The Mourning Parade

by Dawn Reno Langley

  “Sawahdee krup, Doctor Natalie!”

  “Sawahdee khaa, Siriporn. Have you already had breakfast?”

  “Thai people, we snacking a lot. We always eat. No worry.” He grinned. The brightness in his eyes must have been his father’s, and his crooked smile marked with a big dimple in the lower part of his right cheek was not Mali’s. Handsome. For a younger woman, he would be a great catch, yet he didn’t seem interested in any of the younger Thai women nor in the volunteers who always hung around, waiting for the mahouts to share some down time.

  It was easy to return his smile.

  They walked side by side for a while, he still riding on Ali, his legs astride the bull’s neck, and Natalie with one hand on the upper part of Ali’s leg. Though Ali’s skin was thick and wrinkled like dove-colored leather, she could still feel the muscles rippling beneath as he took one ponderous step after another. He looked down at her from beneath a long fringe of eyelashes, his mahogany-colored eye regarding her as if curious but completely confident he could take care of himself. She felt a great sense of peace when the big bull hovered silently nearby, as if she could trust him to take care of anything in that ponderous, quietly commanding way of his. She thought of him as the father of the herd, though only two of the elephants—the sisters—were actually related, and they weren’t his progeny. The elephants had all arrived at the sanctuary at different times, which was often problematic. Elephants didn’t automatically bond the way other animals did. Put a group of dogs together and one of them might not take to the pack, but most of them would be fine. Not the case with elephants, yet Ali got along with all of them. Even Sophie.

  “Dr. Natalie?”

  Glancing up, Natalie was temporarily blinded by the sun right behind Siriporn’s head. She shielded her eyes and squinted. Both elephant and mahout were silhouetted in the afternoon sun. A golden haze highlighted the trees in the distance.

  “Can I ask question?” he continued.

  “Of course.”

  Natalie sensed him trying to put his words together in English. He needed patience, so she gave it to him, though she often thought he knew more than he let on. Sometimes it felt that he used language as an excuse that Mali didn’t understand him. Siriporn had chosen to start training to be a mahout early in life, so he was not regularly exposed to Mali’s English. Instead, he, like his father, uncles, and grandfathers, worked with elephants and maintained a traditional Thai lifestyle.

  “Believing is important, no?” A shadow cast by the trees cut off the sunlight. Siriporn peered down at her earnestly.

  “Yes, I think so. What are you trying to ask?”

  “I . . . believe government wrong. Mother say I wrong. What you think?”

  Natalie’s gaze fell to the little puffs of road dust her flip-flops kicked up. Each step, another tiny cloud. Right foot, then left, and right again. It dawned on her that she hadn’t been truly clean since the first day she’d arrived, but it didn’t matter anymore. There were far more important things to consider than whether you had dirt under your fingernails. She took a few more steps, considered how to answer Siriporn’s simple, yet extraordinarily complicated, question.

  “Sometimes we need to make our own decisions,” she started, speaking slowly and thoughtfully. “But we always need to remember how our decisions will affect others. Especially those we love. Think about how elephants act, right? The herd always supports each other. They’re stronger when they act as one. They need that community, because they know each other and take care of each other, keep each other safe. Mothers always protect children; boys are independent. All together, they are supposed to learn how to govern themselves.” She checked herself and thought for a moment before continuing. “I think what I meant to say is that is how everyone wishes a government would operate, but the truth is that there are a lot of different kinds of governments. You know that.”

  He nodded, his face solemn.

  “I believe, as an American, that we should believe in our traditions and our country, as a whole, but I’m also the first one to question the government any time I feel that it could be doing a better job. That’s my right as an American.” Taking a deep breath, she thought, this is where I need to be really careful. “But it’s different in other countries. Look at China’s ability to curtail the Internet, and other places where the rules about who you can marry or what you can wear is legislated. People are jailed—and worse—for speaking out against their governments. Who would know better than you—and your family?”

