THE WHISPERING CAVE

I set out for my hike early in the morning; the early hours in the African bush are truly magical. The dew on the grasses glistens in the early morning sun, and the comforting cooing sounds of doves call one to the other. A variety of different birds burst into a cacophony of song seemingly competing with each other and celebrating the new day, their melodies sharper and louder in the crystal clear air, soon many would be silenced as the heat of the noonday sun quells the frenetic activity only to be overtaken by the sawing, shrilling sounds of cicadas. It was also the time when I would rest in a small cave or shelter in the shade. My day pack carried all I needed to sustain and protect me, including an emergency blanket, a first aid kit, and various rations. Two canisters of water were strapped to my waist.

I grew up in the African bush and had developed a keen understanding of the natural environment and appreciation for the wilderness around me. Our remote home was surrounded by large granite outcrops, known colloquially as Koppies. Formations were created eons ago when magma was gradually exposed, allowing indigenous vegetation to develop and thrive. The crevices among the rocks and boulders acted as nature's reservoirs, nurturing a seemingly endless variety of aloes, grasses, and trees that twisted their way up and through the large granite lichen-covered boulders, scattered like giant marbles across the undulating, rugged hills. Sturdy Mopani trees dotted the ridges and hillsides, with their twisted branches extending higher to claim their share of sunlight in the life-giving process of photosynthesis. Their wide umbrella canopies provided shade and shelter for bush-dwelling creatures and succulent plants. Here and there, giant boabab trees dotted the landscape. Some of the crevices had widened into small caves, offering places of sanctuary.

I had found a small rock overhang commanding a panoramic view of the shimmering bushveld below. On the rocky faces in the small cave, evidence of some ancient bush art was barely visible on the rough walls. After resting for a while, I ventured into the cave to get a closer look at the small, scarcely distinguishable ochre coloured stick-like figures. Some of the figures were on the ceiling of the cave; I wondered how the ancient artists had managed to reach up and make their marks. The back of the cave was cool. I noticed spoor marks on the sandy floor. Clearly, a leopard had dwelt here recently. I peered into the back of the cave to ensure I had not accidentally trapped one inside, but apart from the musty smell, it seemed that this shelter had been abandoned.

The floor under me suddenly gave way; I found myself tumbling down a slippery, rocky slope. I was sliding down on my back, the day pack giving me some protection as I fell ever deeper into the depths. I couldn’t see much; the light from above was fading rapidly as I descended ever deeper. I landed with a thump on a sandy floor next to a large pool of water. A shaft of light streamed down onto the pool, giving me enough light to take in the surroundings. It was cool, a light breeze coming over the water from a wide tunnel on the other side of the deep blue pool. Gathering my thoughts and checking that I was all in one piece with no injuries, apart from scraped elbows, I stepped into the knee-deep water. Step by step, I tentatively made my way to the other side. The tunnel stretched ahead of me with shafts of light guiding my way. Stalagmites stood like a row of sentries along the narrow rock shelf alongside the rocky floor colours of the rainbow reflecting onto the wall. It was like entering a fantasy land, the colours on the walls becoming more vibrant as I made my way along the tunnel.

I heard a soft humming or chant; I wasn’t sure which. I tried to make sense of the sound, which was increasing in volume as I moved closer to the source. It was unlike any sound I could recognise. It could have been cave-dwelling insects or small animals, or was it human-like, I questioned. I proceeded cautiously, going deeper and deeper into the recess with no end. The humming got louder, it felt that I was getting closer as the volume increased, it continued echoing through the tunnel, suddenly switching direction and now coming at me from behind, had I passed the source. I stopped and looked behind me; I backtracked, as soon as I did the sound changed direction, resuming its hum in the original direction. As I made my way forward, the sound halted abruptly. I had felt this phenomenon before, cicadas humming with a deafening frequency, only to fall silent as you approached them and then start up again when the perceived threat had passed.

I knew that cicadas laid eggs above ground in trees and crevices with their eggs falling to the ground and then burrowing down where they lay dormarnat for some years before emerging above ground and starting the breeding cycle again, I thought that I was perhaps too far underground for this noise to be from cicadas which would be in their embryo state unless unbeknown they also hatched underground. In any event, I welcomed the quiet once more, continuing my journey.

The tunnel eventually opened up into a massive underground cave. Stalagmites and stalactites glistened like crystals in my torchlight as I took in the majesty of the underground wonderland. A new sound started, the sound of whispering, echoing in the recesses of the cave. I tried to identify the origin of this human-like sound, but was faced with nothingness in front of me as I swung the torch beam around. The moving of the torchlight made the whispering even more intense as the beam traversed its way over the granite wall. I switched off the torch and stood in the uncanny darkness for a moment. The whispering sound stopped. The sound resumed as soon as I switched the torch back on, but if I kept the beam in one place, the sound was not as intense as it was when I moved the beam around. I clambered over the rocks to the base of the cave to see if I could make anything of what I was hearing. The closer I got to the base of the cave, the whispering grew quieter, and over it, I could hear my breathing and heartbeat, which had quickened with this unexpected discovery. The eeriness of the cave was profound. While I was curious to discover more of this unknown underground world, I was panicked enough to realise that I needed to escape and find my way to the surface. I turned to leave in the direction that I had entered the cave, and as I did, the whispering grew louder. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as I hurried to leave, and as I did, the whispering increased in intensity; it seemed to be following me, surrounding me with its disturbing sound. I crouched down where I was and covered my ears with my hands, blocking out the alarming, unsettling sound.

I switched off the torch and was now in complete darkness and silence once more, the darkness so thick that I could feel it clawing at me like the fine threads of a spider web. I needed to escape this trap, I rummaged in my backpack to find tissues and screwing these into a ball I plugged my ears and pulled my beanie tight over my ears. I retraced my steps, as I made my way along the tunnel, I noticed a pinpoint of light. I wanted to find the pool that I had crossed earlier, but was in a rush to leave and decided to make my way to the pinpoint of light that was getting closer as I continued and quickened my pace, wanting to escape the claustrophobic underground world I had fallen into. Finally, after what felt like hours, it opened up into a small cave that was open to the outside world and a brilliant blue sky. I sat down with relief, trying to collect my thoughts. What had I just seen. Was it an ancient burial ground or sacred place lying undiscovered deep under the African bush. I had no doubt now that the sounds I heard were human, although I am a paranormal sceptic, I was sure that the whispering sounds were warning me not to linger. African culture is rich in folklore, myths, and superstitions.

Many centuries earlier, humans had built rock shelters in the hills, which had lain undiscovered until the early 20th century. The small scattering of the ruins was thought to belong to an ancient culture or Arab traders as they travelled southwards in search of riches and to capture slaves. The cave I had accidentally discovered may have been related to that era, carrying the secrets of the past.

Today, the indigenous people no longer live among the granite koppies, preferring instead the fertile plains below. I looked across the plains below to plot my homeward trek and decided that the secret may best be kept away from any further intervention.

Before me, an ancient baobab tree reached up, its branches spread out like gnarled fingers, reminding me of the ancient folklore that said the trees were uprooted by the devil and planted upside down; this one, perhaps, planted as a sentry to warn off intruders.

A grey Loerie looked at me from a nearby branch, ‘gweh, gweh, it called repeatedly. The grey Loerie in popular culture in this part of Africa is known as the ‘go away’ bird, the sound it appears to make as it sings ‘gweh, ghew.

It took me a few moments to realise I was utterly and completely lost.

END