For weeks, I had been trying to communicate with my little orphan baby monkey, Bibi. She was rescued after losing her mother in the wild, and ever since, she’d been quiet, frightened, and unsure about everything around her. When I first brought her home, her eyes were filled with confusion and fear — the kind of fear only an orphaned baby knows. Every sound made her flinch. Every movement made her hide her tiny face behind her little arms.
I promised her that she would never be alone again. But promises take time to prove, especially to a heart that has already been broken.
Each morning, I’d greet her softly. “Good morning, Bibi,” I’d whisper as I opened the curtains to let in the light. Sometimes she’d look at me; sometimes she’d pretend not to hear. I’d give her milk, warm and sweet, and sit beside her while she drank it slowly. Then, I’d talk to her — not expecting a response, just wanting her to get used to my voice.
Days passed. Weeks went by. Still, she stayed mostly silent.
But then came that day. The day that would completely change how I saw her — and how she saw me.
It started like any other morning. The sun was shining through the bamboo leaves outside the window. Birds were chirping softly. I walked into Bibi’s room carrying her milk bottle. She was sitting in the corner of her soft blanket, holding her tiny stuffed bear, looking sleepy but calm.
“Good morning, Bibi,” I said, smiling.
Usually, she would blink once or twice and turn her face away. But this time, something different happened. She stared straight at me. Her eyes seemed a little brighter, more focused.
“Bibi,” I said again, gently, “Are you hungry?”
And then — she made a sound.
It wasn’t a random squeak or cry like before. It was short, soft, and timed perfectly after my question.
“Ee-eh,” she chirped.
I froze. My heart skipped a beat.
“Did you… did you just answer me?” I whispered, kneeling down beside her.
Her little head tilted to the side, and she blinked at me again — curious, like she could sense my surprise.
So I tried again. “Bibi, want milk?”
“Eh-eh!” she squeaked, louder this time, bouncing a little.
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
For the next few minutes, I tested it again and again.
“Bibi, do you love milk?” — “Ehh!”
“Do you love Daddy?” — “Eee!”
“Do you want banana?” — a happy squeal, followed by her clapping her tiny hands!
I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
For the first time, it felt like she was really talking to me — in her own little monkey way. It wasn’t words, of course, but it was communication. A connection. A miracle.
From that day on, things began to change quickly.
Bibi started following me everywhere I went. When I’d walk into the kitchen, she’d hop behind me, her little feet pattering on the floor. If I looked back and said, “Bibi, come!” she’d squeal and run even faster.
She began to understand small routines — when it was bath time, feeding time, or nap time. And every time I called her name, she’d answer.
“Bibi!”
“Eee!”
Her responses became part of our daily life, our language — half human, half monkey, but filled with love.
One afternoon, while we were outside under the big mango tree, something even more incredible happened. I was sitting on the grass, talking to her softly while she played with some leaves. Suddenly, I asked, “Where’s your ball, Bibi?”
She paused, looked around, and then — to my astonishment — she picked up her little yellow ball and brought it to me!
I couldn’t believe it. My orphan baby monkey was not only answering me but also understanding me.
I hugged her tightly. “You’re such a smart girl,” I whispered. She chirped happily, nuzzling against my cheek as if to say, I know.
That night, as I watched her sleeping peacefully in her blanket, I couldn’t help but think about how far she had come.
When I first met Bibi, she was too weak to even lift her head. Her tiny body trembled at the sound of a human voice. The trauma of losing her mother had left her fragile and frightened. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t play, wouldn’t make a sound.
I remembered those first nights — staying up late, holding her close, whispering soft words into her ear while she cried silently. I would hum gentle tunes to help her fall asleep. Sometimes, she’d cling to my finger, refusing to let go even after she drifted off.
Those were hard days. But they were the start of our bond.
And now, here she was — answering me, understanding me, trusting me.
The next morning, I recorded a short video of her for my friends. I said, “Bibi, good morning!” and she answered, “Eee!” Everyone who saw it couldn’t believe it.
“She really talks back to you!” one of my friends laughed.
“It’s like she knows exactly what you’re saying!” another commented.
I smiled, knowing that behind that cute little sound was a long journey — a story of love, healing, and patience.
Now, every day with Bibi feels like a small miracle.
When I cook, she sits nearby, watching me curiously. If I ask, “Bibi, are you hungry?” she immediately answers with her cheerful “Ehh!” and bounces up and down.
When she sees her reflection in the mirror, she points and looks back at me as if asking, “Who’s that?” And when I say, “That’s you, Bibi!” she giggles and hides behind my arm.
It’s impossible not to smile around her.
Sometimes, late at night, when everything is quiet, I talk to her softly — just like I did in the beginning.
“You know, Bibi,” I tell her, “I never thought this day would come. You were so scared, so tiny. And now look at you — brave, smart, full of life.”
She blinks sleepily, and then, with a little stretch, she makes that familiar sound: “Eee…”
It’s her way of saying, I’m here. I hear you.
And I whisper back, “I hear you too.”
It’s unbelievable, really — how one small orphaned creature can change your world so completely. Bibi may not speak human words, but she has found her own way to communicate love.
Her first “answer” to me wasn’t just a sound; it was a bridge — the moment she decided to trust, to connect, and to begin a new life.
Every time she responds now, I’m reminded that love doesn’t need a language. It just needs patience, kindness, and a heart willing to listen.
And that’s what makes this story truly unbelievable. 😱❤️🐒
