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The black mango tree grew wild and happy along the edge of the broadleaf forest that climbed the Maya Mountains surrounding the narrow valley housing the village of Tapir Hill. The boys, Kenroy and Itchy, classmates at the village school, had become almost inseparable since Emanuel had arrived. His father, Cpl. Ich, was the OIC or officer in charge of the village. No one had planted the seed from which the tree had grown, about half a football field out from the back door of the Clinic. Feeling wild and happy too, Kenroy and Itchy sat, resting among its branches, enjoying what to them was one of life’s purest pleasures---the fruit of the black mango tree.
“Somebody ought to be thanked for this”, Kenroy said, expressing Itchy’s thoughts exactly as were both polished off their third mango each.
Their bellies full now, Kenroy related what Granny had told him the evening before about Pigfoot and about the scientist, Dr. Carver. After he finished talking they sat quietly. In fact, it seemed that the nearby forest itself was suddenly silent—no birds singing, no dry weather crickets doing whatever crickets do to make their clicking sounds, nothing doing or saying anything.
“You know, that Dr. Carver must’ve been pretty smart,” Emanuel said finally, almost to himself.
Noticing his distracted mood, Kenroy looked curiously at his friend. “Yeah, he had to be smart all right. Granny said he knew how to make 300 different things from peanuts!”
“Man, how’d he learn all of that,” Itchy marveled.
“From God, least that’s what Granny said he used to tell the people. But he used to study the plants, the animals and even the rocks and soil, to find out what everything was made out of. Then he would put them back together and make something new out of it,” said Kenroy, marveling himself now at the thought of being able to do something so amazing as to invent peanut butter.
“I wouldn’t mind being able to something like that, to be like a farmer scientist.,” Emanuel said, still as if his mind was in another place.
“I thought you said you was going to be a policeman like your dad Itchy.”
“Yeah, I know, but after you told me about Pigfoot yesterday I had a funny dream last night and just realized it must have been about what you had said.”
“You dreamed ‘bout Pigfoot?”
“Not really ‘bout him. I dreamed about the people of my village, San Miguel, how hard it is for the poor farmers there, like my grandfather. All of the youths them, want to leave, sake of no job there. I just wonder if any of them things Pigfoot learned from Dr. Carver could help the villagers get more from them li’ farm. I mean they chop bush, they burn bush every time, and every crop look to get worse, then my grandfather an all of them have to go deeper into the bush to start a new plantation. Soon them run out of bush to burn,” Emanuel said, his voice trailing off as he glanced toward the forest.
“Anyhow Itch, that’s the way people have done things from since, from what I know about it. Nothing can change so easy as you might want. You have to be dreaming for true.”
“Maybe. Maybe too that’s what the people was saying all the time to Pigfoot. But like Nurse D. said, he never listened to that. All I know is the mo’ I think about it the mo’ I kind of think, I don’t know maybe I should at least try to learn all I could about the science part of farming and go back to the village when I grow up and try to help the people back there so they could live better. I already know how to raise chickens, ‘cause I use to help my Grandfather look after his. Probably I could learn how to do even better if I could learn all about the science of that too,” Itchy said, becoming more sure of himself as he thought out loud.
“Well I guess after this I just have to give you a name for your farm,” Kenroy said, already starting to laugh.
“A name, like what Kenroy” Emanuel said knowing he didn’t really want to know.
“Well, how ‘bout ‘Itchy’s Chicken Hands’?!”
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