The Dilemma of the Mangos (II)

By Erasmo Calzadilla

I lit a “Popular” (brand of cigarette), like I do in moments of tension, and began “studying” the case.

I’ve always had reservations with such appropriations of public lands on the part of private individuals, as well as the “spontaneous” manner in which these are carried out.  This to the extent that I’ve often thought that when my father can no longer cultivate it for health reasons – I would knock down the fences and return the parcel to the community.

But returning to the present, in these difficult times we face, my family really saved a few pennies thanks to the efforts of old man Calzadilla on the little garden.

Another matter to consider in this scenario is the issue of respect; whether I like it or not, in this neighborhood, that word carries a lot of weight.  If you let an incident like the one referred to in The Dilemma of the Mangos (Part I) continue happen without addressing it, then the prestige of one’s family and its members declines more and more; the consequences of this can be more serious than the simple loss of a few pieces of fruit.

Lacking focus, without knowing what to do, and no longer in the mood to study, to clear my head I began giving my dog Bruno a bath in the still un-occupied lot in front of my house.

Perhaps by chance, El Loco (the lunatic) and his stooges showed up walking down the street. El Loco lives very close to my house; in fact, I practically saw him born, grow up, and take one step after another along the road to delinquency.

To date, he has accumulated a thick criminal record of holdups, offences, machete brawls and time in jail.  He’s not a friend but nor is he a stranger, and we usually greet when passing.

He is often accompanied by his little buddies and their pit-bulls trained to lacerate jugular veins.

When we bumped into each other I was conciliatory: “Hey Loco, what’s this with your jumping over our fence to take mangos man?   You know all you have to do is ask my family and they’ll give them to you.  Hasn’t it always been like that?  And compadre, with the number of mango trees there are all over this area, why do you have to rob this one?”

This time El Loco was in a good mood; I don’t know if he was just trying to get rid of me or if I seriously I convinced him, but he told me, “It’s OK my brother, it won’t happen again,” and I left the matter there.

But I hadn’t finished giving Bruno his bath when I heard leaves rustling and mangos falling.

Another neighbor, another childhood friend who had become a hustler, was climbing one of our trees and picking it clean.  I yelled to so-and-so, “What’s up with you man?  I can’t believe you’re involved in this mess, since you know what a sacrifice my old man made to grow these trees.  How would you like me doing the same thing with what your father has?  This is some shit,” I hollered at him as he collected the mangos.  Like a madman, with all my force, I went completely off on him.

“What I resent is that it’s not just anyone in the street involved in this, but you! – plus you’re knocking down the whole fence.”  The guy lowered his head and left without saying a word, which even made me feel sorry for him a little; but it was better that he said nothing – I was already pissed off and any response could have ended up in a fight.

I then decided to let the matter drop for once and for all.  Taking advantage of the fact that my father was not home – because I believe that he would not have approved of what I did – I called together a group of kids, and along with them I knocked down all the fruit still on the trees that was not on the ground.  Then, I distributed it among them, a few neighbors and my house.  At least for the immediate future, I don’t believe there will be any more problems with mangos.

So I went back to entertaining myself with the battle between Leibniz and Locke, which now seemed more amusing… although that is not really the appropriate word when it comes to philosophers.