Rika and the Elephant
Rika and the Elephant
1. The Elephant's Memory
The old elephant lumbered along the side of the road on the outskirts of the village. The road encircled the village and was nothing more than dirt, sometimes gravel, with frequent puddles and potholes. Past the outer perimeter of the road was the thick, impossibly green, jungle.
There was a dense mist in the air at the juncture of the lush trees and the flatlands of the village. The elephant paused in his duties as he had seen something quite unfamiliar; a bright spot had appeared in his peripheral vision. He may have been old, but his eyesight was as sharp as it had been in his youth. He turned his head to see what had caught his attention, about one hundred meters ahead.
It was a young girl. She had suddenly appeared at the edge of the trees, dressed in a ragged, dirty, yellow dress with nothing on her feet. Her hair was a tangled pile of long brown locks, apparently the product of wind, water, and mud rather than of comb, brush, and attention. She was motionless but her wide eyes were fixed on the elephant. She watched as the old elephant, a pair of oxen, and a human leader with a frayed bullwhip went about their thrice-weekly chores.
The elephant was not just old, he was ancient. He was the oldest elephant in the village and, as far as I knew, the entire country. I lived in the village with my grandfather, my mother, and my younger sisters, four-year-old twins. My name is Tala. My grandfather told me he saw the old elephant in a circus when he was a boy my age. I was a young child when he told me the story, and at that time I wanted to believe every word. Now I know it all to be true.
The elephant was old, even back then, but it was the same elephant. There was a distinctive, purple scar on the elephant’s right flank. It was about an arm’s length vertically, and was crescent-shaped, like when the moon first wakes up. It was almost like a smile, or a frown, depending which way you cocked your head. The first time my grandfather saw the elephant, the scar was fresh, a brilliant magenta, almost wet-looking. He had no idea who, or what, caused the injury, but it lent an air of mystery to the animal and my grandfather felt both sympathy and a deep respect for the beast. Over the years, he said, the scar had dulled and faded to the muddy purple that it was on the day the elephant saw the girl.
The circus of my grandfather’s youth was a multi-ring, travelling type and would visit a more populous village, about four kilometers away, every six months or so. My grandfather loved to make the trek with his boyhood friends, recalling all the wondrous things they saw the last time, and making up tales about the elephant and inserting themselves into the stories as heroic guardians. They would have coins in their pockets that their parents had given them to purchase tickets, popcorn, and candy.
In this large circus, all those years ago, the elephant was the largest animal any of the children had ever seen. You would first see him leading four smaller elephants, each holding the tail of the one in front with their trunk. The group would parade around the main ring to cheers and thunderous applause. The scarred elephant was so enormous, the smaller ones looked like toys, even though they were normal elephant-sized.
He appeared later on in the show, dressed in flowing, silken garments, with an acrobat doing flips on his back, and again later still, near the end, with a donkey on his back, who in turn had a rooster on his back. The close of the show featured the elephant group again, in single file, this time with every member cloaked in the bright, colourful, flowing robes. My grandfather and his friends would cheer every time they saw the old, enormous elephant, because he was their favorite part of the circus. He would wave his trunk wildly and strut forward as if he was a royal. In fact, it appeared he knew he was special and the audience sensed a stately pride as he commanded their attention.
The elephant performed for many, many years in that circus and was treated kindly and with very high regard. Because he was such a popular draw for children and adults, and the fact that he was such a humongous animal, the circus managers gave the elephant extra food and drink, as well as treats, and a full-time attendant to clean and comfort him.
When the circus first acquired him, the elephant did not have a name. He was owned by a farmer and the farmer’s uncle before that. The circus paid the farmer handsomely, thinking they had purchased a one-of-a-kind attraction that would triple the amount they spent for it every season. The farmer thought he was getting paid a lot of money for an aged beast of burden that was way past his prime.
Training the elephant was easy because he turned out to be such an intelligent creature. He was a quick learner and could perform circus routines flawlessly with minimal lessons or cruel tactics. He got along well with his trainers, and even behaved kindly to the workers and the other animals. The circus managers needed a strong and apt name for the new arrival, so they decided on Manuapoto - their word for Intelligent Beast.
