The Tree of Spirits: Rethinking the Baobab in Giriama Culture

Siana Phillips
Apr 24
2 min read

In many African landscapes, the baobab tree towers like a monument — gnarled, ancient, and full of mystery. But in Giriama culture, here on Kenya’s coast, it’s long carried a darker weight.

Ocean Sole Mamaz group cleaning a beach in Kilifi, with tall baobab trees in the background — highlighting the contrast between community conservation work and cultural perceptions of baobabs as sacred or cursed. — Layers of Story: Our Ocean Sole Mamaz clean the beach with towering baobabs behind them — trees once feared, now slowly being seen in a new light.

According to stories shared by Sally, our Community Projects Lead, the baobab has historically been regarded as a cursed tree. In the past, children born with disabilities or deformities were taken to the baobab and left at its base, where it was believed they would die and be absorbed into the tree. The same fate was thought to befall elders who lived beyond 100 years and "don't want to die," as they were considered bewitched. It was said that their spirits would be drawn into the tree.

For generations, people avoided these trees. They were feared as vessels of misfortune, places where witch doctors cast spells and where belongings were brought to curse enemies. Even walking near a baobab was something many would avoid, afraid of attracting bad luck or being pulled into the spirit world the trees were believed to hold.

Close-up image of baobab tree bark showing natural textures and formations that resemble human-like faces, contributing to the tree’s mystical reputation in local Giriyama culture. — Nature's Sculpture: The bark of the baobab is full of character — some say it looks like the tree holds the faces of spirits within.

So you can imagine the response when we arrived at our community garden with two young baobab trees to plant.

The Ocean Sole Mamaz, normally so open and curious, hesitated. Some were fearful. Others flat-out rejected the idea. It quickly became clear: to plant a baobab is not a neutral act — it’s one steeped in cultural meaning, history, and generational fear.

And yet, the narrative is starting to shift.

Two young baobab trees in planting bags, temporarily set aside after being rejected by Ocean Sole Mamaz due to cultural beliefs about baobabs being cursed, now awaiting a new home. — These two young baobab trees were meant for our community garden — but cultural beliefs led the Mamaz to reject them. For now, they wait to be re-homed.

As knowledge spreads, people are beginning to recognize the baobab’s many uses. Its leaves and bark have medicinal properties. Its seed pods can be used to craft light shades. Its fruit — rich in Vitamin C — is gaining value in local and global markets alike. Slowly, people are beginning to see it not as a threat, but as a resource.

Still, the fear hasn’t vanished. One fisherman told us about people coming to dig up wild baobab trees from the beach, flying drones and scouting for what they called “trees of evil spirits.” Whether they were harvesting for science, superstition, or profit — it left the community unsettled.

These stories remind us how deeply cultural beliefs shape our landscapes — and how complicated “reforestation” can be when it involves more than soil and species. As we explore using baobabs in land restoration or agroforestry, we must carry these stories with us. Not just as folklore, but as truth. Because sustainability isn't just about planting trees — it’s about healing histories.