When Elephants Fight

by Majok Tulba

  But we’re safe, for now. Thiko and I are on the same branch, with Chieng opposite. We sit there listening to the lion pace below. I have to hold my knees together to stop them shaking.

  ‘Juba,’ Thiko says at last, ‘how can I ever thank you? For waiting for me. That was so brave of you.’

  ‘I’d face a lion a thousand times for you,’ I tell her, and I’m aware of Chieng looking at me with guilt, surely thinking he shouldn’t have left us behind.

  We stay put and the minutes drag on. The sun burns down through the canopy. I long to be back in the water but we can go nowhere until the lion leaves. I think about how Majok once told me there was a certain stick in the forest that lions fear. I wish he’d shown me which tree it came from. If Grandpa were here, he’d have killed this lion with his spear.

  Eventually the lion moves to a rise a short distance away and lies down. I can see its ribcage expanding and falling as if he’s asleep. He’s trying to trick us.

  The sun has moved across the sky before the lion finally gets up and walks off, tail lashing one way then the other. We wait a little longer, just to be sure. When at last we decide to get down I discover that my muscles are locked. The others look as uncomfortable as I feel.

  I go down first, but not all the way. I break a branch and throw it into the grass to see if it draws the lion out. We all hold still and quiet, waiting, but the only sounds are the rustling of leaves and the call of crickets and birds. The lion seems to have left. I lower myself to the ground and peer around, ready to jump back up into the tree if I have to.

  I stay like that for a couple of minutes and then I’m convinced. The lion is gone.

  Thiko is next down, but Chieng, Koko and Bagic are still clinging to the trunk.

  ‘We don’t want to come down,’ Chieng says.

  ‘But we agreed,’ says Thiko. ‘We have to keep moving. Look, it’s okay. Juba and I did it. Now it’s your turn.’

  There’s no response from the tree. Thiko looks at me, eyebrows raised. ‘I thought boys were supposed to be brave,’ she says.

  ‘I heard that!’ Chieng shouts. ‘You’re a girl, by the way!’

  ‘And yet I’m not the one who won’t come down from the tree. You’re afraid, aren’t you?’ Thiko says.

  ‘I’m not afraid!’

  ‘Then be a man and come down.’

  Chieng peers at her, a hard look on his face. ‘You better watch your mouth,’ he says.

  But Thiko’s taunting has worked. Chieng climbs down and Koko and Bagic follow.

  ‘Let’s get going,’ I say.

  Koko falls in step beside me. ‘Are we going to be safe?’ he whispers.

  I squeeze his shoulder and tell him the only thing I can. ‘Yes, Koko. We’re going to be safe.’

  The sun is lowering now, reflecting off the surface of the stream. We all take a long drink and I wash my wounds, and the cuts on Koko’s knee and hand. Then we keep walking, on the same side of the stream and close to it. Vultures follow us, circling high above. This is a bad omen. They’re waiting for one of us to drop dead so they can feast.

  The further we walk, the more the landscape changes. We pass through grassy areas with few trees, then areas dense with trees and no tall grass. Then we come to a place where the land lies before us like a divine fingerprint, curving around short trees and bushes, and beyond the wall of green is a mountain.

  When we reach the foot of the mountain we find a cave. A few trees twist out of one side, with leaves as hard as thorns. It’s a good place to spend the night but we don’t know what else might be spending the night here.

  Chieng picks up a stone and throws it inside. It echoes as it lands and four bats fly out. We wait, and when nothing else appears we go in. The ground crunches beneath our feet and it feels as if we’re walking on tiny bones. The cave seems to curve its way like a snake deeper into the mountain, but we don’t want to go in too far. The darkness further in is like an invisible force, waiting to squeeze the life out of us.

  We try to make ourselves comfortable, huddling together to keep the cold at bay. I miss the presence of the moon. I take Thiko’s hand. I know she’s afraid of the dark.

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ I whisper, and she squeezes my hand.

  It isn’t long before the sound of heavy breathing coming from Chieng, Koko and Bagic tells me they’re fast asleep. My own eyelids grow heavy.

