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Mama was born in Jamaica. She came to the UK in 1961.

When Mama was 80 years old, she was knocked down by a car which was driven by a newly qualified driver. You can imagine how I reacted when I got the phone call informing me of the accident. Mama was hospitalised for quite a while.  Following Mama being discharged home, I continued to care for mum as I had done for many years.

Over a few months, I started to notice a difference in Mama and her memory recall. She had no memory of the accident.  I made an appointment with her GP, and he suggested that I should register Mama to attend a day centre (ironically, she was the only black person there). Before Mama could be accepted, she had to have a dementia test. 

I accompanied Mama and it was during this test that Mama was diagnosed with Vascular Dementia and Alzheimer’s. On questioning the practitioner, I was informed that because Mama had high blood pressure, she was prone to getting dementia, plus Mama was a worrier and endured much stress whilst training to be a nurse and raising a family. The dementia test was nothing about Mama’s cultural background and more about the current environment. I challenged the person doing the test how appropriate that would be for Mama.

Fast forward to 2014 when Mama was placed in a care home.  A home which had no staff member who looked like her. There was nothing in the home which represented Mama’s African Caribbean culture. She was not being stimulated at all, and I raised my concerns that she was being alienated from her culture.

When I visited Mama, I always try and take her an item of Jamaican food.

One day, I took her a Jamaican mango - something she has never been given whilst in the home. Jamaican mangos are extremely expensive, I didn’t care about the cost it was for Mama. There are different varieties. Mama used to love the one named “Julie” which is overly sweet.

Mama was nonverbal by this time, but her eyes always shone when she saw me, and she would smile and put her hands out to touch and hug me.

I told her that I had a surprise for her – you should have seen her face the biggest smile.  I took the mango out of my bag and handed it to her (we do not peel mangos when eating it, we tear the skin with our teeth). Mama immediately put the mango to her nose first to smell it, then her mouth. I quickly took it away as the juice of the mango stains clothing. I had to explain to Mama that I needed to get an apron from one of the staff to protect her clothing.

I asked a staff member for an apron for Mama. The staff member proceeded to question me as to why I wanted an apron. I explained and begrudgingly she gave me one.

Mama was so excited. She was waving her hands about and licking her lips and reaching out to get the mango. As soon as I gave the mango to Mama, as quick as a flash it was in her mouth, and her face lit up as she put her lips around it.  It was pure joy to watch her.

I started talking to her whether she remembered what she was eating, and she just smiled whilst still enjoying the juicy mango. Mama could not eat the skin, though she made a good go of sucking the juice out of it, before spitting it out.  She held the mango seed firmly and sucked and sucked until the seed was almost white. When I tried to take the seed from her, she held on to it tightly. I had to prize it out of her hands whilst she licked the juice off her fingers.

I told Mama I would bring a bigger mango on my next visit.

Whenever I visited Mama after that, I made sure that I had a mango for her. Whenever she saw me, her face lighted up as she knew what was in my handbag for her.

Whenever I tell this story about Mama and the mango it brings tears to my eyes. Tears of joy how something so simple can bring such joy.