The Tribune

This column is dedicated to two dear cousins.

Recently, when asked what she was grateful for, a beloved cousin, with a spontaneous laugh, quickly answered: the beauty and bountifulness of cathedrals and trees. Both rise above the quotidian, inviting us beyond the limits of the material and the drudgery of daily frustrations and depressing headlines.

Schoolchildren, including this columnist decades ago, were taught a twelve-line lyric poem of rhyming couplets of iambic tetrameter verse, entitled, Trees, that many centenarians and nonagenarians recall by heart, in both senses:

“I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.”

Trees was composed in 1913 by American Joyce Kilmer, who died at 31, killed during World War I. His poetry was influenced by “his strong religious faith and dedication to the natural beauty of the world.” His is a prayer, exuberant witness to the Creator and captivation by the rhythms of the seasons.

Some sophisticates consider the poem simple. This simplicity, however, has captured the imaginations of uncountable millions. It appears in countless collections and parodied in popular culture.

The poem is so incisive and evocative that its insight eludes most children. The seeds within the poem tend to mature as we grow older. We all have stories of certain trees and attendant memories of time and place, a topography of memory and emotions.

The poet Robert Frost suggests the emotional bonds we have with trees:

“But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed, And if you have seen me when I slept, You have seen me when I was taken and swept And all but lost.”

Arlene Nash Ferguson remembers the tamarind tree behind their home on West Street and Petticoat Lane. Nearby was the narrow Bethel Alley, across from which stood the tree, a haven cum retreat, in which sat reading and studying. When she climbed high, Arlene saw airplanes heading for the Oakes Field airport.

Another tree of delight was in in her grandmother’s yard on Nassau Street, offering sapodillas and a hiding space behind it leafy protection: “Once you disappeared in the tree no one could see you.” Both trees offered readymade sweets for the children and foodstuff for dilly syrup and tamarind balls.

As an adult, Arlene, the historian and heritage maven, came to appreciate the majesty and folklore of the silk cotton tree. Like another friend, she particularly recalls the silk cotton giants on Cockburn Street, between St. Agnes and Southern Recreation Grounds.

Silk cotton trees (Ceiba pentandra) are revered in the Caribbean and West Africa. The spirit of the ancestors are said to reside in them as portals to other realms. They are celebrated for their protective spirits, making it taboo to cut them down.

Generations of former slaves gathered under the canopy of the grove of trees. It was a marketplace for the sale of fruits and vegetables. Here the issues of the day were debated, with the Southern Recreation Grounds becoming a “centre for the expression of a new political awakening which started in the 1940s.”

More than any other public gathering place, the Grounds became “the principal theatre for the...political and social drama of the times.”

Nearby, the silk cotton guardians of the park witnessed the history of the second emancipation of the descendants of the ancestors whom the trees had already given cover to in previous generations.

In a 2019 speech marking the refurbishment of the park, former Prime Minister Dr. Hubert Minnis described the significance of the Grounds and what the silk cotton guardians witnessed.

“It was here that the arguments for reform were put to the people. It was here that marches started and ended. It was here that victories were celebrated. It was here in 1942 that thousands gathered for what was a very tense meeting with the representatives of the day during the Burma Road Riot.

“It was here in 1950 that a new movement was launched by the Citizens Committee when the Old Guard refused to allow a showing of the movie ‘No Way Out’ which starred Sidney Poitier.

“It was here that some of the public meetings were held during the General Strike of 1958. It was here that Sir Lynden Pindling led a very angry crowd after the confrontation on Bay Street on Black Tuesday. And it was here that many political rallies were held leading up to Majority Rule.”

The cathedral of trees that sustain, shade, and nourish generations of Bahamians include approximately 120 native species adapted to our tropical climate and limestone terrain. They range from those who have took up coastal residences to inland dwellers with sprawling canopies like pine barrens and blackland coppices.

Our national tree, the lignum vitae, is a slow-growing hardwood with blue flowers and resin used in bush medicine. The Caribbean pine dominates the forests of Andros, Abaco, Grand Bahama, and New Providence.

The silver thatch palm shines with its silvery underside, while the kamalame glistens with its red, sunburn-like peeling bark. Pigeon Plum with its berries, is enjoyed by most and local birds like the white-crowned pigeon. It is salt-tolerant and sturdy. Guinep trees grow wild with fruitful abandonment.

Native to Bahamian coppice forests is mahogany, prized for its timber. Midair, at the center of the body of the church of St. Anselm’s in Fox Hill, above the altar, is a crucifix, designed and crafted by Antonius Roberts. The corpus mounted on the cross is an Afrocentric Jesus Christ figure, his welcoming arms extended.

The cross is made of woman’s tongue tree, the body of Madeira, and the insignia INRI, is made from a piece of left over lignum vitae (tree of life) used to make a staff for Pope Saint John Paul II when he visited The Bahamas.

Trees are nature’s sanctuary. They are sanctuary too for human nature, offering a repository of blessings and beauty. A dear friend adores the “Poor Man's Orchid” or Orchid Tree with its “stunning speckled blossoms resembling delicate orchids.”

Another dear cousin, a landscaper, entrepreneur, and farmer, is a fan of the coconut tree. She enthuses: “I like its sturdiness. It is solid in the ground even during hurricanes. I enjoy the interpretive dance and ballet-like movements of its limbs during terrible weather.” A wonderful metaphor of resilience! Of course, there is the coconut jelly and water, especially in sky juice form.

Neko Meicholas remembers a particular avocado tree in their yard that he and his late wife, Patti, enjoyed for its companionship, abundance of fruit, and covering. Patti, the mystic, often hugged and touched the tree in gratitude. If someone catches you hugging a tree, flash dem a wide smile and go bout ya business.