Her Money Grows on Trees

Chikondi Mbere stood next to the baobab tree, her hand on its trunk as if she was feeling its pulse. This one was the first one she had planted. People often asked how she could possibly tell, since to the casual observer, it didn’t look any more special than the hundreds of trees and bushes that grew malambe, bluegum, papaya and much more. Chikondi would smile knowingly and change the topic before they realised that their question was unanswered.

She preferred coming here on her own, breathing in the scent of the moist earth, in the serene shade offered by the millions of leaves that made up the endless canopy above her head.  She had her gum boots on, with sharply pressed black and white striped pants tucked into them. She also wore a purple blouse with ruffles on the collar, and her favourite black jacket which had a trendy cut and silver lining along all the edges.

This was her typical work day. Having just left a board meeting, she visited the forest plantation, first checking how the rubber trees at the perimeter were doing, the banana grove on the eastern side, the acacia trees and pumpkin patches on the western side. All of it belonged to her company. This vast woman-made forest had completely replenished Mulanje Mountain, and now there wasn’t any sign of the devastating deforestation that had rendered the terrain ‘useless for all commercial use’ according to the Department of Forestry. She bought land there relatively cheaply, and as soon as she did, she became an unstoppable force, increasing the value of the land by 500% with trees and vegetation that were used as medicines, paper making, fruit growing and improving the health of the environment.

She had come a long way from Thyolo, as a humble wife of a tea plantation inspector. In their third year of marriage she became pregnant with their first child, and developed a condition called a uterine atony – her womb had to be removed to save her life, and she lost her child. Her husband’s words to the doctor when he heard the news changed her whole life. “What do you want me to do with her now?”

That was the moment she knew that she had given him the power to define her value. She could no longer give him children, so she was of no further use. Their marriage dissolved like acid rain and Chikondi was left to find her own purpose.

In the years that followed, she found a strength she never knew she had. She got a scholarship to study horticulture, started her own business growing trees on her parent’s land, and made enough money to buy land of her own. She went from the fields to the boardroom and back, ensuring that she was involved at every level of production. When her company grossed at 1 billion kwatcha, she hired the best professionals in the country, hydrologists, environmentalists, crop analysts –men and women more qualified than her. She listened to them until she understood all of their specialisations, and could carry out a spirited debate with them on the same footing.

Chikondi shut her eyes and smiled, tilting her head upwards, letting drops of water fall all around her. As she ran her hand along the baobab, she knew this was the first tree she had planted, because she recognised how the trunk’s base split and the two halves curved out then rejoined again further up the baobab. It formed a hollowed gap there, and the bark inside it was knotted in a vaguely spiral-shaped formation. To Chikondi it was like a womb, with a growing child within it. She believed that was where her first child’s spirit rested. She was currently in the process of adopting an orphan from Kondanani village, together with her second husband, the owner of the largest investment bank in Malawi.

She planted a kiss on her first tree, then turned and made her way out of her forest, letting her gumboots worry about the puddles and mud. Emerging from the trees, she stood for a moment next to the sign marking the company’s land, with a large logo she had painstakingly designed herself.

Chikondi Inc.

“Love is in the trees”