The movement of the truck lulled her, and she finally submitted and closed her eyes. Half asleep, she listened to Andrew and Hatcher arguing about their favorite soccer players. Andrew followed Manchester United, and Peter staunchly supported Chelsea. From the sounds of it, they were fierce rivals. In the background, Mali sang softly, her voice sometimes drowned out by the truck’s squeaks and rattles. In her semi-conscious state, Natalie felt like an interloper to their conversation, almost invisible to the others. No one expected her response or attention, and the privacy and freedom felt almost euphoric.
Before long, the truck pulled onto the long dirt road that led into the compound. Natalie stretched and opened her eyes. Hatcher and Andrew gathered their things and quickly sketched out their plans for the rest of the day. Mali gazed toward the kitchen area as if wondering whether the prep work had been done for the evening’s meal. Natalie grabbed her knapsack so she could hop out quickly and head for that shower before dinner.
They rounded the corner to the parking area, and the truck came to a screeching halt. Natalie fell to the floor with a thud. Rubbing her butt, she stood up and followed the others as they scrambled out. In front of the truck, debris littered the road. Where there had once been a gravel driveway now stood half a wall from of the side buildings used to house garden equipment. Beyond the wreckage, Natalie only saw sky. Mali’s nets over the vegetable garden had disappeared.
“What the bloody hell . . .” Andrew’s mouth was open as he stared at the wreckage.
“Was there a wind storm while we were gone?” Peter asked, though none of them could answer his question.
“More like a hurricane,” Natalie said. “Only it doesn’t look like it rained. The ground is completely dry.”
Andrew went down on his knees, inspecting what appeared to be fresh tracks. He spread a clump of grass with his fleshy, liver-spotted hand, and swore under his breath.
“Mali, find Siriporn,” he said, his voice low and controlled.
Mali scampered toward the mahouts’ sleeping quarters.
Mali returned less than a moment later with Siriporn at her side and two of the other mahouts behind them. All were out of breath.
Andrew rose from his crouch and now stood with his hands on his hips, his attention on the mahouts. “What the hell happened here?”
The boys looked as guilty as if they’d thrown a party in the family home while their parents were on vacation.
Siriporn stepped forward. Thinner and taller than the other young men, he wore an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. “We tried to stop her, Mr. Andrew. She running quick and quicker. Mahouts run. Cooks run. Everyone run.”
“Who?”
The mahouts’ furtive side glances told a story their words could not.
“Who, I asked!” Andrew leaned closer, pulling himself up to his full and imposing height to tower over the much shorter mahouts.
None of them spoke for a long, uncomfortable minute, then Siriporn piped up in a small, embarrassed voice, “Sophie. Sophie got away from mahout. She much strong. She broke wall.”
“That damned elephant! She’s going to kill someone as sure as I’m standing here. Where is she now?” Hatcher said, his lips compressed into a solid line. A spot of red burned on both of his cheeks as he scanned the horizon, his hand shading his eyes like a sea captain.
The mahouts looked at each other then lifted their arms to the side in unison.
“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me,” Hatcher spat. “How the hell do you lose a friggin’ elephant?”
If not for the destruction surrounding them, Natalie would have laughed at Hatcher’s atypical outburst, but she knew that giggling would be misconstrued, so she choked it back. Instead, she caught Mali’s eye and said, “Why don’t you and I go toward the greenhouse area, and you two”—she pointed at Andrew and Peter—“go to the clinic. Siriporn can head for the perimeter. The others can cover the river and the rice fields. Maybe if we bring Ali, Sophie’s more likely to come to them. If we spread out, we can find her more quickly.” Other mahouts and workers had arrived upon hearing the commotion, and with military precision, they all followed Natalie’s suggestion and headed in various directions to hunt down Sophie.
