Bearing her load, a Balaclava woman does a balancing act.

So all I'm saying is, if you don't own the tree, you shouldn't be offering its fruits to strangers.

You see, about a week ago, I found myself on a lonely, but quite inviting street in Balaclava, St Elizabeth. There was a weathered old street sign which, after much contemplation, I concluded gave the name of the roadway as Duncan's Avenue. I could be wrong.

I had been there for just under an hour, looking around, when I decided to see where the street would lead. So, off I went on a stroll.

It started out as a pleasant walk. I passed lots of well-kept homes which oozed with that unique rural Jamaica charm and lots and lots of open space. It seemed I was all alone on that journey, and I was rather enjoying it, but as luck would have it, a rustle in a nearby mango tree was about to change the rest of my day.

Man's water boot

Shuffle ... shuffle. I glanced up at the tree to see what was making the branches shake. The huge green mango tree was standing on the inside of a concrete fence surrounding a small house that was sbout 100 feet away. Shuffle ... shuffle. I was intrigued now and walked closer to the tree. Looking up, I spotted a man's water boot, then a tattered pair of khaki trousers. The man was making his way down the tree. Soon, I could see his shirt, then the back of his head.

Boof! He jumped out of the tree and landed not 10 feet from where I was standing. His back was to me and he seemed oblivious to me standing there. I cleared my throat and he whirled around.

"Who dat?" he yelled. I was surprised by how jittery he was. I told him I was just passing through the community and that he was the first person I had come across.

"Oh. Zeen. Yeah mi just picking some mangos here man," he said. It was then that I noticed a black plastic bag on the ground near where he had landed. The bag was full of mangos. The man must have been in his late 40s and had greying hair. He wore a green shirt, khaki pants and water boots.

I mentioned how great it was for him to have reaped so many mangos in just one go, and he smiled broadly. "Mi used to dis man. Mi ah climb mango tree from mi yeye deh ah mi knee," he said, proudly.

His eyebrows were bushy and seemed to dance as he spoke. He was still speaking with me from inside the yard. I mentioned how huge the mangos were. "Yes man, big and nice," he said. He walked over to the bag and picked up one of the mangoes. "You can teck dis one, man," he said, handing it to me. I thanked him and eagerly accepted his offer. I held the mango up to my nose and took a whiff. Heavenly.

Just then, I heard a clunk coming from the house. I looked behind the man to see what was happening. I saw a woman, wearing a house dress and head tie, hurriedly making her way out of the house. She seemed to have been searching for her shoes and was holding a big pot in her hand.

"Your wife coming to help you man. How nice," I said, smiling. It was the look of utter terror in the man's eyes that first tipped me off that something was wrong with my assessment of the situation.

"Man hurry up and help mi pick up di mango dem!" the man yelled. He moved like lightning, grabbing up the mangos, then leaped over the fence in one giant swoop. It all happened so quickly. I glanced in the woman's direction. She had found her shoes and was coming our way. She was a big woman and up in age, so despite her great efforts, her speed was muted.

Angry senior citizen

I stood there, in great amazement at all that was taking place. It had all started out so innocently and now I was being pursued by an angry senior citizen with a giant Dutch pot. The man who was in the tree was now well on his way down the road, moving like a freight train. My first thought was to run too, because by now I could hear the woman yelling the most outrageous expletives as she came closer to where I was standing. But then it dawned on me that I had done nothing wrong. It was the man in the water boots who she was after, and he was long gone. Sure, she would at first think that I was in some way involved in the pilfering of mangos from her tree, but I knew that once I explained, she would understand and all would be OK. After all, there would be nothing to tie me to the crime. So, I watched the woman come closer, all the while shouting things that would make a construction worker blush.

I rehearsed in my mind what I would say to her. How it was such a shame that the thieving brute had made off with her beautiful mangos.

It was then that it hit me. I was still holding the mango that the man had given me! I held it up right in front of my face. My eyes were wide as I looked and saw the woman glaring straight at me as she ran. She held the pot high above her head and seemed to have picked up speed. The terror I had seen in the man's eyes was now my own. I'm sure I let out a yelp as I threw the mango over the fence and took off down the same road the mango thief had taken. As I ran down the road, I could hear the woman yelling:

"Mi mark yuh face! Wait till mi ketch yuh!"

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

Not much going on. A bird's eye view of the Balaclava main road. - photos by Norman Grindley/Chief Photographer

This old building in Balaclava gives a real taste of rural Jamaica.