The Land of Foam

by Ivan Yefremov

“I heard about this when I was a boy. I was told that somewhere along the line where the forest meets the plain there are people known as the Elephant People. Now I see for myself that the story was a true one. That elephant is standing there to protect the bathers from crocodiles… I have also heard that these people are related to my tribe and speak a language similar to ours…

  “Do you want to go to them?” asked Cavius thoughtfully, never for a moment taking his eyes off the man on the elephant.

  “I’d like to, but I don’t know…” stammered Kidogo. “If their tongue’s mine, they’ll understand us and we’ll have a chance to find the road we need. If they speak another tongue, things will go badly with us — they’ll destroy us like mice!”

  “Do they eat human flesh?” asked Cavius after a pause.

  “I have heard that they don’t. They’re a rich and powerful people,” answered the Negro, chewing a blade of grass to hide his indecision.

  “I’d try to find out what language they speak while they are here, to avoid going to their village,” said Cavius. “These people are only unarmed youngsters and if the man on the elephant attacks us, we can hide in the grass and bushes. In their village we’d all be killed if we didn’t come to an agreement with the Elephant People…”

  Kidogo liked Cavius’ advice. He stood up, displaying his full height, and walked slowly towards the river. A shout from the man on the elephant put a sudden stop to the fun in the water; the bathers stood still, up to their waists in water, looking at the opposite bank.

  The elephant turned menacingly in the direction of the approaching Kidogo; his trunk made a rustling noise as it waved over the long, white tusks, and its ears, like huge, pendant wings, spread out again. The man on the elephant’s back looked fixedly at the newcomer; in his right hand he held a broad knife with a hook at the end that trembled slightly as he raised it, ready to use it.

  Without a word Kidogo walked almost to the edge of the water, laid his spear on the ground, placed his foot on it, and spread out his weaponless arms.

  “Greetings, friend,” he said slowly, carefully pronouncing every word. “I am here with my companions. We are lonely fugitives on our way home. We want to ask for help from your tribe…”

  The man on the elephant remained silent. The travellers hiding under the tree waited with bated breath to see whether the man would understand Kidogo’s speech or not. An important turning point in the fate of the fugitives depended on what was to follow.

  The man on the elephant slowly lowered his knife. The elephant shifted its weight from one foot to another in the swirling water and lowered its trunk, allowing it to hang between its tusks. Suddenly the man spoke and a sigh of relief burst from Pandion’s breast, while a shudder of joy ran through Kidogo who was standing with his body tensely strained. The speech of the elephant driver contained strong stresses and sibilant sounds that were not to be heard in Kidogo’s melodious language, but even Pandion recognized some familiar words.

  “Where are you from, stranger?” came the question that seemed arrogant from the height of the elephant’s back. “And where are your companions?”

  Kidogo explained that they had been captives in Tha-Quem and were making their way back home, to the sea coast. The Negro beckoned the others and the whole party of nineteen, downcast and emaciated, came down to the river-bank.

  “Tha-Quem?” repeated the man on the elephant, pronouncing the syllables with difficulty. “What’s that? Where is that country?”

  Kidogo told of the powerful country that stretched along a mighty river in the north-east, and the elephant driver nodded his head understandingly.

  “I’ve heard of it, but it’s a terribly long way away. How could you have come so far?” There was a note of mistrust in the man’s words.

  “That is a long story,” answered Kidogo wearily. “Look at these men.” The Negro pointed to Cavius, Pandion and the group of Libyans. “Have you ever seen anybody like them near here?”

  With a look of interest the man on the elephant examined faces such as he had never before seen. The distrust gradually faded from his face; he slapped the elephant’s head with his hand.

  “I am too young to decide anything without the elders. Come over to our bank of the river while the elephant is still in the water and wait there. What shall I tell the chiefs about you?”

  “Tell them that weary travellers ask permission to rest in your village and find out the way to the sea. We need nothing more,” answered Kidogo laconically.

  “Never have we heard such things or seen such people,” mused the elephant driver. Turning to his own people, he shouted: “You go ahead, I’ll follow!”

  The young people, who had been studying the newcomers in silence, hurried obediently to the bank, looking back and talking amongst themselves. The driver turned his elephant so that it stood sideways across the stream. The travellers crossed the river, breast high in the water. Then the driver made his animal set out at a smart pace and, following the bathers, soon disappeared amongst the scanty trees. The former slaves sat down on big stones to await their fate with some trepidation. The Libyans were more worried than the others, although Kidogo assured them that the Elephant People would not do them any harm.

  Shortly after this four elephants appeared, coming across the fields, with wide platforms of plaited branches on their backs. Six warriors armed with bows and exceptionally broad spears sat on each of the platforms. Under this escort the former slaves reached the village which proved to be quite close to the meeting place, on a bend of the same river, some four thousand cubits to the south-west.

  There were about three hundred huts dotted amongst green trees on a hilly site.

  To the left of the village spread an open forest, and some distance to the right of it stood a huge palisade of gigantic logs with pointed tops, solidly buttressed on the outside with other logs. Around this structure there was a deep moat fenced with a second palisade of pointed logs. Pandion expressed surprise at the size of the structure, but Kidogo made a guess that this was the pen for the elephants.