  “Mm mm . . .” Ali moved slowly, Siriporn’s body swayed with the movement of his elephant’s steps. “But if government hurt people we love, what then?”

  She thought for another moment. “You’re Buddhist, right?”

  He nodded and looked straight ahead. He knew where she was going with that question.

  “You know the answer, then. We must think of others before ourselves,” Natalie said. She immediately wondered whether that answer was enough. The Buddhists she’d met were some of the most sensitive, thoughtful, and compassionate people she’d known. They thought long and hard about decisions that would affect other living beings. One of the reasons this country remained one of the most peaceful in the world was because the majority of its citizens were Buddhist. Yes, they weren’t perfect. Yes, they often argued, and even overthrew the government on occasion, but they believed in peace. And their belief system determined the way they dealt with each other. She admired them. Their philosophy remained one of the soundest and most sensible of any she’d known. They counted on each other as human beings rather than on a god they couldn’t see. That made them accountable, and though they had not written the golden rule, they lived by it. Every day.

  Together, Siriporn and Ali and she walked down the rest of the road in silence until they came to Sophie’s enclosure. She trumpeted in welcome. Ali rumbled back. Siriporn lowered himself to the ground and for a moment, Natalie and he spoke silently with their eyes.

  Then Siriporn said, “You are my friend, Dr. Natalie, like Ali is Sophie’s friend. Funny friends.” He laughed a little. “Girl and boy elephant do not live together. Boys live with boys. Mamas and sisters and daughters live together.”

  Natalie returned his smile. He didn’t want or need any more than that, it seemed.

  “Dr. Natalie, please help me explain how I feel to Mother. I don’t want hurt her.”

  “I know, Siriporn.” Natalie fought the frustration of being caught in the middle. She sympathized with Mali as a mother, but she also understood Siriporn’s need to be his own man. “I’m not sure I can help you, though. I don’t understand the politics here completely. All I know is that your mother is worried about you.”

  He watched Ali amble to Sophie’s enclosure. The elephants raised their trunks and explored each other briefly, then Ali leaned against the steel bars like a cat rubbing a scratching post. They knew their schedule. It was time for their daily walk to the mud pit.

  Siriporn turned back to Natalie. “This my country. My people. We want freedom. Old king will die. People must rule people. Like America. America no want English king, yes?”

  “Yes, that’s true, but I don’t think it’s the same, Siriporn. Your king is from your country. He lives here. During the American Revolution, a whole ocean separated the new land from England.”

  In her peripheral vision, Natalie spotted Sophie bouncing her head against the bars, anxious to be free. This discussion had to wait.

  “Listen, Siriporn, I’ll make you a deal. We can talk about this later, discuss the American Revolution all you want, but do me a favor, ok? Remember your mother loves you and don’t do anything crazy, alright?”

  Sophie trumpeted. Natalie and Siriporn moved toward the gate to let her out, but before they opened it, Natalie put her hand on Siriporn’s. “Promise me?”

  He paused, shifted a moment as though she had asked him somethi
ng far too difficult to decide in a moment, but then he nodded.

  As they walked to the mud pit with Sophie and Ali, Natalie realized that Siriporn’s promise had been given too quickly. She made a mental note to talk to him again. This time she would ask about his plans.

  The elephants lumbered into the river and immediately submerged themselves. A cool breeze rattled a nearby breadfruit tree. She pulled out her notebook and settled beneath the tree, and within moments, became engrossed in the tangle of data she’d been amassing for weeks. It was time to make sense of all of it.

  Twenty-Three

  It is a fine seasoning for joy

  to think of those we love.

  -Moliere

  Natalie tried her best to ignore Christmas. Four months, she’d been here. A year and a half since the boys died. Her second Christmas alone.

  She spent the whole day with Sophie, working on commands, moving her in and out of protected contact, practicing lifting her feet, making sure Sophie felt comfortable with Natalie’s hands in her mouth, taking multiple trips to the mud baths and the river. Anything to stay busy. Anything to push away the clouds of doubt and the streams of memories. Anything to quell the homesickness.

