by Rolli –
One of my missions has always been to teach Kabungo how to read. It’s really a shame that a ten-year-old girl who lives in a cave on Main Street can’t read, write, or even sign her name. If you think teaching a cave-girl sounds hard, though, well, think harder. Think impossible. Because it’s practically impossible to teach someone something when they keep eating bugs and smelling your hair. Impossible or not, though, I’ll keep trying. As my Uncle George always says, sooner or later, even impossible takes a nap.
About a month back, I headed to the cave with some books under my arm. They were all picture books; Kabungo doesn’t have much patience for words. I tried reading her a novel once, but she just said, “Yak, yak, yak,” and threw it across the room.
We started out that day with Animals A-Z, an alphabet book. My friend lit the fire, and then sat down on the floor next to me.
It didn’t go very well, I’m afraid. Kabungo tried to eat the apple in “A for Apple.” When we got to “E for Elephant,” she hid under the table and wouldn’t come out until I promised her elephants weren’t real. That counts as a lie, I know. But when it comes to teaching a cave-girl, lying is sometimes necessary.
After she almost strangled the “S for snake” page, I decided to call it a day. I was just about to shut the book when Kabungo stopped me.
“What?” she said, pointing at the next page.
“That,” I said, “is a tiger. T for tiger.”
“Mmm,” said my friend, chewing her finger. When Kabungo’s thinking, she always looks straight up and chews her finger. “Want that,” she said finally, nodding hard.
“You want a tiger, K?” I sometimes call her K, for short.
She nodded even harder.
“Ya. Soft. Tiger soft nice, Belly.” Kabungo always calls me Belly. She has trouble saying “Beverly.”
I carefully explained to my friend that tigers are large and dangerous creatures and only live in India, or in zoos, but I could tell she wasn’t listening. When Kabungo isn’t listening, she gets these bubble eyes, and I just know there’s a thought bubble over her head with a tiger in it, or a pork chop, or whatever she’s thinking about at the time. It’s frustrating.
I wanted to keep reading, but Kabungo wouldn’t even let me turn the page. She just kept staring at the picture of the tiger and trying to brush its fur. So I told her that, if she wanted, I could bring her a whole book about tigers. That got her attention.
“Ya, ya, Belly,” she said. “Bring me. Go.”
So I gathered up the books (but not the alphabet book, which she still wouldn’t give back), and headed out. I was just stepping into the sunlight when a voice from behind said, “Oh, Belly?”
“Yes, K?” I said, looking back.
“Bring tiger, too.”
And before I could answer, she ducked back into the shadows.
Finding a tiger for a cave-girl was really not how I’d planned on spending my afternoon. Luckily, I had an idea.
If you took a candy store and a medicine store and about a hundred other stores and smushed them together, what you’d probably end up with is Gobshaw’s Drug Shop. It’s right on the corner of Main Street.
Mr. Gobshaw is a great guy. Even though he has no hair, he never quits smiling. His favorite thing to say to people is, “Welcome! We have everything!” And it’s true. So when I walked into his store and asked him if he had any tigers, it’s not like I thought he wouldn’t. I just wanted to know where to look.
“Of course we have tigers!” he cried. “They’re next to the breath mints.”
I checked out the tigers—stuffed, of course—and picked the one that looked the strongest. Kabungo can be a little rough with her toys.
“Circus is in town,” said Mr. Gobshaw, as he handed me my change.
“Is it?” I said. I’ve never really liked circuses too much. They’re crowded. Also, they smell bad.
“Yup.” He stuffed the tiger into a bag. “Mossgrove’s Orange Circus. All week. How about a couple tickets?”
“No thanks,” I said.
“You sure? I can give ‘em to you for half price.”
“How much are they?” I asked. Not that I really wanted any.
“They’re free,” said Mr. Gobshaw. “For kids they’re always free.”
“It’s a good deal! I’d take it!” said Mrs. Gobshaw, popping her head out of the back room then popping it right back in again. I don’t know too much about Mrs. Gobshaw. Just that she’s always appearing and disappearing.
Mr. Gobshaw crossed his arms. “You drive a hard bargain. I’ll tell you what. You can have ‘em, for seventy-five percent off.”
