the ground. She landed in a patch of tall grass, rolling to break her fall. The mangoes in her pockets dug into her hip and she felt one split, sticky juice seeping onto her thigh. She pulled them out her pockets to inspect, turning them over. A few bruises, but they’d still be good for sharing. Between what she had in her pocket and what she’d thrown down, there were five intact mangoes and one split. She handed Ofa two and put the other four into her backpack, hoping the juice didn’t make her books too sticky.

Back on the road, Dee instructed Ofa to look out for some rocks. “Like this. See how it sits in my hand?” She held her hand up, the rock nestled into the palm and made the motion of throwing overarm. “We’ll show the dogs who’s boss.” Dee’s father had repeatedly asked the Latu’s to keep their dogs chained up in the mornings, but she knew they usually forgot. Besides, if they were locked up, she would bang the rocks at them as a warning if they barked.

The road to Veitonga sloped up and over a hill, and Ofa lagged with his little legs. Dee paused at the top of the hill and scanned the road up ahead, giving Ofa a chance to catch up. There was no sign of the dogs, but when they walked by the Latu house at the bottom of the hill, they weren’t chained up barking either.

Dee’s nerves thrummed. She squeezed the rocks alternately, right hand, left hand, reassuring herself her weapons were solid. The road was clear, with silent puddles pooled in the dirt in the muggy morning air.

Dee blinked, and the pack leader materialised, all snarling teeth and pin prick eyes, on the road in front them. His sidekicks emerged from the tall grass, one, two, three. “Four. That’s all of them.” She had a rock in each hand, and another two in her pockets. Ofa was still too little to throw accurately. Sure enough, his rocks plopped into the puddle in front of the dogs in quick succession. The leader growled and took a step forward. Dee threw her biggest rock, but it spun out wide missing the pack entirely. Wasted. Her next rock hit the dog closest to the grass and it let out a yelp. The rest of the pack ignored it, their eyes burning into the children.

Dee glared back at them as she got the last two rocks out her pocket. The next rock skimmed off the leader’s back. He stood his ground. The final rock fell short of the pack.

“Kuli kovi, bad dog” Dee shouted, trying to make her voice as deep as she could. Mum had said that a low voice scared them more. She felt something cool and hard press into her hand. Ofa had taken one of the mangoes out of his bag and trusted her with it. She felt the weight in her hand and knew she couldn’t afford to miss. Her lips pulled back into a snarl as she pulled her shoulder back, the mango cool and smooth in her hand. She let it go at the peak and it flew fast, straight towards the dogs. Still growling, she kept running towards the pack, following the mango. The hard fruit hit the leader’s nose sharply, prompting a yelp. She could hear Ofa running behind her, shouting for the dogs to go with his little voice squawking “‘alu, ‘alu”. The dogs scattered back into the long grass.

By the time Dee and Ofa got to the puddle, there was no sign of the dogs apart from a distant rustle through the grass. “And don’t come back!” Dee shouted. They didn’t stop running until they reached the sealed road at Veitonga.

There wasn’t room to walk side by side, so Ofa walked behind Dee. “Don’t go in the road,” she warned him as cars whizzed by, swerving to avoid the potholes. There were a group of older children up ahead, on the steps to the shop. Dee squinted, trying to see who it was. She felt a knot in her stomach and thought about crossing the road. She looked over her shoulder and decided there were too many cars to risk it with Ofa.

The boys were pushing each other about, laughing, and Kaelo was right in the middle of it. Dee put her head down and took Ofa’s hand in hers and walked as briskly as she could. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice her, too busy being an idiot with his friends. She wished she still had a rock to throw, to watch them scatter like the pack of dogs in the road. Her rock would fly straight on target and hit Kaelo on his stupid nose, just like the mango had hit the dog’s nose. She giggled to herself with this thought.

“What’s so funny?” Kaelo stood in front of her, forcing them to stop.

“Hello Kaelo.” Ofa greeted him with a smile.

The older boy ignored him. Dee tried to step around him, Ofa’s hand still sweaty in hers. Kaelo moved side to side, blocking her. His henchmen had stopped shoving each other and watched to see what their leader would do.

