The Bois Bande Chronicles

My Experience With a Trinidadian Aphrodisiac.

Why…?

In the interest of full disclosure, in my thirty plus years of male-hood, I have never had an issue with reproductive performance. When called upon, my most valuable player shows up, scores at least one goal, signs some autographs and goes home. I am blessed to have the penile equivalent of Sir Garfield Sobers; with consummately consistent performances, regularly punctuated by flashes of brilliance.

In light of these non-issues, you would be justified in asking why I volunteered to test the effect of arguably the most famous local aphrodisiac…well in a word…curiosity. As gifted as Usain Bolt is, I doubt that he would refuse a pair of spikes that would enable him to run 2% faster. Additionally, now that I am closer to forty than I am to thirty, it might be time to seek a prophylactic measure of staving off any performance slippages that Sir G may eventually face. Father time after all is undefeated.

How…?

I do not possess the combination of arcane skill and knowledge that would enable me to identify, harvest and prepare Bois Bandé on my own. I received my dose of Bois Bandé from a trusted source in New York, who in turn received it from a trusted source in Trinidad (and now you too are just as knowledgeable about the Bois Bandé supply-chain as I am).

The Bois Bandé arrived at my home, tastefully packaged in a steel drinking flask (it had previously been contained in a plastic bottle but my supplier kept some for himself). Now that the anticipated drink was in front of me, the question of how to approach the experiment loomed.

My major criticism of homeopathy is that there are no recommended dosages, no labels, no warnings, no formulas. How much should I take? How much would be to much? In my mind I envisioned that an overdose would lead to me blacking out and waking up three days later, miles from home with an ache in my loins and a trail of properly satisfied women in my wake.

As I often do in times of doubt, I called upon my ancestors and a voice in my head advised that I should “Drink until the ancestors say to stop drinking.” Now my ancestors are a notoriously fertile bunch, trusting their advice in matters of reproduction in an age where having a baker’s dozen of offspring is unsustainable, was probably foolhardy, but who am I to doubt the directives of my esteemed lineage.

Thus, at their behest I put the flask to my head and took a sip. The taste of Bois Bandé is hard to describe, it is not unpleasant, but it is probably not something you would want to chase all your meals with. For those familiar with bush tea, it tastes like that, unsweetened bush tea. Its flavor profile sits somewhere between the outright bitterness of bois canot, and the herbal sweetness of lime bud tea. It tastes slightly medicinal, mildly woody, there is a bite like camphor at the end, it is bitter but not overwhelmingly so.

My ancestors were not pleased with my exploratory sip and a voice arose and spake saying “Who is this soft-man? We know him not!”

So, not wanting to risk shaming the ancestors I drank some more. I took a swig this time instead of a sip. The voices arose and spake again and said. “We have been proud of you for nearly twoscore years but yuh embarrassing us boy.”

Well, I would not bring shame to MY ancestors, even at the risk of molesting all the housewives on the east coast in a Bois Bandé induced fugue. So, I polished off the rest, drained the dregs, put a little water in the flask, shook it and downed that as well. There were no more voices, the ancestors had apparently been appeased. 

What Happened…?

So, what happened? Well, nothing at first. I went about my day. I was not plagued by an omnipresent inconvenient, ubiquitous erection. I certainly did not wake up in a neighboring province with no recollection of the last 36 hours. The effects (and they are not what you think they are) started taking hold at night. Anticlimactically Bois Bandé neither improved nor detracted from my sexual performance. Sir Garfield’s batting remained classy, he took to the crease, hit the usual boundaries, and retired not-out. However, there were other effects.

Usually, I do not remember my dreams, I sleep the sleep of the honest hard-working man (or the unconscionable sociopath). But for the week after drinking the (whole damned flask of) Bois Bandé I was able to remember every dream in detail. Not only that but the dreams themselves were very realistic. One night I dreamt of a song and I was so convinced that the song was real that I woke up and Googled it…the song does not exist, and I still cannot believe that it is not real.

Additionally during that same week, I also found that my ability to focus increased. I also had improved clarity of thought and felt less tired, more alert and my gym workouts seemed easier. This experiment was not exactly scientific, there was no control group and the dosage was prescribed by the ancestral voices that dwell in my head. I cannot definitively conclude that the Bois Bandé was the cause of the things I experienced. But in defense of the results, I offer you this, I drank the flask expecting the herb to enable me to drill for oil with nothing but a hip thrust. Instead what I got was a portfolio of unexpected side effects unrelated to sexual performance.

There may be something to the use of Bois Bandé as a means of male enhancement (after all there is at last one eponymous calypso tune extolling its potency). There is also great value in maintaining the knowledge of the things passed down to us from generations gone by. I would happily try this experiment again. TO both the male and female readers, reproductive health is important. Erectile dysfunction is a serious issue, if you are or know of a man whose batsman is having difficultly scoring a few runs, advise that man to seek professional medical help.  

We live in an age of medical miracles you have no obligation to out for duck every time.

[1] Bois Bandé (French spelling) or Bwa Bandé, Creole spelling) is the bark of the tree Richeria Grandis. The name “Bois Bandé” means “Erect wood” from the French, bois (wood) + bander (to have an erection).