Almanzora - Vic Davey-short story

 

Almanzora

Every morning, Alma and her friend Idi carefully walked the four miles to school, picking their way along the dusty track, pockmarked with deep ruts after the recent heavy rains. Sunlight filtered through the branches of an ancient Baobab tree and the tall grasses on either side swaved in the gentle breeze. It was going to be another hot day.

 They chatted as they walked, their backpacks seeming to get heavier with books as each week went by.  Suddenly, a flock of Collard Sunbirds flew into the air,  in panic, disturbed, squawking and screeching and creating a kaleidoscope of colour in the sky with their bright plumage as they twisted and turned. Something was on the move in the bush. Alma halted, took Idi´s arm and stood, listening. A low grumble, a deep rumble came from a few metres away, something hidden by the vegetation. Dry twigs and leaves and bushes were being pushed aside and crunched underfoot.

No more than ten metres in front of them, between two thorn bushes, a large grey head appeared, ears flapping, trunk sniffing the air. The elephant looked first to the right and then to the left, spotting the two girls motionless in the middle of the path. Alma smiled, she knew the male bull well from previous encounters, Ndouva she had named him, Swahili for elephant. 

Ndouva moved onto the track, turned to face the girls and with another wave of his trunk, a further elephant appeared, a smaller female, followed immediately by her calf, no more than 6 months old, his trunk entwined in his mother`s tail. Five more tuskers, of various ages and sizes and all members of Ndouva`s family crossed while he stood guard, ushering them like a school crossing warden. 

After the last one disappeared into the bush, Ndouva issued another rumble, lifted his trunk as though in salute to Alma and Idi then turned and followed his family into the jungle.

 The sound of their march receded as they continued their journey and Alma knew there was a busy watering hole some 5 miles away to the west where they would spend the day washing, wallowing and cooling themselves in the mud while Ndouva stood watch against predators, both animal and human.

The girls chattered excitedly, something to tell all their friends. Alma hoped Ndouva would stay safe, the watering hole could be a dangerous place. Only a couple of months back, a large male elephant was killed by poachers, not far from her village, it`s huge tusks, ripped from it`s body, prized for the ivory.

Alma and Idi both pledged, then, that when they left school, they would work to protect these endangered beasts whose ancestors had walked the earth for thousands of years. As they approached the school gate, Alma pictured another gate, this with a large wooden sign over the top on which was branded the words, “The Alma Nzora and Idi Nkosi Elephant Sanctuary.”