Last one standing

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Trees, like us, have a finite lifetime, although it generally extends for a significant period beyond human life expectancy. According to Mrs Google, Methuselah, a Great Basin bristlecone pine (Pinus longaeva) is around 4850 years old (that’s a lot of rings counted) and still growing strong – malapropism intended. Glencoe Baobab, located near Hoedspruit, South Africa, is but a sapling, in arborist-speak, nearing 1850. Comparatively, the oldest living person is Ethel Caterham of Surrey, England, who has reached the ripe age of 116 years (when last I checked Google). She still has a way to go to better Johanna Mazibuko from Klerksdorp, who died at the (unverified) age of 128.

Sadly, the remaining lifespan of the tree in picture is weeks, maybe, months. It stands in the path of a residential estate currently under development. I’m crying over the loss of a single tree while in the Amazon rainforest, construction accounts for the loss of around 1.4 billion trees annually. But I’m not Brazilian, or my tears may have ended the local drought.

The cost of progress raises a dilemma. I claim to be pro change. But I raise my hand when it comes to removing particular obstacles to change.

We cut down trees because we need paper. We need houses and furniture. We need to braai during the weekend rugby match when, let’s be honest, Namibian hardwood is the best. Yet I never question these tree felling activities. I don’t give them a second thought. Neither do I consider the fact that I live on an estate of over 300 houses, one of a group that covers hectares of once productive farmland.

Smacks of hypocrisy, doesn’t it?

But, for me, this tree is different. It stands out against the backdrop of the magnificent Outeniqua mountains. The last tree standing on a hillside that will soon contain a housing estate, ironically, called Eden.  I look at it most days on my way to gym, or anywhere for that matter. It's off the only road leading out from the estate, so I cannot miss it.

You will be missed, lonely tree.