Hare in the Elephant's Trunk Read online

  Jacob sat down beside them, removed one of the cones from his back, and held it out for the men to inspect. “Do you like tobacco?” he asked, smiling and inviting them to take a sniff.

  The men inhaled the tobacco’s sweet smell deeply, closing their eyes and nodding. One of the men pointed to his stool. “Brown,” he said, or at least that was what Jacob thought he said. The man mimed that he was painting his stool with the tobacco cone.

  “Ah! You use tobacco juice to stain your stools?” Jacob imitated the man’s gestures. “To protect them?”

  Both men smiled and nodded. The older one stood and beckoned for Jacob to follow them. Jacob admired the way the whole herd of goats also turned to follow their masters, like a furry river.

  They walked for a long time. Jacob was happy the men stayed ahead of him so he didn’t have to try to communicate with them. Eventually they came to a small collection of tents made of tarp and sticks, designed to be folded up quickly as the nomads moved about in their constant search for water and good grazing land for their animals.

  Several women were preparing food over an open fire. One of them took Jacob by the hand and led him to a stool. He sat down and listened while the herdsmen explained to the women who he was, pointing to his tobacco and laughing. They didn’t look fierce or angry, but it was hard to tell when he couldn’t understand most of what they said.

  After a while, a younger man emerged from one of the tents.

  “I am Faisal. Do you speak Swahili?”

  “Yes.” Jacob grinned. “Yes, I can understand, and also speak the language a little. I have worked as a translator.”

  “My uncles are interested in your tobacco,” Faisal said. “They like to smoke it and also use its juice to treat their stools, protect them from the weather.”

  “I would be interested in trading my tobacco for some goats,” Jacob said.

  Faisal spoke with his uncles for several minutes, then returned to where Jacob sat waiting.

  “They say they will give you one fine milk goat for all your tobacco,” he said.

  Jacob knew this was not a fair trade. Tobacco would be very valuable to nomads; they had no crops of their own because they were constantly moving. Anyway, it would be impossible to grow such a crop in the barren, rocky soil. He paced around the fire, looking at the swarming herd of goats as they settled down for the night.

  To his surprise, a small Turkana boy came running from behind one of the tents and hurled himself at Jacob’s legs. “Jacob!” he shouted, smiling up at him.

  “Lokaalei? But what are you doing here, so far from Kakuma?”

  The boy pointed to one of the herders and said, “Papa.”

  “This is my uncle’s favorite son, the smartest of his children,” Faisal said. “How is it that you know him?”

  Jacob explained about meeting Lokaalei at Kakuma.

  “My uncle hopes his intelligent son will one day become a water doctor—someone who can find water in this dry desert,” Faisal said. “The Turkana people spend most of their lives looking for water. In Turkana, Lokaalei’s name means, ‘when the water is flowing.’”

  “He is a bright boy—if he wants to go to school, he will find a way.” As Jacob stood, rubbing his ears and looking at Lokaalei, an idea began forming in his mind.

  He turned to Faisal. “Please tell your uncle that, before morning, I will teach his son one thousand and one of the most important things in the world, if he will trade me five of his excellent goats for my five exceptional cones of tobacco.”

  Faisal looked skeptically at Jacob. “One thousand and one? How could you teach so many things in only one night?” He shrugged and went back to speak to his uncle.

  He returned in only a few minutes. “He is in agreement. His son has told him of your teaching in Kakuma. My uncle says you can use that small storage tent for your teaching.”

  “Thank you, Faisal. Hmmmm ...” Jacob looked around the camp. Taking Lokaalei by the hand, he approached the small boy’s mother. She was wearing many strands of brightly colored beads around her long neck.

  Jacob pointed at the beads. “Could we use some of those?” he asked, looking at Lokaalei to translate. “Just for tonight?”

  The woman began shaking her head vehemently and speaking quickly, covering the beads with her hand. “The beads are sacred to her,” Faisal explained. “She cannot remove them from her neck. She is sorry, but she cannot help you.”

