I’m dreaming Aloe ferox. I have no idea why. Each night the brillant full moon wakes me from a landscape blazing with red and yellow aloes.
Plant dreaming deep. Some years ago I did a walking hike into the Soutpansberg, a mountain range in the far north of South Africa. I was not well at the time, suffering with stomach cramps and a recurring fever, and felt hot and confused as we walked up and across shale slopes. The Soutpansberg is named after salt pans to the north-west of the mountain range. I kept stopping to get my bearings because I was disoriented and absurdly afraid of getting lost even though I was with a group of five. To the south there was the Tropic of Capricorn. To the north the Limpopo river in its valley of fever trees. Away to the west the Magalakweni River with its confluence. To the east the Kruger game reserve and beyond that Mozambique. In these mountains there are more than 600 species of trees and a butterfly named Swanepoel’s Widow.
It was winter but very hot as the day progressed. I had the curious impression that shrubs and bushes were catching at me as I walked, watching where I put my feet. But there were no shrubs other than small succulents and groundcovers. I kept hearing the wind in reeds or grasses, but when I looked up there was no wind. Yet the impression of a lacerating touch, of plants trying to drag at me was very powerful. When we stopped for water and a break, I looked at my bare arms and saw they were raked with fine scratches. It made no sense and I reasoned I must have some kind of skin irritation.
The Soutpansberg and the land stretching to the Letaba River are home to the Venda people. Venda is a name that means ‘world’ and the Venda have a cosmology that is singularly their own. The medicinal plant collectors among the Venda are said to hide rare or threatened plants by masking them with magic so that outsiders cannot see the plants. Plants are only referred to by generic vernacular names so that such plants cannot be identified by those who are not in the know. This is apparently a way of protecting information from clients so that they may not recognize the plants used for treating them are actually the same as perhaps those growing in their backyard. The small tree called Bushveld Saffron or Elaeodendron transvaalensis is referred to as ‘mukuvhazwivhi/mulumanama’ by traditional healers, whereas lay people commonly know it as ‘mulumanamana’, or ‘muswigiri’. Despite the difference between ‘mulumanama’ and ‘mulumanamana’ being slight, the traditional healers will simply regard mulumanamana as an unknown species to them. The Bushveld Saffron is related to the spikethorn species with spur-branchlets.
That evening I saw that the fine scratches on my arms had gone. I wrote up a diary account of the day’s hike and thought no more about it.
A month later I was in Makhado once known as Louis Trichardt, standing in a back yard filled with indigenous trees and shrubs. I felt again the scratching sensation and looked down at my reddening arms and then at the small tree next to me. Bushveld Saffran, Eleaodendron transvaalensis. Had it been hidden from me as I walked through the slopes of the Soutpansberg? The plant grower to whom I was speaking told me I should have taken some of the bark in hot water for my stomach troubles. It is highly rated for any digestive illness.
And now I am dreaming of the candelabras of Aloe ferox, the ‘bitter aloe’ also renowned for healing properties. What am I not hearing?
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