  ‘I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell us about Waterman,’ Thiko says in as low a voice as possible. ‘And I can’t believe he’s dead.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to scare everyone. I would have told you privately.’

  ‘So you’re okay with scaring me?’ Her tone is lighter now.

  ‘I know it’s hard to scare you! Except with the dark. And I don’t want to keep secrets from you.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Thiko says. ‘We should never keep secrets from each other.’

  She falls quiet for a while.

  ‘So did Waterman actually get eaten by the lion? Did you see it?’

  ‘No. We both just ran, in opposite directions.’ I don’t want to tell Thiko more. I don’t want to hear those noises again in my head. I never even want to think about those awful noises again.

  ‘What do you think is going to happen to us, Juba?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, trying not to sound desperate. ‘We just have to keep believing that we’ll find people from Pacong soon. And that our family will be among them. And we’ll all make it to the refugee camp.’ I’m not sure how much of this I believe myself.

  Thiko’s hand is warm in mine even though the rest of me is shivering. Something crawls over my shoulder and I brush it off.

  ‘I’m glad we’re together at least,’ she says, her voice thick with tiredness now.

  ‘Me too.’ I’m so tired myself but it’s difficult to let sleep take hold when there are bugs crawling over me. First the one on my shoulder, then another. Or maybe the same one has landed on my neck. Now it feels like there’s one crawling down my back. I try to swat it away but it’s out of reach. I’m about to ask Thiko if she’s still awake, if she can get the bug off me, when a sharp burning pierces my flesh.

  I yelp and scoot away. I know that sensation: scorpion. I twist around frantically but still can’t get it off.

  ‘What, what?’ Thiko is leaping to her feet.

  Chieng and the boys are awake now, saying groggily, ‘Huh?’

  ‘Scorpion!’ I shriek. Then somehow I brush it off. I hear it hit the ground and scuttle away in the darkness.

  Chieng and the boys bolt out of the cave. Thiko urges me to follow them, but the pain is spreading rapidly as the poison courses through my bloodstream, and my limbs don’t want to work. Thiko manages to drag me outside and under a tree.

  ‘Sit,’ she says.

  ‘I don’t know if I can,’ I gasp. My muscles feel like they’re locked in a spasm, like they’re about to explode.

  Gently but firmly she pushes me down. The pain settles in my groin. My skin is boiling. I writhe on the ground, moaning, near tears. I bite back the bloodcurdling scream I want to unleash, thinking of the wild animals or the soldiers that could be lurking.

  ‘Shh,’ says Thiko, and I close my eyes to try to escape the pain. My legs shake, my teeth are clattering. I will go crazy if I don’t stay calm. I want to stop shaking but the pain makes it hard to. My stomach is cold. I want to sleep. I want to dream – nice safe dreams. I think of the greenness of the fields of Pacong, the rolling brown hills baking beneath a spring sun, the giggling of happy children in the marketplace, the warm Nile breeze caressing me. Then I am in bed, curled beneath my blankets, Mama’s cool hand on my forehead. Mama hugs me and kisses the top of my head.

  When I wake it’s light and the pain has subsided some. My back still hurts but it’s tolerable. Sometimes a scorpion bite can be fatal, but I know it’s not very common.

  ‘Do you think you can get up?’ Thiko asks. She wipes her palm gently across my forehe
ad, eyes full of concern.

  I stretch one leg, then the other. My muscles have relaxed a bit. My skin doesn’t boil as much. Thiko helps me to my feet and at last the five of us set off, doing our best to avoid things that bite and sting. Chieng keeps asking if I’m okay and it wears on my patience.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I snap.

  But a few minutes later he asks again. ‘How do you feel? Do you want to stop?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to stop. We need to keep going.’

  He nods, as if this time my answer is acceptable. We walk on, although our pace is slow.

  ‘Juba?’ Chieng says. ‘You okay? You don’t look good.’

  I glare at him without answering. I know he’s feeling guilty but his way of trying to make up for it is irritating.

  We walk for a long time without a word passing between Chieng and me. The pain in my back returns in waves. One moment it feels like it’s almost gone and then it starts up again. When dusk falls we find a clearing and Chieng starts a fire.