Natalie glanced back over her shoulder and caught Anurak’s eye. He stood next to his uncle. Decha sat close by his side, tongue lolling out. She nodded toward the cabins surrounding the rice fields and pointed in that direction, signaling for Anurak to go home and to stay there. If Sophie was on the war path, Decha would only anger her further. She didn’t need to tell him twice. He trotted down the dirt driveway, Decha right behind him. They had far too much experience with Sophie’s anger to tempt their luck.
Mali and Natalie made their way toward the greenhouse, speculating about what might have happened. As they drew closer to Mali’s vegetable gardens, they both fell silent. The gardens were unrecognizable. Totally destroyed. It appeared the elephant had run back and forth through the netting and eaten most of the vegetables that had been close to harvest while trampling everything else. Mali swiped at a tear as she pulled some of the netting from a large pumpkin that had somehow managed to stay intact.
That one tear tugged on Natalie’s heartstrings more than a full-blown sob would have. She knew how hard Mali had worked to make this garden flourish, the hours she’d put in weeding and watering and urging blooms to grow into squash and pumpkin and zucchini. Now crushed tomatoes lay underfoot and made a squishing sound that Natalie ignored as she walked over them. She wound her arm around Mali’s shoulders, allowing Mali to lean into her.
“We’ll replant everything,” Natalie said, “and pot whatever we can save. Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”
Mali simply nodded and sighed. Her shoulders slumped as her eyes filled with tears. “If it hadn’t been Sophie, one of the other ellies probably would have found this soon enough. I always feared it didn’t have enough protection.”
They walked through the mess, lifting plants and picking up a vegetable or two. The smell of veggies just beginning to rot in the sweltering sun told her that the destruction had probably occurred early this morning. In the distance, mahouts yelled to each other as they searched along the tree line. Within only a few moments the calls drifted away, and Mali and Natalie were left in the quiet of the destroyed greenhouse.
“We should help them look for her,” Mali said as she brushed off a large yellow squash and added it to the small pile of undamaged vegetables she balanced in her arms. “We can’t do much here.”
“Let’s take this stuff to the kitchen, and we’ll come back.” Natalie turned and started back to the main building, checking over her shoulder to see whether Mali needed help. Satisfied Mali had her veggies under control, Natalie moved forward and suddenly felt like she was being watched.
“Sophie,” Natalie whispered.
Behind her, Mali came to an abrupt stop.
Only a dozen feet in front of them, the errant elephant stood in a patch of tall grasses, quietly pulling them up with her trunk and eating them. She eyed them curiously but made no move toward them. They were close enough to hear her satisfied breathing as she munched the tender grass shoots.
It dawned on Natalie that she and Mali might be downwind or that Sophie now knew Natalie’s scent and was fairly comfortable with her. On the other hand, Natalie and Mali had spent the morning on a farm and had not yet had the chance to shower, so maybe they smelled like animals. Whatever the case, Sophie acted as though they posed no threat to her.
“Mali, can you hear me?” Natalie whispered, not daring to turn her head or to move.
“Yes.”
“Move backwards toward the greenhouse, then head to the river. Find the mahouts. I’ll stay here with Sophie.”
Mali didn’t respond, but Natalie could tell from the swishing grasses that she had done as requested.
As Sophie moved forward to reach a patch of grass with her trunk, Natalie cocked her head and saw that the elephant dragged the five-foot-long heavy rope that normally connected to an O-ring in the ground to keep her safely anchored. Each time Natalie and Peter administered Sophie’s medicine, she wore one rope on her front right leg and another on her back left one, both connected to the O-ring. The mahouts would take opposite sides so that they could ensure that she didn’t grab anyone with her trunk. But right now—as she dragged the rope behind her—she didn’t seem dangerous at all. Natalie wondered, could the rope be what’s fueling her anxiety and stress?
“Maybe you need to be trusted, huh, ol’ girl?” Natalie said softly, inching closer.
Sophie raised her head and stared at her for a moment, but soon went back to eating.
Natalie tried a few more steps. Again, Sophie raised her head, acknowledging Natalie’s advances but returned to eating almost immediately. She seemed quite content to be out in the sun, unimpeded, as free as any other elephant at the sanctuary.
