Furthermore, the present tree is not the original.  In 1948 a swarm of bees settled in the trunk, and Africans, to get the honey, set fire to the tree.  It was pruned and propped up, and seemed to recover, but in 1953 it was struck by lightning.  In the same year an offshoot of that tree was planted by Dr W Alexander, and it is this that stands in good condition today.

[Comment 2002:  There are, in fact, three specimens of this fig tree at the Pioneer Nurses’ Memorial, all reputed to have been raised from shoots of the original after it had been struck by lightning.  In October 1985 the largest of the three had a diameter of 138.7 cm at breast height, and a crown spread of about 30 metres.]

That ends the School’s report on the tree.  The epic journey of Sister Blennerhasset and her companions by launch from Beira up the Pungwe to Macequece, thence on foot—about 225 km—to Penhalonga, where they arrived with their feet in bandages, is well worthy of a living memorial such as this, and I am glad to confirm that the offshoot, now a sizeable tree, is indeed in good condition and well cared for.

[Comment 2002:  The story of the three pioneer nurses was told by Rose Blennerhasset and Lucy Sleeman in their book Adventures in Mashonaland, originally published in 1893, and subsequently reprinted as Volume 8 in the Books of Rhodesia “Gold Series”.  They travelled by boat from Beira to Mapanda (“M'pandas”), not Macequece, as Dick Petheram had it, and their walk from there to Penhalonga took them two weeks, 1-14 July 1891.]

As to the identity of the tree, I think I can positively say that Mr Bob Drummond is quite satisfied that the leaf specimens we brought back from the Indaba Tree are those of Ficus nekbudu, which is indigenous.  He was kind enough to show me a book on Australian shrubs and trees, and more specifically an illustration of the so-called Morton Bay Fig, which is, botanically, Ficus macrophylla.  It is described as “the greatest of the Australian avenue trees”, and to the layman there is a distinct similarity between it and the beautiful, large-leafed nekbudu.  It is understandable, therefore, in view of the association of F. nekbudu with ancient workings, that theories such as that of Sir Ian Wilson should have evolved.

[Comment 2002:  The correct name of Ficus nekbudu is now F. lutea, but it is easy to understand how the compilers of the school report managed to write F.nekbudu as F. Budda (!), but it is more difficult to work out why they thought this was the Australian Morton (sic) Bay Fig.  The correct spelling is Moreton Bay, and Dick Petheram had the correct botanical name in his comments.]

The school’s findings were published in the Umtali Post in August, and gave rise to the most lively debate, in letters to the Editor, on the subject of the Nurses’ Memorial Tree at Penhalonga.  In suggesting that this tree did not, in fact, mark the site of the first officially recognized hospital in the area, Mr Barnes incurred the wrath of Mrs Mary Alexander and Stephanie Maritz.  Not only that, but he compounded the felony in his response to the initial criticism by writing—and here I quote from the Umtali Post—“this is not the only memorial in Manicaland that is obscure, inaccurate and incomplete; to mention the others now, however, would turn the present warm glow of dissonance into a blazing bonfire of discontent.”  Well, the replies to that almost caused instantaneous combustion in a September issue of the paper, and it is with utmost trepidation that I confess that Mr Barnes’s words struck a sympathetic chord—not, I hasten to add, in relation specifically to Penhalonga, but in general terms.  Like one or two of Zimbabwe’s earliest alleged gold strikes, some claims concerning alleged “historical” trees turn out, when explored, to be a trifle fanciful.  A little mythology doesn’t come amiss, but a modicum of substance here and there would lend some welcome credibility..."