“Off of free?” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“Yup,” said Mr. Gobshaw. “And that’s my final offer.”
I thought about it. But I didn’t really need the tickets. And being best friends with a cave-girl, I just didn’t have the time.
“Nah,” I said. “But thanks anyway.”
“Sold!” cried Mr. Gobshaw. He stuck two tickets into my bag and handed it to me. “Thanks for shopping at Gobshaw’s Drug Shop. Remember, we have everything!”
As I walked out of the store, I looked back. Mr. Gobshaw had a big smile on his face. He has a pretty strange sense of humor. I’ve always liked that about him.
Next, I crossed the street to the Star City Public Library and picked out a picture book called Twylla and the Tiger. I stuck that in the bag with the stuffed animal and made my way to the cave.
When I knocked on the wall, though, there was no answer.
I knocked again. No answer again. I thought that was strange. Kabungo’s more of a stay-at-home kind of cave-girl.
Maybe she’s still asleep, I thought, letting myself in. But when I saw the fire burning bright, I knew that couldn’t be true, either.
“K?” I said, looking around. “K?”
“Go way!” said a scared-sounding voice.
“K? Is that you? Where are you?”
“Go way…elphant!”
The voice was coming from under the table. I crouched down. Kabungo was sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest, shivering.
“Oh, Belly!” she cried, when she saw me.
“Oh, Kabungo,” I sighed, shaking my head.
It took a while, but I eventually calmed my friend down. I even got her to come out from under the table, but that was only by promising her, again, that elephants aren’t real. Then we sat down by the fire, and I pulled out Twylla and the Tiger.
“Ya, ya!” said Kabungo right away. “Bring tiger too, Belly?”
I told her I did bring her a tiger, but first we had to read the book.
Kabungo chewed her finger.
“Oh kay,” she said at last. “Go, go!”
As I read the book, an amazing thing happened. Kabungo actually sat still. She paid attention. She listened, quietly. She was so excited to get to the next page and the next that she sometimes flipped the page for me. I was impressed. The key to learning might be tigers.
“Now tiger, Belly?” my friend said, as I put the book away. “Tiger, right? Member?”
I took a deep breath, pulled the tiger out of the bag, passed it to her, and took another deep breath. You just never know how a cave-girl is going to react.
As Kabungo examined the tiger, I watched her face carefully. She didn’t make her sweet face, which means she likes something. She didn’t make her sour face, either. She really didn’t make any face at all. She just flipped the tiger over a few times, sniffed it once, and then threw it into the fire.
“Kabungo!” I cried. “That cost $6.99!”
“Nope,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not. Tiger. Not real. Real tiger, Belly. Try better. Go.”
And before I could say “but” my friend took me by the hand, walked me out of the cave, and waved goodbye.
I took the long way home that night so I could think. I just didn’t know what to do about the tiger situation. I was ninety-three percent sure Kabungo didn’t fully understand what a tiger was, how big it was, how dangerous. And the only possible way to teach her would be…to show her a real tiger.
That was it. I was so sure I had a light bulb over my head, I almost reached up and checked. But instead I reached down into my bag and pulled out the pair of tickets to Mossgrove’s Orange Circus.
Thinking back, probably the biggest mistake of my life was taking Kabungo to the circus. Even remembering it gives me a headache. So I’m just going to mention the important stuff.
When Kabungo saw Ms. Huffness wearing her ostrich coat, she shouted, “Turkey bird! Mmm! Mmm!” and chased her up and down the street until the woman threw off her coat and jumped into a taxi. That made the security guard say, “This is your first warning, kid.”
When Kabungo saw The Astonishing Mossgrove walk out with his acrobatic elephant, she hid under her chair and kicked and screamed until the elephant ran back into its cage, and the security guard said, “This is your second warning, kid.”
When Kabungo finally saw Louis—that was the tiger’s name—she looked at me angrily and said, “Nope. Not. Tiger. Too big. Tiger small nice, Belly. Soft. Try better.” Then she stood on her chair and booed until the security guard looked at her like he was about to say, “This is your third and final warning, kid.” But he didn’t have to. Because Kabungo grabbed me by the hand and practically dragged me back to the cave.