It was the closest Natalie had been to the elephant, and she was about to advance a few more steps closer when she heard voices coming up the road. Sophie’s head lifted. She heard them, too, and low rumbles escaped her throat. A warning sound. The sound of an animal in defense mode.
“It’s okay, girl,” Natalie spoke softly and lifted a hand. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
The small group of mahouts, led by Hatcher and Andrew, came into sight. They spotted each other at the same moment but their eyes quickly looked past Natalie—at Sophie. Hatcher threw up his hand and the group came to a halt.
Natalie raised her own hand in silent warning and glanced back at Sophie who had stopped eating to watch the approaching humans.
What the hell do I do now? If I move, she’ll move. If I stay still, we’ll never get her back to her building.
The vegetables Natalie had been carrying weighed heavily in her arms. She shifted and balanced them more evenly in her T-shirt. Sophie turned her head, and her eyes focused on the pumpkin on top of the pile. She glanced back at the group, then at the pumpkin again.
“Andrew,” Natalie called out quietly. “Please keep everyone out of the way. I’m going to try to walk her back to the building.”
Andrew started to protest, but Hatcher stopped him and placed his hand on Andrew’s arm. The thought immediately went through Natalie’s mind that Peter Hatcher would love nothing more than to see her fail at this attempt. Even the suspicion that he’d be so crass made her more determined to prove herself to him. She knew it didn’t really matter whether or not he acknowledged she had some finesse with the animals. What mattered was whether she could help Sophie. Fuck the ignorant Englishman who wouldn’t let go of his grudge.
Reassuring Sophie quietly, Natalie took a step toward her. Sophie raised her head and her big eyes blinked slowly as if she understood Natalie’s plan. A hushed argument took place in the group of mahouts, but Siriporn’s voice rose above the others’ and they moved away as Natalie had requested. She took a moment to balance the vegetables in her shirt so she had one hand free and then lifted the pumpkin toward Sophie.
“You want this?” She dangled the pumpkin from its stem.
Sophie reached out her trunk. The end of it wriggled, opening and closing like fingers.
“Follow me, and I’ll give it to you.” Natalie took a few steps toward the dirt road that led down to the river and to the back of the camp where Sophie had been housed. She walked confidently, close enough for Sophie to smell the food, but far enough that Sophie had to reach. Natalie had no idea whether this would work, but there was no harm in trying. “C’mon girl.”
Sophie took one step, then another. The tip of her trunk continued to reach toward what Natalie held. “You’re being very patient,” Natalie said as she gave Sophie the pumpkin. Sophie popped it whole into her mouth, chewing on it luxuriously.
Success!
____________
The woman pulls a long zucchini from the basket and waves it around Sophie’s trunk, so she can smell it. Sophie reaches for it, grabs it with the finger-like tip of her trunk, deposits it in her mouth, and chews, watching the woman all the while. Whenever the woman moves and the elephant follows, she is rewarded with another zucchini in her mouth. It’s become a game. Is the woman deciding to give a zucchini to the elephant, or is Sophie determining whether she’s hungry enough to follow the woman for the zucchini? It doesn’t matter. There’s never enough juicy fruits and vegetables.
“Sophie, want a zucchini? Come, Sophie.” The woman produces another squash, then another zucchini. The words are different, but the elephant understands the meaning. She comprehends that the words are an invitation and the vegetables are the prize. She has been taught this response many times in her life, by many different men. She knows what to do.
With each piece of food, the woman moves backwards, slowly. She entices Sophie to follow her, to come closer if she wants the reward. The elephant is hesitant, at first. Usually, there is a punishment as well as a reward. She’s learned that, too. And for that very reason, she doesn’t trust men.
This is a woman who smells safe, though. Non-threatening. Her voice lacks the roughness, the sharp edge, of the mahouts’. Even her touch is different—warmer—as though her body temperature is several degrees higher than her male counterparts’.
