by BERNARD CHIKETO
NYANGA. A giant of mountains. The highest in Zimbabwe. It stands alone. Beautiful. Mystic.
It dwarfs all others. Not only in stone.
As you approach the mountain, you see the trees. They are wrong. They are known trees. Msasa trees. They should be tall. Strong. These are not. These are small. Hard. They are dwarfs.
They grow from rock. They cling to the high, open places. The wind is cold there. The air is thin.
Why are they small? Is it the soil? Is it the height? Is it the cold? It is a wonder. They are a tough breed. They are adapted. They survive where others would not.
In spring, they are not green. They are copper. They are red and pink. From a distance, you think they are in flower. They are not. It is only their new leaves. A brief, bright fire on the grey rock.
They do not grow tall. They grow strong. They grow close to the earth. They provide shelter for things that live in the rock. They are a part of the highlands. A vital part. Alongside the planted pines.
You can see them. Go to the national park. Walk the high elevations. On the western side of Nyamakanga mountain. You will find them. The dwarfs on the rock. In the high, clean air. Under the great sky.
They are small. The mountain is large. They endure.