When the elephant, now named Manuapoto, was a young calf and still living with his mother and the family group, he was quite happy and rambunctious on the savanna that was their home. His mother could see an intelligence and a compassion in him that was rare in the group, and nurtured these traits. She also taught him a trick that she learned from her own mother. The young elephant would remember this trick for the rest of his days. I know these things because I had a reliable source for this type of information.
Manuapoto grew fast and soon towered over everything on the high plains. At only fifteen years he was the largest animal in sight. But this would soon prove to be an unfortunate distinction to have and when a scouting party of villagers happened upon the group, they chose two of the strongest and largest to take back as working animals. Manuapoto spent the next three decades on farms and plantations clearing land, hauling debris, and pulling various carts and wagons for the village land owners. Sometimes he was even painted or dressed for ceremonies or weddings, though more of a novelty than a sacred creature.
When the large circus acquired him, it was quite a step up from the drudgery of the farms, and for the next twenty-seven years he performed with grace and dedication for his employers. But there came a time of great economic distress in the country and the circus eventually failed. Manuapoto was sold several more times, to smaller and smaller circuses and sometimes back to poorer farmers that did not have modern equipment.
The last time my grandfather saw Manuapoto was in a small one-ring circus in a distant village he was visiting for business. He was in his late fifties at that time but he recognized the elephant immediately and felt both nostalgic happiness and bitter sorrow. He was glad to see his childhood icon but extremely sad to see the elephant, whose name had been changed to Bantu, in a depressive state with none of the former glory he had achieved performing to large crowds. My grandfather told me he had cried for the intelligent beast on his trip home.
When Bantu came to our village, through many negotiations and transactions, he was once again nameless. The village elders purchased the elephant from a small farm whose owner had passed and the owner’s children had moved to a major city in another district. The elders decided our village needed a circus of our own and put together a ragtag team of performers and animals for weekend entertainment. Not remembering, or possibly, not even asking for the name of the elephant, the scarred headliner of the little circus was again renamed. One of the elders had been to the big city and was mightily impressed by a western actor he had seen in a film. And so, the elephant was given the moniker Oliver, named after the rotund comedic artist Oliver Hardy, firstly because of his size, compared to his partner Stan Laurel, but also because of the wondrous entertainment the village elder had witnessed. This happened the same year as my birth.
My grandfather was ecstatic to find that the elephant from his youth was to be a permanent fixture in our small village. He knew at once that Oliver was not his original name, but had long since forgotten the one he and his friends chanted and yelled at the large circus. (Not that he could do anything about it, the elder was adamant about the new name.) By this time, my grandfather was becoming frail and weak but he always loved going to see the large, scarred elephant once or twice a month, and there was always a gleam in his eyes whenever he reminisced about the magic under the big tent he witnessed when he was a boy.
I saw Oliver perform in our little circus many times, sometimes with my grandfather, sometimes with friends. When I say the circus was small, it is an understatement. It consisted of Oliver, a blind tiger named Tookah, an acrobat, a juggler, and various small animals that could be wrangled and trained to do entertaining things. The juggler and the acrobat were brothers. The acrobat also rode on the tiger for one act, and the juggler was also the Master of Ceremonies. All in all, it was not the most fascinating thing on earth, but it was a good and different way for the villagers to spend an evening away from home.
Which brings me back to the early autumn day that Oliver first set eyes on the girl from the woods. Oliver had been hired out to the disposal committee for garbage collection during the week. He would grab hold of trash bins on the side of the road using his trunk, and empty them into a large wagon pulled by two oxen, and then he returned the empty containers to the road. This happened three times a week and the villagers seemed to be pleased with the second occupation of their beloved elephant.
The entire operation was overseen by a young sanitation worker. He was harmless, but he carried a heavy whip which he mainly used for show, because he liked the cracking sound it made. However, it also served to let the villagers know the trash collector was coming. Oliver said he didn’t mind the extra work, it made him feel useful, and it was good exercise. Oliver didn’t tell me that. He told Rika.
