Rain Forest Lost, Homes Beautified

Why did I leave so late at night? I knew it would be a long drive into the interior over the dirt road and I wasn’t sure which turns to take in the road. My West Africa map didn’t give that much detail. It was a twelve-hour drive back home to the capital. I was suddenly worried that I’d run out of gas before reaching the district city to fill the tank. If I ran out of gas, would passersby know how far it was to a gas station? If I managed to get to the gas station, how would I get back to my car? Because of these questions, I decided to spend the night behind the wheel, trying to sleep. Answers would come easier in the morning.

Soon I was awakened out of slumber by a sound from the distance. I looked up at an eighteen-wheeler, passing me in the direction I was going. It was carrying a single massive timber section of a tree. Dust infiltrated my car. Woah! I had never seen so huge a timber of such big diameter. Pretty soon another eighteen-wheeler passed by with another massive timber. I started the car and pulled over a little further onto the shoulder. The shoulder was gravelly, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to pull out, back onto the road. I realized that this was headed down to the coast, to the port no doubt. I tried to get back to sleep but pretty soon there was yet another truck, passing with a single massive section of a tree. I began to realize that the trucks were passing like clockwork, every twenty minutes. I was so tired and fell into a deep sleep.

I was happy with the dawn of the new day. Some women were passing, most with heavy loads on their heads. I got out of my car and approached a woman who had a baby on her back. She was carrying on her head more wood than I could carry. I approached her, eager for answers, “My sister, ain the city is just up ahead?”

She turned her head toward me slowly but confidently, her head load so heavy. There was a slight wobble of the load while she balanced it so well. Her baby looked over at me. ‘Yeah oh, the city up da hill dere.”  

“They ga be selling gas there?” I asked anxiously.

“Gas ii dere,” she replied. Good! I thanked her and breathed a sigh of relief, getting back into my car and starting it. My wheels spun in the gravel, but I managed to pull onto the road. Phew! Up the hill and to the right I saw the gas pump, the glass container at the top. In this part of the world, in rural areas, gas was hand pumped up into a one-gallon glass container, dispensed one gallon at a time. The metal gas tank of the pump, a ten-foot cube, jutted up a foot or so above the driveway. A barefoot boy of twelve or so came over and placed the gas nozzle into my gas tank. I handed him a US$20 bill. He repeatedly pumped the gas up into the container, filled the tank, and gave me change.

I thanked the boy and asked him, “Which way I ga turn up ahead on my way to the county seat?  

He replied, “You will see a tall tree and three houses, then you mu turn.” Now that I was no longer quite so anxious, I suddenly realized that the trucks were no longer passing on their way to the coast. They had stopped at daybreak.

The rest of my journey was not so eventful. I made it home to the capital city. I realized, naively perhaps, that I had been worried for nothing. But I had gained valuable experience. I wondered though, what was the meaning of this, and did others know about it? Was I the only one who had been lost, or would those I had encountered be lost from their habitat? Who gains in such a loss? I could only suppose what the answers were, decisions having been secretive.

I realized that the guy who was driving the last of the eighteen-wheelers may be lost. He probably wasn’t aware of this. Like the other drivers, he was raised in the village next to the forest, no doubt. He probably felt so fortunate when he was chosen along with the others to drive these huge trucks. His people must have known that the forest was vast, the trees massive, 12-foot diameter, and 300 or 400 years old. The villagers had probably been told that the trees that would be cut down were on the other side of the forest. After a while the trees cut down, would be closer and closer but their leaders would have been convinced to accept this. The money earned by the drivers and those who cut down the trees would be flowing into their community. Their people were the officers of the village office of the logging company. My supposition went crazy but seemed to be logical.

Back home in the capital city, I asked around about what headquarters there might be of the logging company, but nobody knew about this. After all, that forest was a long way away and not so well known. After a while, there would be no more forest. I wondered about the people of planet Earth, traveling through space, and getting lost. I thought about the woman with the baby on her back, who stopped to help me find direction. I wondered whether we find direction when we give direction.

I decided to seek answers to the loss of the rainforest from my friend Foday, so I walked over to his house. Most of the time I would bring a token of friendship but my desire to get answers overwhelmed any sense of the need to give gifts. When I knocked on the door, Foday’s young son George answered. I asked him, “Hello George! Your pa dere?”

George’s answer was slow and singsongy, “Ma Pa sayy… when somebody commee… I mu tell the personn… he ain’t here!

Hmm. I had to find out from Foday what had been going on with the forest in that corner of the country. Foday worked with my embassy so he might know. I responded to George loudly enough for his father to hear, “Okay George you mu tell your pa I was here with the beer.

Suddenly Foday shouted, “George, George, dat who dat has come so?”

I answered, “Foday, my brother, Ehn you know, they’re cutting down the forest up there! I walked in as Foday came out of his room. We shook hands. I said to Foday, “You must send George for the beer,’ and he did. “I want to tell you what happened.”  Foday was attentive as we waited for the beer. This would help. I could only imagine that someone somewhere would be getting beautiful hardwood furniture and homes, no doubt. If I had not felt lost and worried about running out of gas, I would never have observed the removal of a forest of ancient trees.