Written by: Kealeboga Moshupa, third-year Diploma Student
In the dry landscapes of Africa stands a tree that looks almost too strong to be real — the baobab, scientifically known as Adansonia digitata. It has survived centuries of drought, heat and violent storms. Many people call it the “Tree of Life”, but to me, it represents something deeply personal. It mirrors my journey, my struggles, my growth and the quiet strength I have carried since childhood.
The baobab does not grow in soft or sheltered places. It rises from harsh soil, enduring strong winds, dry land and unforgiving heat, yet it stands tall. Its massive trunk stores water, sustaining it through seasons of drought. Where other trees may weaken, the baobab endures.
In many ways, I see myself in that resilience.
I was not raised in comfort. My mother fought every day to provide for our family, and there were times when my dreams felt far bigger than our circumstances. Giving up would have been easier, but like the baobab preparing for dry seasons, I learned to prepare myself inwardly. I gathered determination. I held onto hope. I chose to believe in my own potential. The bark of a baobab is rough, shaped by time and weather. It is not delicate in appearance, yet inside it carries life.
Similarly, life often strengthens us before it softens around us. The challenges we face do not shrink us; they deepen us. They anchor our roots.
Unlike many trees, the baobab grows slowly and steadily over the years. In a world that pressures young girls to achieve quickly, look perfect and have everything figured out, this tree teaches patience. Meaningful growth is not rushed. Strength is built gradually. Purpose unfolds with time. There have been moments when I questioned whether I was enough, when financial limitations forced me to adjust my plans, and when balancing studies, work, and responsibility felt overwhelming. Yet even in those quiet, difficult seasons, progress was still happening beneath the surface. Just because growth is not immediately visible does not mean it has stopped.
The baobab also gives generously. Its fruit nourishes communities. Its shade offers protection. Its presence supports entire ecosystems. True strength, I have learned, is not only about surviving; it is about rising in a way that lifts others too. As girls, we carry the power to lead, to educate, to build, to protect and to reshape the narratives placed upon us.
Storms may come, but the baobab remains rooted — and so must we. To every girl who feels small because of her background, limited by finances or pressured by expectations, remember this tree. It does not grow in perfect conditions, yet it becomes extraordinary.
Your struggles are not signs of weakness; they are preparation for future strength.
You are allowed to dream beyond your circumstances.
You are allowed to grow at your own pace.
You are allowed to become powerful.
Like the baobab, you were not created to break. You were created to stand.