Shingi and I

By William Gledhill, aged 11

Shingi gives me a lemon as we stride through our sacred forest on our daily walk; the sharp acidic taste lingers in my mouth. The sun tattoos my back through the canopy and I help myself to an other. Treading a careful path between the precious Cocoa fruits, Shingi picks one up and tosses it in the air. He rips it apart for us to share. I look at him greedily as he eats the last few bits. I love cocoa fruit! Gently he pats my cheek. Trumpeting, I make a bee line for a willow tree. Delicately, I use my toenails to strip the bark and feast on the flesh. Shingi laughs as I place it under my foot and wonders aloud how such a big beast has such dextrous feet. The taste is extraordinary, nothing beats fresh willow bark. We walk on, quickening our pace as the night’s mantle settles around us and we are still far from home.

Suddenly we hear muffled voices approaching, strangers in our forest, my body buckles with fear. The men move swiftly, this was well rehearsed. Shingi signals and I know what to do. Quickly I bend my knees and lie down, he clambers on my shoulders and we’re off. I scramble and jump over the rocks, the canopy shivers as we thunder through. By now I have no doubt that they are after my tusks. Fleeing my pursuers, fear keeps me running forward. Then in front of me the dreaded Zambeze, deep,dirty and wide. I know her all too well. As a calf she nearly swallowed me whole. Trembling on the bank, the options are stark, the choice between certain death or probable death is no choice at all. With that I take off, plunging through the water. Shingi’s arms tighten around my neck giving me courage to battle to the other bank.

Freedom beckons as we emerge from her sucking grasp. But then we turn the corner and see true terror, a net hangs across our path. I stumble to the ground as a hundred bullets splinter my legs. I shut my eyes tightly against the unbearable pain and feel the weight slipping from my back. I feel my life ebbing away, I dare to open my eyes for one last look at the world and see Shingi being dragged to the ground. He gives me our secret signal and I realise they must be slavers not poachers after all.

In desperation, I struggle to my feet. The adrenalin pushes me on and before the slavers can react I charge forward and whip my trunk against the gunman’s face. My raging feet trample the next slaver to the ground. I trumpet an earsplitting war cry and the last flees the petrifying pachyderm I have become.

Gently I wrap my trunk around a quivering Shingi and with the last of my strength I hoist him up onto my shoulders. We limp away to the safety of the forest.