And Baobob's Your Uncle

The ubiquitous, mighty baobab tree. Which is not a tree, but rather a fibrous plant that looks like a tree, much like bamboo is actually a grass. Though the wood is useless, the leaves and fruits are used as medicinal foods, mixed in with couscous or ground to a powder both for flavoring and also to help fight both diarrhea and diabetes.

 

 

We see them almost wherever we go, and I can't help but snap photos even as we're driving through the countryside.

 

 

Once they get old enough (a few hundred years old), they get hollow inside, and traditionally were used as burial sites, like the tree below, whose opening is fenced off to respect the remains, though this human skull has worked its way out to the entrance.

 

 

Here, south of Saly, we visit what is supposedly the largest baobab in Senegal and Western Africa. I don't know; I haven't checked them all. This one has been scientifically documented as over 800 years old, so basically, it was a sapling when Notre Dame was being built in medieval France. The only way in is through a very small hole and some serious contortions, and once you're in, you need to step to the side to avoid having bat guano dropped on your head.

 

  

 

One of Gigi and Pippa's favorite and most memorable parts of the entire trip is hanging out with these kids outside the great baobab.

 

It's not just climbing in them, though. It turns out, they're fun to climb on, too. Some brilliant mind has created the "Accro-Baobab" -- just like the "accrobranche" ropes courses throughout France, but in this case, in the baobabs. Don't worry, Mom: Anthony, who used to lay ropes courses when he was at university as a summer job, is impressed with the safety.

 

And it turns out climbing up them is also fun. But scary. And a little challenging. The girls both manage it, all the way to the tippy-top.

   

I'm glad that Anthony's given his safety stamp of approval, because the super-high, super-long Tyrolienne (as these long zip lines are called) is also super-scary. Once I'm zipping down, I'm completely relaxed and having fun, but that moment of making myself jump off the high platform is a little nerve-wracking, in a kind of bungee-jumping way.