A heartbreaking video made the rounds on social media early this week — of a hardworking mango grower in San Mateo, Isabela, whose sweat and toil nurtured a bountiful harvest of sweet, succulent mangoes, only to have to dump nearly 3,000 kilos of it in the trash. Why? Because of the abysmally low selling price in the area.

Frederick Cayaban, in a television report, lamented the staggering loss of at least P84,000 worth of discarded fresh mangoes, which were part of the 15,000 kilos he and other farmers had transported to Metro Manila.

Cayaban said that upon reaching the metropolis, they encountered excessively long queues as the market was already saturated with supply.

A disheartened Cayaban said the mangoes ripened too fast during their trip in a closed van. In San Mateo, prices plummeted from P55 to a mere P5-P7 per kilo, but in Metro Manila they ranged from P30 to P95 per kilo.

Although he managed to offload 800 kilos to the government’s Kadiwa stores, imagine the sheer agony of seeing his hard work, livelihood, and very essence rotting away before his eyes simply because of some messed-up market. Cayaban and other mango growers poured their hearts and souls into cultivating those mangoes, only to have their dreams crushed by a ruthless system that values profit over human cost.

To them, those mangoes weren’t just fruit; they were the culmination of months of effort, care, and hope.

Think about it — each mango tossed aside is a loss of income and a blow to the growers’ spirit. It’s a slap in the face of their passion. The fruits of their labor, once vibrant and full of promise, now lay decaying in a pile of waste — evidence of the callousness of a world that fails to appreciate the true value of hard work and dedication.

Let’s not forget the environmental impact of this whole mess. Wasting 3,000 kilos of perfectly good mangoes is a crime against nature and a desecration of the earth’s gifts. All that food going to waste when there are people out there who could’ve benefited from it. It’s a double whammy of injustice — hitting both the grower and the planet.

Cayaban’s story hits home because it represents the struggles that countless farmers and producers face everywhere. These folks work their butts off to feed us, and yet they’re at the mercy of fluctuating prices and market demand with their efforts often overlooked and undervalued in a society driven by profit margins and greed.

Who wouldn’t be infuriated to see farmers who’ve done everything right — tended to their crops, nurtured them, brought them to harvest — only to be let down by a system that values profit over people?

We can do better to support our local farmers and show them the respect and appreciation they deserve. It isn’t too much to demand a fairer, more sustainable food system that doesn’t leave anyone behind.

Next time you bite into a juicy mango, take a moment to think about the hands that grew it, the sweat that watered it, and the heart that hoped for a fair price. Their hard work should not go to waste, nor do stories like Cayaban’s need a sequel.

There is a human cost behind each piece of fruit.

Isabela's Abuan River

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