Tag Archives: eco

Oribi Mom, Travelinds

Oribi Mom: Doing Life One Tree at a Time

“Mist-blanketed rivers with crocodiles have tales to tell, I’m sure.” – Heather Lind.

The mist in Oribi Gorge, just like in the rainforest. PHOTO BY: HEATHER LIND

October 16, 2024

More than a decade ago, we planted a tree in the rainforest. It was one of those last-minute decisions you make when you’re leaving a beautiful place and wonder how you can leave some sort of mark on it.

We’ve always been free souls who preferred to leave footprints and take only memories. I guess it was a sort of ‘ethical traveller’ decision. It’s the same reason we never rode an elephant or went on those boat tours to see the propeller-etched whale sharks they feed to keep nearby for tourists.

We don’t buy curios most of the time unless the mementoes on sale are directly helping a local person earn a living. In this case, planting the tree was the best of both worlds. We were supporting a local business and, at the same time, contributing to reforesting the badly depleted jungle.

That tree also contributes to the oxygen you and I are breathing at this very moment, 11 years down the line. Yes, we understand that this little side business of the place we stayed at was to make money.

Isn’t it okay to feed your family off the money tourists are willing to pay for a tree-planting exercise? You’re making a living and helping the jungle ecosystem. We even got a ‘plaque’ – a little wooden thing painted with ‘Linds’ on it. They stuck it in the thick mud next to our sapling. I guarantee that plaque is not there today. It was the kind you might recycle later for another tourist by painting over it. That’s okay. The tree, though? I often think about it.

I’ve planted many, many trees since then, particularly on our farm in Oribi Gorge. Hundreds of trees. But I still wonder what that tree looks like now. Is it towering over the little wooden huts with the rickety boardwalk? That boardwalk was really the only way to walk from your hut to the place they served food.

The ground was basically just thick mud up to the knee. Thousands of leeches were also just waiting for you to squelch over there so that they could feast.

I’d still go back to see that tree, but we’re older and wiser now, aren’t we? Imagine what else we would notice ten years on. Mist-blanketed rivers with crocodiles have tales to tell, I’m sure.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Good Luck Long-Haired Man

I glanced sideways through my trusty sunglasses and ignored the man (obviously).

Fun in the sun, prior to lockdown Level Three and beach restrictions.

January 1, 2021

The week before Cyril closed the beaches was crazy. After a blistering hot morning at the beach, my little farming family stopped at the big city shops – the South Coast Mall – for bread, milk, and Food Lover’s Market droëwors.

Myself, the toddler, and the seven-month-old stayed in the car with hand sanitizer at the ready. My husband donned his mask and queued with the holidaymakers.

The children had fallen asleep and it was sweltering. So, I left the bakkie running, congratulating myself for having children who slept in the air-conditioning for our 45-minute drive home. I was happily rehydrating from my metal, refillable water bottle when I caught sight of a grumpy long-haired man. He looked sweaty in long sleeves and long pants with slops, and happened to be parked next to us. He was looking at my van with intent.

X-ray vision might have revealed that he was muttering as he paced the steaming tar, but suddenly, he started gesticulating and shouting something unintelligible over my diesel engine. I glanced sideways through my trusty sunglasses and ignored him (obviously). Then, he knocked on the window and slid into his (rusty, dented) bakkie, winding down his passenger window and taking off his mask to shout at me again.

I thought maybe I should respond as an intelligent and calm adult, so I lowered the window (a little) and hoped he wouldn’t wake my babies. Clear as day, he was shouting, “Pollution! This is pollution! Turn off the car.” And on he went. I closed the window with a shrug, and slowly processed what had just happened.

Me? Polluting? I wanted Mother Earth to swallow me right there.

Defending Earth Lovers Everywhere

I wanted to shout back at this long-haired man that he was barking at the wrong tree lover. I use cloth nappies. I compost. I drink water from a JoJo rain tank. I replant butternut seeds. I use the dishwater to hydrate pot plants.

My thoughts raced across my Faithful-2-Nature account and fabric shopping bags. I recalled my eco-friendly (generous) relocation of the night adder that bit me last month, and my lack of chemical intervention in the garden where I’ve planted about fifteen trees in the last two years.

Crunchy Oribi Gorge Mom? Killing the earth with fumes at the Southcoast Mall?

I was, though. He was right. It was just an awful delivery of the message. Instead of making me want to change, I wanted to throw (plastic-free) shampoo bars at his sweaty hair.

Where Is the Love Man?

The point is that compassion is a key ingredient – speak the truth, but do it in love. The irate man didn’t know my context and didn’t care, either. I was a responsible parent keeping my babies safe in the midday sun.

For the record, thank you long-haired man for your concern. You might have made a nature-loving friend had you not showered me in shame instead of inviting me to where the grass was greener (and organically fertilised).

May 2021 be a more compassionate year for all (even when we’re hot and “hangry” in the parking lot).

Published here.