Chapter 12 — Where Old Elephants Rest

The rainy season in the Central Highlands that year came earlier and more intensely than usual. For nearly a week straight, the rain poured down non-stop, and water poured down from the mountains, causing the stream flowing through the camp to rise to unprecedented heights, carrying mud and broken tree branches. On the fourth night of the rain, a tornado suddenly swept through the valley, tearing off the corrugated iron roof of the western barn where Cloud and Vang were taking shelter.

The howling wind, the clanging sound of metal sheets, and the panicked roar of elephants in the night woke up the whole camp. Ha Lam, Tuan Khoi, and Bay Kinh rushed out in the wind and rain, trying to calm the two elephants who were frantically looking for shelter, and at the same time move them to a safer area under the dense canopy of trees.

"May's foot was cut by a piece of corrugated iron!" Tuan Khoi shouted through the sound of wind and rain. The flashlight scanned over and saw blood stains on the female elephant's front leg, which was trembling in fear.

The group struggled all night in the rain to bandage May's wound, and temporarily built a tarpaulin roof for the group to have a temporary shelter, while the wind continued to howl outside. By morning, when the storm had subsided, everyone was exhausted, wet and covered in mud, but at least the elephants were safe.

The next morning, when the rare sunlight appeared after many days of continuous rain, the damage was truly visible. The entire corrugated iron roof of the western barn was blown away, a section of electric fence more than fifty meters long collapsed because a large tree fell on it, and the food storage warehouse was flooded, destroying nearly half of the hay and concentrates stored for the upcoming dry season. Preliminary estimates put the damage at nearly two hundred million dong — a huge number for the camp's already limited resources.

"We need to repair it immediately, we can't let the elephants continue to live in these conditions," Ha Lam said, her voice tired but still maintaining the necessary determination, standing in the middle of the rubble looking around, calculating in her mind what to prioritize first.

That same afternoon, another bad news hit. The international non-governmental organization to which the camp had submitted an application for additional funding for the project to expand the medical quarantine area called to announce that after "reviewing the recent media situation related to the camp", they decided to indefinitely postpone the funding, citing the need to "ensure transparency and legal stability of the partner before disbursement".

"This is clearly the result of a smear campaign from Hoang Kim," Tuan Khoi said, clenching his fists as he listened to Ha Lam recount the call, his face stiffening with anger. "They don't need to win directly. Just make other sponsor partners wary and you will automatically lose the resources needed to stand firm."

Ha Lam sat down on the steps, holding her head in her hands, feeling both physically and mentally exhausted rising to the peak. "I don't know how much longer I can handle it," she said, her voice revealing weakness to Tuan Khoi for the first time. "Dad's hospital fees, the money to buy back the land from Mr. Sau Danh, now the addition of repairs after the storm, and funding sources are gradually being tightened. I feel like I'm trying to swim against a flood current."

Tuan Khoi sat down next to her, didn't say anything right away, just gently placed his hand on her shoulder, letting the silence ease some of the rolling panic. “You don't have to swim alone,” he said finally, his voice steady. "We will find a way together, one thing at a time. In the short term, I can contact the fund to ask for an emergency fund for natural disasters. Many conservation organizations have separate reserve funds for this situation. In the long term, perhaps it's time for you to think of a more sustainable fundraising model, not just relying on the generosity of others."

"What model?" Ha Lam asked, looking up at him, her eyes clearly showing curiosity and fatigue.

"I have seen a few conservation areas elsewhere that apply a responsible observation tourism model," Tuan Khoi explained, "visitors are not allowed to ride the elephants, are not allowed touch the elephants arbitrarily, they are only allowed to observe from afar, participate in activities such as preparing food, and learning about the lives of each elephant through a tour guide. This model both creates a stable source of income and does not violate the animal welfare principles that my father has built over the years."

Ha Lam pondered, that idea was both new and somewhat contradictory to the concept of "not showing off" that her father had kept for many years. But in the current situation, when all resources are running out, perhaps it is time to think in a different direction, as long as the core is still maintained - respect and protection of elephants comes first.

"Let me talk to dad first," she said, her voice calming down somewhat. "But I think this might be a direction worth considering, especially when you don't have many other options."

That evening, when presenting the idea to his father, Ha Lam saw Mr. Thach pondering for a long time, his eyes looking out at the rain-soaked yard, where broken pieces of corrugated iron were still scattered and had not yet been cleaned up.

"Dad swore he would never let the camp become a showplace for tourists," he said, his voice a bit hesitant. "But I'm old, I don't have enough strength to keep insisting on the old principles while the camp is dying due to lack of money. If your new way of doing things still retains the roots - not riding, not forcing elephants to perform, just letting people come to see, to understand - then I think, that is not a betrayal of the ideal, but a way for that ideal to survive these difficult times."

"Do you agree?" Ha Lam asked, a bit surprised by his father's openness.

"I believe in you," he replied, his thin hand holding his daughter's hand. "You have proven many things over the past few months, more than I ever did at your age. I just hope you remember, no matter how you innovate, the elephant must always be put first, not the money."

The next morning, when Ha Lam and everyone else were cleaning up the rubble, a group of young men from Chu Rinh village suddenly appeared, led by Y Khun, holding a chainsaw and several rolls of steel wire.

"Old Not heard about the camp's roof being destroyed by a storm, so he sent us down to help," Y Khun said, his voice still somewhat reserved but not as cold as before. "The old man said, no matter what happens between the two families, the elephants are not at fault. We cannot let them suffer because of the adults."

Ha Lam stood still for a moment, her throat choked with emotion at that unexpected gesture. She nodded, thanked him, then together with the group began rebuilding the barn roof under the rare sunshine after many days of heavy rain. Looking at the scene of the boys from Chu Rinh and Bay Kinh and Tuan Khoi working together in harmony, despite the initial awkwardness, Ha Lam felt a new ray of hope - that perhaps, the old wound between the two sides, although not yet completely healed, was also starting to show the first signs of healing.

During the following days, the whole camp mobilized almost all human resources to overcome the consequences of the storm - Bay Kinh and a few young people in the village were temporarily hired to rebuild the barn roof, Xuan Mai ran around calling for urgent donations via social networks, and Ha Lam and Tuan Khoi together drafted a detailed project on a responsible observation tourism model to present to the conservation fund and other potential sponsors.

In the midst of those hard days, one evening, when the two were drafting documents under the light of an oil lamp because the power grid had not yet been completely restored after the storm, Tuan Khoi suddenly stopped writing and looked at Ha Lam who was working hard on a pile of papers. Her face was haggard with fatigue but her eyes still shone with unwavering determination.

"You know," he said softly, "I used to think I was emotionally numb, after many years of witnessing tragedies in the conservation industry. But seeing you fight like that, I found a new belief, that there are still things worth devoting yourself to."

Ha Lam looked up at him, the corners of her eyes stinging with emotion and exhaustion. "Thank you for being here, going through all of this with me," she said, her voice shaky but sincere. Outside, the rain was still pouring down on the makeshift tarpaulin roof, but in the warm small room lit by oil lamps, between two people shouldering a common burden, there was something solid and durable silently taking root, not easily swept away by any storm, whether it be a storm in the sky or a storm in life.