2. Rika's Loss
Rika was eight years old when she first saw the elephant. Well, the first time she remembered seeing the elephant. She had been to the small circus a few times in our village, taken by her parents when she was three or four years of age. Rika’s parents were poor, probably the poorest of the poor. Her family, which consisted of Rika, her mother and father, and her older brother, lived in a very run-down area, in a crumbling shack of a house. Her father had been injured on the job and could no longer find work, while her mother was taking care of the two small children.
The sadness of Rika’s young life got more and more heartbreaking. Her father was caught stealing food from one of the small eateries in the village. This was not his first time violating the village charter, as he was previously caught attempting to steal a chicken and assaulting the chicken’s owner in the process. Rika’s mother was also involved with the theft of some coins from a laundry merchant. According to local custom, that was it. The entire family, children and all, were first ostracized and eventually exiled from the village, for the crime of trying to feed themselves. With the help of a few kindly gentlemen, Rika’s father built a rudimentary cabin, in a small clearing in the woods just outside the village.
Rika’s family never again set foot inside the perimeter road. It had been made very clear that severe penalties would be incurred if one or more of them were caught in the area. A loss of a hand or foot by saber was not a far-fetched notion in my village at the time. So, the family survived, just barely, for a few years and were very seldom seen, even though they lived less than a hundred meters from the outer road.
When the historic monsoon came, Rika was eight, I was nine, my grandfather was seventy two, and Oliver was still very old.
There was much torrential rain, wind, and excessive flooding. The people in the village were too busy with flood management and their own repairs for them to give a single thought to the poor, former villagers in the woods, not that they would have otherwise. Rika’s family did not fare too well. Their house was literally blown away, not having a proper substrate, and was left in splinters. Rika’s mother was hit by a falling tree limb and perished. Her brother ran out of the woods in fear but was overtaken by strong gusts of wind and was tumbled so badly he lost his life. Upon seeing this, Rika’s father tethered her to a tree! After this, confused on what to do, he was hit by some house debris, knocked unconscious, and fell into a puddle face first and drowned. Rika witnessed the entire horrific scene.
Rika was emotionally and physically drained, still strapped to a tree by vines, when the great storm passed. She had seen her entire life change in an instant, her father and brother in sight, lying lifeless on the ground. Her mother unseen, but Rika knew, no longer alive. It took her the rest of the afternoon and half the night to free herself from the jungle vines her father had used to protect her from the tremendous winds. After extricating herself in the dark of night, she had the unenviable task of collecting her mother and brother and dragging them next to her father where their former house once stood. Then she cast mud on the three lifeless bodies until they were covered. Then she put leaves and any flowers she could find to lay upon them. Then she cried.
Rika spent the following day near her deceased family. At times, she would go looking for something to eat, but always returned to her vigil. At night, she made herself a bed of leaves and slept with her family. The following day was the same. The night was the same as the previous one. When morning came, she felt an uneasy calm. She had run out of tears and the ground was drying, the mud mound showing some signs of cracking. She had been deathly afraid of going into the village, her father’s stern warnings remained with her. But surely these were extreme circumstances, the villagers would understand. She had no other choice and stepped out into the clearing.
3. Rika and the Elephant
I had first met Rika in school when I was six and she was five. Since we were a year apart, we had different teachers, but I would see her between classes or on the field at mid-day break. She was a pretty girl with long, coffee-brown hair and a bright, friendly smile. Her skin was the shimmering colour of ripe lemon mixed with coconut husk brown with golden hazel eyes to match. Despite her family situation, she always seemed happy and was well liked by all. She was quite intelligent and seemed to have a thirst for knowledge. She only lasted a half year in my school before the authorities banished her family from the village.
As Rika stood in the tall grass just outside the trees, she spied a team of oxen pulling a large wagon, a young man with a whip, and the most enormous elephant she had ever seen. For the three years her family lived in the woods, she was forbidden to venture out on the village side of the forest. Her father, even with his injury, had cleared quite a bit of land in their little homestead, using tools he brought and tools he borrowed. There was a meandering stream and a small, sunny field about a fifteen minute walk from the cabin where the two children would play.
