Three days passed, and the full moon approached like a curious eye in the sky. Every night it grew a little rounder, a little brighter, and Kofi felt the savannah spreading unrest – like a murmur beneath the earth that no one could hear, but everyone felt.
On the third evening, everyone sat together under the baobab tree. Aunt Nala had brewed tea that smelled of ginger and secrets.
“So," said Kofi, looking around, “who exactly mentioned this cave?"
Silence.
“I thought you knew," said Lamu, nervously tugging at his red neckerchief.
“Me?", exclaimed Kofi. “I thought Aunt Nala said that!"
“No," said Aunt Nala calmly. “I said: watch the full moon. The voice from the forest was someone else."
“Someone else?", repeated Zahara, stretching her neck as if she could see over the trees. “Who is speaking from the forest?"
“ME!", shouted a loud voice.
Everyone jumped. From the bushes stepped a figure none of them had ever seen: a warthog with glasses, a notebook, and a brush behind his ear. He wore a tiny backpack that looked as if it was glued together from snail shells.
“Good evening," he said, bowing so deeply that his glasses fell off. “My name is Professor Pimbua. I am an archaeologist, storyteller, and – by my own standards – a genius."
“By your own standards," Gustav repeated dryly from the sky.
“Exactly!", exclaimed the professor, picking up his glasses. “Because who else measures my genius? No one! And that is exactly the problem!"
Felix giggled. “He talks like a frog who has eaten too many flies."
“I heard flies?", the professor cried excitedly. “Are they sweet? Crispy? Do they know anything about the history of the savannah?"
“Um," said Felix. “They taste like donuts?"
“DONUTS!", shouted the professor. “THAT IS A HISTORICAL TERM! I MUST WRITE THAT DOWN!" He pulled out his notebook and scribbled wildly.
Kofi cleared his throat. “Professor, you said something about a cave?"
“Oh! Yes! Of course!", Pimbua exclaimed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “The Cave of Old Wishes. A cave that only opens at full moon. Inside there are pictures – painted by the very first inhabitants of the savannah. And these pictures... want something."
“Want something?", Zahara asked nervously. “Pictures can’t want anything."
“Yes, they can!", said Pimbua dramatically. “When the full moon shines, the pictures come alive. Not like real animals – but like memories. They show what the savannah once was. And what it could become."
“And what was it once?", Lamu asked quietly.
The professor suddenly became serious. “A place where all animals spoke the same language. Elephants and ants. Lions and hares. Everyone could listen to everyone. But then... someone got the idea that some voices are more important than others."
Silence.
Even Mr. Bongo, who was just trying to catch a spider with his trunk, paused. “THAT IS SAD," he said quietly – which for him was almost whispering.
“But the cave can change that?", Kofi asked.
“Maybe," said Pimbua. “The pictures show the way. But you have to understand them. And for that you need someone who reads what has no words."
“And that is you?", Gustav asked skeptically.
“ME?", Pimbua shouted, almost falling over. “No! I am only the messenger! I can’t even read – I can only write! That’s a big difference!"
“You can write but not read?", Zahara repeated incredulously.
“Of course!", said Pimbua proudly. “Writing is creative! Reading is... for others!"
Kofi shook his head. “So we need someone who can read the pictures in the cave."
“Exactly," said Aunt Nala, who had been silent until now. “And I know someone."
Everyone turned to her.
“Who?", asked Kofi.
Aunt Nala smiled mysteriously. “Grandfather Kwame. He lives at the other end of the savannah, at the foot of the Red Mountains. He is the oldest person I know. And he talks to everything – to stones, to rivers, and to pictures that have no words."
“To stones?", asked Felix. “Can you talk to stones?"
“Can you talk to flies?", asked Aunt Nala.
“Good answer," muttered Felix.
“Then we must set off," said Kofi, standing up. “The full moon is the day after tomorrow. We don’t have much time."
“TIME FOR AN ADVENTURE!", shouted Bongo, spinning around and breaking a small tree. “Oops."
“BONGO!", everyone shouted at once.
“IT WAS JUST A SMALL TREE!", Bongo defended himself. “IT WILL GROW AGAIN!"
“Grow," Zahara corrected automatically.
“YES! THAT’S WHAT I MEANT!"
Professor Pimbua hopped excitedly from one foot to the other. “I’M COMING ALONG! I MUST WRITE THIS DOWN! THIS WILL BE THE BIGGEST BOOK OF THE SAVANNAH! ‘THE CAVE OF OLD WISHES – A REPORT BY PROFESSOR PIMBUA’!”
“Report," said Zahara.
“THAT’S WHAT I SAID!”
So a now quite impressive group set off: Kofi, Felix, Lamu, Zahara, Gustav, Mr. Bongo, Professor Pimbua, and Aunt Nala, who hummed all the way and occasionally called out: “Watch out for the mudhole at kilometer three!”
“Which mudhole?", asked Kofi.
“THIS ONE!", shouted Bongo, who was already stuck up to his belly in mud.
“I WARNED YOU!", shouted Aunt Nala.
“HELP!", bellowed Bongo. “I AM ELEPHANT-MUD!"
Lamu climbed onto Zahara’s head to get a better view. “He actually looks quite funny. Like a gray pancake."
“PANCAKE!", shouted Felix. “That’s a word I know! Because donuts and pancakes are cousins!"
“They are not," said Gustav.
“YES THEY ARE! IN FROG GRAMMAR THEY ARE!”
While everyone laughed and Bongo struggled out of the mud, Kofi noticed something: On the horizon, behind the acacias, the Red Mountains glowed in the moonlight. And there – right at the top – a light flickered.
“Do you see that?", he asked quietly.
Everyone fell silent.
“That is Grandfather Kwame’s fire," said Aunt Nala. “He knows we are coming."
“How can he know that?", asked Lamu.
“Because he talks to the wind," said Aunt Nala. “And the wind told him."
Professor Pimbua hastily scribbled in his notebook: “Wind = postman of the savannah. Must be investigated."
“We’re almost there," said Kofi, smiling. “One more night. Then we’ll find out what the cave wants to tell us."
But deep in the Red Mountains, in a crevice that no moonlight reached, something old moved. Something patient. Something that had been waiting for a very long time.
And it whispered: “Finally."
(To be continued in Part 6...)