The Cotton Tree
A Series: Jamaican Legends, Superstitions, Myths and Monsters
The Silk Cotton Tree is both feared and respected in Jamaica. For many years, there stood a massive Cotton Tree by Ferry, near where the Police Station in now, on the road from Kingston to Spanish Town. It was named Tom Cringle’s Cotton Tree (After a book, Tom Cringle’s log by Michael Scott). The day it collapsed and blocked the road, it made the news.
The Silk Cotton Tree (Ceiba) is one of the largest in the American tropics and the national tree of Puerto Rico.
You would have to be foolish to chop down a Jamaican Cotton Tree or Silk Cotton tree without first asking permission of the spirits or ancestors. The tree is sacred, not only in Jamaica but to the Taino, Mayas, Lokono, Ashanti who all also regard it as a dwelling place of spirits.
Imogene Kennedy communed with her ancestors within the walls of the silk cotton tree and emerged as Queenie, having knowledge of ‘the African Language’ - The Kumina Rituals and songs.
Sit under the cotton tree beyond 6pm and you just might end up with a Duppy Box (slapped by a spirit).
My friend Brian Heap recalls when he was a consultant on a film being made in Jamaica. There were scenes being shot in a graveyard and Production felt the massive Cotton Tree was in the way and needed to be cut or pruned. Of course, none of the local crew would do such a thing- they knew better. Brian had to explain ‘the way of local things’ to the ‘foreign’ production unit. White rum, offerings and negotiations. Spirits for the spirits.
[I interviewed Brian for my podcast a few years ago, where he shared the story. You may have a listen here]
The Silk Cotton Tree is mystical, magical, menacing. It is a gateway and a portal, a bridge between the spirit world and our own. You find them on lonely highways, old plantations and cemeteries. There was a tall decaying Cotton Tree growing just outside the perimeter of the fence around our house where we spend all of our youth and young adulthood. You might almost believe that the edge of our yard was dictated by where the cotton tree was growing and not by the land surveyors. It remained undisturbed and decaying for many years, through more than one hurricane. Many a night we swore the duppies were active as we drifted uneasily to sleep.
Who was gonna chop it down? - Not us!
As with the others in the series, there are a few AI generated images to nudge the imagination a little further. I don’t really believe these give the correct proportions of the broad, hefty twisted trunk and expansive canopy, but the creepy, spiritual presence in the graveyard feels right.
I’d love to hear how the Silk Cotton Tree figures in your culture or experience - if at all.
Yes! I know one or two cotton trees that have made a deep impression on me. I have photos (I hope they didn’t mind). One at Frenchman’s Cove and one on St Thomas. I think it’s the roots, so dark, or perhaps the branches, which look like arms...