The baobab tree’s ancient, scarred trunk was as wide as five elephants and its branches could stretch over a whole herd. There was nothing left alive on earth that had seen this tree as a young sapling, but here it still stood after a thousand years. It was providing, as it had always done, a meal for another living creature. On this particular evening it was a young and adventurous vervet monkey who had spent the afternoon foraging among the bare branches of this massive tree, helping himself to the cream-of-tartar pods.
Kubuka (for that was the monkey’s name) blinked as a small bat flitted past him, twittering. He hadn’t noticed the sun setting - and now it was nearly time to find somewhere to sleep for the night. He dropped the pod on which he had been nibbling. The sweet, dry white lumps inside had made him thirsty. What to do? Go to bed thirsty, or try to find a drink now, before it got too dark for little monkeys to be out alone in the bush?
Kubuka was alone because he had been sent away on his ‘wandering time’, which was meant to toughen up troublesome young males. It was also a sort of punishment - Kubuka had been seriously naughty, cheeking the dominant male and even getting into a nasty fight. He would only be allowed back when he was much stronger and wiser - and more respectful.
He felt lonely, thinking of the troop. Then he remembered something the Troop Mother had told him when he was little.
‘Baobabs are wonderful trees’, she had informed him in her listen-to-me voice while, holding one of his arms in the air, she picked at the fur round his tummy for fleas, ‘They give you food, shelter, and drink, too’.
Kubuka frowned, trying to remember what else she had said. Her skinny, wrinkled fingers had been tickling quite unbearably at the time, and he had been trying not to giggle. (Giggling or wriggling while receiving a grooming session from such an important monkey as the Troop Mother was terribly bad manners).
He pictured her face again. Yes - it was coming back to him now. She had said that baobab trees often have a hollow middle, where if you’re lucky, rainwater collects, making a perfect private well for animals like monkeys, who above all things are good climbers. Kubuka turned and walked back along the broad, smooth branch of the tree, climbed the rest of the way up the trunk and peered over a ridge of bark right at the top.
‘AiEeeeeeesh...!’ He yelped, leaping backwards in fright, tumbling down and (luckily for the story of Kubuka), landing on another fat branch just below.
There was something inside the tree! A pair of eyes shining in a dark face! He shivered, his small body curled up in fright, his tail almost in his mouth.. He listened carefully, staring up at the rim where he had perched, all his senses on the alert. Nothing. Could it have been just a couple of of bats down there, perhaps? Kubuka started to feel a little curious. Monkeys are dreadfully inquisitive animals, and poor, thirsty little Kubuka was no exception. Also, he had smelled water.
Cautiously, he crept back, closer and closer, until he could peep once more over the edge. It was quite gloomy down there, but after a moment he realised that he was looking at his own bright-eyed reflection.
He felt a little foolish, but no-one was watching except maybe the bats, and they didn’t count. Kubuka perched casually on the edge and looked down into quite a deep hollow, about four tail-lengths wide. Sure enough, there was water down there - its still, dark surface as reflective as a mirror.
Feeling thirstier than ever, Kubuka examined the sides for a way down. The smooth bark of the baobab was folded and wrinkled on the inside of the hollow trunk; there were rootlike growths here and there to hold on to.
The light was fading fast now, and Kubuka knew he would have to hurry. So he hopped over the edge and, using all four hands plus his tail, carefully lowered himself down to the surface.
The water was surprisingly cool and fresh. He drank thirstily, hanging sideways with his tail firmly wrapped round a handy root. A few mosquitoes rose, whining, from the surface
Then the water swirled and heaved. Kubuka jerked back from the pool and stared. There was something in there! Surely not a fish? Fish don’t live in trees, he was pretty sure of that. Then a deep, gentle voice seemed to bubble up from beneath the water.
‘Thank you for your visit...’ said the voice, ‘But you have drunk my water, and now you owe me a favour’. Kubuka froze in fright, one drop trembling on his chin.. Was he hearing things? An owl spoke softly in the distance. The wind breathed past the bare branches of the tree. It was quite dark inside the hollow. Kubuka decided that things were getting a little too spooky, and he retreated, nervously scrambling back up to the top of the opening.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ said the voice quickly. ‘It is I, Amanzi, Spirit of the Rain.’
Kubuka perched a safe distance from the hollow. He thought that it would be best if he were polite.
‘Greetings, O spirit Amanzi’, replied Kubuka, ‘I am Kubuka of the Tshoko tribe, and I thank you for my drink of water.’ He paused. Then his monkey curiosity got the better of him again.
‘But please tell me,’ he said, ‘If you are a Rain Spirit, what are you doing inside this baobab tree?’
More bubbling noises started coming up from the well. Kubuka suddenly remembered that if you call a spirit by its name, it can appear if it wants to. That was something else the Troop Mother had told the tribe one moonlit evening, with the elders wedged comfortably in the branches of an enormous ebony tree and the small ones cuddling close.
A splashing sound added itself to the bubbling noises. Kubuka kept his distance, but rose up higher to see into the hollow.
A wobbling, silvery shape was coming out of the well!
It was fat and rippling like a huge raindrop. It had long, thin arms, just one leg and its hair resembled a miniature waterfall. It had a round, friendly face, with one huge, silvery-blue eye. It rested on the edge of the hollow and sighed with a gurgling sound.
The eye blinked at Kubuka, who stared back. in disbelief. He could see the moonlight shining through the spirit’s watery form.
‘Why am I in this baobab tree, indeed?’ it said, ‘Well, it’s a long story, but if you’re going to return the favour, you have to know how it all happened’.
Kubuka was fairly certain there would be nothing he could do as a favour for such a strange being, but he decided to listen first and ask questions later. He crept closer and settled down, all ears. The moon was rising quite fast now, and it was the perfect time for stories.
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