Chapter 4 — Where Old Elephants Rest

The Hall of the Cultural House of Krong Sar district that day was decorated differently than usual - red banners printed with the words "Introduction Ceremony of the Grand Thousand Safari Project: Aspiration for Sustainable Tourism Development in the Highlands" were spread across the stage, on both sides were large panels printed with the perspective of the future resort - luxurious wooden bungalows overlooking the valley, a blue infinity pool, and indispensable, decorative images of elephants. gorgeous, carrying smiling foreign tourists on its back.

Ha Lam sat in the last row, next to Xuan Mai, observing the crowd filling the hall. There were also commune officials, district officials, a few homestay owners around the area, and many people in Chu Rinh village, among whom she recognized a few familiar faces, including some families with children who were unemployed or working precariously on the fields.

On stage, Truong Hoang Long appeared in a light gray suit, with a confident appearance and a deep, convincing voice of someone used to standing in front of a crowd. He presented the project with a carefully prepared presentation, full of promising numbers: hundreds of jobs for local people, tens of billions of dong in infrastructure investment, a new asphalt road connecting the national highway to Chu Rinh village, a new kindergarten built as a gift to the commune.

“We understand that there are concerns about the traditional elephant tourism model,” he said, his eyes scanning the crowd as if he expected some protests. "But Dai Ngan Safari is committed to applying the most advanced animal welfare standards, learning from international models, so that elephants are both well cared for and bring in income to support themselves and the surrounding community."

Ha Lam clenched her hands on her thighs, a feeling of anger rising in her heart. She has spent her entire life witnessing what so-called "advanced welfare standards" actually look like in many tourist areas — still the same heavy blankets strapped to their backs, still the same dozens of visitors running one after another from morning to night, still the same chains tying elephants' feet to trees all night so they don't run away.

When it came to the question and answer session, she raised her hand and stood up when invited to speak. Her voice trembled slightly with emotion but still tried to maintain coherence.

"I am Duong Ha Lam, manager of Chu Rinh Elephant Sanctuary, located close to the boundary of your project land," she said, feeling the eyes of the entire hall on her. "I want to ask Mr. Long, does the land that the project targets include the land adjacent to the fence east of our camp? And if elephants are brought intourism here, do you commit to not using the elephants for more than four hours a day, not riding the elephants on iron wheels, and allowing the elephants to live in natural herds like a real reserve, or just an elephant riding area with a pretty name?"

A short silence spread through the hall. Truong Hoang Long smiled, his demeanor still calm as if he had anticipated this question. "Thank you Ms. Lam for your thoughtful question," he replied. "Regarding land boundaries, the project is currently in the survey stage, there is no final decision yet. We will work directly with relevant households and facilities to ensure the interests of both parties. As for animal welfare, I confirm that we have a team of international experts to advise, all standards are transparent and will be made public when the project officially launches."

The clever answer, neither denying nor confirming anything specific, made Ha Lam even more certain that this was the real threat she feared. She sat down, her heart pounding, feeling a few curious and sympathetic looks from the people around her, but also many uncomfortable looks, especially from the people who were hoping for the promise of jobs and the new asphalt road.

After the ceremony, when everyone was leaving, a man in his thirties, wearing a white shirt, holding a leather folder in his hand, approached Ha Lam.

"Hello Ms. Lam, I am Tang Viet Long, legal assistant of Mr. Truong Hoang Long," he introduced himself, his voice was polite but somehow cold and calculating. "Mr. Long wants to invite you to a private meeting to discuss in more detail the cooperation plan, perhaps buying back a portion of land, or contributing capital to exploit the conservation model combined with experiential tourism. We are willing to offer a very good price, much better than the market price in this area."

"Our camp has no intention of selling land, nor does it intend to cooperate that way," Ha Lam replied directly, not hiding the coldness in her voice.

Tang Viet Long did not show any surprise at the rejection, just smiled slightly, a smile of someone who is used to being rejected for the first time and believes that everything is just a matter of time. "You just think about it, no need to rush. This is my business card. If you change your mind, just contact me." He handed over the business card, then added, his voice gentle but containing a clear meaning, "It's just, Ms. Lam, I heard that the farm land you are using has some problems with legal documents from the past, and has not been issued with a full red book. If you wait too long, I'm afraid there will be risks you cannot foresee."

That sentence was like a cold knife cutting into Ha Lam's heart. She had never really researched the legal status of the land the camp was using - to her, it had always been her father's land, the land he had reclaimed and had lived and died with for thirty years. She had never thought about the possibility that it could be disputed or revoked for paperwork reasons.

On the way home, sitting on the back of Xuan Mai's motorbike, Ha Lam was silent the whole way, her mind reeling with the information she had just received. Xuan Mai, seemingly also feeling the heaviness in the air, did not ask any more questions, just quietly drove slowly through the familiar red dirt road.

