March of the Elephants
A tale of greed, corruption and poor peripheral vision
Photo by Geran de Klerk on Unsplash
One day the elephants had a gathering, which was nothing unusual. One of the elephants turned to the Head Elephant and said, ‘O Head Elephant — if I may be so bold as to address you as such — do you not think it is time for a change?’
The Head Elephant nodded sorrowfully. ‘Indeed it is time for a change,’ he said. ‘In fact, it is time we changed a lot of things around here.’ They conferred for a while as to the best course of action, specifically as to what it would be.
After a while of this the smallest elephant, and one not generally considered in the land of the elephants to be among the wisest — it lacked in age, experience and the capacity to form grudges — spoke up. Every head turned. ‘If I may be so bold, Head Elephant and other assorted elephants,’ it said, in a higher squawk than you can possibly imagine, ‘I think it is time we embarked upon a quest. Once we have reached the end of our epic journey there is every possibility that we will realise why we undertook it in the first place.’
The others nodded their heads thoughtfully. ‘We see what you mean,’ most of them murmured. One of the more scholastic of them, however, said this: ‘Is it possible to remember something you never knew?’ Every head turned back to the young one. (Elephants are skilled in the art of head turning, for as it is written, ‘Peripheral vision is never enough’.) ‘It is possible,’ said the little one, ‘for elephants never forget’. They pondered this for a while, and the little one’s words seemed wise.
‘What then will we do?’ went up the great cry, as the elephants began to comprehend the scale of the proposed upheaval. ‘We will journey,’ said the Head Elephant, who was used to being obeyed, ‘to the place where the moon rises steady and the land meets the arc of the sun.’ ‘Where is that?’ the others asked. ‘We’ll know when we get there,’ replied the Head Elephant. They thought on this and it seemed wise.
And so they travelled for many nights and many days until they reached the place where the crop grows high and the tree dips to meet the land. ‘Are we now in the land where the moon rises steady and the land meets the arc of the sun?’ the elephants asked. ‘No,’ the Head Elephant replied. ‘We are in the place where the crop grows high and the tree dips to meet the land.’ ‘What tree?’ replied the more scholastic of the elephants. ‘That one,’ said the Head Elephant, pointing at the bendiest tree in their field of view. ‘Ah yes,’ replied the sophist, pretending he had seen it all along.
They travelled for many more nights and many more days, for the one usually followed the other. Along the way there was much bickering in the ranks, for some of their number felt that the life of the herd had been perfectly worthwhile heretofore and there had not been any need for a change. ‘There had not been any need for a change,’ bellowed the loudest of them. ‘We agree with you,’ shouted those that did. ‘We do not,’ retorted those who had yet to be convinced.
Finally the Head Elephant, who only enjoyed petty conflict in small doses, decided that he had had enough. ‘I have had enough,’ he roared. Everyone fell silent. ‘There is a wisdom to our quest,’ he shrieked. ‘When we complete it all of us will be twice and three times the elephants we were before. And have we not always said we wanted our pack to be larger?’ The others pondered this and it seemed wise.
For many a year they marched on. By now several of their number had died and had been left unmourned, for this was a herd that did not observe the wider elephant custom of grieving the dead. ‘It’s bad luck, and besides they’re not in the position to reciprocate,’ as the proverb went.
Eventually the little elephant whose idea this journey had been took it upon himself to approach the Head Elephant. ‘If you please, sir,’ he squeaked, ‘the elephants are tired and parched after weeks of walking without stopping to eat, drink or sleep. Do you feel we have neared our destination? I feel wiser already.’
The Head Elephant gazed searchingly at the horizon. ‘There is an ancient wisdom in my bones,’ he rumbled, ‘and it tells me that we have a good way to go. There is yet more I seek.’ He batted the ever-present swarms of mosquitoes away, for they were in swamp country. ‘Give it another few years,’ he murmured, and strode forth with imperial vigour. The little elephant, crestfallen, fell back into step with his brethren and told them the news, upon which many of them decided to shun him. ‘I’ll remember this,’ the little one thought darkly. And, of course, he would.
Few of the herd made it out of the swamps alive. Those that remained looked up with a start when at last they heard the Head Elephant utter these words: ‘We rest here.’ The little elephant staggered forth and wheezed: ‘We have now been marching for two straight years. Why, O great one, do you choose this moment to rest?’ The Head Elephant gave him a cryptic look. ‘That will ever remain a mystery,’ he intoned, before making for the oasis to his right. He set about devouring the luscious palm trees frond by frond.
‘Food!’ went up the great cry, and the herd rushed for the grove as one elephant, several of them falling to their deaths in the tumult. Those that reached the trees did so in vain, for the Head Elephant had eaten everything in sight. A little voice at the back of the little elephant’s mind — and how doubly little that voice must have been — suggested to him that this was the kind of thing that inspired mutiny in other elephant herds. But he squashed the thought as quickly as it occurred. Such notions were unseemly. ‘What now, O Elephant of Exceptional Repute?’ he croaked. ‘We march,’ came the reply.
