I ate several litchis, despite their immaturity. Then brought home one for each of my parents, which they ate in front of me, on Thanksgiving Day Eve.
They were the offering of the head of the Bible school in Manantantely to me and Carolyn Akland and Kim Dickey. He had guided us to one of the many litchi trees in Manantantely, heavily laden with fruit not yet ripe, due to a lack of rain. He broke off a small branch for each of us.
I will treasure that sight, that memory moment, as long as God gives me breath--my parents each eating one small litchi from one of the trees in Manantantely, our home village.
Enroute to the Tana airport, going home, vendors tried to sell us a sobiky full of litchis as we rolled through traffic. I got distracted by the rare sight of a charety (zebu-drawn cart or wagon) with an omby (zebu) attached, vying for space on the highway with large and small honking vehicles of all kinds. Had I not done so, I would have parked myself in the airport and eaten litchis until I could not contain another drop of their sweetness.