  “Come with me, Lokaalei,” Jacob said. “We will find something else.” They walked out into the desert, and began picking pebbles up from the ground. When their pockets were bulging, they went into the storage tent and dumped them onto the dirt. The light of the full moon shone brightly through a hole in the roof as the two boys worked with the pile of stones. Jacob and Lokaalei didn’t emerge until just after sunrise the following morning. They spread their pebbles on the ground near the fire.

  “Well?” Faisal asked, smiling at Lokaalei. He cupped the little boy’s chin in his hands and looked deeply into his eyes. “He doesn’t look any smarter.”

  “Show your family, Lokaalei.” Jacob smiled encouragingly at the little boy. “Go on.”

  Lokaalei began laying the pebbles out in rows and chanting. “One, two, the sky is blue; three, four, a lion can roar; five, six, pick-up sticks; seven, eight, a goat needs a mate; nine, ten, a big fat hen ...” When he had ten rows of ten, he shouted out, “One hundred!” and then began working on the next group of one hundred.

  When he got to one thousand, Lokaalei’s father stood and clapped loudly. Striding over to Jacob, he reached out his hand, smiling and talking excitedly.

  “He cannot believe you taught his son so many numbers, in only one night,” Faisal translated. “He says someday that knowledge will help Lokaalei become a water finder. His son has told him about your teaching in Kakuma, as well. My uncle says he is happy to give you five of his best goats, in exchange for so much learning, and, of course, your tobacco. He says to please follow him.”

  “Yes, uncle.” Jacob nodded to the man. “I would be very happy to have five of your fine goats. They will help me get to school.”

  Lokaalei’s father smiled, raised his eyebrows, and gestured toward his herd.

  “You may choose any five you want,” Faisal said. Jacob spent some time, walking among the hundreds of goats, looking closely at each of them. He stared into their eyes, looking for the ones with the friendliest faces. Some of these goats looked as if they were smiling up at him with their blubbery lips pulled back, exposing their yellow teeth. He thought of Jenny and tried to find one that reminded him of her. He never had remembered whether her face was more brown or more white, making it an impossible task to find her twin.

  He looked for goats with perky tails high in the air; the friskier the goat, the more healthy and energetic it was likely to be. Faisal followed behind, attaching rough ropes to the ones Jacob chose. Lokaalei tried to count the goats, but they were constantly moving, mixing him up.

  “And what will you do with your goats?” Faisal asked, after the nomads had shared their morning meal with Jacob.

  “I will sell them in the souk. But first, they will keep me company as I walk.” Jacob borrowed a sharp knife from the man and quickly clipped a small “v” in each of his goats’ ears. “Now you know you belong to me,” he said, scratching each of them under their bearded chins.

  “My uncle says the goats you have chosen are very strong, very valuable—they are worth 700 shillings each,” Faisal said.

  “I will take very good care of them, then,” Jacob said. He crouched down beside Lokaalei. “Perhaps I will see you again, in school one day, in Nairobi.”

  The nomads said goodbye, and Jacob turned to face the desert again; only this time he was not alone.

  Jacob talked to his goats as he walked. He gave them names; Mama, Oscar, Willy, Monyroor, and Daniel. Oscar had big ears—he was the most stubborn and it was difficult to get him moving in the mornings. At night, he wanted to p
lay, butting his head into the others while they tried to sleep. I chose his name well, Jacob thought, smiling as he lay down to rest, his new furry friends curled up around him. In his dreams that night, he saw Mama. Her smiling face was as clear and beautiful and full of love as it always was in his dreams. “Wadeng, Jacob ... wadeng, my son,” she whispered. “I am proud of you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jacob awoke one morning to the sounds of butting heads and bleating. His young goats had finished grazing and were impatient to get moving. He knelt to drink quickly from the mama goat’s udder. Then, as he did each day, he wrapped two of the ropes around his left hand, and three around the right. The cuts made by the rough ropes slicing into his hands had already healed into hard calluses. “Let’s go!” he said, tugging gently on the ropes. Then, “Whoa!” he yelled, as Oscar almost jerked him off his feet, struggling to get ahead of the others. Indeed, I did a fine job of picking his name, Jacob thought, yanking the feisty little goat back.

