Sentinels

Only when the last tree has died 

and the last river been poisoned 

and the last fish been caught 

will we realise we cannot eat money.

                                                                 - Cree Indian Proverb.

Think about Knysna and you think about wood. In many ways it is the indigenous wood capitol of South Africa. The names of the trees itself lead you into the cool, moist surroundings where they grow – Outeniqua Yellowood, Hard Pear, Cape Blackwood, Ironwood, Candlewood, White Pear, Stinkwood, White Elder, Cape Beech. From this timber craftsmen have brought forth the most beautiful furniture for almost three centuries.

The 300 000 hectares of forest seemed to be an unlimited source of wood when it was first exploited in the 18th century and during the years that followed. The pace of trees could not keep up with that of man’s greed though. In 1974 the area was proclaimed protected under the Forest Act with the implication that no tree can now be harvested without a harvest permit from the Department of Forestry.

On our recent visit to Knysna we came across some remnants of a bygone era where giants that have grown for almost a 1000 years were cut. Touching part of a living organism that was here centuries before European settlers set foot on African soil puts things and one’s own importance in a different perspective.

Here, Matilda can be seen with a section of a 650 year old Yellowwood on display on Thesen Island.

Me, on a single Yellowwood plank measuring 1,6 x 4,1 m cut 14 years ago. It is to become the top of a dining room table in Cape Town.

A recurring refrain that surfaced every time I spoke to some of the local craftsmen was: “Never in your life time will you see these dimensions again.”

It is sad. I can only hope that some of the large trees that are currently growing in the Knysna forest will still be there in 2117. Not to be cut into planks for panelling the bridge section of some futuristic space craft, but to give a steady gentle voice to the earth from which it sprouted. Spanning eras without moving and acting as silent indicators of a generation’s soul.

George