Creative Content Writing.

Creative Content Writing.

So it comes as no surprise that I go on this late-night journey of ancient Elder Trees just after I read Kent Steenekamp Facebook post of the trees that very morning. Contrasts….
What a night last night…the Afrikaner Medicine women with piercing blue eyes led Bushman tracker and the I to greet the Elder trees around Gardens/Tamboerskloof. Shew the contrast leaving a dark misty, almost rainy Muizenberg and 30 minutes later arriving to a clear warm humid Tamboerskloof…it was as contrasting as the sweet Jasmine, Frangipani and Lemon scents to the sewer smells and cooking meat vomiting out from the many restaurants in the area, as the contrast between the thick misty Muizenberg to the clear clear warm city bowl inky night sky.
“Wil julle die boeme groet” she says with a twinkle in her eyes as a Cape Robin Chat sings out its last call for the night to mark the start of our journey…we follow its call over the bustling streets of racing cars, swarms of tourists and the warm tar while blocks of flats radiate heat out adding to barmy warmth of the night.
We must have looked a site to the packed streets of tourists as 3 barefoot wide-eyed spirits with a glass jug of riverine water passes between them like water. Talk about contrasts…
The Afrikaner medicine woman leads us to the first Elder, a giant Ficus as wide as it is tall. It looks like the whole suburb was built around this giant tree. We approach slowly in awe and wonder, we greet the Elder with respect, we touch its bark, scratch its trunk and pour some riverine water on its roots. The massive branches high overhead extend out across the intersection. The Bushman tracker has seen so much from the destruction of his people to border wars, to traveling around the world as an Indigenous activist yet he sits in silence like a child seeking the solace of a mother. He is once again a happy smiling child, his eyes close, he is safe once again.
She knows we are hooked and does not even have to ask if we wish to see more…

Creative Content Writing.

Contrasts…the 3 trackers and the Tree Elders in the upper City Bowl.

Two Giant Ficus stand like sentinels on either side of a driveway on New Church Street, their roots and branches are intertwined like 2 lovers embracing. The trunks and roots swallow up part of the old iron pike fence that separates them. The two Elders bend away from the busy road towards the old colonial house. We sit its in roots and twisted trunks, leaning back into the warm loving embrace a mother gives her children. Our peaceful and dream-like state is in contrast to the very busy main road as cars come tearing down the hill at breakneck speeds, racing each other before the 2 lanes become one.
Our serenity and unity is in total contrast to manic drivers racing each to get there first.
These trees grow on the veins of the Camissa that flow beneath the roads and houses pointing up as to mark its flow under. Not even the pipes, City infrastructure nor foundations can separate these wise beings. We think of the cape with its fynbos and healing shrubs but not of its big trees that once graced our landscape, only now found in recess and valleys high up on the mountainside. There is a good reason why Africans hold meetings under giant trees not only for the shade and protection but for their wisdom too.
We cut down Hof and into Curtis passing by the back end of the Mount Nelson into Wandel where we are greeted by a bare-chested muscular Congolese Car Guard glistening with sweat from the hot humid night. His smile pierces the darkness, contrasting the white of his eyes and teeth in the shadow of the giant tree. We greet warmly. He knows why we are here as he is not only there to protect the cars but the Tree too. A small medicine garden has been planted by those that know at its giant base with healers like Bulbinella and Cotyledon(Pig’s ear). The Bushman tracker is like a child again, a big baby smile lights his face, his eyes twinkling as if he sees his mother again, we lay once again in the embrace of the Ficus’ swirling roots that extend from its trunk into the ground. The tar bulges in places as if a giant python has moved under the pavement.
The Car Guard chimes, “au revoir”, a knowing smile as only an African can do.
“Kom laat ek vir jou wys vir Nokuphila” she says with childlike glee.”Mense kom van ooral Africa om doe ou boom to groet.” We head back through the throngs of tourists all babbling in foreign languages. We proceed in silence overwhelmed by our meeting with the Elders. We pass by packed bars, coffee shops and restaurants where sweaty black faces tend the grills and sculleries.
“Daar is sy kyk duer die heinings.” Nokuphila!!
Later I dream of myself sitting in the warm embrace of the trunk of the Ubuntu tree, the medicine woman and tree as one, warm motherly embrace comfort of the mother herself.
Contrasts of Wisdom versus Foolishness as the soft, wisdom of the ancient trees and the organic contrasts the foolishness of the concrete and tar.