In the golden plains beyond the river Ayaba, where grasses danced like drums in the wind, lived a young antelope named Efa. His coat was the color of evening, his hooves light as feathers, and his eyes held a kind of quiet that made other animals pause before speaking.
Efa was not the strongest. He was not the loudest. But he was known for one thing—he waited.
No matter how hot the sun or tempting the path, Efa would wait if something felt wrong. When others rushed to drink from the stream, he waited for the wind. When the herds darted for new grazing, he waited for his heart to agree.
And because of this, many animals called him foolish.
“Why wait when the fruit is ripe?” the monkey would tease.
“Why stand still when you have legs to run?” the cheetah would scoff.
But Efa never responded. He just smiled and looked to the sky.
Because there was someone he waited for.
⸻
Long ago, under the Baobab of Echoes, Efa had met the Moon.
Not just the round face that glowed in the sky, but the spirit inside it a pale figure with laughter like falling rain and a voice as soft as dusk. She visited the plains every full moon to light the path of the night animals. Most never noticed her.
But Efa did.
He sat quietly when others slept. And so, he heard her stories. He listened to her songs. He even shared one of his own.
And the Moon liked him.
One night, she made a promise.
“When the time is right, you will know,” she whispered. “And I will light your way to something the others cannot see.”
Efa nodded. And from that night, he waited.
⸻
Seasons passed.
The moon came and went.
Other antelopes mated and moved on. Efa stayed.
One season, the drought came earlier than before. The rivers shrank. The trees grew bare. The animals began leaving the plains. Even the wise old elephant said, “This place has nothing left. Let us go.”
But Efa stood beneath the same tree and looked at the sky.
The others rolled their eyes.
Even the birds stopped singing.
Until one night the hottest night of the year clouds rolled back, and the moon rose bigger than it ever had. It pulsed gold and red, and from its heart came a gentle hum.
The Moon had returned.
⸻
She smiled when she saw Efa still waiting.
“You did not forget,” she said.
“Even when I wanted to,” Efa replied, “I remembered your voice.”
The Moon descended. And with her came a path of light that touched only one place in the plains—behind the ridge where the thorns grew thick.
“Follow it,” she said.
Efa nodded and leaped through the thorns.
On the other side, he found a valley untouched by drought. A hidden spring. Green grass. Wild fruit. A paradise no one had known.
He returned to the ridge and looked back.
Others had followed.
But the path had vanished.
Only Efa could see it.
⸻
The Moon spoke again.
“Those who wait with trust will see what others miss.”
And from that day, the plains began to change.
Animals whispered of Efa the antelope, who discovered the secret valley. Some called it luck. Some called it magic.
But Efa knew it was neither.
It was waiting.
⸻
Moral Lessons:
1. Patience is not weakness it is quiet strength.
2. When you listen deeply, you hear what others ignore.
3. Some treasures are not hidden they’re simply not rushed.
