“Ma Bia, Ma Bia, he’s waking up!”
“Of course he’s waking up. I’ve been taking care of him, haven’t I?”
“All the same, he got better so quickly, I’d never have believed…”
“Pa Bia, how long have I been healing people?”
“At least fifty years, since you were a little girl.”
“And how many of them didn’t get better, Pa Bia?”
“None. They were all healed. It’s a miracle every time…”
“It isn’t a miracle; it’s just the healing hand of Ma Bia!”
“All the same, I really thought this one was going to die.”
“Silly old thing! This one is stronger than all the others; he’ll live to be a hundred!”
Africa had been listening to their whisperings and hushed laughs for some time now in his half sleep. It was time to open his eyes.
“Ma Bia, he’s opening his eyes!”
“Yes, I can see he’s opening his eyes. Give him some coconut milk.”
Africa drank the milk. It was a cool, velvety sweet liquid with a slightly bitter taste. He liked it.
“He seems to like it.”
“Yes, Pa Bia, I can see he likes it. He’s drunk the coconut dry.”
Africa fell asleep again.
When he woke up for the second time, the house was empty. But he could hear a voice speaking to him. “Hello there!” It was a metallic, nasal voice that seemed to come from a strange pale blue bird with a red tail and a beak made to smash nuts. The bird was perched on an earthenware jar.
“Hello,” said Africa, “who are you?”
“I’m a parrot, and you?”
“I was a shepherd. I’ve also been a trader, well, kind of…”
“Really?” asked the parrot. “You’re just like Pa Bia then. And you’ll probably end up working the land too.”
“Can I go outside?” asked Africa.
“If you can stand on your own two legs, what’s stopping you?”
Africa got up gingerly. But he needn’t have worried, because he was completely cured. It was as if all the life that had drained out of him in the accident had come flooding back in his sleep. So he let out a whoop of joy and ran out of the house. But his whooping turned into a terrified screech. The house was propped high up on stilts: he’d just jumped into thin air.
Africa closed his eyes and waited for the crash. But it never came. Instead, two huge and unimaginably strong arms caught him in mid-flight, and he felt himself being crushed against a chest as wide and hairy and well padded as the king of goats’ bed. Then came a peal of laughter so powerful that all the birds of the forest flew away in fright.
“Pa Bia, you could at least laugh a little bit more quietly.”
“Think of all the animals trying to take their siesta.”
The whole forest was in uproar.
“Ma Bia, look at him: he’s completely cured.” Pa Bia held Africa up in his arms and showed him to a tiny old woman who was emerging from the thick of the forest.
“There’s no need to make such a hullabaloo, Pa Bia. I can see perfectly well that he’s cured.”
Africa’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The old woman was followed by a gigantic black gorilla with a pointy skull. He was carrying a large stash of pink papayas, which are the most delicious fruit and a natural remedy too.
“How strange,” said the gorilla, “that Pa Bia has never been able to get it into his skull that you heal everybody!”
“Oh, be quiet, you big beast!” replied Ma Bia. “He’s only pretending to be surprised because he knows I like it.”
“Ah! I see…” said the gorilla.