v to visit one of the few thousand-year-old baobabs that still inhabit this land or, at the very most, if you see a very large one during one of your excursions, ask to be allowed to stop in its presence. Look at it all over, explore its lived-in bark, the cracks and patterns that have been created over the centuries, observe the majesty of its roots, the impressiveness of its branches, the crevices and knots.
Some are concave and hide secrets, they are either shelters for animals or even men, entire families, or water reservoirs or storerooms for comforts.
Look for an elderly person in the area and ask him to tell you his story, because every centuries-old baobab tree has a history, a legend and a name that identifies it with it. At the foot of that tree, rituals of rain, fertility, communions with nature and between human beings have taken place, decisions have been made and people have been tried.
Under that baobab tree, people have sheltered from the rain and sung songs that children have learnt from their grandparents and then taught to their grandchildren. That baobab offered refreshment in times of drought and famine, the vitamin powder of its fruit saved children from childhood illnesses, gave them the strength to walk and go to school when their parents had nothing to feed them.
When you are in Kenya, visit a baobab tree, you will find the story of Africa.
Do it now, because soon, thanking those who are convinced that a concrete wall or a wad of banknotes is more valuable than a baobab, you may not find many more.