Chapter 20 — Where Old Elephants Rest

The delegation of the Provincial Department of Agriculture and Rural Development arrived at the camp on a clear morning with pale yellow sunlight spreading across the valley after many days of continuous rain. The delegation consisted of five people, led by a deputy director of the department in charge of conservation, along with technical experts and a representative from the Provincial Forest Protection Department.

The appraisal took place methodically and thoroughly throughout the day - the team inspected each barn area, each elephant's medical records, care procedures, food sources, safety systems, and directly interviewed Ha Lam, Bay Kinh, and Tuan Khoi about each aspect of operation. Mr. Thach, although tired, still sat persistently throughout the session to answer questions related to the camp's history and operating philosophy.

In the afternoon, when the group was preparing to leave, Ama Not and several representatives of Chu Rinh village, as promised, were present to speak before the appraisal group. The old man stood straight, his voice resounding with majesty despite his old age.

"We, the families whose elephants were sent here, would like to confirm that this camp not only takes good care of the elephants, but is also sincerely correcting past shortcomings, respecting our community," the old man said. "We support the camp being recognized as a model, and commit to continuing our long-term companionship."

The deputy director of the department nodded and took careful notes, his face clearly impressed by what he had witnessed. "We will complete the appraisal report within the next two weeks," he said before leaving. "Based on what I observed today, I can say, this is one of the most impressive conservation models I have ever seen in the Central Highlands region."

After the appraisal team left, the whole group gathered around a simple dinner table, the atmosphere filled with rare relief after months of continuous tension. Xuan Mai opened a bottle of soft drink, poured out small glasses for everyone, jokingly declaring that this was "a small celebration party before the big celebration officially takes place". Mr. Thach, although tired after a long day, still smiled a rare smile and told a few funny stories from his youth, making the whole table burst into laughter.

Tuan Khoi sat next to Ha Lam, gently held her hand under the table, whispering loud enough for her to hear. "I think, maybe this is the light at the end of the tunnel that you've been looking for all these months." Ha Lam smiled, nodded, allowing herself, in this rare moment, to completely relax, believing that the most difficult days were probably about to pass.

That comment brought great hope to the group, but that joy did not last long. That very evening, when everyone was gathering to celebrate a successful working day, an emergency call from Bay Kinh, who was on night duty at the elephant field, caused the atmosphere to suddenly turn to panic.

"Ha Lam, come down now, Sao Mai has something wrong!" Mr. Bay's voice over the phone trembled with worry. "He stopped eating since afternoon, now he just stands there, refuses to move, wheezing very strangely."

Ha Lam and Tuan Khoi immediately rushed out to the elephant field, flashlights scanned through the darkness, finding Sao Mai standing motionless under a familiar old tree, its massive body trembling intermittently, its breathing emitting a heavy wheezing sound, its eyes revealing a pain that Ha Lam had never seen before.

"What's wrong with it?" Ha Lam asked, her voice trembling with fear, her hand placed on the elephant's body, feeling each unusual tremble.

Tuan Khoi quickly checked, his hands touching the abdomen, listening to the heartbeat through the stethoscope he brought, his face becoming more and more serious. "Its heart rate is abnormal, there are signs of severe abdominal pain, it could be colic - a serious digestive disorder common in old elephants. This is a very dangerous condition, requiring immediate intensive medical intervention. I don't have enough equipment here to thoroughly treat it."

"So what to do?" Ha Lam asked, tears began to flow from her eyes because of fear.

"I need to immediately call the foundation's veterinary emergency team specializing in large elephants. They have specialized vehicles and necessary equipment, but from the city to here it will take at least four to five hours," Tuan Khoi said, holding his phone and dialing the emergency number. "In the meantime, we must try to stabilize its condition in every way possible."

The whole camp woke up in the middle of the night, no one told anyone, everyone rushed to the elephant field to support. Bay Kinh ran to get warm water mixed with mineral salts according to Tuan Khoi's instructions on the phone with the emergency team, Xuan Mai called to inform Ama Not and the families of Chu Rinh village, while Ha Lam knelt down next to Sao Mai, her hand pressed against its trembling stomach in pain, her mouth whispering endlessly words of comfort in both Vietnamese and the few M'nong words she could remember from her mother.

“Hold on, hold on, Morning Star,” she whispered, her voice choked with tears. "You can't leave me now. You still have to wait for our camp to be recognized. You also have to live long to see my father get better."

News about Sao Mai's critical condition quickly spread throughout Chu Rinh village, even though it was nearly midnight. Not long after, Ama Not, Y Khun and a few young men from the village appeared at the camp, carrying flashlights, warm blankets, and some traditional herbs that the village elders believed could help relieve the elephants' pain while waiting for the professional emergency team.

"Once upon a time, my grandfather also saved an elephant with a stomachache like this," Ama Not said, his trembling hands pounding a special type of forest leaf. "This cannot replace Western medicine, but at least it makes it a little more comfortable while waiting."

Mr. Thach, upon hearing the news, also insisted on going to the elephant field despite everyone's objections out of concern for his health. Helped closer by Ha Lam and Tuan Khoi, he knelt down next to Sao Mai, his trembling hand placed on the old elephant's head, his voice choked in the darkness.

"It's me, Morningstar, it's me," he whispered, tears streaming down his wrinkled face. "You've been waiting for me for so many years. Now it's my turn to be by your side. You can't leave me now. I still owe you a lot and I haven't had time to repay it all yet."

Vang, Sao Mai's closest friend for many years, stood not far away, occasionally stretching his trunk to gently touch his friend's back, emitting low, worried roars, as if trying to convey encouragement in the elephant's unique way. Mun and May also stood huddled nearby, no one said anything to anyone else, but the whole herd seemed to sense the danger surrounding their eldest sister, keeping a silence full of rare anxiety.

Tuan Khoi continuously checked Sao Mai's heart rate and temperature every fifteen minutes, carefully recording each index to report by phone to the emergency team on the way, and also guided the group on how to gently massage the abdomen in a clockwise direction, a measure that can help stimulate bowel movements while waiting for more specialized medical intervention.

"The heart rate is still high, but at least there are no signs of getting worse," he said after a tense hour, his voice trying to remain reassuring even though he couldn't hide the worry on his face. "We need to keep it calm, avoid any sudden noises or light that can make it more panicked, making its stomachache more serious."

Ha Lam did not leave her position next to Sao Mai's head for even a minute, her hand constantly caressing the old elephant's torn ear, her voice hoarse from whispering non-stop for several hours. She remembered every memory from her childhood, the afternoons sitting on Sao Mai's back, the times the old elephant quietly stood guard whenever she was sad, all like a slow motion movie running through her mind in this dark night full of anxiety.

The whole group of people gathered around Sao Mai in the middle of the night, under the flickering flashlights and the faint moonlight through the trees, waiting together in anxious anxiety, not knowing whether the old elephant - a living symbol of a thirty-year journey full of ups and downs between humans and animals, between past and present, between trauma and reconciliation - could overcome this crisis, while the distant siren of a veterinary ambulance was still many hours away. could not arrive in time, and the darkness on Chu Rinh peak seemed to be waiting with bated breath along with everyone present here.