n a corner of Covent Garden, well-heeled Londoners and tourists browse the range of frankincense products sold by a leading cosmetics brand while they drink a complimentary rose and berry tea. Amid the aromatic resin sheathed under glass, shoppers can buy “age-defying” serums, creams and essences, and tablets to strengthen brittle nails and hair.
And there is mounting evidence that the substance’s newfound popularity could be driving wild frankincense trees to the brink of extinction.3,400 miles from the expensive shops of Covent Garden, a small copse of frankincense trees clings to a rocky hillside. Their twisting branches are gnarled, and the flaky, paper-like bark resembles that of a birch. The trees’ trunks bear scars: raw red patches where the bark has been crudely hacked away.
Like maple syrup, frankincense is harvested through “tapping” – making well-spaced, shallow cuts in the bark and allowing 10 to 15 days for the resin to ooze out and harden. After they are tapped, trees should be allowed to rest for several months. If too many cuts are made, destructive beetles and fungi get inside, killing the tree.
A crushing drought has compounded the destruction, transforming the area into a dust bowl; farmers have harvested nothing for four years. In January, local officials warned of looming famine and pleaded with humanitarian organisations to increase aid urgently.Buruh Abebe Tetemke, a forestry lecturer at Mekelle University, the region’s main academic institution, last visited Tseykeme 20 years ago as a postgraduate student.