The sacred baobab tree

There once was a sacred baobab tree. She started off small, unsure of her presence in the world. She was encouraged by her ancestors to grow tall and strong, and to make them proud; to carry on their sacred legacy and be an inspiration for all those who seek refuge under her branches. A couple years went by and this baobab tree grew tall and strong just like her ancestors predicted for her, but not without her hole. She had this massive, gaping hole within her, through which visitors could crawl through to see inside her. She was told this hole was a result of her achievement, a marker of all the years she has lived on this earth (500 to be exact) and that this hole would continue to grow bigger with age. But this baobab tree felt that this hole was her crutch. It granted access to others to see her inner workings, to know all there is to know about her. She asked herself, “How can I live up to the sacredness of my ancestors if I can’t keep some secrets to myself? Where is the mystery to my being?”

One day a young woman came to visit this sacred baobab tree. She touched her trunk with her left hand; an action that brings one luck, as told to the woman by her tour guide. This young woman needed all the luck she could get. She even followed the guide into the tree, the first of her group of classmates to do so. She wanted to discover the unknown, wanted to get as much from this tree as she could. When inside the sacred baobab tree, she felt the tree's powers. She felt the tree’s presence, she learned the secrets the sacred baobab was trying to keep for herself. She learned these secrets and she felt stronger, wiser, more capable than before she had crawled through the hole. She left the sacred baobab a new person, a person who learned from someone else’s experiences, worries, and fears. She rested her hand once more on the sacred baobab and thanked her for her power to share.

This past Friday we went to Joal, a city south of Dakar. We visited Fadiout, a small island in Joal that is filled with seashells. This is a truly a shell collector’s dream. There is no sand, no grass, just shells. Shells upon shells upon shells, that were brought to the island over the years by women who collected them from the ocean to sell. This island is also one of the most Catholic places in Senegal where there is a grand church and an archbishop who speaks Hebrew because he wants to learn the languages of other religions.

We then went to the mixed Muslim and Christian cemetery on the island. This was a spectacular sight to see, and something that could probably only happen in Senegal. Muslims and Christians, people of two different faiths, lying next to each other at the end of their lives, going up to the same heaven, the same God; just different paths of getting there.

We then went to the house of Leopold Senghor’s (the first president of Senegal) father. We heard the history of this, let’s just say “interesting,” man. Honestly, I don’t really want to go into the whole history here, but you can look it up online because it’s quite interesting. What I found was the most interesting part was seeing the baobab tree in their backyard. The baobab tree has become one of the symbols of Senegal, an inspiration that Senghor got from the tree in his backyard; the very tree that was still there today.

Lastly, we visited this sacred baobab tree I mentioned in the narrative above. Of course this story isn’t real or one that was told to me; it is a narrative I invented to describe my relation to the sacred baobab tree. It took the last trip for me to realize the incredible connection I feel to this gift from Mother Nature; a tree that I see everywhere I look, here in Senegal. It was right in front of me this whole time, but it took visiting the largest baobab tree in Senegal, and all the stories we heard about the various baobab trees we saw, to realize my connection to this tree. We learned about how famous griots, or storytellers, were buried inside these trees which is what made them symbols of sacredness and spirituality; places where people would come to seek answers as if the spirits of the griots lived on through these trees. We learned how the baobab leaves are used in the making of couscous, because they act as an ailment for any stomach pain. We saw baobab trees growing directly from shells; a true miracle.

I am the young woman mentioned in the narrative above. I am the one who discovered and learned so much from this sacred baobab tree. Someone who understood the power in sharing, and thanks the baobab tree for its gifts to visitors like me.

I am also the baobab tree. Standing tall and strong, trying to carry on the legacies of my ancestors, but also trying to cultivate one of my own. I have many secrets that I was once unwilling to share, but now that I have shared them and have seen the power in sharing, I want to share more. I want to help others learn from my experiences, my worries, my fears, so that they don’t feel alone in their similar struggles. I have holes in me that are a gateway to my inner self, a self that is open to share; to show others they are never alone.