his mother and father weeding in their tobacco field. Sometimes people commented that his father loved tobacco as much as YâTin loved elephants.
Every day the villagers worked in their fields as if there were no war raging. The last American soldiers had left Vietnam in 1973, and after that daily life continued. YâTinâs father still worked in his beloved tobacco field, and YâTin still went to school, still took care of Lady. He fantasized that the North Vietnamese Army and the Vietcong would leave them alone and that his people would remain in the Central Highlands, where they had lived for hundredsâmaybe thousandsâof years.
The tribesâ other two elephants, Geng and Dok,were already chained and waiting patiently until their elephant keepers finished working in the fields. Geng was the Knulsâ elephant and was handled by Tomas, and Dok belonged to the Hwings and was handled by a boy named YâSiu.
The chains were long enough to allow the elephants to reach the bamboo trees and tall grass in the jungle but too short to allow them to reach the fields owned by YâTinâs family. YâTin wasnât supposed to, but in July when the sugarcane was ripe, he cut plenty of canes for Lady. It was her favorite thing. He always cut off the sweet end for Lady and gave the rest to Geng and Dok. He knew Lady was more spoiled than the others, but she was also the hardest working. Still, sometimes Tomas reprimanded YâTin for spoiling Lady. At sixteen Tomas was the oldest, so YâTin and YâSiu always deferred to him. One day YâTin had suggested they chain the elephants farther out because there was a bigger bamboo stand there. Tomas had pursed his lips and said, âTheyâre fine where they are.â YâTin was a little miffed, but Tomas was the boss man.
Besides a few minor run-ins with Tomas, the only difficult time YâTin had experienced as an elephant keeper was before he began training.A man from another village had wanted to breed his bull with Lady. Sheâd gotten pregnant and, at twenty-two months, had given birth to a male, whom YâTin had named Mountain. That was when he built a little house, so he could give round-the-clock attention to Lady and Mountain. But Mountain had died at six months, and Lady had been depressed for a long time. She lost so much weight that her ribs stuck out. YâTin lost weight as well, until his own ribs stuck out. That was something YâTin and Lady had gone through together, and after that they had been connected by their spirits.
Now Lady was pregnant again by a wild bull whoâd stormed the village. That was twenty-one months ago, meaning Lady might give birth at any time. For reasons not understood, nobody in the village had ever successfully raised a calf of a domesticated elephant, but YâTin planned to be the first.
Now he attached Ladyâs chain to her leg and gave her trunk a good scratch. âIâll see you after school,â he told her, but her attention had already turned to a bamboo tree. It was ridiculous, but even before he left, he was already feeling lonely for her. YâTin wasthe last elephant handler back from the river, as he was every morning. While he attended school, Lady would stay chained here unless there was work for her to do hauling wood or crops.
YâTin walked toward the village. The fence surrounding it was made of bamboo stalks sharpened at the tops. Years ago the Americans had wanted many villages to put up fences. The fences were to protect the village as well as to let the Vietcong know that this village did not support them. YâTin walked through the gate, on which hung the green, red, and white flag of his people. A drawing of an elephant decorated the flag, so naturally, YâTin approved of it.
He moved quickly past the longhouses, which all looked the same: slanting thatch roofs and stilts several feet high holding up the structures.