20/08/2025
Read today's feature story of a landmark that has now succumbed to the progress of time. ๐
SAMBAG: The Silent Guadian
It stands in a quiet, unremarkable corner of the school, hidden behind the covered court. Its trunk, wider than two students holding hands, is a monument of deeply grooved bark. Its thick, twisting branches cast a permanent, heavy shadow over a well-trodden path. For decades, the ancient tamarind tree, known to everyone as the "sambag," has been the school's unofficial guardian, a silent legend whispered about in hallways and across desks.
According to stories shared by teachers and students, the tree was home to supernatural beings. They were known to fiercely protect their domain, which explains why no one has ever dared to cut it down, even as the school changed around it. Generations have left the tree undisturbed, a patch of wild nature in an otherwise well-paved and tidy campus. This folklore is not just gossip. It is a serious, unspoken rule of the school.
Now, a strange silence fills that corner of the school, and a question lingers in the air. To some, the tales were just superstition. They had always dismissed them, finding comfort in the treeโs calm shade. But now, they look at the empty space and wonder if there was something more to it. For others, like Nong Mervin, a long-time worker at the school, the stories held a grain of truth. He has been on the campus for decades and has countless tales of strange whispers in the wind or fleeting shadows near the tree in the dead of night. To him, these tales weren't just folklore. They were part of his reality. These stories, whether true or not, now feel less like tales and more like an unanswered question.
The deep respect for the sambag faced a challenge this year when the school's administration decided to cut it down to complete the covered court. The tree's branches and leaves took up too much space at the edge of the court, a problem seen as a necessary barrier to progress. The noise of the chainsaw that morning was a harsh interruption, breaking the schoolโs usual rhythm. Students and faculty watched in stunned silence, and in that silence, a shared doubt began to grow. Everyone knew the administration had chosen to ignore the folklore and the common understanding that you do not interfere with the guardians of the tree, but they couldnโt help but wonder, was it worth the risk? Was the cost of progress a potential consequence no one could foresee?
Today, what remains is a thick, two-meter-high trunk and a pile of chopped branches and leaves. They sit there, a grim reminder of a lost legend, waiting to be disposed of or used in some way. However, the stories have not faded, if anything, they have become more vivid. Students now share the tales not just as folklore but as a challenge. The challenge to ensure that while the tree may be gone, the memories, beliefs, and experiences will always be part of the schoolโs history. While the sambag is no longer present on the school grounds, it is still an inseparable part of the school's spirit, a living legacy that will become taller with each passing year, even in its absence.
