The Legend of the Mahogany and the Fig

In our travels through the rainforest, we learn that the aboriginal people did not have a written language, but passed down their knowledge through colorful stories and songs, often about nature and living harmoniously with the land. Here is one of my favorites from the Kuku Yalanji tribe.

It tells the story of a young, male mahogany tree (I never knew trees had gender, but I guess in legends they do), growing tall and strong in the forest. Blessed with sun and rain, the tree confidently reaches up through the canopy and spreads it’s branches wide, soon becoming the most magnificent tree in all the forest.

One day, a bird lands in the branches of the great tree, nibbling the seed of a fig tree, that slips from it’s beak and falls to the ground below. Protected by the mighty mahogany, the seed sprouts and a female fig tree starts to grow.

In the shade of the forest canopy, light is precious, and the young fig struggles to find the sun. “This mahogany is getting plenty of sun in it’s branches,” she says to herself, “if I can just reach up there, there will be plenty for me too. But he is so majestic and strong, how will I ever get that tall?”

Looking down, the mahogany sees the poor, young fig, and calls to the forest floor, “grab onto me, I will help you reach the sun.”

The fig leans over and using the sturdy mahogany for support, quickly reaches up through the canopy and into the light. Happy and healthy, the fig soon starts to create seeds of her own, and in short order, three have dropped to the forest floor below and taken root. “Grab onto the great mahogany,” she shouts to them, “he will help you reach the sun.”

Over the years, with the mahogany as their support, the four figs grow. But always hungry for more light, start to stretch out along the limbs of the mahogany, spreading more and more of their leaves to catch the sun. Day by day, year by year, the number of fig leaves grows, and now blocked from the sun, the mahogany leaves start to fall.

Not wanting to complain, the proud mahogany stoically sends out new branches in search of light, only to have them quickly overtaken by the voracious figs. Without sun, little by little, the weight of four figs proves too much even for the regal mahogany, and it begins to die.

Today, if you find the spot where the towering mahogany once stood, you will only see glimpses of if peeking out through the trunks of the figs. Looking way up high, if you search you may see a few skinny branches struggling to catch whatever scraps of light remain, a sad reminder of how the weakest of figs can bring down even the most indomitable of mahoganies.

Please note, this account is entirely ancient legend. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.