Nonna Aurelia Comes to the Savannah

Lou-Anne woke up to the smell of something amazing drifting through the morning breeze—basil, tomatoes, and something warm and comforting she couldn’t quite name. She rubbed her eyes and peeked outside her little hut near M’Pofo’s Mopani trees.

There, standing proudly in a bright red dress with flowers embroidered along the hem, was Nonna Aurelia—Lou-Anne’s great-aunt from Italy, who everyone simply called “Nonna.”

Her silver hair was pinned in a neat bun, her cheeks rosy, and she carried a basket so full of food it looked like she’d brought half of Italy with her.

“Ciao, mia stellina!” Nonna cried, opening her arms wide. “I have come to visit the Savannah and finally meet all your lovely friends!”

Marmalade trotted up first, sniffing Nonna’s shoes.

Nonna gasped. “Ah! Un gattino bellissimo!” She scooped him up before he could escape and kissed his head. He blinked, startled, but decided she was acceptable.

Soon, all the animals had gathered: M’Pofo, Ubejane, Vakawu, Kiera, Batenga, Dassie, Nuru, and Buhala—all staring curiously at the energetic Italian granny.

Nonna clapped her hands. “Buongiorno, miei amici! Today, we cook!”

The Great Savannah Pasta Lesson

Nonna Aurelia placed her basket on a flat rock and began pulling out ingredients: flour, eggs, tomatoes, herbs, garlic, and a rolling pin.

Vakawu sniffed the flour. “Is this magic dust?”

“Si,” Nonna said, patting his head. “The magic of pasta!”

M’Pofo tilted his head. “What is pasta?”

Nonna lifted her rolling pin like a wand. “It is food that brings joy, comfort, and family together. And today, we make it fresh.”

She poured flour into a mound and made a little well in the centre.

Lou-Anne cracked the eggs.

Dassie mixed with tiny, careful paws.

M’Pofo used his trunk to knead the dough—too enthusiastically—splattering flour everywhere.

Nonna laughed so hard tears gathered in her eyes. “You will make a beautiful chef, M’Pofo. Very… expressive!”

Once the dough was smooth, she rolled it out thinly. Kiera helped by holding down the edges, and Vakawu cut long strips (some were straight, some not at all—but Nonna said that made them “artistico”).

While the noodles dried in the sun, they made the sauce. Ubejane smashed tomatoes with his horn—surprisingly gently—and Batenga tossed basil into the pot with dramatic flair. Marmalade sat proudly guarding the cheese.

When everything was ready, Nonna tasted the sauce. She kissed her fingers into the air. “Perfetto!”

A Feast Under the Baobab

They set up a long table under the baobab tree. The warm breeze carried the smell of fresh pasta across the Savannah. Birds landed nearby, curious. Even the butterflies seemed to hover over the bowls of steaming food.

Nonna served everyone, including Marmalade (who got his own tiny dish).

M’Pofo took a bite and his eyes widened. “This… this… is incredible!”

Ubejane nodded seriously. “I approve of this food.”

Vakawu twirled noodles around his twig fork. “I feel like a fancy jungle monkey.”

Nonna patted her chest proudly. “In Italy, we eat with joy! Here, we do the same.”

Lou-Anne hugged her. “I’m so glad you came to visit.”

Nonna kissed her forehead. “My sweet girl, wherever family is, that is home. And today, the Savannah is my home too.”

As the sun set in warm orange and gold, the animals lounged around the tree with full bellies, happy hearts, and flour still stuck in their fur.

Nonna Aurelia leaned back in her chair, smiling at the stars beginning to appear.

“What a beautiful place,” she whispered. “I think I’ll stay a little while.”

And everyone cheered.