  At midday, they arrived at a village. Jacob found the small marketplace and his thirst ordered him to find a drink. He tied his five goats firmly to a small tree. “Stay there,” he said sternly, looking back several times and holding up his hand as he walked away. Three of the goats were busy looking around; Mama and Willy were lying down for a rest. Good, Jacob thought. They are tired, they will wait for me. A friendly woman, noticing the young boy alone, offered him a cup of cool water and a piece of fresh mango. She asked after his parents and told Jacob he was about two days outside of Lokichokio. Jacob stayed to talk to her for only a few minutes. “I must check on my goats now,” he said. “But, thank you for your kindness.”

  As he approached the area where he’d left his goats, Jacob’s heart plunged like a stone to the very pit of his stomach. He grabbed the frayed end of one of the gray ropes and tugged on it. Please, no, not now, after everything I’ve done, everywhere I’ve been. His brown eyes darted desperately around the souk. “Where are you? You can’t do this to me!” he muttered, turning to the other four goats. “Where did Oscar go? Where is he?”

  Monyroor, the big red and white goat, bleated, scratched his bearded chin on the bark, and looked away. The others stared at the boy blankly. If they knew where their brother had gone, they weren’t telling. Jacob untied the other ropes and marched quickly through the market, past the vendors’ stalls, searching behind the rainbow lines of blankets and mats for a furry black and white goat face with bulging eyes. “Have you seen a small goat?” he asked, holding his hand at his waist. “About this big?” Most people just shrugged their shoulders.

  “But you already have four fine goats,” one elder said, shaking a crooked finger in Jacob’s face. “Do not be greedy! Remember the lessons of Col Muong!”

  “Yes, father,” Jacob said. He ducked his head and continued walking.

  He wound his way through the wooden stands, parting the strings of clothing, peering around the stacks of corn, pumpkin, and peanuts, hoping to see the animal scrounging some dinner. He saw many wonderful things that made his own stomach rumble loudly, but Jacob did not see his goat.

  As the shadows lengthened, he decided to leave the village and continue walking in the coolness of the coming dusk. Dragging the remaining four goats behind him, his eyes jumping from side to side, like crickets, Jacob set out. I must find that goat! Maybe he will come back, too, like the real Oscar. The desert spread out forever in front of him. His toes curled under, trying to shield his feet from the familiar prick of the sharp needle grasses, painful reminders of the miles his feet had already walked. The dry wind swept the sand up in gusts. It stung against his bare legs and ankles.

  He had not gone far when he heard, “Stop!” coming faintly from behind him. “You there—boy!” Spinning around, his thin shoulders tightening, he saw a Dinka man jogging across the desert toward him, a long rifle slung across his back. He was dressed in filthy gray clothing, and a small black and white goat trotted along behind him. It seemed to struggle to keep up on its much shorter legs. Jacob stopped; a huge smile lit up his face. “Oscar!” He knelt down and scooped the little goat up in his arms.

  The giant did not return the smile. Sweat streamed down his dusty face, and his hair was matted and dirty. “Does this goat belong to you, boy?” he asked sternly. Towering over Jacob, he blocked the sun’s glare completely.

  “Yes, thank you, thank you so much!” Jacob said, keeping his eyes on the rifle. He reached out to take the short chewed rope the man held in his hand. By this time, a small crowd from the market had gathered, watching them, the big soldier and the young boy.

  “Uh-uh! Not so fast.” The soldier planted one heavy hand on Jacob’s shoulder. His voice was deep and rough. “Can you prove this goat is yours?”

  “Yes, yes I can,” Jacob answered. “Please, look here, uncle. I clipped my goats’ ears—see these four? They are all clipped in the same spot. If you will please check that one, I am sure you will find the same thing.”

  The tall soldier bent down and felt the black and white goat’s ears. A flash of white teeth lit up his face like a young moon. “You are right. This must also be your animal.”

