The Secrete of Adventures of Nia: The Talking Baobab Tree

Nia was eight years old, curious, clever, and very good at finding trouble. Not serious trouble. Mostly small trouble. Like the time she tried to teach her grandmother’s chicken, General Kuku, how to climb a mango tree. General Kuku had not enjoyed it. Neither had the mango tree. “Nia!” Grandma called from the kitchen. “Where are you?” Nia froze. She stood beneath the mango tree with one foot on a stool and General Kuku under her arm. Around the chicken’s neck was Grandma’s best scarf. Grandma stepped outside and stared. “Nia,” she said slowly, “why is my chicken wearing my scarf?” “It makes her look important.” General Kuku strutted proudly. Grandma sighed. “Take it off and put the chicken back in the yard. And stay out of trouble.” “Of course!” said Nia. This was exactly what Nia always said before finding trouble. Their village lay between green hills and wide fields. Red-earth paths wound past small houses, grazing goats, and tall acacia trees. At the edge of the village stood an enormous baobab tree. Its trunk was so wide that six children holding hands could not reach around it. Everyone called it Mzee Mbao—the Old Tree. Grandma had several rules about it. “Don’t climb it.” “Don’t carve your name into it.” And the strangest rule of all: “Never answer if it calls your name.” Nia thought that rule was silly. Trees did not talk. At least, that was what she believed. Until Tuesday. That afternoon, Nia was walking home with her best friend, Timo. Timo was seven and afraid of almost everything—snakes, thunderstorms, Grandma’s goat, and once, a suspicious-looking sweet potato. “It was staring at me,” he had explained. Nia decided not to argue. “Race you to the baobab!” she shouted. “No!” But Nia was already running. When Timo finally arrived, Nia was sitting beneath Mzee Mbao. “I won,” she said. “I wasn’t racing.” “You were running.” “I was escaping.” “From what?” Timo looked around nervously. “I don’t know yet.” Nia laughed. Then they heard a voice. “Nia.” Both children froze. There was no one there. Only the baobab tree. “Nia,” the voice said again. Timo dropped his bag. “I knew this day would come.” “What day?” “The day something terrible happened to us.” The tree cleared its throat. “Ahem.” Nia screamed. Timo screamed. Birds flew from the branches. Then the tree said, “Must everyone scream?” Nia stared at it. “Did you just talk?” “No,” said the tree. “You definitely talked.” “Perhaps you imagined it.” Timo pointed at the tree. “Can imagination ask us to stop screaming?” The tree paused. “That is an excellent point.” Nia stepped closer. “You’re Mzee Mbao.” “Obviously.” “But trees can’t talk.” Mzee Mbao groaned. “Children these days. Always telling trees what they cannot do.” Timo picked up his bag. “I think we should go home.” “Why?” “Because the tree is talking!” “That is exactly why we should stay.” Timo sighed. “You are the reason I will have grey hair.” “You don’t have grey hair.” “Not yet.” Mzee Mbao’s branches rustled. “Children, I need your help.” One branch pointed toward the distant hills. “The Moonstone has been stolen.” “The what?” Timo asked. “The Moonstone. It keeps magic hidden.” “What magic?” Nia asked. The grass beside them sneezed. “Achoo!” A small blue creature with long ears and tiny wings popped out. “Hello,” it said. Timo fainted. When he woke up, the creature was eating one of his biscuits. “My name is Zuri,” it said. “I am a guardian of the hidden magic.” “You’re very small for a guardian,” said Nia. “I am not small!” General Kuku walked past him. Zuri was shorter than the chicken. “I am concentrated,” he said. Nia tried not to laugh. Mzee Mbao explained that long ago, magic flowed freely through the land. Animals spoke, streams sang, and rocks told terrible jokes. But people began using magic selfishly, so the Moonstone was created to hide the magical world. “Who stole it?” Nia asked. The branches became still. “A shadow.” Timo stood up. “Goodbye.” Nia grabbed his arm. “If the Moonstone isn’t returned?” “The hidden magic will escape,” said Zuri. “That sounds exciting,” said Nia. “It is not.” Zuri pointed at General Kuku. The chicken suddenly doubled in size. It looked down at them and opened its beak. “I WOULD LIKE MORE BISCUITS!” Everyone screamed. By sunset, General Kuku was normal again, although her feathers still sparkled. Grandma noticed. “Why is my chicken glowing?” Nia smiled nervously. “Healthy feathers?” That night, after Grandma fell asleep, Nia climbed through her window. Timo was waiting outside. “You’re coming?” Nia