  Just as they had done many days ago in the east, the travellers stood before the chiefs and elders of a big village; again and again they told their marvellous tale of insurgent slaves to which the great feat of a long journey through an unknown land was now added. The chiefs questioned the travellers closely, examined their weapons and the brand of Pharaoh on their backs and made Cavius and Pandion tell them about their countries to the north of the distant sea.

  Pandion was astonished at the extensive knowledge of these people; they had not only heard of the Land of Nub, where the travellers had come from, but they also knew many other places in Africa in the north, south, east and west.

  Kidogo was delighted. The local inhabitants would show him the way to his home and the wanderers would soon reach their goal by following the true road.

  A short meeting of the Council of Elders decided the fate of the newcomers: they were to be permitted to rest for a few days in the village and would be given food and shelter in accordance with the sacred laws of hospitality.

  The former slaves were given a big hut on the outskirts of the village where they could enjoy a good rest. They were still more encouraged by the fact that the Elephant People would show them the right way and that their wanderings were coming to an end.

  Pandion, Kidogo and Cavius wandered about the village, observing the life of the people who had won their admiration by their power over the gigantic animals. Pandion was astounded by the long fences of elephant tusks where cattle were impounded. (Amongst the Shilluks, on the upper reaches of the Nile, fences of elephant tusks were still to be met with in the middle of the 19th century.)

  It seemed to Pandion that this was a display of deliberate contempt for the terrible monsters. What number of tusks must these people possess if they could waste the valuable ivory on such things? When Pandion asked this question of one of the villagers, the latter very importantly suggested that he ask the ch
iefs for permission to see the big storehouse in the centre of the village.

  “So many tusks are stacked there,” said the man, pointing to an open space between two huts, a hundred and fifty cubits in length, and he raised a stick above his head to indicate the height of the stack of tusks.

  “How do you make the elephants obey you?” asked Pandion, unable to repress his curiosity.

  The man frowned and looked at him with suspicion.

  “That’s kept secret from strangers,” he answered slowly. “Ask the chiefs about it, if you want to know. Those who wear round their necks a gold chain with a red stone in it are the elephant trainers.”

  Pandion remembered then that they had been forbidden to approach the compound bounded by the moat, and said no more, annoyed with himself for the mistake he had made. At that moment Kidogo called him; the Negro was in a long shed where several men were working. Pandion saw that it was a potter’s shop where potters were busy making big earthenware pots for grain and beer.

  Kidogo could not retain himself… He took a big lump of moist, well-kneaded clay, squatted on his heels, lifted his eyes to the reed-thatched roof and then began modelling. His big strong hands longed to be back at their favourite work and his movements were full of confidence. Pandion watched his friend at work; the potters laughed amongst themselves but did not cease their work. The Negro’s competent hands slowly cut, squeezed and smoothed the soft clay until the formless mass began to take on the shape of the wide, sloping back with folds of skin hanging like sacks from the shoulders that are typical of the elephant. The potters soon ceased their chatter, left their pots and gathered around Kidogo, but the Negro was so engrossed in his work that he did not even notice them.

  The thick legs stood firmly on the ground, the elephant had raised its head with its trunk extended in front of it. Kidogo found some twigs which he stuck fanwise into the clay and on this framework moulded the elephant’s ears, stretched like sails on either side. Exclamations of admiration burst from the lips of the watchers. One of the potters, unobserved, left the shed.

  Kidogo was working on the animal’s hind-legs and did not notice that the throng of watchers had been joined by one of the chiefs, an old man with a long thin neck, a fleshy, hooked nose and a tiny grey beard. On the chief’s breast Pandion saw the gold chain of one of the chief elephant trainers.

  In silence the old man watched Kidogo finish his work. Kidogo stood back and rubbed the clay off his hands, smiling and critically examining the model of an elephant a cubit high. The potters treated him to cries of admiration. The old chief raised his thick brows and the noise stopped immediately. He touched the wet clay like one who knew the business and then made a sign to Kidogo to come to him.

  “I see you must be a great craftsman,” said the chief, giving his words great significance, “if you can do so easily something that not one of our men can do. Tell me, can you make a statue of a man and not only of an elephant?” And the chief tapped himself on the breast.

  Kidogo shook his head. The chief’s face grew dark.

  “But there’s a craftsman amongst us who is better than I, a craftsman from a distant northern country,” said Kidogo. “He can make your statue.” The Negro pointed at Pandion who was standing nearby.

  The old man repeated his question to Pandion, who, seeing the imploring eyes of his friend, agreed.

  “But I must tell you, chief,” said Pandion, “that in my country we make statues from soft stone or carve them from wood. I have neither tools nor stone here. I can only make your statue from this clay and up to here.” He passed his hand across his chest. “The clay will soon dry up and crack; your picture will last only a few days…”

  The chief smiled.

  “I want to see what the stranger craftsman can do,” he said. “And let our potters watch him.”

  “All right, I’ll try,” answered Pandion. “But you must sit before me while I work.”

  “What for?” asked the astonished chief. “Can’t you model the clay like he did?” And the old man pointed to Kidogo.

