Tua and the Elephant (10 page)

“Are you hungry, Tua?” Chi Chi asked.

Tua knew that monks never eat after midday. And they never cook for themselves either. They go out early in the morning with their alms bowls and accept offerings from the people. Tua didn’t know what time it was, but she knew it was well past midday.

“I’m a
little
hungry.” She hunched her shoulders. It had been ages since she’d eaten. And poor Pohn-Pohn had only had a box of mangos for breakfast. “What about Pohn-Pohn?” she asked.

“We took our alms bowls to the farmers’ market for Pohn-Pohn,” Chi Chi said. “The people have been very generous. And we saved some of our midday meal for you. Come.”

As they crossed the courtyard a temple dog awoke from her nap in the sun, stood up, barked three times at Pohn-Pohn, and fell over as if in a faint. Three more temple dogs came out of the shade to investigate, saw Pohn-Pohn, and withdrew into their crannies and nooks. Then a black and brown rooster, with a red coxcomb and coppery tail, strutted across their path as if on a dare.

Tua sat down on a mat under a shelter and was brought three covered bowls by the monks: one with soup, one with curry, and one with rice. There were piles of mangos, pineapples, watermelons, and bunches of bananas as well. Tua bowed three times to thank the people for their offerings.

“Try the curry,” said a boy monk with ears like the handles on a trophy cup.

Tua filled her bowl with curry and rice, took a bite, and licked the spoon.

“
Aroy mak mak,
” Tua said. “I love it.”

“My mother brings it every morning to the corner where we go for our alms. It’s my favorite,”
the boy monk said.

“She must love you very much,” Tua said.

The boy blushed with pride and wiggled his ears.

“May I feed the elephant?” he asked.

“Of course. Her name’s Pohn-Pohn,” Tua said. “She loves mangos the best.”

Pohn-Pohn accepted a rosy-cheeked mango from the boy, tossed it in her mouth, chewed up the pulp, and spit out the seed.

As the monks stepped up one by one to feed Pohn-Pohn, Tua finished her bowl of curry and excused herself to make an offering at the temple.

Climbing the steps between the statues of two Singha lions, Tua kicked off her shoes, bowed a wai, and stepped over the threshold.

She walked the length of a long red carpet in the flickering candlelight, past wood carvings and
shrines, until she came to a giant golden Buddha sitting on a lotus throne. His legs were folded in front of him, his right hand was draped over his right knee with his finger touching the earth, and his left hand was resting in his lap holding an alms bowl. He was surrounded by offerings of fruit, flowers, and incense. Tua knelt in front of the statue, bowed three times, chanted a prayer, and made her offering. Then she told the Buddha how thankful she was that Pohn-Pohn had come into her life. She thanked all of the people who had helped her and Pohn-Pohn come this far. She thanked the monks for taking them in and offering them refuge. “And, if it isn’t asking too much,” she added, “please help us find a place where Pohn-Pohn can be safe.” Then she bowed three more times and withdrew from the temple.

Pohn-Pohn and the boy monks were across the courtyard and standing in front of a life-size statue of an ancient monk meditating on a platform. As Tua drew near, the statue opened its eyes and
clapped its hands, sending the boys back to their chores, studies, and devotions.

Tua stopped in her tracks and bowed a wai to the head monk of the temple.

“Welcome,” he said, after Tua had sat herself cross-legged on the ground in front of Pohn-Pohn.

“
Khawp khun kha,
” she thanked him.

“Tell me, why have you come?”

Tua began telling their story, from the moment she and Pohn-Pohn met at the fountain until they arrived outside the
wat.
Pohn-Pohn’s trunk stayed draped over her shoulder the entire time.

The monk listened patiently, scarcely moving a muscle. When Tua came to the end, he blinked his eyes three times.

“What is it you wish to do?”

“Find Pohn-Pohn a home where she’ll be safe.”

The monk nodded. “And do you know of such a place?”

Tua thought a moment, then looked up at Pohn-Pohn for help. Pohn-Pohn flapped her ears.

“No,” she said, turning back to the monk. “We don’t know of a place.”

The monk smiled down at this devoted pair. “There is a sanctuary in the forest not far from here,” he said at last. “It is run by a woman called Mae Noi, the little mother. They have elephants there, I am told. It is a place for the sick, injured, abandoned, and abused.”