  The flames grow high, licking at the darkness. They keep us warm but do nothing to sate our hunger. We haven’t come across anything to eat all day. I try not to think about how good a piece of chicken would be right now.

  When we’re ready to sleep we gather leaves and pile them together for makeshift pillows. I lie down with my eyes wide open. No matter how hard I try, I can’t relax. We’ve lurched from one danger to the next. So far we’ve managed to stay alive, but how long can we keep being lucky? What if tonight the soldiers find us? We haven’t heard any gunfire today but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.

  As if she can hear my thoughts, Thiko says, ‘You know, even though we’ve escaped the government soldiers, there are still rebel soldiers around here. Do you ever think about that?’

  Chieng isn’t asleep yet either. ‘If it’s the rebels I’ll join them,’ he says. ‘If it’s the government soldiers I’ll fight to the death.’

  Thiko snorts. ‘No you won’t, Chieng.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m brave enough?’ he says, indignant.

  ‘If you were, you wouldn’t be here with us,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, what a surprise, you’re taking Thiko’s side.’ Chieng turns over, his back facing us.

  Thiko takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I like how holding hands has become a regular thing between us. I smile up at the starry mess above. The moon is bright in the middle of the sky, casting a milky glow across everything.

  Thiko is gone when I wake next morning. The other three are still asleep. I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, but I can’t see her anywhere.

  I go over to Chieng and nudge him with my foot. He stirs but doesn’t open his eyes. I nudge him harder.

  ‘Let me sleep,’ he mumbles.

  ‘You have to get up, Thiko is missing.’ I look around again. ‘Thiko!’ I call.

  And just as Chieng is getting to his feet, we hear a rustling and Thiko bursts out from the bushes with a smile on her face.

  ‘Berries!’ she cries. ‘I’ve found berries! Come on!’

  That wakes Koko and Bagic, and we follow Thiko to the berries. We stuff them into our mouths as we pick them, juice dripping down our chins.

  ‘I don’t think anything I’ve ever eaten has tasted this good,’ I say between mouthfuls.

  ‘I know, but don’t eat too many,’ Thiko says. ‘You’ll get sick. Pace yourself.’

  ‘But they’re so good,’ Chieng says, his own mouth full.

  Koko and Bagic are eating just as quickly and finally Thiko says, ‘No more,’ and blocks their hands as they reach for the berries. ‘We can take some with us.’

  The last time I had fruit like this was many months ago, and I was with Majok, after school. I wonder where he is right now.

  ‘Do you guys think Majok is okay?’ I ask Thiko and Chieng.

  ‘Yes,’ Thiko says immediately.

  ‘I have a bad feeling about him,’ I say, and it’s not until the words are out of my mouth that I realise I have this feeling.

  ‘What kind of bad?’ Chieng asks.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ I shake my head. ‘But we can’t all have made it. There’s no way all our friends and family can have escaped.’

  Thiko and Chieng exchange looks. They don’t want to believe me. And while a part of me would love to be blindly hopeful, I know it’s just not possible that we’re all safe. If Grandpa can die, and Momo, and all those people whose bodies I stumbled over as I made my way from the village . . . I try not to think about Mama and Nyanbuot and Thon.

  We gather as many berries as we can fit in Thiko’s pack and head off. We need to find water now, but we’ve left the stream behind us.

  ‘Everyone look and listen for an eagle or crest cranes,’ I say.

  ‘Why?’ asks Koko.

  ‘They nest close to water. If we see or hear one of them, water might not be far off.’

  We walk until the sun is halfway across the earth, then Koko and Bagic start to fall behind. It’s hot. We stop and wait for them to catch up, but it’s not long before one of them has fallen behind again. This happens repeatedly, even after we’ve taken a long break.

  ‘They can’t keep up,’ Thiko says. ‘We’ll have to carry them.’

  Chieng looks at her warily. ‘I’m not carrying them,’ he says. ‘Maybe if they can’t keep up, we’ll have to leave them behind.’