Photo by Matthew Spiteri on Unsplash
And march they did. Those who fell were devoured by the vultures before the others even noticed they were gone. The movement of the sun upon the endless acres of glistening sand started to play tricks on some of the elephants’ minds, and they took to singing, dancing and fighting each other at the most inopportune moments. After weeks of this, the herd came to a river. On the other side there stood a forest.
‘What now, O Keeper of the Hidden Truths?’ rasped the little elephant, who had assumed the unofficial position of second in command simply by dint of there being so few elephants left. ‘We swim,’ came the imperious reply. ‘We swim,’ replied the little one meekly, as the hope within him died. He turned to face his four brethren. ‘We swim,’ he repeated. They avoided his gaze. ‘I’ll remember this,’ he thought to himself. And he did.
The elephants took to the water, which could best be described as a raging torrent, motivated only by unthinking obedience and the tantalising prospect of the edible greenery on the other side. Their task was made all the harder by the Head Elephant, who treated his subjects in much the manner that a biped treats stepping stones. After an hour of indescribable terror and bottomless cowardice, the Head Elephant, his second in command, the sophist and their loud companion stood watching their friends being carried away by the current.
‘What now, O Defender of All That We Hold Dear?’ choked the little elephant. ‘We eat,’ came the reply. And they did. After two straight weeks of uninhibited ingesting, the four of them sat in a circle facing each other. ‘It is high time we had a long talk,’ bellowed the loud elephant, upon which he died. ‘It is indeed,’ the Head Elephant replied. He solemnly turned to face the others — his head turning skills were still beyond reproach. ‘It is time to discuss the future of this herd,’ he said.
The others digested his words against the protestations of their overactive guts. ‘Can there be a herd of three?’ the sophist mused. ‘Yes, because I said so,’ the Head Elephant snapped. ‘In that case,’ the sophist replied pleasantly, ‘I have a follow-up question. How many angels can fit on the head of a pin if three of them are on a diet?’ The others pondered these words for several hours before deciding that the question was slightly less than germane and was impossible to answer coherently in any case.
After they had relayed these feelings to the sophist he left in a huff, and indeed he never came back. (Ten seconds after his departure the others heard the sound of several lions roaring nearby, followed by a violent scuffle and what sounded like their friend shouting ‘I am being devoured by lions!’ However, they considered this evidence circumstantial at best, especially as their poor peripheral vision did little to corroborate the testimony of their ears.)
Photo by Richard Jacobs on Unsplash
‘So here we are,’ declared the Head Elephant. The little voice at the back of the little elephant’s mind protested that this statement was incontestable to the point of being a banal truism, but he quickly silenced it. The Great One continued, ‘Have you remembered yet why we undertook our quest?’ ‘No, sire,’ came the meek reply. ‘In fact, I’ve lost every memory I’ve ever had. All I remember is that some of the herd shunned me a couple of times. I vowed not to forget that.’
The Head Elephant looked him up and down disapprovingly. ‘Very well then, I will tell you. This whole adventure was undertaken in order to consolidate my power, little one. You were always the most loyal elephant in our herd by dint of your age and inexperience. Now you are the only elephant in our herd. Therefore the average loyalty of the herd has increased dramatically since we undertook our quest.’ The little one — not now so little as he was before — pondered these words and they seemed wise.
Eventually he spoke again. ‘My only question is this, my lord. How did you know I would be the only one of our number to survive?’ The Head Elephant looked at him with incredulity bordering on pity. ‘Little one, I was convinced you would be the first to die. Have you so quickly forgotten that the purpose of our journey was only to be revealed to us at its end? Why else undertake it in the first place?’
The Great One took to his feet. ‘My power is now absolute. Nothing can come against me and none can defy me.’ He died peacefully. The little elephant could not be sure whether or not his superior had been about to launch into a big speech, but he felt the odds were that he had. ‘It would appear I have become leader of the herd,’ he thought to himself, but as this was a position he had never wanted he took no pleasure in it.
The little one spent his remaining years living by the stringent code of conduct attendant upon his elevated position, which hampered the enjoyment he was able to derive from life without completely demolishing it. Eventually he found other elephants, married one and had a family of six beautiful calves. He taught his children everything that young calves need to know, such as respect for one’s elders, the right way to turn one’s head and what to do when attacked physically or scholastically.
One day he gathered his little ones together and told them that he had important words for them. ‘Little ones,’ he said, ‘I have important words for you. You have lived your lives up to now as you have seen fit. When you want to play you play, and when you want to rest you rest. But the time has come to orient yourselves towards a nobler purpose. There are traditions that bind us together and that we must all participate in. It is time you set yourselves to learning these traditions and training yourselves in the ancient ways. For one day it will be incumbent on you all to carry on the legacy of this herd.’ He fixed them all with a solemn gaze. ‘We’d rather not, Dad,’ they said, and ran off to play.
He thought on this and it seemed wise.
That's some shaggy elephant story.....