She holds only vegetables. No poles or ankus in her other hand. She beckons the elephant forward once again.
Sophie swings her head from side to side, glances behind her, unsure of her feet. It has been a long time since she’s walked freely. Her legs wobble a bit, but their path is following the river now, and she smells the water beyond and becomes excited, lifts her trunk, produces her version of a delighted trumpet.
Even though excited, she moves slowly, careful with her leg, feeling with the other for holes and fallen limbs. Every once in a while, she grabs a low-hanging branch and nibbles at a newborn leaf, taking the chance to rest her leg for a moment.
The woman walks to the elephant’s side, talks quietly, gives a command, offers the food. Sophie immediately understands: If a word is spoken and Sophie responds, she gets food. If she does not, she gets no food.
She crushes a particularly juicy zucchini in her mouth.
Still, she has not taken her attention off the woman. If the woman raises her voice, Sophie will halt in her steps and refuse to respond to another command, no matter how softly it is spoken. She will never trust the woman again. She will reject the woman, because she knows from long years of experience that human beings can inflict horrible pain.
But her senses say this woman is not going to abuse Sophie. The woman will never use an ankus. She’s a firm mahout, and her commands are clear. Sophie is beginning to learn this woman’s heart. She tastes the compassion in the woman’s essence, she hears it in her voice, sees it when they look into each other’s eyes. The woman’s touch is as delicate as new summer grasses, light and healing. But the elephant remains guarded.
Somewhere nearby, the men watch. Sophie can smell them, but she knows from the way their scent lingers in the air that they aren’t moving toward her or the woman, so she relaxes a little and concentrates on the food.
“Good girl, Sophie. Here’s some carrots. Good girl.” The woman walks ahead, Sophie following, her large ears billowing back and forth with her frustration. She wants those carrots.
From the corner of her eye, Sophie spots the man’s blond head. She pauses, momentarily forgetting the carrots, and reaches her trunk out to check his hands for ankuses or needles or bottles. Whenever he is near, there is pain. He equals pain.
She sees nothing, but she moves into the enclosure, reaching out behind her to grab the carrots out of the woman’s hand. Still, watching him, her ears twitching, shifting back and forth but seeing no way out, feeling trapped.
The man gestures
to the woman. The woman nods and continues backing into the building. His eyes shift to the side, and his scent is tinged with something acrid that burns the end of Sophie’s trunk. She senses that it’s not only unsafe for her, but this man means harm to the woman, too.
The elephant feels something solid against her back leg and knows she can go no further. It feels unfamiliar, so she reaches her trunk out to touch the steel gate and the bars on both sides. She has not been under this roof before, but something tells her it’ll be safer than near the man.
The woman sucks in her breath and keeps motioning Sophie forward. She produces a squash from a bucket beyond the bars. A surprise. Sophie had thought the food was gone. She continues shuffling toward the woman, blocking her into a corner.
From outside, the elephant hears the man yell, a warning sound, but the woman shows no fear. Instead, the way she looks into Sophie’s eyes relates a sense of trust, and somehow Sophie knows she will not get poked or prodded. Sophie knows the vegetables in the basket are hers, and that’s all she wants, there is nothing else more important or dear to her, and she will find a way to have them.
“Okay, old girl,” the woman says quietly as she closes the large steel gate that will keep the elephant in the enclosure. She says something else that Sophie doesn’t understand, but her voice is soothing. She touches the elephant softly, telling Sophie to move to the right, and offers a squash which Sophie takes and lifts into her triangular mouth while shifting her hips to the right, giving the woman enough space to slip out.
As the woman leaves, talking to the man who walks ahead of her, Sophie circles the enclosure, smells the pile of vegetables the woman left right outside the gate. She reaches for them, stretches her trunk completely to its tip and leans forward, almost stumbles before realizing that no ropes are tied to any of her ankles. She can eat as much as she wants, so she does, and after the pile is depleted, burping loudly, she leans against a cement pole and takes a contented nap.
The Mourning Parade Page 12