I took the extra-long way back home just to relax and really think. It’s not that I’m easily frustrated, it’s just that, well, Kabungo is easily frustrating. Sometimes I get so mad at her, I want to move to Cincinnati. But then when I think of how helpless she’d be without me, in her big lonesome cave, I forget all about being mad and go right back to loving her.
I’ve always found that, when you’re just not sure what to do, it pays to look at a bulletin board. They help take your mind off things and they’re full of useful information. There’s a huge bulletin board on Main Street, next to the Post Office, so on my long walk home that night, I stopped to look it over. There were only a few signs up that I hadn’t seen before. The first was written in scratchy handwriting:
The Pumpkins Are Ready. Are You? Come See Miss VeDore. 318 Main Street.
Miss VeDore is an old woman who sells pumpkins. I’m a little bit frightened of her. The second sign said:
MOSSGROVE’S ORANGE CIRCUS IS IN TOWN! COME SEE THE ASTONISHING–
I groaned and moved on to the last poster:
Free Kitten. Bright Orange. Contact Mr. Banbury (The Big Green House).
I smiled. Because I had another idea.
So there I was the next morning, standing outside the cave, with an orange kitten in my hands. A big part of me wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing. Like I said, there’s just no way to predict how a cave-girl is going to react. Based on what she did to the stuffed tiger, I knew I’d have to be extra careful introducing the kitten to Kabungo.
On the way there, I’d dreamed up this big plan where I’d pretend the kitten was mine, just to see what she thought of it, and only let her hold it once I was completely sure it was safe, and if that went well, to let her babysit it, maybe. But none of that mattered in the end. Because the second Kabungo saw the orange kitten, she loved it.
“Ya, ya! Tiger! That! Me! Best try, Belly! Oh, Belly! Best!”
I’ve still never seen Kabungo so excited about anything. She hugged me about a dozen times and then, as she took the kitten from me—and she did it so slowly, and gently—she was just shaking with excitement. She was almost crying. Kabungo just instantly adored that kitten. And to judge by the purring, the kitten felt the same way about her.
“What are you going to name him, K?” I said, wiping my eye.
“Huh?” She was hardly paying attention she was so busy petting her new friend.
“Every tiger needs a name.”
Kabungo looked straight up and bit her finger.
“Bun,” she said, finally.
“Bun?” I gave her a funny look.
“Ya.”
I gave her a funnier look.
“Why Bun, Kabungo?”
She bit her finger again. It’s amazing it doesn’t have a hole in it.
“Dunno,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. I’ve asked her a few times since then, but she just says, “Yak ,yak, yak,” till I stop talking. For a while, I thought maybe the kitten felt soft and warm like a fresh bun and that was the reason. But I doubt Kabungo has ever eaten a bun before. I made her a cake once, but she just sniffed it and said “Blak!” She’s more of a meat and potato cave-girl.
I gave Kabungo a long lecture about food and water and toys and all the things tigers like. But she was just too amazed and in love at the moment that all she said was, “Soft. Nice. Tiger. Nice. Soft,” over and over. So I decided to leave the two of them alone for a while.
After lunch, I went to check on them. As I got closer the cave, though, I could hear a voice. It sounded like Kabungo was talking to someone. I decided to investigate.
I tiptoed into the cave.
I saw Kabungo sitting by the fire with Bun on her lap, and Animals A-Z opened up on the floor in front of them. There were two bowls close by, one filled with water and one with some kind of meat. Kabungo was petting Bun, and reading to him.
“C fir Cake, Bun,” she said. “Blak. Not tasty.”
She turned the page.
“D fir Drogon,” she said. Actually, the D was for Dinosaur, but that was pretty close. I was impressed.
My friend kept reading.
“E fir … Elphant. Shh Bun, kay? Not real. Shh. Safe cave, kay? Shh.”
Bun purred. Kabungo flipped the page. And I tiptoed back into the sunlight.
the end.
Question Time:
- What did Kabungo want Beverly to get for her?
- What did Kabungo do with the stuffed tiger?
- What happened at the circus?
- How did Kabungo react to the kitten?
More Kabungo Stories
Kabungo and the Pumpkin, Part One
