By Tate Mullin of the University of Vermont
After spending two weeks in the bush near Mababe, a small village 3 hours northeast of Maun, the vegetation has started to feel natural, and I sometimes forget about how different it is from the northeast United States. The maples and oaks that I am so used to in Vermont are replaced by mopane and raintrees, the yews and cedar bushes replaced by bluebush and knobbly combretum. Despite the differences, both sets of trees fit seamlessly into their respective environments, and are utilized heavily by both humans and animals. So, as a little introduction to the environment of northern Botswana and the Okavango delta, I wanted to talk about the five trees and shrubs that have stood out to me the most so far.
Mopane (Setswana name: mopane)
Mopane is one of the most common trees in the bush, and can be distinguished by its dark green, lung shaped leaves. While it can be found as a full sized tree, it is more commonly found in shrub form, because it is a preferred browse of elephants throughout the delta. As we drive our transects, we are frequently in the midst of mopane scrub habitat, where mopane is the only tree to be seen for many kilometers. Mopane wood serves as a dense, slow-burning firewood, and it is the wood we have been burning to cook meats and breads, and to build fires to sit around and relax in the evenings. You cannot go a day without seeing mopane in the delta. Despite this, I think it is one of the most beautiful trees here, and won’t tire of seeing it.
Shepherd’s tree (motlopi)
Shepherd’s tree got its name because the shade that its thick canopy provides was traditionally used by shepherds to keep out of the sun while tending their animals. It has a similar appearance to North American willows such as black willow, with drooping branches terminating to sage green, needle like leaves. Because of its importance to farming and ranching, shepherd’s tree is traditionally a respected tree that isn’t cut down or used for firewood. It is recognized for the important shade it provides. I can understand this, as living in our camp in Mababe, the shepherd’s tree pictured above was the focal point of our kitchen. Set up around it on all sides was our pantry, water, stoves, counter space, and dish system. It helped keep us out of the sun when temperatures rose above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and was a place to build our group community and relationships while cooking, listening to music, and doing school work.
Raintree (mopororo)
The raintree is a large tree that dominates the overstory in many savannah habitats. It can grow over 50m tall, and has an impressive growth structure, with a thick trunk and sprawling crown starting high up on the tree. The bark and growth remind me of mature American beech, impressive light grey trunks shooting up into the canopy. Like the shepherd’s tree, the raintree gets its name from providing shade, and more importantly, cover from strong rains in the wet season. It has large, waxy leaves that provide a close to full coverage from rains when standing near the tree’s base. The raintree’s trunks were traditionally used to build dug-out canoes, along with vases and some utensils. The tree has relatively dense wood which water doesn’t permeate, creating a reliable vessel for travel through the delta’s rivers. We haven’t seen any strong rains yet, but if they come, I’m curious to see how dry we’ll stay.
Sausage tree (moporoto)
Sausage tree was one of the first trees I learned in Botswana. It is hard to miss because of its distinct sausage shaped fruits, hanging all around the tree, and growing up to 1m long. It is a striking tree, and has just as striking of a story to go along with it, as we were told by our friend Bonti; the Sausage tree was part of the tradition of manhood for some Botswana tribes. When boys of the tribe reached the age to enter adulthood, they would be sent out for three months to learn skills such as hunting, tracking, survival, and how to take care of themselves and a potential family. They would learn how to conduct themselves as adults in their society. Now, to bring in the sausage tree, this experience would culminate in a circumcision ceremony in which the boys were told to pick a sausage tree for which they would tend and care for as it grew with them throughout their lives. After the circumcision ceremony, where the boys lined up, and had to stay still and with a calm demeanor, they would go to their trees and use juice from the pods as a salve to ease the pain and maintain a clean healing process. Regardless of the tree they chose, how large or productive the pods were, they helped in the healing process. This experience helped to teach them to value themselves on the skills they had learned and the ability they had to care for themselves and others, as opposed to only on their physical bodies. That is the story of the sausage tree. A slightly grotesque story, but one with a positive effect on the people it surrounds.
Leadwood (motswere)
Leadwood is another striking tree, not because of its growth form or leaves or story, but because it is commonly seen dead, preserved perfectly as a light grey silhouette against the horizon, potentially for hundreds of years. While alive, it has round yellow-green leaves, and put simply, is very tree shaped. It has a wide trunk splitting into branches going all directions to create a round crown, like one you would draw in a landscape in elementary school. It is the striking dead form that captures me though. A dead leadwood provides massive contrast to the otherwise fertile, green landscape seen in the Okavango Delta wet season. They are regularly home to the nests of large bids of various species, and also provide a number of human uses. Because the wood is so dense, it is not eaten by termites, so works well as a building material and for making tools such as hoes and utensils. Ash from the tree was used as toothpaste, and also as a hair straightener for women. While leadwood may be easy to write off as just being dead trees, they are a large provider for the ecosystem, and fill a niche of beauty that no other tree in the Delta can fill.
So, there is an introduction to the trees of the Okavango Delta, and what I experience day to day interacting with them and the landscapes they occupy. For me, trees add endless amounts of interest to a landscape. I enjoy figuring out what trees are around me, what they are used for, and simply looking at their interweaving gnarled branches, or at the beautiful shape and veining of a leaf like a mopane. Trees can also signal being home, like the big willow oak and silver maple that grow in my childhood backyard, or the boxelder and white ash of the streets of Burlington, where I go to school at UVM. Now, these trees are beginning to feel like home. Not in the same way as a childhood home, with years of memories attached, but instead with a sense of familiarity. It feels comfortable to get out of my tent in the morning and walk over to the shepherd’s tree to brush my teeth, or to sit under the mopane in Maun writing my journal. These trees bring a sense of belonging and home to an unfamiliar place, and I know I will miss them once I am back home.