The Banyan Tree

March 08, 2014

My children make fun of my feet. It’s a fact. Mainly it’s my toes, though the whole package seems worthy of ridicule. I have hairy toes and they find it repulsive. It’s not at the X-Men mutant level, but I’ll admit it’s not easily dismissed either. The main reason for their scorn though, is the presence of what’s known as Morton’s toe. Morton’s toe is a genetic condition in which one’s second toe is longer than their big toe, and I’ve got it big time. This is one of those things that you can totally blame on your parents. As far as conditions go though, it’s pretty benign, especially to those without children.

 

We often don’t think much about our feet but when one really considers what we require of them, their anatomy and biomechanics are quite remarkable.  For example, I have seen it estimated that there are almost 7200 nerve endings in the human foot, and probably more for those with a fetish.

 

I have occasionally wondered about the possible evolutionary origins of both of these adaptations. Today, I am doing so again, but with a more vested interest. As I stare at my feet and ponder, the answer seems clear because my feet are delicately supporting my 180 lbs while balanced precariously 50 feet off the ground, on a limb of the world’s largest banyan tree. While the claim to being the world’s largest tree may be arguable, its impressiveness is not.

 

A banyan tree is a remarkable thing. It starts its life when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree. The seeds are small, and most banyans grow in forests, so that a plant germinating from a seed that lands on the ground is unlikely to survive. However, many seeds land on branches and stems of other trees. When those seeds germinate they send roots down towards the ground, and may envelop part of the host tree. Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. Old trees can spread out laterally, using these prop roots to cover a wide area. In some species the effect is for the props to develop into a sort of forest covering a considerable area, every trunk connected directly or indirectly to the central trunk. Think of the tree that the natives lived in from the movie Avatar, but on a much smaller scale, and you will have a pretty good idea.    

 

This banyan lies about 10 km outside of the main town here on Tanna island. To reach it you have to drive about 4 km into the bush off the main road. You drive through some beautiful villages and open spaces, and on this late afternoon the softening light is particularly gorgeous. As has become her habit on most back roads, Sasha asks to sit on the ledge created by putting down her backseat window, such that her legs are inside and her head and torso out. She loves this. Anna is starting to join in too. They wave at almost everyone we pass. We have lost any reservation we initially had for this. People here commonly carry a very large machete when walking, even 4 year olds. This tends to give westerners a bit of a pause, however we soon learned to ignore this as they inevitably break out into megawatt smiles and wave enthusiastically whenever we say hello, or especially whenever we offer them a ride. I’ve taken to sometimes carrying a bush knife myself when walking around, just to fit in. The effect is even better when I wear my sarong too.

 

Today is a public holiday known as Chief’s Day, in honor of all the tribal chiefs on the island. The Chiefs’ rule is part of what is known as kustom. This refers to all aspects of traditional village life on Tanna, from the food they eat, to the dress they wear. For some, its influence is more moderate. For others, especially in the bush villages, it’s quite strong, the traditional male garb of the namba penis sheath being a glaring example of this. The society is very male dominated. The man rules, and the chief rules everybody. Disputes are usually settled at this level as well and the formal police and justice system are used less, especially for more minor issues. I have been told about a special ceremony that happens every few years where many villages will coordinate to allow people to wander from one to the other for the purpose of discussing and resolving disputes. A ceremony on the last night, closed to all outsiders, is basically a big party that permits you to (consensually) fornicate with anyone without repercussion. In the morning, it’s back to life as usual. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

 

When we arrive near the tree there are a few guys hanging around after having gone to the day’s celebrations earlier. One of them is of course related to someone we already know at the hospital, a common occurrence here. Having established the connection, he is only too happy to show us to the tree. This is one of the best things about being the “dokta” here. Physicians before us have referred to it as having ‘the golden ticket’. Most people on the island know about the doktas that come from Canada and this opens up many doors to see and do things that your average tourist would be hard pressed to arrange. As far as I know, no doctor has yet been to the fornication ceremony, or at least none have admitted to it.

 

The tree is massive. At first you think it is 6 or 8 different trees and then realize that it is in fact just one big one. The prop roots are everywhere, sprawling and interconnecting. I don’t know how anyone can look at this thing and not want to climb it. Our friend says it’s OK to do so and that’s all I need to hear. 

 

It’s so fun. It’s the world’s biggest jungle gym. You couldn’t intentionally design a better one. I wind my way through the web of branches and roots to the highest reasonable point. It’s pretty safe. There are handholds everywhere except for a few short sections where I have to balance without them. The limbs to stand on for these sections are pretty wide, but nothing is ever quite so easy when you are 50 feet off the deck, and you realize that you yourself comprise a large part of the available medical care in the event of a fall.

 

I watch Sasha clambering over the lower roots. Lately she has taken to climbing anything interesting she finds and usually asks me to come along in case she needs help. None is needed today. She is a natural climber. I’ve often thought that the phrase ‘learning to climb’ is a misnomer. It is really more a process of unlearning  all these other movements that rule modern life and letting your body and brain remember what they already know how to do. Watching kids like Sasha climb proves this to me every time. I think of the 7200 nerve endings in each of her feet. She has a slight case of Morton’s toe.

 

Some have said humans are born to run. I think we were born to climb.

 

We drive back through the bush in the waning light. Andrea looks quiet and relaxed. The kids are hanging out the side of the truck, silently taking it all in. We give a ride to a couple that are carrying a big load of plantains back to their village. When we drop them off they insist on giving us some. He uses his big bush knife to cut them off. I see his huge smile in my rearview mirror as I drive off.

 

In 2 days I turn 46 years old.

 

I just climbed the world’s biggest banyan tree today.

 

Cool.

 

 

 

Sean

 

 

 

 

the banyan tree

 

 

                                              Port Resolution Dispensary visit

                                             Our house

                                             The Hospital (from our front yard)

                                              The traditional dish of lap lap

                                              Sasha

                                             Anna

 



 

                                              The volcano, Mt. Yassur

 
                                                        The nesting tree of the "flying foxes"