As the working group neared, Rika stood motionless. She wasn’t totally camouflaged but she figured if she stood still no one would notice her. The oxen walked with their heads down. The man with the whip was striding on the village side of the road and would sometimes be obscured by the massive elephant. At times he would walk ahead, inspecting the garbage containers for anything of value or of interest. If he found something he liked, it would be secreted away in a large, canvas bag attached to the wagon.
Oliver noticed the girl from a long way off. He knew her from the village from a few years back. He had seen her in the audience a few times at the local circus. This was the same girl, he was sure of that, even though she had grown somewhat. Oliver had the ability to smell fear, as some elephants can, and death, which all elephants can. He could also smell hunger, which is a very rare trait for his kind. He knew the young girl was in trouble and devised a plan to help.
As the sanitation crew came within twenty meters of Rika, Oliver dug into the young man’s bag while he was busy inspecting containers. He had seen the man place food he had deemed in good shape in the sack. With his trunk, Oliver grasped a round of bread and half of a mango and flung the food in Rika’s direction. It landed within three paces of the girl but she did not move. Rika waited until the elephant, the oxen, and the leader had moved on. But Oliver turned his head at the right time and saw her pick up the bread and the fruit and run back into the jungle.
Oliver felt good about his gift of food for the girl but he knew it wasn’t enough and he wouldn’t be back on his route again for two daylight cycles. Once again, his altruistic manner took charge and he decided to bring the girl more food that night and take stock of her situation. Since he was old and had a mild demeanor, the elephant was not caged or chained at night and was free to roam around, which he sometimes did. Once darkness came, he placed more fruit and bread and a container of water in an old feed sack. He took a roundabout way out of the village, one that was not too populated. In a short while he was at the spot where he had seen the girl.
Rika was sleeping on her leaf bundle when Oliver approached. He could sense where she was lying by smell and sound. When he got to the clearing he was mortified by what he saw. It was a disaster area with a completely obliterated cabin torn to shreds in a small clearing. There was a ragged garden but it looked devastated by the recent flooding. The girl did not look peaceful either. She was dirty and shivering while she slept, a clay mound beside her. Oliver decided against waking her and left the satchel of food next to her.
The next time Oliver was working the trash route, he kept an eye out for the girl as he neared the place in the woods where she slept. Once again, she was there, this time a few steps closer to the road. When the man with the whip was not looking she put her shoulder near her face and waved her arm up and down mimicking an elephant. Oliver felt great relief that she was well and making contact with him. There was not much food in the canvas sack but he found an old man’s shirt. It had some tears and stains but it was still usable.
Oliver bundled the shirt with his trunk and flung it toward the girl. It landed several more paces away than the food had because of its light weight. The girl became motionless again while the animals and the man with the whip had passed. She ran over and snatched up the shirt and put it on. It was like a long robe on her but it was soft and warm. The elephant looked back in time to see Rika waving in thanks. Oliver gave a short, single-note trumpet in response but was saddened that he was not able to provide her with more food. He decided to pay her another visit that night.
4. Oliver's Trick
I was feeling restless on the evening that changed my life. The evening meal was over, chores were done, there was no circus that night. I decided to take a walk around the village since the air was calm. When I first spotted Oliver, I didn’t think much of it. I’ve seen him walking around the village before, either commissioned for labour or rides for children. Then I noticed he was alone and carrying a canvas sack. I decided, for lack of anything better to do, to follow him.
Oliver headed for the outskirts of the village, his trunk grasping the small sack by the handles making it sway left and right. I followed him a hundred paces behind since I didn’t want him to notice me, and besides, an animal that size would be difficult to lose track of. He meandered between roads, always taking the less lighted path, through a business district, which at this time of day would be deserted. I could tell his plan was surreptitious in nature and I allowed him to feel he was unnoticed.
When he reached the perimeter road, Oliver turned left, just as he did when on his garbage pick-up duty. I became quite interested to see what he was up to so I followed him more discreetly. He took the perimeter road about a third of the way and then veered off the path to the tree line. It was darker out at this point but I still could see the large elephant and the lightly coloured bag. I took this opportunity to leave the road myself and ran straight for a stand of trees. I moved closer to where Oliver was heading, moving swiftly between the trees and vegetation.
