An Elephantasy Read online

I leapt up:

  “It’s them, they’re back!”

  I ran over to open the door, and who do you think I found?

  Dailan?

  No.

  The Fireman?

  No.

  I found a different fireman. A huge one with moustaches like motorcycle handlebars, his jacket covered in insignias, medals, stripes, epaulettes, braid and rosettes.

  The Big Fireman saluted and introduced himself:

  “I’m Captain of the Fireman crew. Hurroo hurroo hurray!”

  I saluted back, and with some alarm I asked him what he wanted. He replied, solemnly:

  “One fireman’s missing—what to do? He’s not been seen all day!”

  “A fireman?” I said, acting all absent-minded. “What fireman?”

  “I counted them at breakfast time, and one had gone astray!”

  “Oh… Yes, Mister Captain,” I answered, blushing. “Yes, it’s quite true, there was a fireman here, but, um… But I think he’s just popped out for a bit.”

  The Captain insisted:

  “No, no, I’m sure as sure can be, you’ve hidden him away!”

  I let him in so he could search the house. As my family watched in astonishment, the Captain looked inside the fridge, behind the flowerpots and under the rug.

  Naturally, he found no trace of the Fireman. Then the Captain frowned at me, and said:

  “Put on your hat and come with me, our tram ride will be brief—we’re off to the Police HQ, ’cos you’re a fireman thief!”

  Can you imagine such an outrage? Me, arrested? Me, a thief!

  I wanted to protest, but he was staring so hard at me that I put on my hat without a word, said goodbye to my family and left with the Captain. Once we were out on the street, he took me by the hand and walked me to the bus stop.

  We finally reached the police station, where we were seen by a blue superintendent. Fortunately he was very nice indeed, because I was trembling with fear.

  Well, the Captain made his accusation, pointing at me and telling the Superintendent that I’d stolen a fireman.

  “That’s just not true, Mister Superintendent,” I protested.

  And we began to argue, all three of us at once. Or, rather, I should say the four of us, because there was someone else there.

  A parrot. The Superintendent’s parrot who, to make matters worse, only knew how to say:

  “We’re-toast-we’re-toast-we’re-toast-we’re-toast.”

  As if I really needed to hear those words.

  Meanwhile the Captain took a little hankie out of his cuff and wept like a lunatic for his lost fireman.

  “Well then, miss,” said the Superintendent. “You just return the Fireman and we’ll say no more about it.”

  “But I haven’t got him, Mister Superintendent. Didn’t I tell you the Fireman just popped out for a bit?”

  “Well then, tell me where he’s popped out to and I’ll send for him right away. My three guards can go fetch him.”

  And then I fell silent, because I was embarrassed to have to admit that the Fireman had popped out for a flight through the air on the back of an elephant.

  Who would believe me?

  No one, that’s who.

  But still I told them the truth, and sure enough, neither of them believed me. Nor did the parrot.

  They started to laugh.

  But I repeated the story to them so seriously that they ended up believing me.

  Then the Superintendent said that, since a flying elephant could be a serious danger to the city, we would have to alert the local council at once.

  And so the three of us took the bus over to the Town Hall. The parrot stayed behind to look after the police station, the three guards and the prisoner.

  I was very pleased that they hadn’t put me in prison, so on the way I bought an ice cream for the Captain and a balloon for the Superintendent.

  We reached the Town Hall and were met by the secretary of the secretary of the secretary of the secretary of the secretary of the Mayor.

  Many hours later we were received by the Mayor in person, who was wearing a lovely green frock coat, a cardboard top hat and an enormous tin watch on his tummy.

  He greeted us in a very friendly manner and invited us to sit in three little gold chairs.

  We told him the whole story, and the Mayor looked very surprised and distressed. Then he called for a huge map of THE CITY OF BUENOS AIRES and told me to point to the area where Dailan Kifki and the Fireman might be flying round about now.

  “I don’t know, Mister Mayor,” I replied. “Around here… or rather, maybe a bit more like that way?”

