We have combined the walk to the Poilon with a vistit to the Wednesday market in Assomada. The hustle-bustle of the market days (Wednesday and Saturday) gives the slow little town, situated right in the centre of Santiago, a special atmosphere. I was already impressed by Sucupira, but the life here puts it in the shadow. The crush of buyers and sellers is immense. However, the pictures shall speak more than words:
After the shopping (goat cheese, bread, tomatoes and bananas, of course) we set off to the Poilon.
Already from the distance it is visible, the big tree, which is firmly rooted in the valley. We pass the washing area - the place where the main communication takes place - and reach the Poilon. He demonstrates peace, power and dignity. His branches are stretched out to all sides with infinite green leaves. Strong roots keep him anchored in the soil. He stands firm, unshakeable. His bark is warm, torn and brown. His leaves rustle in the wind; it almost seems that they sing to the wind. The crown of the tree is like a huge vault above us. Blue shimmers through the branches and the icebirds make themselves heard with their loud noises. They swing in their bright colours through the branches. The tree almost seems like a giant magic tree, full of wishes, thoughts and memories of old times. What did he go through in colonial times? Were fleeing slaves able to get courage and strength from him? Does he still promise consolation and hope towards a better life? Does he spread trust that life always goes on despite all dryness? Who knows? Maybe the answer can only be understood by those who live here.
For the schoolchildren, who soon surrounded us, it was more interesting to find out if we had not hidden any sweets in some deep corners of our rucksack or not. As soon as they found out that there was nothing to get they stayed for another moment, exchanged names and age. We had a short conversation about school and then we were by ourselves with the tree, again.