Wangari Maathai

It’s almost as if Wangari Maathai is still alive, since the trees she planted still grow. Those who care about the earth as Wangari did can almost hear her speaking the four languages she knew-Kikuyu, Swahili, English, and German-while she carried out her important work with important people.

Wangari encouraged many village women. She dug holes with them in the red soil-holes in which to plant hope for today and forests for tomorrow.

When Wangari planted a large-leafed ebony tree or an African tulip tree, she was reminded of her own roots. She was born in 1940 in the little village of Ihithe, across from the majestic volcano Mount Kenya, which her people consider holy.

This is her story.

The immense forest around Wangari’s childhood home is populated by bongo antelopes, monkeys, and butterflies. The leopard, called the ngari by Wangari’s people, lives here, too. It may be because wa-ngari means “she who belongs to the leopard” that Wangari feels as though she is part of the entire forest.

Wangari fetches water every day at the foot of the big mugumo, the generous fig tree. As the eldest sister of five siblings, she is the second lady of the house. She helps her mother with countless tasks: gathering wood for the fire, cooking, looking after the little children, and doing farm chores.

Wangari’s mother gives her a little garden. Wangari learns to dig and plant. In the shade of the big mugumo, her mother teaches her that a tree is worth more than its wood, an expression that Wangari never forgets.

Wangari’s father works for Sir Neylan, one of the ruling British colonists. The British claim the best land for themselves and insist that Kenyans take Christian names. As a result, Wangari is called Miriam during her childhood. The British grow richer by cutting trees to plant more tea.

Wangari remembers the first trees she saw fall. She doesn’t yet know that she can change things with her voice and her hands.