I LOVE TREES
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| Bloemfontein Mediclinic car park - photo by Dianne Lang |
I stood on
the veranda outside my ward this morning.
The air had a biting chill in it and frost lay thick upon the ground. I looked down on white frozen roofs from the
second floor. It was a little after
07h30 and the road in front of the hospital was one continuous rush of cars
going by … the driver’s probably late for work.
Then I saw
it…a car park roof accommodating a large tree.
The architects who draw the plans for this hospital must have loved
nature, because one large and lonely tree in the parking lot would have been a
lot easier to just chop down, instead of building the roofed section of the
parking lot around the tree. I was
impressed, so impressed in fact, that I took a photo of it.
I have
always loved trees. I think the love of
trees came from my childhood when my father would regularly pack up the family
and take us camping in the forest.
My first
altercation with authorities and trees came when I moved to Middelburg, in the
Eastern Cape. I had founded a children’s
home in Middelbrug for neglected, abandoned and abused children. The old streets are lined with beautiful blue
gum trees which must have been at least a hundred years old. I loved taking the children for walks and
teaching them about hugging trees when you feel sad. We used to hug the trees and often it would
take up to twelve of us to hold hands and encircle a tree. Through the small town bush telegraph, it
came to my notice that the municipality were going to cut down all the trees
along one street, because the trees were interfering with the electricity and
phone lines. Instead of just chopping
away the branches that were a problem, they were going to chop the entire lot
of trees down with chain saws. I did
everything I could think of to get the municipality to just cut the offending
branches, and to save the trees. I lost
the fight and my heart ached for weeks after I saw those stumps that were left
after the murderous municipal men had slaughtered our trees.
The second
time I got into shit about a tree was when I was living in Letchworth Garden
City. It is one of the first Garden
Cities to be built in the world and the flowers and trees are indescribably
beautiful. The housing was designed to
fit into an enormous garden. Outside my
favourite coffee shop was a paved area that had tables and chairs, so that in
good weather people could sit with their favourite coffee or cake and do people
watching – something I have become very good at. I love people watching and imagining if they
are married, if they are happy, what kind of lives they live …my head is always
busy. There was a beautiful oak tree
that was planted in the middle of this paved area, and the birds were nesting
in it. The peacefulness of sitting under
the tree, sipping coffee, listening to the birds, and people watching was one
of my favourite things to do.
One day I
saw a wide black ribbon tied around the trunk of the tree, and hanging for a
number of lower branches were 5 x 10 inch cardboards with printing on
them. I took one off and read it. Someone was trying to save the tree. The council had approved the plans for a new shop-front,
as well as an upgrade of the under-cover shopping area leading off from the
square. The appalling thing about the
approved plan is that the tree was to be removed and replaced with a water
fountain. The card asked readers to
contact the organisers of “Save Our Tree” if they were interested. I was horrified, and immediately called the
number on the card. I was one of their
soldiers and I was prepared to do anything to stop the tree being cut
down. They were just as thrilled to get
such an enthusiastic volunteer. The idea
was for someone to constantly be at the tree and if the council arrived, to
immediately start phoning on the phone tree.
Each person had two other people to phone and since the town was fairly
small, we could all get to ‘our’ tree within five minutes. We went twice and each time we held hands and
surrounded the tree, forcing the municipal workers with their cherry pickers and
chain saws to back off. The cops were
called and we had a bit of a set-to, to put it mildly. We begged them not to cut the tree down… at
least until the birds’ eggs had hatched and they have flown away. It worked … twice.
I don’t
know what kind of birds they were. I
love nature, but I have never taken an interest in naming animal species. For me a bird is a bird, a buck is a buck, a
cat is a cat, a dog is a dog, and a zebra is a zebra. Very simple!
These birds were small birds, and they had made beautiful nests.
We lost the
fight on the third round. The birds had
flown away. The council refused to
review the removal of the tree that would be replaced with a water fountain. The police were called, police ribbon was used
to cordon off the area and the men and their cherry pickers did their dastardly
deed. The police protected the tree
murderers … while we stood in silent homage to a tree that had brought so much
joy, and life, into our world. There was
not a dry eye around, not even the police could hide their tears. The council had won!
To those
unknown architects of the Bloemfontein Mediclinic – thank you for caring about
the trees.
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