Tua bolted upright. “How do we get there?”

“If it is your wish, I will arrange to have a truck take you there tomorrow morning.”

Tua looked up into Pohn-Pohn’s eyes and hugged her trunk.

“Yes, please,” she answered for them both.

Meanwhile, a ten-wheeled truck skidded to a halt outside the
wat
walls, sputtered, shivered, and groaned. The driver cut the engine, hopped out of the cab, and waved to a waitress at the outdoor restaurant across the street.

“What’s going on at the temple?” a customer asked the waitress.

“They’ve got an elephant over there,” she blurted, as if revealing a secret.

“You don’t say. Did you hear that, Nang? They’ve got an elephant at the temple.”

“That’s nice.” Nang belched. “Can I get another beer?”

Once evening fell, two bent shapes stepped out of the shadows under the cover of night and crept along until they stood in front of the ten-wheeled truck. While one held open the hood, the other climbed on the bumper, peered inside at the engine, and began tugging at a hose.

An old dog crawled out from under the truck and sniffed at the legs on the ground.

“Go away. Shoo,” Nang whispered.

The dog raised its mangy head and smiled.

Where had Nang seen that face before? As he bent over for a better look, the dog took hold of his pant leg and began to tug and pull.

“Be still, Nang.” Nak pulled his head out from under the hood. “And stop that growling, or you’ll wake the driver.”

The old dog stopped growling on command, released the pant leg, yawned, lifted his leg, and took aim.

“Oh no,” Nang said. “Don’t …”

“Got it.” Nak yanked the hose free. Then he slipped it loosely back in place and declared: “That should come off nicely.”

In the early morning calm, before the roosters crowed and the monks went out on their alms rounds, the ten-wheeled truck pulled into the courtyard with its headlights and taillights blazing. Tua yawned, rolled out of the hammock at Pohn-Pohn’s feet, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and pulled a sarong around her shoulders against the chill.

“Look, Pohn-Pohn. That’s the truck that’s going to take us to the sanctuary.”

Pohn-Pohn was looking at the truck. And she didn’t like what she saw. The bed of the truck, with its wooden slats and canvas roof, reminded her of the cage she was put in when she was taken from
her mother in the forest. For four days she had been imprisoned, beaten, and denied sleep, food, and water in an attempt to crush her spirit. She cried for her mother, but her mother never came.

Tua led Pohn-Pohn across the courtyard in the dark. The monks, attending to their early morning chores, moved as softly as dark shadows. When two of the monks slid a ramp out from under the truck, Pohn-Pohn stopped short and would go no farther.

“Don’t be afraid, Pohn-Pohn,” Tua said. “I’ll be with you. Come.”

But Pohn-Pohn’s eyes opened wider and she flapped her ears: “No.”

The driver suggested that they remove the canvas top. So four monks climbed up the slats like ants and rolled it back. But Pohn-Pohn still wouldn’t budge.

Tua pleaded some more, and the monks chanted a prayer while the driver scratched his head, and looked at his watch. But Pohn-Pohn still wouldn’t climb up the ramp into the back of the truck.

At last Tua gave up and sat down on the bumper. She picked up a banana that was lying on the truck bed and began peeling it. Pohn-Pohn stretched out her trunk, plucked it out of Tua’s hand, popped it in her mouth, and reached for another.

“I’m sorry, Pohn-Pohn,” she said. “I don’t have anything else for you to eat.”

Just then, the boy with the big ears appeared with a cloth bag slung over his shoulder, bulging with mangos. He stepped up on the ramp and held out a mango in his palm. Pohn-Pohn reached for the mango, tossed it in her mouth, chewed the pulp, and spit out the seed. The boy backed up the ramp and offered her another mango. She stepped up on the ramp to retrieve it. They continued that way until the bag was empty and Pohn-Pohn was standing in the back of the truck with the boy.

“You’re so smart,” Tua said to the boy.

“Noom,” the boy answered. “My name is Noom.”

Tua climbed up the ramp to join them. “You’re so smart, Noom.”

Noom removed a bodhi seed bracelet from his wrist and offered it to Tua. “Please accept this gift.” He bowed a wai.

“
Khawp khun kha.
” Tua bowed back.