  Pandion was put out by this and tried to find words to answer him.

  “I just made an elephant,” put in Kidogo. “But you, who are a trainer of elephants, know that one elephant does not resemble another. Only a man who does not know them thinks that all elephants are alike.”

  “You speak the truth,” the chief agreed. “I see immediately the soul of any elephant and I can forecast his behaviour.”

  “That’s just it,” Kidogo took him up. “If I want to make a particular elephant, I must see him before my eyes. My friend’s the same; he’s not going to make just a man, he’s going to make you, and he must look at you while he’s working.”

  “I understand,” said the old man. “Let your friend come to me during the afternoon siesta and I’ll sit before him.”

  The chief went away and the potters placed the clay elephant on a bench where ever-increasing numbers of villagers came to admire it.

  “Well, Pandion,” said Kidogo to his friend, “our fate is in your hands. If the chief is pleased with your statue, the Elephant People will help us…”

  The young Hellene nodded his head and the two friends returned to their house, with a crowd of children close on their heels.

  “Can you talk to me?” asked the chief, taking his place on a high and uncomfortable seat, while Pandion was hurriedly arranging the clay the potters had brought on a block of wood. “Will it interrupt your work?”

  “I can, but I don’t know your language very well,” answered Pandion. “I shall not understand everything you say and must answer with few words.”

  “Then call your friend, the man from the seaboard forests; let him stay here with you. I’ll soon get tired of sitting silent like an inarticulate monkey!”

  Kidogo came and sat with his legs tucked up under him beside the chief’s chair, between Pandion and the old man. With the Negro’s help the chief and Pandion were able to converse quite freely. The chief asked Pandion about his country and his penetrating glance gave Pandion a feeling of confidence in the elephant trainer, a wise man who had seen much.

  Pandion told the chief about his life in his own country, about Thessa, about his voyage to Crete, his slavery in Tha-Quem and his intention of returning home. As he spoke his fingers moulded the clay, and Kidogo translated what he said. The sculptor worked with unusual inspiration and persistence. The statue of the chief seemed to him to be a finger-post pointing to the haven of his native land. Memories of the past gave rise to impatience, and the enforced stay with the Elephant People already began to pall.

  The old man sighed and began to fidget, apparently he was tired.

  “Say something in your own language,” the chief suddenly asked.

  “To ellnuiksou ellevthepoy!” exclaimed Pandion.

  These were the words that his grandfather loved to repeat when he told the boy stories of famous Greek-heroes; they sounded strange when uttered in the heart of Africa.

  “What did you say?” asked the chief.

  Pandion explained that those words expressed the dream of all the people of his country — “Whatever is Hellenic is free!”

  These words apparently gave the chief food for thought.. Kidogo mentioned discreetly to Pandion that the chief was tired and that what he had done would be enough for that day.

  “Yes, that’s enough!” exclaimed the elephant trainer, raising his head. “Come tomorrow. How many days more will it take?”

  “Three days,” said Pandion confidently, despite the signs of warning that Kidogo made to him.

  “Three days, that’s not too much, I can bear that,” agreed the old man and rose from his seat.

  Pandion and Kidogo covered the clay with a damp cloth and put it into a storeroom close to the chief’s house.

  On the second day the two friends told the chief about Tha-Quem, its might and its colossal buildings. The old chief frowned, he was hurt by the stories of the people of Aigyptos, but still he li
stened with interest. When Pandion told him of the narrow, monotonous world of the Egyptians, the chief brightened up.

  “Now it’s time you learned something about my people,” he said importantly. “You’ll take news of them to your own distant countries.”

  The chief told the friends how they made use of the strength of the elephants to make long journeys throughout the country. The only danger that threatened them was the possibility of meeting herds of wild elephants; a tame elephant might, at any moment, decide to return to its wild brethren. But there were certain ways of preventing even that.

  The chief told them that farther to the east and the south of the place where the former slaves lived as the guests of an hospitable people, beyond the swamps and mountains, there were big freshwater seas. The seas were so big that they could only be crossed on special boats and that the crossing took several days. These freshwater seas* formed a long chain, one after the other, running in a southerly direction, and were surrounded by mountains that belched smoke, flames and rivers of fire. (The freshwater seas — the great lakes of East Africa). Beyond these seas, however, there was dry land, high plateaux with numerous wild animals, while the real edge of the earth, the shore of the endless sea, lay still farther to the east, beyond a fringe of swamps.

  On the plateaux stood two gigantic, blindingly white mountains, not very far from each caber, the beauty of which cannot be conceived by a man who has not seen them for himself. (Mounts Kenya and Kilimanjaro, two of the highest peaks on the African continent.)

  These mountains, he said, were surrounded by dense jungles inhabited by savage peoples and mysterious animals of an ancient type that were very rare and quite impossible to describe. The Elephant People had seen canyons filled with the bones of huge animals mixed with the bones of human beings and fragments of their stone weapons. In the thickets that surround the northernmost white mountain there were wild boars as big as a rhinoceros, and once they had seen an animal there as big as an elephant and much heavier, with two horns placed side by side at the end of its jowl.