We had to walk over twigs and mounds of sand down the worn path to get to the area where B was being buried. It was rather solemn. Some of us had quiet tears in our eyes. Why did he have to leave us so early? In our sorrow we sang a couple of hymns, piping faintly but beautifully. Nature must love music, amongst the trees we sang like angels, it sounded rather soothing. After that, the priest shared a few words and prayed.
On our way back uphill, moving carefully, looking down to make sure there was a safe spot to step, one foot at a time, Y noticed two tree trunks.
“Look at the trunk of that tree!” she shouted.
“It is different.” I said.
“Oh I remember how you notice trees.” I reminded Y.
A few years ago Y visited us. We lived in a house that had an interesting tree, she was so fascinated by it, so this comment reminded me of her love of trees. Again she took photos of our new discovery and this time I joined in. Nothing was blocking my view. I took a couple of photos.
We moved on, walking interestingly. Gripping the ground with our sandals at the same time holding on to whoever was ahead of us on that steep slippery path. The roots of some of the trees had extended to the path. That actually helped cause some friction and stops. Parts of the path looked like nature’s stairs. A lady watching us, standing a short distance from the special tree explained;
“This is the African silk cotton tree.”
As we were amazed at it’s size, she announced;
“The biggest tree in Ghana is on the way to Akim-Oda.”
That statement triggered a memory. I replied,
“Oh yes, we visited the tree when we were young. My father took us to see it, as it is on the way to my mother’s hometown.”
That was about forty years ago but I can still remember the experience clearly as it was just captivating.