Adventure comes to those who seek it. Some people are born with an adventurous streak and an insatiable curiosity, only quelled through discovery. Others seek out adventures to conquer the demons within fear, boredom, stagnation, a sort of dry rot of the soul. I am in the former group.
Being adventurous means having the courage to try new things, and learn new things, myths, and cultures.
My interest was recently stimulated by the sudden interest and demand for the baobab tree by the West and other countries. So much so that we saw the giant trees chopped and transported to various destinations.
Seeing the many baobab trees that line the Mtito Andei-Mombasa highway is a natural phenomenon. I was surprised that in my many travels on this road, I have never considered this living monument, the oldest natural thing in Kenya worthy of my attention. Sadly, many of them have been cut down, while others have given in to disastrous weather.
In one of the many stopovers, I met 70-year-old James Mule, who told me stories and myths about this mystical tree.
The trees outlive every plant and animal around them, and have evolved and developed formidable resilience to survive some of the driest, rockiest areas of the coastal region.
At Kilaguni Serena Safari Lodge, my attention was drawn to a massive baobab tree set on cutely manicured grounds. The tree is the centre of attraction to many visitors, some of whom take thirty minutes to learn from resident naturalist and guide Anthony Keli about the enormous tree that is home, and the stopover place to many local birds.
At the tree, early in the morning and late in the evening you will find Keli conducting a bird-watching session, followed by a story-telling session about the African Baobab tree.
During my session with the naturalist, I learnt about some of the myths that explain why the baobab looks like an upside-down tree.
“It was the first tree that God created, but after a while, it complained to its creator that it was not as tall as the surrounding palms, so God made it taller,” said Keli.
“However the mystical tree was still not satisfied and complained to God yet again that it didn’t have flowers like the flame tree, so God gave it flowers. However, it seemed the baobab was insatiable, so after getting its flowers it still complained to God that it did not have fruits like the fig tree, and God got so annoyed that he pulled up the tree by its roots and thrust it down into the ground head first,” narrated the naturalist.
Scientifically, the baobab tree, it seems has its original home in Africa, and where else it is found, its seeds must have drifted on the waters or were carried on ships. On its spread across the coastal region, Keli explains that its flowers are pollinated, often by bats, and then dispersed by baboons.
In his book, The African Baobab, Rupert Watson describes how an individual baobab is a community of plants, animals, reptiles, and insects.
My next encounter with the baobab tree was at the Mnarani Ruins, a 15th-Century Swahili settlement. I was excited to walk the trail in the steps of those ancient dwellers, who used the present nature trails as they sojourned through the indigenous forest cover. The trails have existed since Mnarani was abandoned about 500 years ago.
Trees in this forest, guide Juma Ali explained, have been identified to have high medicinal and sacred value. In the Mnarani Ruins forest, there are huge baobab trees.
Every part of the tree is valuable – the bark can be turned into rope and clothing, the seeds can be used to make cosmetic oils, the leaves are edible, the trunks can store water and the fruit is extraordinarily rich in nutrients and antioxidants.
As we concluded our tour of the ruins, there is one more take-home memoir that the guide wants me to indulge in – making a wish in front of a ceremonial baobab tree, sacred to the local community.
I had to first walk around the tree five times before making my wish, and leave without ever looking back for my wish to happen.
I failed on the instruction to walk without ever looking back. I could not resist the temptation of looking back, so I’ll never know if my wish would have come true.