A living monument to history stands tall, but the resort meant to celebrate it is collapsing under neglect.
The Sagole Baobab Resort, tucked away in Limpopo’s rugged far northern reaches, should be a jewel in South Africa’s tourism crown. Instead, it stands as a sobering example of neglect, a facility whose shocking state undermines the majesty of the natural wonder it was built to showcase. Its current state is not only an insult to visitors and the tourism sector, but to the ancient tree itself.
The resort takes its name from the Sagole Baobab tree, reputed to be the largest and oldest in South Africa. Carbon dating places its age at around 1,200 years. Towering 22 metres high and stretching an astonishing 42 metres wide, the tree is a living monument to resilience and time. Yet the surroundings meant to honour and welcome visitors to this marvel are disgracefully unkempt.
Grass grows knee-high across the grounds, transforming picnic and braai areas into potential snake havens. The reception building, a mere 50 metres from the tree, is dilapidated, and no proper walking trail guides visitors to the site.
Instead, they must trudge through overgrown vegetation. Information signs, where they exist, are faded, crumbling, and uncared for. Only two staff members are employed at the resort, and it remains unclear whether a dedicated guide is available to share the tree’s rich history.
Despite this, visitors are charged R50 per adult and R25 per child to enter—a fee that feels unjustifiable given the facility’s chaotic state. For families seeking safety, comfort, and a relaxed day out, the resort is simply not an option in its current state.
The Sagole Baobab Resort is one of 43 community-based tourism sites jointly managed by the Limpopo Department of Economic Development, Environment and Tourism (Ledet) and local communities.
Ledet MEC Tshitereke Matibe has acknowledged tourism as a key driver of the provincial economy, promising collaboration with community structures to develop these resorts. But promises ring hollow when the reality on the ground is so dire.
Even representatives of the Tshikunda Malema traditional authority, who co-manage the site, admit the resort is in poor condition, blaming a lack of government support and unclear lines of responsibility between Ledet, municipalities, and communities.
The truth is stark. Communities like Tshikunda Malema, armed only with picks, shovels, rakes and hope, lack the resources to maintain such facilities and to run them as viable, profitable concerns.
And sadly, Sagole Baobab is not alone. A good number of other resorts under the same partnership—Chuene Resort in Ga-Chuene, Masebe Nature Reserve, and more—are similarly crumbling.
The blurring of responsibilities between government, municipalities, and communities has left these sites in limbo, their potential wasted.
It is a tragedy. Properly maintained and marketed, these venues could attract significant tourist traffic, stimulate local economies, and create jobs. Instead, they languish in disrepair.
Matibe has announced plans to commercialise seven of the 43 resorts, inviting private partnerships to assist with development. He insists communities will not be abandoned, citing Sagole Baobab as an example of a site where collaboration is ongoing. But by the look of things, communities have long been abandoned and left to their own devices.
The Sagole case is a sad, painful example of this neglect of communities in charge of these venues. The community itself is an example of the complexities behind leaving these treasures in the hands of a community without resources and relevant skills.
Sentimental attachment alone cannot bring visitors; it cannot make a venue attractive to the outside world. That requires action and resources. Resources money. Perhaps Ledet should look into allocating some funds from its budget to manage these facilities. But then again, giving funds to a community without the necessary skills has its own shortcomings.
Yet even as Matibe speaks of partnerships and road upgrades, the reality remains that tourists must navigate pothole-ridden roads to reach a resort that is unsafe, unattractive, and unworthy of the natural wonder it houses.
The Sagole Baobab deserves better. It is not just a tree—it is a national treasure, a living link to centuries past. To allow its surroundings to decay is to squander an opportunity for heritage preservation, economic growth, and pride.
Limpopo’s tourism future depends on more than speeches; it requires urgent, visible action. Until then, the giant tree will continue to stand tall, while the resort beneath it crumbles. – news@mukurukuru.co.za
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