  Jacob looked up at the man. His voice, it sounded so familiar ... like a trumpeting elephant. Jacob looked at his eyes; they were small and fierce-looking, but this soldier was not as powerful looking as he remembered. When the man bent forward, Jacob saw a single yellow elephant tooth hanging from a ragged string around the soldier’s grimy neck. The image of Teacher Matthew crumpling to the ground flashed into Jacob’s mind. Could it be ...? “Adam?” he asked. “It’s me, Jacob, little uncle of Monyroor.”

  Before the soldier could answer, all around them a chorus of “You are so lucky, boy!” “Can you believe it?” and “God is smiling on you today!” filled the air as the market people congratulated Jacob on his good fortune. He grinned and nodded his head.

  “This is surely my lucky day,” he agreed, beaming. He turned again to the soldier. “If you don’t mind, uncle, where did you find him?”

  The man turned and pointed to the top of a high hill in the distance, just beyond the village. “Up there. I was on patrol and saw him roaming around. I noticed he had a rope around his neck, and suspected he had chewed his way loose.”

  “He wanted to be free, I guess,” Jacob answered. “Like all boys. Maybe he does not like his brothers and sister. I think they were fighting while I was away for only a short time.”

  The soldier laughed, a deep booming laugh. “Like all brothers and sisters! I hope you will be able to keep a close eye on them until you reach your destination.”

  “Of course, I will do my very best. I am on my way to attend boarding school. I will sell these goats to pay for my schooling,” Jacob answered.

  “You are an ambitious young man,” Adam said. “I remember you always had many questions to be answered. Perhaps you will find the answers in school. Are your parents still missing?”

  “I believe my parents are safe in Heaven, watching over me,” Jacob replied, casting his brown eyes toward the sky. “I have been without them for many years now.”

  “And Monyroor—have you seen him?” Adam asked.

  “Not since he left to go to Bonga. I haven’t heard any news of him, but I have been in Kakuma Refugee Camp for three years,” Jacob replied. “I was hoping you might know where he is.”

  Adam shrugged.

  “And my Uncle Daniel—do you know him? He is very strong, a champion wrestler—he has a half-moon scar, right here.” Jacob pointed to his left cheek.

  Adam laughed. “I am sorry, I still do not know your Uncle Daniel—Southern Sudan is a very big place, and the SPLA is spread out in many different directions, even here in Kenya.”

  “And the war—is the SPLA still winning the war?” Jacob asked. Adam did not look like he was winning any war.

  “We are still fighting for our country, but many of our soldiers have been killed; the fields are full of land mines. Others, traitors, have give
n up and deserted the army. But we will not give up; we will continue to struggle to regain Southern Sudan’s freedom.” Adam spoke strongly, but his voice did not sound as confident as it had in Pinyudo.

  “I must continue on my journey,” Jacob said. “Thank you for finding Oscar the goat for me. If you see Monyroor, please tell him I am on my way to school, and that Oscar and Willy are well.”

  “I wish you much luck on your journey, then,” Adam said. “Goodbye, and keep safe!”

  “Thank you again, uncle. You have been more help than you can ever know,” Jacob answered. “Keep safe!”

  How can he still believe peace can be achieved through war? I wonder how many of his friends he has seen die.

  Jacob tied the black and white goat to the rope of one of his brothers and continued his trek into the desert. He kept his head down to avoid the sharp sting of grit in his eyes. He held the thick ropes firmly in his small hands and trudged on under the relentless heat of the late afternoon sun.

  I wonder if Monyroor is still fighting. Maybe he has become a traitor. Maybe he got sick of the war and returned to Duk. Maybe he is already going to school ...

  The heavy rumbling of a truck interrupted Jacob’s thoughts. To his surprise, it stopped just ahead of him.

  “I have room for you and your goats, I think,” the driver called.

  “Thank you, uncle!” Jacob shouted, running. He lifted the goats onto the flatbed, then climbed up behind them. This is surely my lucky day, he thought, staring up at the starry black African sky above him. Are you watching the stars, too, Mama? Are they singing?

  The rocking of the truck soon lulled him to sleep. He jerked awake when it stopped to deliver some water. Jacob jumped to the ground and pulled his goats down with him. “How much farther to Loki?” he asked the driver.

  “Not far—you will be there before the sun sleeps tonight,” the man replied, pointing. “Follow that road.”