Baobab

A Carving, a Long Flight, and the Truest Depiction of Love

It was the most beautiful tree Anam had ever seen, a double baobab. It looked like two trees locked within an internal embrace, wrapped around each other, the embodiment of love.

By the tree, there was a small association of artists carving trees out of teak wood. They had a special permit from the government to only use the wood of fallen trees, helping to protect the endangered trees.

Anam noticed Patrick’s tree right away. He hadn’t expected to fall in love with a sculpture too.

But how could he resist its smooth, almost endless curves wrapping around each other? The sculpture of the double baobab was quite large. He hadn’t even intended to buy anything, but love changes many minds. He went from not even knowing it existed to not wanting to live without it.

Patrick gave him a good price. He was a good man, an artist. He was pleased about Anam’s passion for his art. The two had a photo together with the carving.

“I’ll cherish your art,” Anam assured Patrick.

It was a long flight back to Dar es Salaam. The placard on the airline counter caught Anam’s eye.

“No wooden baobab sculptures allowed as carry-ons.”

Anam had planned to carry his carving in his hands, making sure to protect his promise to Patrick.

“I will cherish your art,” he had promised.

Anam only had a soft rucksack. He turned to his wife and son. They both had larger roller-on bags.

“Would you mind if I put the sculpture in your bag? Then you could check your bag,” he asked them.

“I don’t have space and I’m not checking my bag,” snapped Anam’s wife.

“The layover’s too short. I’m not losing my bag. Just have them put a fragile tag on it,” responded his son brusquely.

“But it might break,” pleaded Anam.

“Just wrap it in some clothes,” they said dismissively, bringing their bags closer to them.

Anam shook his head. Had the tables been turned, he would have helped them.

Anam wrapped the tender limbs of the baobab with a sarong and a T-shirt.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have fragile tags,” shared the petite airline clerk, her head barely rising above the counter.

After a long journey, Anam and his family arrived home. He went up to open his bag and unwrap the baobab sculpture.

Small bits of wood fell onto his palm.

The delicate limbs had broken into four or five pieces.

Try as he might, Anam glued the roughly broken limbs together. So intricate they were, it was difficult to match them up perfectly. That had been part of Patrick’s mastery.

Anam did his best. Fault lines appeared within the limbs.

Now it was a sculpture that would remind Anam of something other than eternal love.

He placed it front and center on the coffee table in the family room, so his family would see it every day.

There the tree stood as life and years passed by.

In his final years, a much older Anam realized that perhaps the carving, fault lines and all, was the truest depiction of love.

A story by Pemba Umoja