"Miss Lam," Xuan Mai finally spoke up as the car neared the camp, "I think you're very brave today. Not everyone dares to stand up and ask directly in the middle of so many people."

Ha Lam smiled softly, a forced smile. "Brave or reckless, I don't know yet. I only know that if I don't speak up, no one will speak up for the elephants."

Returning to the camp, instead of going home to rest, Ha Lam decided to stop by his father's house to report the situation. But as soon as she walked to the porch, she saw something unusual - the door was closed even though at this time her father was usually sitting outside on the porch enjoying the afternoon breeze, and inside the house there was no familiar radio sound that he listened to every day.

She pushed the door open and walked in. Her heart sank when she saw her father lying sideways on the bed, one hand clutching his chest, breathing rapidly and heavily, sweat drenching the shirt he was wearing.

"Three!" she shouted, rushing to the bed, her trembling hands supporting his shoulders. "Dad, what's wrong? Did you hear me?"

Mr. Thach tried to open his eyes, his voice was broken and weak. "Dad... it's okay... just a little chest pain... let me rest for a while..."

But his pale face and labored breathing made Ha Lam not dare to hesitate another second. She rushed out to call Bay Kinh. The two of them quickly helped Mr. Thach to the car, running like flying on the bumpy dirt road towards the district hospital, leaving behind the elephant field that was gradually sinking in darkness, where Sao Mai stood motionless, watching the car lights disappear behind the trees, letting out a long, anxious roar, as if it also felt that something bad was happening to the old friend who had been with it for thirty years.

The road from the camp to the district hospital is more than twenty kilometers long, mostly rough red dirt roads, only near the town is there a paved section. Bay Kinh took the wheel, Ha Lam sat behind, holding tightly to his father, feeling each of his labored breaths pass through his chest close to his back. Every time the car bumped over a pothole, she held her breath, afraid that the bump would overload his heart. The sky was completely dark, the motorbike headlights were only enough to illuminate a short distance ahead, both sides of the road were dark, occasionally the chirping sound of insects in the night forest echoed like an emotionless background sound to the panic that was rolling in her heart.

"Dad, please bear with it, it's almost here," Ha Lam said, her voice choked up, not sure if she was reassuring her father or herself. She remembered the emergency two years ago, when the first heart attack occurred while he was reviewing the camp's debt books - that time the doctor warned that his heart had weakened a lot, and each recurrence would be more dangerous than the last. That thought made her hands cold even though the forest night was not cold at all.

Arriving at the district hospital, a team of nurses rushed Mr. Thach into the emergency room. The glass door slammed shut in front of Ha Lam, leaving her standing alone in the hallway lit with cold white fluorescent lights, her hands still shaking, unable to calm down. Bay Kinh stood next to her, one hand on her shoulder, saying nothing, just quietly sharing his presence as a fulcrum.

Nearly an hour passed in endless waiting, and the on-duty doctor finally came out, his face not showing anything too serious, making Ha Lam breathe a little before listening to what he said.

"Your condition is temporarily stable. This is angina due to myocardial ischemia. Luckily, you brought me there in time," the doctor explained, his voice calm and professional. "But I have to tell you frankly, your heart has weakened significantly since your last examination, and the heart valve shows signs of more severe leaking. We recommend transferring you to the provincial hospital for more in-depth tests and considering the possibility of surgical intervention if necessary."

Ha Lam nodded, her throat choked and she couldn't speak. She asked permission to visit her father for a moment before he was transferred to the observation room. Mr. Thach was lying on the hospital bed, an IV line inserted into his arm, his face was still pale but the pain was less. When he saw his daughter walk in, he tried to smile weakly.

"Dad, you scared me so much," Ha Lam sat down on the edge of the bed, holding his father's thin hand, his voice trembling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Maybe because listening to you talk about the project introduction, dad thought too much and forgot what the doctor told him."

"Dad, don't think about anything else, let me worry about that," she said, trying to keep her voice strong even though her heart was still filled with fear. "I just need dad to get better."

Mr. Thach gently squeezed his daughter's hand, his eyes looked at her for a long time, as if he was considering something important to say but decided not to. "There are things," he finally said, his voice broken with fatigue, "I owe you a full explanation. When I'm better... I'll tell you everything, no matter what."

That night, Ha Lam stayed at the hospital to look after her father, while Bay Kinh drove back to the camp to look after the elephants for her. Sitting on a hard plastic chair next to the hospital bed, looking at the hallway light shining through the door, she wondered what kind of truth her father's unfinished promise would eventually lead her to, and whether she would have the strength to accept it, amidst so many other burdens falling on her shoulders, which had been burdened with carrying this place for so many years.