Uprooter of Great Trees

L Doctor sketchbook: Ja-nee — the Afrikaans word for “yes-no”

The old stories speak to the human condition, regardless of time or place. It seems that there are aspects of the dilemma of being human that transcend all time and all cultures. Sometimes I tell stories while I am teaching. The story below came unbidden, as if to intercept what was happening in our class and take us somewhere else— on occasion the most riveting unexpected things happen in the classroom. 

I told this story in the New Mexico desert. My classes are set up to be contemplative, to have an atmosphere friendly to synchronicity and the muse, to allow the inner world of image to blossom and take shape in the quiet. So when one of the students arrived at the last minute because of a family emergency, it was easy for her to take her seat without a word. But for the entire week she chose to remain inward with her pain. When I asked how she was doing she said only: I cannot speak about it. And so she worked with her head down in silence, allowing her hands to give shape to her grief.

For an artist or a writer one must go forward as if revelation is never done. As a teacher I strive to create an atmosphere that moves as if revelation is immanent in each student, and even in the presences that gather in the air as the week continues. I am asking the students to leap into the unknown, so I too must be attentive and collaborate with what I cannot see.

At the close of my classes there is an opportunity to share work, or say something, or simply listen. Once again, this student, just before the circle began, said that she could not speak. Other students took their turns, and when we were halfway around the circle, something prompted me to say: I want to tell you the story of “ja-nee”, the Afrikaans word for “yes-no”. This took me by surprise, as it seemed unrelated to our circle, and to come out of the blue. It is a story that I heard from Laurens van der Post.* It speaks to the necessity of embracing paradox, and of the suffering caused by dualistic thinking: when things are either this or that; when you are either going to succeed or fail; when anything or anyone is either good or bad; when something is either right or wrong. And to the wisdom of being able to embrace the complexity of yes/no.

Here is the story:

There was a young boy named Francois, who lived on a farm with his guide, Mopani. The farm was at the edge of the forest, where you could hear the lions, hyenas, and elephants. The elephants there were beloved for their intelligence, memory and personality.  Elephants were known as the great gourmets of the bush, and they especially loved the fruit of the Marula tree. This delicious fruit was abundant, and fell to the ground, where it fermented. Most of the elephants ate just enough of the fruit to get tipsy. But there was one elephant, Uprooter of Great Trees, the largest bull, who developed the habit of gorging on the fruit, getting completely drunk, and stampeding the farm. He destroyed the crops and frightened the children. The people had done all the banging on metal utensils and shouting that they could to try to stop Uprooter of Great Trees, but it was to no avail.

Francois, at twelve years old, had for weeks been under the care of Mopani, the village elder. Francois’s mother had left for the city to be with his father, who was very ill. Mopani and Francois were having their usual breakfast before dawn, when they heard a great ruckus outside. Once again, they feared for their crops and the lives of the children were in danger. Mopani said, “Elephants, like men, should know it’s the beginning of the end when they start drinking before breakfast. We must leave our breakfast and see what to do about old Uprooter of Great Trees.”

So they got their guns and went out into the noise and chaos of the Matabele people and a great elephant charging this way and that. When Francois and Mopani arrived, the crowd became silent with relief.  This deep stillness was more frightening than all the clamor to Francois, who could only hear Uprooter of Great Tree’s “stomach boiling like a witches cauldron.” With honor and dismay he regarded the vastness of this elephant with his long trunk, and the largest ivory tusks he had ever seen. The elephant also became still upon the arrival of Francois and Mopani, his enormous ears searching for sound.

At that moment, Mopani, unruffled, and as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, turned to Francois and said: “You take him.” And Francois, not knowing how it happened, picked up his father’s rifle, and shot the elephant between the eyes. Uprooter of Great Trees dropped to the ground. Francois was assailed with the strangest feelings. On the one hand, there was an immense well of grief inside him, and on the other, the pervading sense of the power, beauty and dignity of this animal, who just a moment ago, was full of life. He felt no sense of triumph or achievement, as what just happened seemed to have nothing to do with him.

In front of the grand fallen elephant Mopani spoke to him of the meaning of “ja-nee”, yes-no, “which goes far beyond mere question and answer, positive and negative, or opposites of any kind”. It is a word that captures the unsayable, mysterious and steadfast paradox that infuses all of life, and the heart of each person. The paradox of the magnificence of this animal paired with the difficult choice of death.

After telling this story, the student who could not speak said: Now I can tell my story. There was a deep stillness in the room as we all listened to her tale of being awakened in the night on her ranch by a loud thump that pierced the silence. She feared it was the sound of her beloved horse falling to the ground. She went out into the dark alone, and as she approached the barn, she could hear a low sound. It was the quiet whinnying, the weeping of the other old horse, for the loss of his friend. One horse was lying motionless in the hay, and the other stood right next to him. His lackluster eyes looked down. She realized she had to make a decision. What was she to do, now that one horse had died, and the other was quite ill, and filled with grief? 

What felt right to the one who knew and loved these horses most of all, was also excruciating. She knew it was time for the other horse to go too, to end his suffering. 

In both stories you are faced with a situation that offers no good choice. You are required to reach deep inside for an answer that no one else may understand. This kind of courage, when integrated into consciousness, can give birth to personal transformation. You “see” not only with your senses, not only with mind and reason, but also with the “third” way of seeing. This understanding opens in contemplation, in intuition. It is this mode of apprehending that brings us back to ja-nee, yes-no, to the place that can hold both, that can hold everything. 

Mopani knew that Francois would be facing the loss of his father, and that the experience of the morning would somehow prepare and instill in this twelve year old the confidence to deal with what comes, no matter how difficult it may be.

Imagine my feeling when I saw that it was this story that allowed the grief-stricken student to tell hers. There was some comfort in the synchronistic appearance of a story that mirrored her silent suffering and opened us all to a greater understanding. This happened through the story itself, and its insistence to be told, without any of us knowing her dilemma. How a story can change you, can take all your right and wrong choices, all your ambivalent decisions, and remind you that you are in a bigger story, and that you are not alone, and that you belong.

How do you experience or hold paradox in your life? What stories do you return to? I’d love to hear from you.

* A Story Like the Wind, Laurens van der Post