What I saw next baffled and stunned me. A young girl, maybe eight or nine years in age, came out from the thick woods and greeted the elephant with an embrace. She was wearing the oversized shirt and looked amazingly tiny as she hugged Oliver’s front leg. He dropped the sack next to the girl and lightly patted her back with his enormous trunk. I sat wide-eyed behind a tree, maybe twenty paces away. I started creeping toward them, wary of making any noise since I knew elephants had superior hearing abilities.
When the girl and the elephant completed their greeting, the girl went to the bag and took out a banana and started to eat it. Oliver picked up the sack again and both of them went into the woods. I made my way closer, moving slowly, and eventually came to the edge of a clearing. I watched as Oliver removed a small blanket from the sack and threw it over the girl. She laughed at this and I almost did as well which would have revealed my presence. She wrestled out of the blanket, spread it on the ground and sat upon it.
Seeing her smile, I began to cry because I recognized the girl as young Rika, whom I once knew from school in her first year. And the large mound must be… I never knew what became of the banished family, and at my age at the time things like that weren’t in my scope of understanding and the villagers never spoke of the outcast. I remembered that one day she was just gone. I couldn’t help my silent sobs as I recalled the great storm and gazed at the splintered wood and remnants of a homestead scattered around the clearing. I imagined the immense tragedy that occurred there and the enormous suffering that Rika was going through and then realized what Oliver came to do.
The next thing that happened was so incredible and fantastical that I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t observed it for myself. I swear to you that what I’m about to reveal is the truth as I saw it that night. There was bright moonlight filtering through the tree canopy so I’m sure of what I witnessed. Rika sat on the blanket peeling a mango while Oliver stomped around as if he was looking for something. I was maybe fifteen paces from them. As I wiped my face of tears and began to settle myself, Oliver came back to Rika holding something. It was a leaf from a jobee-ha tree.
Oliver held the leaf with the two finger-like extensions at the tip of his trunk. He manipulated it in such a way that, by blowing a small amount of air across the leaf, it vibrated and he created a sound, much the same way as human vocal cords do. By manipulating the leaf some more while blowing, he changed the characteristics of that sound. In other words, Oliver was speaking! Oliver’s mother taught him this trick when he was a pup but mainly for the novelty of making funny sounds. Over his many years, Oliver learned the sounds of human speech and, when he was alone, practiced mimicking those sounds with a jobee-ha leaf. He had never shown anyone this trick and had built up a vocabulary of several hundred words.
Oliver spoke to Rika while I watched in amazement! Granted, it wasn’t as clear as a human’s voice would be but even I could understand him from my distance. It had a buzzing sound, like a very large insect, and it had no timbre, but it was speech nonetheless. A small insect flew into my mouth as it hung open in awe and I had to gasp and spit it out.
“What is your name?” the intelligent beast said to the young girl. Rika understood the question through the strange voicing at once and her face lit up with such glee it belied her troubles.
“Reeeeka!” she shouted and clapped her hands. I was struck motionless and breathless at the exchange, and I wanted to run over and talk to the elephant myself.
“Rika, take blanket to grass and sit for time while I work,” Oliver told her through his buzzing leaf. “I will do little work.” Rika’s smile faded just a bit, the newness and wonderful experience of actually communicating with an elephant not fully wearing off.
“Can I stay and watch you work, please?” she said solemnly.
“No, you must be away,” Oliver buzzed. Rika nodded and gathered the sack and the blanket. I believed she glanced over at the clay mound for a second and understood what Oliver was about to do and why she shouldn’t be witness to it. I started to back up from my hiding place. I wanted to exit the forest further down and make my way back up to where Rika would be, seeming like I happened upon her while strolling through the grass.
This is what I did and Rika gazed at me as I approached her. “Hello,” I said to her before I was even close enough to see her eyes.
“Hello,” she said with a more dour face than what she displayed with the elephant.
“Aren’t you Rika?” I said, smiling. “I knew you from school in your first year.” She hesitated, obviously and understandably not recognizing me. “Your teacher was Miss Tolo, remember?” Rika’s face brightened a bit and she smiled.
“I remember my teacher. She was a nice lady.”
