OurWord

Hello, I am an Oak tree.

The other day, council workers came and installed a wooden bench under me.

I was excited to have company. I was eager to be friends with the bench. More so, many of us have been cut to make park benches. So benches are extended families for us.

In the earlier days, I had so many of  my oak friends around. There was this oak tree next to me. It loved swaying extravagantly in the breeze. I thought the swaying was exaggerated simply because it was attracted to me. The tree branches would brush mine in a slight hint of wind. I must confess it was ok for me. After all, we need companions.

Then, one day, a storm came and uprooted so many of my friends. My lovely oak friend was one of them

I was fortunate to have survived. I wondered how did I survived that?

We are duty bound to serve, not ask questions. We stand there for ages if we can survive the axe or sheer fatigue. There is no one to treat our burls as we battle the elements all our lives.

We are lonely and long for  an interaction with someone.

So I called out to the bench.

Good morning, Mr. Bench I am your neighbour, Oak.

Mr. Bench responded with a lukewarm, ” hello”.

I could sense my new neighbour was not happy.

Is something the matter, my friend ? I enquired.

I am so new, Mr. bench lamented. This dog comes and showers me with its…. you know what. And I am angry now.

I suppressed my laugh. Mr. Bench was new here, and we were not buddies yet.

I assured my agitated friend that it was normal for dogs to come and mark their territory. I informed my neighbour that as a tree, I have to endure so much.

At any time I have birds living on my branches. Their chatter when they come back in the evening drives me crazy. The snakes come looking for chicks in the nest. I cannot prevent the snakes from devouring the eggs or the little ones. The squirrels dazzle me as they play around my branches. Often humans climb my branches, imitating the monkeys. They often hurt themselves and me as well. Amid all this, I  have to be steadfast. A sentinel that does not discern or judge. All are welcome to enjoy my hospitality. I have feathery friends from faraway lands who rest on my branches and fly off towards their destination.

We, over time, became good friends. Mr. Bench would continue to complain about people who sit on him for hours. What troubled Mr. Bench was that he was privy to so much information about people. There were happy occasions for them. There were moments of grief, people discussing their emotional battles, and conversation that made Mr. Bench blush. It was draining for him. On one occasion, Mr. Bench was frightened out of his wits. The two occupants were discussing plans to murder someone.

I informed him that there was nothing we could do about it. Our role is to witness, observe, and archive. Imagine if humans could access the amount of information we are privy to.

We would be so valuable then.

It has now been years since Mr. Bench and I have been chatting. I have grown older and so has Mr. Bench.

My heart cried for Mr. Bench, who had gone rickety. The joints were creaking. The wooden seats had lost colour and strength.

Mr. Bench was a safety hazard now.

The council workers came and ripped Mr. Bench apart.

I was a mute witness to that.

I stood there alone and observed.

I am alone, again. Friends, please give us trees a thought,

and if you can, a hug would be wonderful.

Word of the day: Invective is to use abusive language.