The Wrath of the Silk Cotton Tree

Carol Quash

Joseph stared at the blueprint for the development, as he had done about a hundred times before. This was his largest investment to date, and he had to make sure that nothing went wrong. When completed, it would be one of the most sought-after places to live. The acres of space, the seclusion, the picturesque views along the steep, winding roads, the luxurious facilities homeowners could access; he had outdone himself this time.

“We could be breaking ground as soon as next week if I could find people willing to get rid of that darn tree,” he thought.

“So much for trying to provide employment for people in the area.”

The air conditioning unit stuttered as it struggled hard to keep the air in the container office cool, drowning out the shouting of the workmen outside. He continued to inspect the documents that were spread out on his desk, and didn’t even look up when he heard a knock on the door.

“Yeah!”

The hot air rushed in ahead of a sweaty, little man.

“De cutting crew here, sir. Dey want to know if dey could see it.”

Joseph looked up and scratched his head.

“Tell them ah coming.”

He quickly placed the documents in a drawer, grabbed his phone and keys, and a bottle of water from the fridge, and stepped outside into the stifling heat.

A sight to behold

One of the four men sitting in a truck got out and walked towards him.

“Mr Peters? Randy Johnson,” he said, extending his right hand.

They shook hands and had a brief discussion before they both walked to their vehicles.

“Follow me,” Joseph instructed and drove off.

They passed a group of men stacking some tree trunks at the side of the road and Joseph stopped briefly.

“Anderson! The truck is picking up those to take to the sawmill early tomorrow morning. Make sure they’re ready.”

Anderson nodded.

“Wow!” Randy mouthed as they approached the silk cotton tree, towering over what looked like a wasteland. Its trunk stretched on forever, and its branches tried to keep up horizontally. The leaves served as revolving doors to a large hotel through which scores of birds entered and exited.

“How long will it take to bring her to her knees?” Joseph asked.

Randy and his crew walked around the tree, surveying the extent of the job they were about to undertake.

“Hmmm. I say about a week.”

One of the men tripped on a piece of white cloth that was tied to one of the buttresses, and fell on his face.

“What de hell!” he bellowed, lifting two bottles of rum and a bag of coins that were hidden under the cloth.

“Those blasted people from the village,” Joseph said, cussing under his breath.

“I pay them to cut down the trees on the land, and they refused to cut this one, leaving gifts instead. Telling me some crap about ancestral spirits. I can’t believe in this day and age people still believe in such rubbish. This is where the community pool is supposed to go. This tree has got to go.”

“Well, as long as de price is right, we dealing wit her and de ancestral spirits and all fuh you,” Randy chuckled.

“And we will drink dey rum too.”

Awakening the

ancestral spirits

Before sunrise the next day, Randy and his crew, and Joseph arrived at the jobsite. They explained their strategy to him. Sectional dismantling – starting from the top and removing branches first.

“Sounds good. I’ll be in meetings all day today, so call me tonight to give me an update,” Joseph sped off.

There was an eerie silence as the three men, with all their safety gear and cutting equipment, carefully made their way up the trunk, while Randy remained at the bottom to deal with the buttresses. There was no movement in the branches. It was as if the birds had all checked out. The almost unbearable heat rose with the sun, and the air felt heavier than usual. Randy looked at his workmen crawling up the trunk, and, for a few seconds, considered calling them back down. But then he remembered how generous Mr Peters had been. He had to be, if he wanted the tree gone.

“Get it done sooner than a week, and I’ll throw in a bonus. Time is money, and this blasted tree is costing me money.”

Randy smiled and started the chainsaw.

The consequences

Joseph was furious as he drove up to the job site and came to a screeching halt. Randy hadn’t called last night, so he had no idea what was going on. He hated not being in control of things. The truck was still parked there, but there was no one in sight. The chainsaw, some other equipment, and a few branches were strewn across the ground.

“Johnson!” No answer.

He slowly walked around the tree and found the four men lying curled up between two buttresses.

“What the hell, Johnson? I paying you all to sleep?”

He bent over and shook Randy, and recoiled at the unnatural heat that emanated from his pale skin.

Randy opened bloodshot eyes and whispered something unintelligible.

Joseph whipped out his phone.

“Anderson, bring your crew to the tree now!”

Moments later, six men arrived and helped move Randy and his crew to Joseph’s van.

“I’m taking them to the hospital. Clean up all this mess and drive his truck back to the office,” Joseph instructed.

He drove in silence behind a truck carrying some large trunks. He was lost in thought, wondering what could have affected Randy and his men in that way. Heat stroke? Maybe something they had eaten?

“Well, it certainly couldn’t be that rubbish about the tree, because I’m fine. Although, I wasn’t the one who actually tried cutting down the tree, thank goodness,” he thought.

A weak groan from the back seat interrupted his reflections, and he took a quick glance. He turned back to the road just in time to see the ropes securing the trunks on the truck ahead break, and he swerved to avoid hitting the falling logs. The vehicle crashed through the barrier and went headlong over the precipice.