“I used to watch you play football with your friends at break time,” I said, but she didn’t respond. She went to the sack and produced a banana and held it out for me. I shook my head and pointed to the woods where Oliver was doing his work. “Is your friend in there?” I asked. Rika nodded as she put the banana back in the canvas sack.
“He has to work in there,” she said and her mood soured a bit.
“Okay,” I said, smiling at her, “then I will go help him so he can finish faster.” She seemed to like this turn of events so I got up and patted her shoulder and told her to stay there just a little longer. Rika remained quiet and played with the handles of the sack. I really did want to help so I walked over to the clearing and approached the beast.
5. The Burial
Oliver noticed me immediately and I got the feeling he had known of my secret presence in the woods all along. His progress had been swift and effective. He had managed to dig out a ravine wide enough for the deceased family using his massive feet and his trunk. I was amazed at how much he had accomplished in such short a time.
“I’m Tala,” I said, slowly walking toward the magnificent animal and the burial site. Oliver fiddled with the leaf, preparing to speak.
“I see you follow,” he said, shattering any delusion I had of my stealthiness on the way here. "You help." Because of the monotone drone of his speech, it was hard to discern if it was a question or a command. So I began unearthing the bodies to be moved to the adjoining grave. I was shaking and started to weep from the unbelievable task I was assigned, and also the horrific smell. I wanted this done as soon as possible while also giving the appropriate respect for Rika’s family. Oh, and I was talking to an elephant!
Oliver produced some vines and dropped them at my feet. He proceeded to explain how he wanted them used and, to my surprise, I understood every word. I was to make three loops of vines and place them around the knees of each victim with enough slack for Oliver to insert the end of his trunk. He would use his trunk to lift the vines thereby transporting the lower half of each body. I was to lift and move the upper half. We did this quietly and with great precision and I marveled over the brilliance of Oliver’s idea.
The great elephant then instructed me to find many leaves, flowers, and grasses and to place them over the bodies. This was quite easy in contrast to what I had just accomplished and in a short time we had all three of Rika’s family members - father, mother, brother - side by side, situated at the bottom of the grave that Oliver created and covered with vegetation. Oliver and I then began carefully filling in the hole, which was quite large and deep, by transferring the soil that he had removed. I had stopped crying by this point, but I was still silently mourning Rika’s family, whom I had never met.
After all the dirt had been replaced, Oliver and I began cleaning the area of debris. He obviously did the heavy lifting and moving of the cabin’s demolished components, while I collected the smaller bits of Rika’s shattered young life. We made separate piles, his undisputedly larger than mine, and I made a third, smaller section of personal things that I had found that Rika may have wanted to take with her. Lastly, I was to make three markers for the gravesite from found wood while Oliver placed four tree trunks around the plot effectively framing the family’s final resting place. This last gesture made me cry again but it did not stop me from completing my task.
By the time we were ready for Rika, the entire clearing was neat and orderly with the gravesite in the center, framed with logs, and three triangular markings at one end. We finished it with as many flowers as we could find and placed them at all four corners. All this done in relative silence by boy and beast for many hours using only the light from the moon. Oliver trumpeted a quick alert that our work was done and I went to retrieve Rika who had been sleeping on her blanket. I held her hand as I brought her back to her former homestead. She was stoic as she walked to the grave and then sat on one of the perimeter logs. Oliver and I stepped back to let her have her moment with her family.
“Thank you,” Rika said softly, without turning around. The sentiment could have been for her father for providing for her. Or her mother for loving and caring for her. Or it might have been aimed at her brother for being her best friend and playmate. But I somehow knew it was for Oliver. He was more humane than any human I had ever known. A kind-hearted giant of compassion and decency. I patted the tough, gray hide of the elephant’s leg as an agreement, and as I did, Rika rose and ran to Oliver and hugged that same leg. She was crying quietly as she thanked him over and over. Then she threw her arms around me and thanked me again and again. I won’t mention if I cried once more at her embrace because you probably already guessed that I did.
6. Rika Goes Home
Rika, Oliver, and I headed back to the village. We took the same roundabout way back to Oliver’s quarters even though it would have been almost twice as fast to go straight through. It was decided that Rika was to come home with me for the remainder of the night and we would discuss her future with my mother and grandfather the next morning. I imagined Oliver was quite tired from the immense effort he exerted, so we bade him goodnight and Rika hugged him again.