  Cicadas buzzed as the sanctuary’s dogs chased each other in a game of rough-and-tumble tag on the platform. Most of the volunteers had returned home for the Christmas holidays, leaving for the month of December to return in January, if they were to return at all. A skeleton crew remained so that the administrative duties would be accomplished. All of the Thai staff were still in place since the majority of them were born in the area and Buddhist. Of the non-Thai staff, only Karina, Hatcher, and Natalie stayed to celebrate the Christian holiday. Andrew, still in Africa, probably wouldn’t return until February. Andrew’s absence provided a stay of execution for Sophie and gave Natalie more time to work with her.

  But it still wasn’t enough.

  Whenever there was a thirty- or ten- or even a two-second lapse in activity, memories cropped up in Natalie’s mind: Danny’s first Christmas when he stared at the lights, fascinated by their brilliance. That simple act thrilled all the adults around him. He had been the center of attention since birth, a happy baby who giggled constantly. Even two-year-old Stephen got a kick out of the baby’s wide-eyed staring at anything that twinkled or sparkled.

  By his third birthday, Stephen understood Christmas and Santa Claus, and he begged her to take him to see the “toeman” (his way of saying “snowman”) in the yard around the corner, and he never understood when she tried to explain that the eight-foot-tall blowup snowman lit up only when it was dark outside. Each night when she picked him up from daycare, they came home via another route so they could see different decorations, but he wanted—and expected—to see that “toeman,” so she finally gave up on everything else. And he smiled and laughed every time they did see that “toeman.” He told Santa Claus that Christmas that he wanted the “biggest blue bike,” and when Natalie asked him why, Stephen answered in his best three-year-old serious voice, “Because blue bikes are the fastest, Momma.”

  “He would’ve loved you, Sophie. Both of them would have,” she whispered into the elephant’s ear as they walked back from the river.

  In the distance, she heard laughter coming from the administration building and realized with a start that it was dinnertime. She imagined Hatcher and Karina at the table with a bottle of wine and the Christmas chicken they’d talked Hom, Mali’s friend and one of the cooks, into butchering for their holiday dinner. For a long moment, she and Sophie stood silently in the road, listening to the echoes of the conversation. Natalie considered getting Sophie settled and going to join them. Perhaps it was time to put differences aside and celebrate the holiday the way it should be. On some soundless nights, the loneliness for home and familiar things manifested as a physical weight on her chest. Tonight’s weight felt astronomical. She’d stay alone tonight. Being around others would only accentuate the depth of her loneliness.

  Still, she was hungry and it certainly would be nice to at least have a festive dinner—even though she had no desire whatsoever to break bread with anyone—least of all, Hatcher and Karina.

  While she fed Sophie back at the enclosure, she fought with herself about sharing dinner with the others. She sang a Beatles’ song to Sophie as her stomach growled again, and Sophie farted in response.

  “Thanks, Soph. God! Talk about curing someone of their hunger.” She backed off and waved her hand in front of her face. She could have sworn Sophie grinned, having a good joke on the stupid human. “Okay, I give. I’m leaving.”

  In the dark, she found her way to the back of the administration building, hoping she could find the kitchen door and beg some food from Hom. She knew the women in the kitchen would think it strange, especially since she’d never been to the kitchen’s back door before, but she really didn’t want to be forced to share an uncomfortable meal with Hatcher and Karina. A faint light from inside beckoned her.

  Female voices and laughter floated through the kitchen’s screen door as she drew closer. One of the voices sounded like Hom’s. Her high-pitched giggle rose in octaves depending upon how tickled she felt, and right now, she seemed breathless. Natalie felt a little twinge of jealousy that she’d been left out of moments like this, but it passed as quickly as it came when she caught the unmistakable fragrance of green curry chicken and another scent—pungent and spicy. In the dark, she couldn’t identify the plants and bushes, but she suspected the scent came from one of them, then she bumped into something wooden.