  I took my finger off the map and just pointed up at the sky.

  “Hm,” said the Mayor, thoughtfully. “If you think they’re still in the sky and haven’t come down yet onto some street, or park, or small square or public boulevard or building or avenue of Buenos Aires, we will have to refer the matter to the Ministry of Aeronautics, because this isn’t a problem that we at the Town Hall will be able to solve.”

  So off we all went, the Captain, the Superintendent, the Mayor and me, to get the bus over to the Ministry of Aeronautics.

  8

  We arrived at the Ministry of Aeronautics and were greeted by the Mini-Secretary.

  I had to tell the whole story all over again: that I had an elephant called Dailan Kifki who had flown away with the Fireman riding on his back.

  The Mini-Secretary listened to the story in amazement, and said it was the first time such a deed had ever been accomplished in the whole country. He congratulated me for having such an intelligent elephant, he congratulated the Captain for having such a brave Fireman, and he was left with no choice but to congratulate the Superintendent for having such a green parrot. (The Superintendent’s bottom lip had started to quiver because he wasn’t being congratulated, too.)

  The Mini-Secretary said the travellers were an honour to the land and advised the Mayor to put Dailan Kifki’s name on some corner, or square, or public boulevard or lane in Buenos Aires.

  “Well, then,” said the Mini-Secretary, “I would have no trouble putting a helicopter at your disposal to fly around the sky looking for the fugitives, but since there’s a chance they may have crossed the border and might now be flying in the skies over Chile or some other sister nation of ours, we would do best to alert the embassies of the bordering countries.”

  So to cut a long story short: within five minutes we were all on a bus headed for the embassies of Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay, Bolivia, Brazil and—just in case—Peru.

  The Ambassadors seemed most interested in the case. They said that if Dailan Kifki and his pilot did happen to be flying in the skies above their respective countries, they would be returned to Argentina with all possible honours and without having to pay customs duties.

  “Hang on just a moment,” said one of the Ambassadors. “We’ve forgotten something very important!”

  “What have we forgotten, Mister Ambassador?” I asked, slightly alarmed.

  “What if they’re flying over sea, what then? And what if they fall in the water?”

  He was totally, completely right. There was a possibility that Dailan Kifki and the Fireman would fall into the sea—and they weren’t wearing their swimming trunks or life-vests.

  “That’s right,” said the Mini-Secretary of Aeronautics. “How did we not think of that? We have to take the bus right away to the Ministry of the Navy and ask them for lifeboats.”

  So off we all went—a whole retinue.

  The Captain of the Firemen led the way, waving his axe, his hose wrapped around his body like a snake.

  After him came the Mini-Secretary of Aeronautics, his arms spread wide like a plane, making an engine noise with his mouth.

  Then came the Mayor twirling The Keys of Buenos Aires.

  And then, in the following order—if I’m not mistaken—came…

  The Brazilian ambassador, playing maracas and dancing a samba,

  The B
olivian ambassador dancing the carnavalito,

  The Uruguayan ambassador dancing the candombe,

  The Paraguayan ambassador sucking on an orange and dancing the polka,

  The Chilean ambassador tapping out a cueca,

  The Peruvian ambassador singing a little huayno at the top of his lungs,

  And finally me, awfully embarrassed at the thought that a simple elephant could cause such an outrage here on the street.

  We reached the Ministry of the Navy and were met by a most Admirable Admiral, all in white, who looked like he’d just been bathing in milk, chalk and starch.

  We explained the situation and he listened very attentively while smoking his pipe and covering us with soap bubbles.

  The Admiral made calls on a lot of telephones, scratched his ear and finally, climbing up onto the desk, gave the following speech:

  “Your excellencies Misters Ambassadors and other dignitaries here present: this Ministry has no trouble putting at your disposal a number of Navy units to work together towards the rescue of the travellers, but since the aforementioned travellers might have embarked on a journey into space, I would suggest that we first attempt to locate them via the Astronomical Observatory in La Plata.”