The two of us made our way to my home and I allowed time for Rika to eat something and clean herself in our bath. Luckily, my mother and grandfather did not stay up for me, otherwise we would have had a very lengthy conversation in the middle of the night. I gave Rika some old clothes of mine that didn’t fit me anymore and were too large for the twins. We slept in my bed, which was just big enough for the both of us.
Neither of us could fall asleep right away and we ended up talking for quite a bit of time. Of course, we were both still moved about the night’s events and wanting to talk about Oliver and his amazing trick. Before drifting off, we made a pact that we would not divulge his secret to anyone because, on the way back, Oliver had told us he had never shown anyone his incredible ability before. We both said we were deeply honored to be able to talk with such a magnificent creature such as him, and were humbled by his compassion and intelligence. I would venture to say, probably the most intelligent animal on earth.
I woke up early so I could talk to my grandfather first. He usually gets up before anyone else so he can have his tea in peace before the family commotion starts. I hated to bother him during his quiet time but it was important. I told him the events of the previous night, leaving out Oliver’s trick. I also made it seem that I had employed the elephant to do the heavy lifting and it was my idea to bury Rika’s family and bring her back to the village. It’s not that I wanted some kind of recognition for the work that we had done, I was just trying to protect Oliver from any undue questions about motive and leaving the village.
My grandfather told me to fetch Rika so he could talk to her. When I went to wake her, she was already up and playing with my sisters. I watched them for a couple of minutes as Rika showed them how to build a house with their blocks. She noticed me after a while and I motioned to her with my finger to follow me. My grandfather wished to speak to her in private so I wasn’t privy to their conversation, but Rika told me later that he was the nicest gentleman and was very comforting and sympathetic to her plight.
Rika was to see the village elders immediately. Well, immediately after the morning meal. She ate like she was famished, which she apparently was, and unapologetically so. My mother doted on her like she was one of her own and quickly ran to the family next door, who had a daughter around Rika’s age, to borrow a dress, a pair of shoes, and some other attire. The twins had immediately fallen in love with Rika and ran around her ‘helping’ her dress and asking all sorts of personal questions. When it was time to go, my grandfather and I walked Rika to the appropriate government building. No one spoke, but I held her hand.
I won’t go into the politics of the situation, but by the end of the day it was decided by the elders that Rika would live with a childless couple who generously offered to take her in. I knew these people, they were kind and good, and I was confident Rika would enjoy living with them in their substantial dwelling. They raised goats and owned a cow and even a pet cat named Chakka. Rika told me she loved animals and was excited to begin her new life.
7. Rika’s New Life
And so, amazingly, Rika was back living in the village after her family’s banishment. We saw each other quite often. She returned to school and I volunteered to be her tutor so she could catch up on her schoolwork. We both volunteered to be Oliver’s attendants at the circus. We gave him baths, cleaned his quarters, and helped with other circus odds and ends. She was at her happiest when being around Oliver. Sometimes we would sneak out at night and visit the old elephant and he would tell us stories about his life and all the things he had done in the past. Some of his remembrances were funny, some were heartwarming, but a few were appalling, such as the descriptions of brutality towards the elephants brought upon by circus trainers and farm owners.
I loved watching Rika when Oliver told his happier tales. She was fascinated with him and would sit in the hay enraptured by his past adventures, eyes glistening, her smile unbroken. I honestly believe Oliver enjoyed these meetings as much as we did. He displayed a sense of satisfaction and pride, knowing the events in his life would be known by others, especially a little girl for whom he cared so much.
For me, they were surreal experiences. The sound of Oliver’s buzzing leaf was meditative, almost trance-inducing, yet my mind was so alive picturing the great beast and all his exploits in his younger years. I once asked him how old he was, but he just said elephants don’t care about such things and we left it at that. One night, Rika asked him if he missed his mother. Oliver took a long time to answer and said only one word, “Always.”
After we left Oliver on those special nights, Rika was very animated on our walk home. Recalling the latest story and repeating word for word how Oliver had described it. Many times I had to remind her to keep her voice low as we walked through the village. I would take her to her home first, she would hug me goodnight, then I would make my way back to my room.
