An Inconvenient Elephant by Judy Reene Singer Read Free Book Online

Several gazelles were drinking warily, their delicate faces streaked with black that made a straight line up to their antlers, giving them a sport sneaker look. A herd of zebras fled as I drew closer, cantering away in a flurry of dashing stripes.
    The heat was hypnotic. Maybe I was dreaming all of this. Maybe I was still in Kenya with my baby ellies. Maybe I hadn’t even left New York. How improbable it was that I was here! The intense blue of the sky reached down, connecting with the intense blue lake. The mountains directly across from me were covered in mist, and a fish eagle screed overhead. I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering if it would all disappear if I clicked my heavy bootstogether, and I would wake up and be home with Tusker, like Dorothy and Toto. I opened my eyes again. I really was here.
    But I didn’t have the Wizard of Oz to help me.
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    There was a commotion ahead. Dreading and yet hoping it was Tusker, I ran to a campsite that was supported by a large, flat, rocky ledge the other campers had called the Chill Spot. It overlooked the water and was used by foreign tourists with less formal equipment who were vacationing on the cheap. Tusker was standing in the middle of a small crowd. They were obviously used to the sight of elephants, since elephants appear out of everywhere in Zimbabwe. Garbage was strewn about his feet, and he was being pelted by glass soda bottles that were breaking into shards around him. A boy, maybe sixteen, had another bottle in his hand, aiming to throw it, and I ran to him and grabbed his hand to divert him from his target. The elephant lifted his trunk over his head, and the gathering crowd moved menacingly close, taunting him and screaming obscenities. He shuffled his feet nervously and trumpeted, and there was a collective gasp.
    â€œGive him room to move,” I yelled. “Move back and give him room! Give him a way out.”
    The crowd parted, still yelling, disrespectful and foolish, deceiving themselves that their trappings of civilization, their bright plastic coolers with matching trash pails and flowered umbrellas and rented drop-sided campers were somehow equal to the elephant’s irrevocable rights to this territory. They had forgotten, or never learned, that he belonged here, he was the native and they were the intruders, in their garishly bright reds and pinks and turquoise tropical clothing.
    â€œLeave him alone!” I screamed, even as the game warden drove up and dispersed them in calm, authoritative tones.
    â€œLeave them to me, mademoiselle,” he said, and I politely retreated, still watching Tusker, who sorted through another trash pail before he turned around and casually walked away.
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    â€œWe have to get him out of here soon,” I announced to Diamond.
    We were eating dinner: dovi —a peanut butter and chicken stew—with greens and cauliflower and dinner sadza and tea. Inexpensive native food, unlike the steaks and seafood that the guests in the other huts were receiving, since we weren’t paying, courtesy of Charlotte and Billy Pope.
    â€œYou had to see the way they were treating him,” I added. “Have you heard anything yet?” Tusker was all I could think about.
    â€œI spoke to Charlotte, and she’s working on a plan,” Diamond replied, quickly finishing her dinner. “She’s been trying to pull something together ever since the Conservation Task Force issued the execution order.”
    Execution. The word again sent a chill through me.
    â€œWhat kind of plan?” I asked.
    Diamond made a face. “She thought a crew could somehow push him to where she is, and then she could make arrangements to have him airlifted out. She’s been working with some rescue friends that she’s known a long time.”
    Chizarira National Park was the most remote park in thecountry, with fewer tourists, and would give us more privacy and more opportunity, so Charlotte’s idea