whispered. “No. I came to tell you that I am definitely not coming.” Zuri flew out of Nia’s pocket. “Excellent. We can leave now.” Timo sighed. “Fine.” They followed a trail of silver dust toward the hills. Soon, they reached a stream guarded by three very rude frogs. “Who goes there?” croaked the largest. “Nia and Timo.” The frog narrowed his eyes. “That was a tricky question.” “What?” “You failed.” “Failed what?” “The test.” Nia sighed. “Can we cross the stream?” “Only if you answer our riddle.” Timo groaned. The frog cleared his throat. “What has four legs in the morning, four legs in the afternoon, and four legs in the evening?” Nia stared at him. “That’s not the real riddle.” The frog blinked. “Oh.” Another frog whispered, “You forgot it again.” “Be quiet!” Nia crossed her arms. “Can we go now?” The frogs moved aside. “Yes.” As Nia and Timo crossed, the frogs shouted behind them: “WAIT! WE REMEMBERED THE RIDDLE!” They ran. Near midnight, they reached a cave beneath a rocky hill. Silver light glowed inside. “The Moonstone is there,” whispered Zuri. Timo took Nia’s hand. “Are you scared?” Nia wanted to say no. But her stomach felt full of jumping frogs. “Yes,” she admitted. Timo looked surprised. “You?” “Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared,” Nia said. “It means you keep going even when you are.” Timo sighed. “I dislike your inspirational speeches.” Nia smiled. “But?” “But let’s go.” Inside the cave, the Moonstone floated above a stone pedestal, glowing like a tiny moon. Between them and the stone stood a giant shadow. “WHO ENTERS?” it boomed. Timo whispered, “We should have stayed with the rude frogs.” Nia stepped forward. “My name is Nia.” “AND WHY HAVE YOU COME?” “For the Moonstone.” “IT IS MINE.” “No, it isn’t.” The shadow grew larger. “WHO WILL STOP ME?” Nia looked at Timo. Timo looked at Nia. Zuri hid behind General Kuku, who had somehow followed them again. Nia stepped forward. “We will.” The shadow laughed. But then Nia noticed something. It was shaking. Not with anger. With fear. “You’re scared,” Nia said. “I AM NOT.” “You are.” “I AM TERRIFYING.” “You’re also scared.” The shadow grew smaller. “Perhaps a little.” Nia lowered her voice. “Why did you take the Moonstone?” For a moment, the shadow said nothing. Then it whispered, “Because no one sees me.” Nia’s heart softened. “I am always behind everyone. Everyone runs away from me.” Timo raised his hand. “To be fair, you did grow very large and shout at us.” The shadow sniffled. “I am practicing.” Nia smiled. “You don’t have to scare people to make them notice you.” The shadow looked at her. “What else can I do?” “You could help people. You can protect them from the hot sun and guide them when the light is bright. You don’t have to be frightening to be important.” The shadow was quiet. “You really think I could?” “I know you could.” Slowly, the shadow moved aside. “You may take it.” Nia stepped toward the Moonstone, then turned back. “What is your name?” “I don’t have one.” Nia smiled. “Then how about Sefu?” The shadow repeated it softly. “Sefu.” For the first time, the shadow smiled. It was still a little frightening. But also kind. When Nia returned the Moonstone to Mzee Mbao, the ancient baobab began to glow. Golden light rushed through its branches. The grass danced. The stream sang. Far away, a rock shouted: “WHY DID THE ELEPHANT BRING A SUITCASE?” Everyone groaned. “See?” said Mzee Mbao. “Terrible jokes.” “The magic is safe!” Zuri shouted. General Kuku puffed out her chest. “I SAVED EVERYONE!” “You ate three biscuits,” said Timo. “EXACTLY.” As morning light rose over the hills, Mzee Mbao lowered a branch toward Nia and Timo. “You have done well.” Nia smiled. “Does this mean I can come back?” The tree paused. “Absolutely not.” Nia frowned. “But—” “Of course you can come back.” Timo looked horrified. “Can we not make this a regular thing?” Nia grinned. “Too late.” The tree’s leaves rustled with laughter. Then, high in its trunk, a tiny door appeared. Behind it were hundreds of glowing paths. Some led to hidden kingdoms. Some disappeared beneath rivers. Some climbed into the clouds. Nia stepped closer. “What is behind that door?” Mzee Mbao’s voice became a whisper. “That, Nia, is another adventure.” Nia smiled. Timo sighed. General Kuku demanded biscuits. And somewhere in the distance, a rock began another terrible joke. Nia took one step toward the magical door. Then another. Because the greatest adventures sometimes begin in ordinary places. You only have to be curious enough to discover them. And for Nia, this was only the beginning.