This is how it went for many years. Rika and I became the best of friends, not only because we shared a secret and had an unusual relationship with a talking elephant, but because we genuinely cared for each other. She took extra classes and caught up with her studies in less than a year. Not only that, she was leader in her class with top grades. By the time I graduated, when I was seventeen, I told Rika I would wait a year for her so we could both go to university together. My mother and grandfather were not pleased with my decision but they understood. They loved Rika as well.
Unfortunately, Oliver was sickly at this time and the circus was canceled because of his poor health. Rika and I visited him every day. I would go early because I had no classes and Rika would join me in the afternoon. There were no opportunities for Oliver to talk to us during the day, and at night he was always too tired. One evening when he had a little energy he did tell us he appreciated our company. Another evening, he said he enjoyed listening to the two of us talk to each other about our future and was comforted to know we would be together. I could tell Rika was trying not to cry in those moments on those late, starry evenings.
8. The Intelligent Beast Is Gone
When Oliver died, it came as no surprise. He had been feeling weaker and was sitting down most of the day. He was so weak he couldn’t even lift his trunk and his speaking days were over. One of the last things he told us during his decline was that he wanted to be buried “in the clearing.” Rika and I needed no further clarification.
We comforted him the best we could during those long summer days in which his sickness had gotten worse. Rika had just turned seventeen and I was eighteen. We both had plans to travel to the big city the following month and attend school while living with my uncle. (Thank you Uncle for helping with tuition and the room.) We were a true couple by then and were inseparable. We were with Oliver when our intelligent beast expired. He was on his side and, with what seemed like great effort, lifted his head to look at us, placed it back down, and breathed his final breath. Rika and I sat holding each other for an hour, crying, remembering, mourning.
It took eight men from the village, myself included, an entire afternoon to dig a grave large enough for Oliver. The plot was adjacent to Rika’s family’s grave, which was meticulously maintained by us over the years. The entire village donated funds to secure a crane and a flatbed truck for the burial. Oliver the elephant, formerly known as Bantu, formerly called Manuapoto, many times nameless, was dressed in bright, colourful robes and garlands of perfumed flowers. He was anointed with oils and received the royal funeral that he deserved. My grandfather said a few words and told stories of Oliver’s circus days. He estimated that the elephant was at least a century old. Nobody disputed this.
9. Little Oliver
Rika and I were married back at the old village the year after our graduation from university. We staged the event in the grassy meadow just outside her old family homestead in the woods, now a cemetery. It may seem morbid to some, but it was the perfect setting for us. It was a glorious day, with friends from school, a multitude of villagers (some we didn’t even know), and our family members, minus two - my grandfather, who is sadly no longer with us, and Oliver, who we both consider to be part of our extended family.
Rika is working on finishing her studies in veterinary medicine and hopes to have her own practice in the future. I couldn’t imagine a more apt occupation for the first person to talk with an animal. I am a biologist for a national company specializing in animal habitats. I get to travel around the country studying the plants and animals of our region and the effects of human intervention. And while in the field, I always keep an ear tuned for a low, buzzing, breathy noise that sounds like a droning whisper calling me to enter a forbidden world.
And now, at long last, that brings everything around to you, my son. I am writing this account of your mother, my lovely Rika, and the incredible elephant we knew as Oliver, on the day of your birth. We wanted you to know the unbelievable story of how we came together, which of course, led to you being born. There was only one option when it came to what we would call you, and when you get older and are able to read this wondrous history for yourself, we hope you can appreciate the reasoning behind your unconventional name.
Little Oliver - that’s what your mother has been calling you all day. And it has made me realize what a huge part your namesake had been in our lives. Literally. But it’s also made me realize that I should appreciate the smaller things that are just as important: the lazy circling of a hungry cat around my shins, the intricate veins of a jobee-ha leaf kept inside an air-tight plastic bag, the tired but satisfied smile of a young mother nursing her firstborn. And now, while you both sleep next to me, as I finish this secret memoir and long for the day when you will read it, I whisper "Happy birthday, Oliver. Welcome to our family."