“You have to pay me tax to pass.” Kaelo announced. Dee tried to barge passed him, pushing her shoulder as hard as she could into his. He turned and grabbed at her backpack, forcing her arm back as he tugged it off her shoulders.

“Give it back!” Dee grabbed for the bag and Kaelo took off running, opening the zip and grasping inside. Dee chased after him. He was a lot bigger than her, but she had the advantage of speed. As she caught up with him, he threw the bag and she watched it settle in a puddle of water. He had managed to get one of her prize mangoes out. She hoped it was the one which was split.

She shook the muddy water off her bag and looked up in time to see Ofa throw a rock at Kaelo. It flew wide and Dee grabbed his hand before he could try again.

“Come on, let’s leave these smelly idiots.” It was the biggest insult she could think of, and she made sure to say it loud enough for them to hear. Kaelo ignored both the rock and the insult. Mango juice dripped down his chin and he laughed at his victory.

“Malo e lelei” Dee greeted a woman sitting next to a fold-out table on the side of the road. The table was full of taro leaf parcels of meat and vegetables, selling for a few pa’anga each. They always smelled so good, although it was the sweet, sticky coconut rice in banana leaves that Dee loved best. A ute pulled up, with a puff of smoke and loud clanking. The driver got out to buy a lu sipi.

“Hello Dee, want a lift?” a voice called out from the back of the ute. It was Silioti and her siblings, also on their way to school. Dee lifted Ofa up into the tray, and used the wheel as a step to get in. She relaxed against the side of the tray as the vehicle pulled back into the road, her head back and wind rushing through her hair. This was a better way to get to school!

She held up her bag, to dry the patch which had fallen in the puddle, and Ofa copied her, holding his bag up. His little hands underestimated the tug of the wind, and they watched in horror as the bag flew over the side of the ute into the bushes. Dee banged on the window of the cab, but Silioti’s father mistook this for a greeting and waved back at her. Ofa was trying to stand up, and Dee had to pull him down to keep him sitting.

“We’ll go back for it,” she promised him. She had to shout to be heard above the clanking and rattling of the ute. Ofa, reassured that his bag would be rescued, waved happily to the queue of cars built up behind them.

“Does it always sound this broken?” Dee asked Silioti.

“It’s on its way to get fixed now. That’s why we’ve got a lift.”

Black smoke swirled out the back, and after a few particularly big clanks, and a trip through a pothole instead of around it, the ute came to a juddering stop. The children spilled out the back and Dee instructed Ofa to stay with her backpack, before dashing back down the road to get his. The ute hadn’t traveled very far, and she could see the bag in the distance. She noticed Kaelo and his pack had started walking toward school, and she tried to pick up her pace. They got to it before she did and had rifled through it, finding the last mango.

“Give it,” she snatched the bag from the boy who was peering inside. He wasn’t after colored pencils or books, and let it go without a fuss. Dee was out of breath but forced herself to run ahead of the boys to get back to the broken-down ute. The bonnet of the ute was up, and a group of men were prodding at things as they tried to get it to start again. Silioti’s siblings had already started walking, but she was waiting with Ofa and Dee’s bag.

The three children set off down the road in the hot, oppressive air. The dazzling sun from when they had set off this morning was now hidden behind the dark clouds that dominated the sky. They walked in single file, with Dee leading at a brisk pace. Hot or not, she was anxious to keep ahead of Kaelo. There was a lull in traffic and the only sound in the sudden silence was the flip-flop of three pairs of slippers.

A big splotch of rain splattered into the dirt in front of Dee, followed by more in rapid succession, hammering onto her arms and head. They broke into a run, squelching along the road as the rain fell heavily. Dee laughed out loud as she felt the cool rain soak into her hair and clothes. She hugged her backpack to her chest in a futile attempt to keep her books from getting wet, but she didn’t really care. The rain felt too good, and she splashed in the puddles as she ran.

The downpour didn’t last long, and they slowed down, mud flicking up the back of their calves as they walked. Dee rummaged in her bag. Three mangos left. One for Ofa, one for her, and she would give the last one to Silioti. Who needed Amanda and her palangi snacks? Water dripped down Dee’s nose, and she stuck out her tongue to catch it as it fell. It was sweet on her tongue, but not as sweet as that last mango was going to taste at lunch.