I still remember how, from my very first interaction with nature, I grasped a leaf in my hand and wondered, “How does it survive the heat all day?” As a child of nature, I’ve always believed that nature holds answers to numerous questions of ours. When I discovered African plants and their rich stories, I felt a deep connection with them. Africa is a land full of life, not only in its people but also in its soil, leaves, roots, and rivers.
In the heart of Africa, where sunlight kisses the soil and winds carry the scent and promise of rain, a quiet wisdom blossoms. Along the way, each one is a silent teacher, whispering lessons on terrain, balance and healing.
In the heart of Africa, where sunlight kisses the soil and winds carry the scent and promise of rain, a quiet wisdom blossoms. Along the way, each one is a silent teacher, whispering lessons on terrain, balance and healing.
In Tanzania, it is known as the Miracle Tree-the Moringa (Moringa oleifera) grows in the most challenging conditions but provides essential vitamins, purifies water, and combats malnutrition. That is just like us, going through the storms but still giving love and light.
Or the Baobab tree that stood for thousands of years while many children in African villages learned a lesson under its shade, nature’s very own classroom. The Tree of Life offers shelter, food, and water, but also a feeling of being at home.
In its hollow trunk, elders store not just seeds but stories. Its thick skin holds the resilience of a continent. And maybe that’s what we need more of, learning not just in nature, but from nature.
In West Africa, the leaves of Azadirachta indica are brewed into bitter teas, which are passed down from a grandmother to a child as medicine and for ritual purposes. East of Africa, the roots of African Ginger are crushed with reverence for they heal not only the flesh but also soothe the spirit.
Down south, when the fiery red Aloe Ferox is broken, it bleeds a healing substance. It serves to teach that sometimes, before a wound can close, it must open first.
It was an established, deeply rooted relationship between humans and plants. This is ancestral. For thousands of years, the land and its people have exchanged care. In many societies, it is often the sacred bond that is kept alive, yet it is often the ones who are uncelebrated but are always essential.
I work with young-adult students who are essentially battling depression and anxiety. Most of them seem to have forgotten just how powerful they are. When I take them outside, let them touch a leaf or sit at the base of a tree, their eyes soften and go quiet. The green is calming to them. The winds listen. The earth pays no words but becomes an ally.
African plants have been utilised throughout history to promote bodily well-being. But heal the minds, too. They stand for being remembered, for growing, even when no one waters us. Alas, this knowledge, like the soil upon which it stands, is ignored, pushed aside by pills and plastics. But beneath the rush of modern cures lies an old truth: Africa has always known how to heal itself.
So, to all the youth readers of Africa: look around you. This is the most beautiful classroom in the world, where you are living. Take pride in your roots, learn from your trees, and remember that healing doesn’t always come from a hospital; it can come from holding a flower, feeling the soil, or breathing under a baobab.
For in every green leaf, there is a lesson:
That strength does not shout.
That softness can cure.
That the earth, when heard, answers back.
Let’s protect our green heritage. Let’s learn from it. And let’s teach others as well.
Because sometimes, the best lessons don’t come from books.
They come from leaves.
