KALAW / MYANMAR 20°43’52.7”N 96°29’55.0”E
MOLLY FERRILL
“That’s why contact with animals is a sacred thing, because they know something we don’t” – Ursula Leguin
she was 55 years old , her skin wrinkled with age and scarred from years of hard work. She walked slowly, and this time, there was no bullhook to prod her; her pace was her own in the midst of the gently swaying trees. The smell of sugarcane and bananas drifted on the breeze, and she breathed deeply as she and her friend moved toward the river. His feet were smooth and sure, and his small body balanced lightly on her shoulders, moving slightly with the rhythm of her steps. Their shadow showed them as one connected being, idly ambling toward the cool shade of the valley in the warm midday sun. As they approached the river, the smell of green weeds and damp grass and the cheerful bubbling sound of the water invited them deeper into the glade. She lowered her trunk to brush the surface of the water, lazy in its meandering path. Slowly, she waded into a deep pool, lowering her body until her friend could step onto the smooth stones of the river bank. He bathed her face and her back, splashing water over her dry, dusty skin. She soaked in the deliciousness of the moment. The ache of her bones and the sting of her scars washed away. The many years of toiling to drag felled trees from the forest faded far into the past. She was free again, playing with her friend. She sprayed him with water and he laughed. She knew why humans needed her; her species could move thousands of tons of timber each year in Myanmar, harvested from the largest expanse of tropical forest in mainland Southeast Asia. If humans used machines for this work instead, they would destroy this habitat even faster and kill all of the trees in their path, as well as the small plants and animals around them. Only elephants could do this job without harming the surrounding environment. Her parents had done this work, and her grandparents before them. But sometimes the work was too taxing on the elephants’ bodies, and their human working companions too punitive and demanding. Her friend had come along when her tired limbs could no longer haul timber as quickly and nimbly as before. She hadn’t trusted him at first; it had taken time for her to realize that not all humans meant hard work. But the young boy’s hands were gentle, and the bullhook she’d become accustomed to was nowhere to be seen. Slowly, her heart had opened to the boy, and he had come to trust her in return. The river sang its ancient song, and the trees whispered their soft lullabies. The friends played in this paradise that was made just for them, and for this moment, and for the millions before and after. The clouds floated lazily in the sky, and the sun danced and winked through the leaves. There was harmony, and all was as it should be.
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MOTHER VOLUME ONE
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