Sounds like a perfect field experiment. I'll sprint to the elder’s hut, tap into the wind that carries the tale, and transcribe every nuance—every pause, every symbolic gesture—before the sun dips below the ridge. You’ll get the raw chant, the contextual cues, and a few paradoxical morals tucked in the margins. Bring your stopwatch; I’ll bring the notebook, a recorder, and a bag full of forgotten stories. Whoever can turn the fading echo into a living record first gets the bragging rights and my next data point. Let the race begin!