  ‘What?’ I say. I can’t believe he’s said this. ‘We’re not leaving them behind, Chieng!’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if I can even keep going myself, I don’t see how you expect me to carry one of them. Why don’t you carry them?’

  I’m still struggling from the scorpion bite but I say nothing. I try not to look as disgusted as I feel. We’re all footsore and exhausted, but Chieng is acting like he’s the only one suffering.

  ‘I’m sorry to say this,’ he says, ‘but I don’t believe we’ll survive this journey.’

  What is there to say to that? Neither Thiko nor I make any reply. It’s too easy to think like Chieng but I can’t let myself. I can’t let those thoughts gain a foothold, no matter how high the odds are stacked against us. I have to resist them or I won’t be able to keep going either.

  I give Chieng the berries to carry and Thiko and I carry the boys, Koko on her back with his arms wrapped around her neck, Bagic on mine. Our pace slows considerably, but we’re still making more progress than when we had to keep stopping and waiting for them.

  When it gets dark we find a good tree for the night. We share the rest of the berries and make ourselves as comfortable as possible. Thiko is a few branches above me and there will be no hand-holding tonight. Through the branches, a single star gleams back at me.

  When dawn breaks, we climb down and continue on our way. My back is stiff and my legs feel like they might cramp up at any moment. Neither Thiko nor I are capable of carrying the boys. Thiko takes the lead and Koko and Bagic wobble along between her and me, Chieng following last. We walk through the hottest part of the day. The soles of my feet are split, the skin has been rubbed raw. My toes ache with every step.

  We continue on in this way for several days, until we lose track of how many have passed. Thiko and I take turns carrying the boys and letting them walk on their own, and even Chieng carries them sometimes. We eat what little food we find, we sleep wherever we can, we grow wearier. All our spirits are flagging now, and at times there are arguments. We patch them up and stumble on.

  Early one afternoon, when Thiko is again in the lead, she suddenly stops and puts up a hand for silence. I hold my breath as we listen. At first I hear nothing out of the ordinary but then – it sounds like voices. Coming from up ahead of us.

  We hurry forward as quietly as we can. It’s not possible to tell what language is being spoken. Thiko and I peer nervously around a bend in the path, holding the two boys back.

  Up ahead a group of people are gathered. Maybe fifty or so, mostly women and children.

  My relief is almost un
bearable. These people are surrounded by rough bundles, not guns. Then I recognise some of them.

  ‘They’re from Pacong!’ I cry, springing out and rushing towards them, Thiko and the others following.

  The villagers all turn and look at us, spooked themselves now, perhaps thinking we might be soldiers. But they relax as soon as they see us. I scan their faces but I don’t see Mama. I ask if anyone has seen her, or my brother and sister, but no one has. No one has any news of them.

  Chieng wanders among the group, looking for his own family. A woman with two small children recognises Koko and Bagic and motions them to her. I can tell by the eager way they tumble all over her that they are relatives. She brushes tears from Bagic’s eyes and hugs them both close.

  ‘I’ll take care of you until we find your mama,’ she tells them.

  Thiko too has been asking after her mother with no success. My heart shrinks. After feeling such elation on finding the villagers I fling myself onto the grass and hug my knees. If Mama isn’t here it means I’ll never see her again. I will never again see Thon or Nyanbuot either.

  But then Thiko scoots close and rubs my back and I think how I am not alone. I wonder how she can be so strong.

  ‘Try not to think too much right now,’ she says. ‘If we’re okay, chances are our families are too. There’ll be other groups, somewhere else. We’ll find them.’

  ‘I should have done something. Back in Pacong.’

  ‘Done what?’ she asks. ‘Juba, what could you have possibly done?’

  ‘I don’t know. Anything. Something.’

  ‘You did what you could. You survived. Now what you have to do is keep your hope alive. Because without it we’re as weak and fragile as grass in a summer fire.’

  I stare at her.

  ‘My mama says that,’ she tells me quietly.

  We’re discussing our next move when, without warning, men in uniform are surrounding us. Not government soldiers, but rebels from the People’s Liberation Army. In the excitement of our two groups meeting each other, no one heard their stealthy approach.