  A box set up above the ground. Her fingers explored the side of the box, and she wound her way around it until she faced its front. The scent came from the box, not the kitchen. A yellow light streaming from the kitchen door highlighted the box, which she now realized was a Buddhist spirit house, the center of which held a sitting statue of a Buddha. An altar shelf filled with half-burnt candles and small mementoes: a statue of a little man, a car, a tiny doll, some beads, and what appeared to be a dozen eggs. The spirit house, shaped like a temple, had probably been built at the same time the main building was erected.

  The incense. That’s what I smelled.

  She’d seen spirit houses throughout the country: on street corners, in funny little alcoves outside convenience stores, at entrances of parks, or in doorways of apartment buildings. Wherever there were people and homes, the spirit houses were there, too, to pay homage to the land and to the ancestors who owned it.

  On the opposite side of the box: a color candid shot of a little boy around six years old in full head-thrown-back laughter. She could practically hear his delighted chortle and imagined him trying to get his favorite dog to behave. She lifted her fingers to smooth the photograph’s edge. A lump rose in her throat. She turned away.

  The screen door slammed. She heard a match strike and a cough. She spotted Hom.

  They both jumped as if they’d seen a spirit and shared a good belly laugh with each other. When the giggles died down, Natalie pointed to the photo of the little boy, then to Hom.

  “Is he yours?” she asked.

  Hom looked at her blankly. She knew very little English.

  Natalie pantomimed rocking a baby, pointed to the photo, then to Hom. This time, Hom’s face brightened.

  “Your baby?” Natalie asked.

  “Beebee, beebee.” Hom pointed to her stomach, then rocked an imaginary child and pointed to the photograph. The light from the kitchen door framed Hom’s round face. A definite resemblance, she seemed to say. Hom smiled, somewhat reassuringly, and reached out to touch Natalie’s arm.

  “Aaa-haan-meuu-yin? Dinner?” Hom asked, pantomiming a plate and moving her hand from the ‘plate’ to her mouth, then pantomiming the act of chewing. “Yum, yum.” She rubbed her stomach, motioning for Natalie to follow her.

  Inside the small kitchen, three women bustled about, cleaning up pans, sweeping the
floor, putting food back into the industrial sized refrigerator. One large stove took up one wall, the sink and refrigerator against the other. An amazingly small kitchen for the amount of food that they produced every day. And it sizzled inside the little room. But it didn’t seem to matter to the women. One of them, whom Natalie had never seen before, handed her a disk full of chicken and rice and vegetables that smelled so spicy it made her mouth water. She started walking out the door, intending to take it back to her cabin, but the woman pulled over a three-legged stool and motioned for Natalie to sit and eat. So she did.

  She ate her Christmas dinner as if she hadn’t eaten for the past three days, all the while watching the women as they moved confidently around each other, wrapping up leftovers, cleaning the only counter in the kitchen and scrubbing the remaining pots. By the time she finished eating, they had completed their tasks, so they all left the kitchen together. Hom shut off the kitchen light and, in complete darkness, the trio of women moved off into the night, heading for the enclave of cabins located on the other side of the administration building. The opposite direction that Natalie headed.

  After they walked away, the surrounding vegetation swallowed whatever sounds they might have made, leaving Natalie in silence under the stars. She took a deep breath and tasted the chicken’s spices, a very different taste from what she would have eaten any other Christmas night.

  In her ear, Danny whispered, “What an adventure you’re having, Mommy.”

  She felt a faint brush of wind, as soft as a breath, and reached her fingers up, knowing she wouldn’t catch it. But she smiled anyway. It was okay. Everything was as it should be.

  On her walk down the road back to her bungalow, she found her voice and lifted it clearly to the stars.

  You’d better watch out.

  You’d better not cry.