By Firmain Eric Mbadinga
Among nature's most stunning creations is a puffy, heart-shaped pink flower achingly named "bleeding heart," whose beauty is strangely used as a metaphor for a not-so-appreciated human trait.
But while a bleeding heart doesn't physically bleed, numerous testimonies and videos from across the globe depict certain trees oozing a red-coloured liquid, a phenomenon that continues to stoke intrigue and diverse interpretations in traditional societies.
In regions like South America, this liquid is often mistaken for blood, while in Africa, popular beliefs attribute the phenomenon to spirits or forest genies inhabiting the trees.
In October 2017, a French botanist highlighted how the Tepezcohuite, or the "tree of the bleeding hill", has been venerated by the Mayas from southern Mexico to Guatemala for centuries.
A video posted online substantiated the existence of these so-called bleeding trees. What's disputed is the nature of the reddish liquid they exude.
Rooted in traditions
Science dismisses it as a myth that the substance secreted by these trees is blood. But shamans and traditionalists view these trees as sacred, spiritual entities integral to a natural microcosm that must remain undisturbed.
Dr Djibril Diop, an environmentalist and lecturer at Cheikh Anta Diop University in Senegal's Dakar, asserts that no tree bleeds or is endowed with supernatural powers due to the red liquid they secrete.
He insists that this liquid is latex or sap, which play crucial roles in a tree's survival.
Latex is the natural substance secreted by a tree for its organic defence, while sap, usually white, flows between the tree and the bark, supplying water, mineral salts, or sugars to the plant.
Dr Diop cites an instance where a neem plant (Azadirachta indica) in the Bandafassi area secreted a large quantity of sap due to a fungal attack.
"The local population interpreted this as a mystical attack on the plant, little knowing that the plant's nature, the soil's structure, and the attackers' biological nature can influence the colour of the sap or latex," he explains to TRT Afrika.
The environmentalist also points out that no tree has blood cells and thus, logically, cannot be expected to bleed.
He cites the example of the Socotra dragon tree (Dracaena cinnabari) to illustrate cases of latex or sap with a reddish colour that can be mistaken for blood.
This tree, which can grow up to 20 metres tall, naturally secretes a reddish resin that has led even some scientific articles to describe it "as a tree that bleeds".
The reddish resin comprises sugar, water and nutrients, and is used in certain traditions as a dye. The reddish colour is often linked to the tanning rate of the tree. "Resin plants have a tanning rate between 10 and 20%, while Dracaena cinnabari has a tanning rate of around 70 to 77%," says Dr Diop.
Medicinal value
Apart from their use in dyeing fabrics, some of these bleeding trees have been acknowledged as having medicinal properties by botanists like Dr Diop and traditionalists such as Romaric Moussounde Moussounda.
Moussounda, who has insight into the diversity of the Gabonese forests, believes many species, be it the Pterocarpus angolensis found in Africa or the bleeding trees from Abitibi in Québec, deserve mystical and spiritual consideration.
"These trees are divine entities that must not be felled under any circumstances," Moussounda tells TRT Afrika.
"The liquid that may flow from these trees is not blood from a material perspective, but it holds the same importance and spiritual role as blood."
Moussounda, who melds tradition and modernity as a certified practitioner of cardiopulmonary resuscitation and other emergency medical care, quotes the Senegalese author Birago Diop, who, in 1960, wrote about the "spirituality" of certain trees.
"These sacred trees are mainly used for ceremonies and treatments. They all have a cosmic, spiritual resonance with humans," says Moussounda.
While botanists find Cartesian explanations in the structure of bleeding trees, traditionalists in Africa or South America, such as the Mayans in Mexico or the native Indians in Brazil, insist that they should be treated as avatars and sacred mystical-spiritual entities.
Despite these different points of view, there is a consensus that protecting these species of trees, whether sacred or not, is vital for the planet's balance. In the unified voice of conservation lies the confluence of tradition and modernity that those like Moussounda exemplify.