  I slumped down into a chair. I was beginning to lose hope, but I did have to acknowledge that the Admiral was correct.

  We would have to look at the whole sky with a telescope to locate the travellers before going ahead with our plans.

  The Admiral very kindly agreed to accompany us to the city of La Plata, and this time he was at the head of the retinue.

  We all walked through the centre of town, drawing such attention to ourselves that many more people joined us, so that by the time we reached Constitución we looked more like the crowd pouring out of the Boca stadium after a Sunday game.

  Using his whistle, his truncheon and his white gloves, the Superintendent managed to move the busybodies away, and finally we were able to board the train.

  But just as it was about to pull out of the station, the Captain counted us and discovered someone was missing.

  It was none other than the Mini-Secretary of Aeronautics, who was only little and had gone missing in the crowd.

  The Captain ran off to fetch him and led him back by the ear. The train was already beginning to move off by the time they boarded.

  But as it turned out, our misfortunes had barely begun…

  9

  At last we arrived at La Plata, and after stopping off for a nice hot chocolate with bread and butter and sugar to recover our strength, we went straight over to the Astronomical Observatory.

  We were met by a very sweet little old man. We knew he had to be the Director because his lapels were covered in stardust and he had a little piece of comet’s tail tangled in his wig.

  Since he was a bit deaf, it took us three hours to make him understand that what we wanted was to look through the telescope for an elephant flying with a fireman on his back.

  When he did finally understand, he fainted. We revived him with a peperina tea and a biscuit.

  Calmer now, the old man said:

  “As spaceships go, this UFO does sound very strange indeed. But since you’re such important people, you may look through the telescope to your hearts’ content.”

  So we looked. One by one. Taking strict turns.

  And what did we see?

  The first thing I saw was a star sitting comfortably in a wicker chair. Then I saw another, bigger star with a bow in the centre. Then I saw the moon, and I looked very closely to try to make out Dailan walking among the craters.

  Suddenly I yelled:

  “There they are, I’ve seen them! It’s them! They’re walking around on the moon!”

  Everybody leapt at the telescope, but the Director moved them away and looked through it himself very carefully, before saying:

  “No, miss, I’m sorry to tell you that what you’re seeing is not an elephant walking around on the moon. It’s a fly walking around on the lens of the telescope.”

  I was so disappointed I didn’t want to look any more.

  The little old Observatory Director looked again through several different telescopes, and said finally:

  “I can see no trace of any astronautical elephant, but I might perhaps suggest one thing. It could be your last hope.”

  “What’s that, Mister Director?” I asked.

  And the Director replied wisely:

  “It’s possible that sooner or later Dailan Kifki’s wings will get tangled in the tail of a kite.”

  “And if that happens, what can we do, Mister Director?” we all asked.

  “I would be happy to accompany you to the Union of Kite-Flyers of the Argentine Republic.”

  We all marvelled at the Director’s incredible wisdom. Without a moment to lose, off we went to the station to take the train back to the capital.

  We thought of going straight to Ituzaingó, where the Union had its Headquarters, but it was getting late.

  The Captain decided we had to wait till the following morning, because everyone knows that nobody ever flies a kite at night-time.

  I was thinking: What should I do with all these people who’ve been so kind? I can’t just leave them hanging around out there all night.

  The Admiral suggested we go to his boat to do some manoeuvres.

  The Mini-Secretary was adamant that we go for a ride in his plane.

  The Captain wanted to camp out in Constitution Square, start a nice little fire and spend the night out in the open.

  So I decided to invite them all round to my house.

  Really, it was the least I could do.

  10

  So as I was saying, we all boarded the subway train back to my house.

  You can imagine my family’s surprise when I showed up so many hours later and in the company of so many important people!

  My Auntie Clodomira gave each of them her hand, and then a short while later gave each of them her hand all over again, repeating delightedly:

  “Pleasedtomeetyoupleasedtomeetyoupleasedtomeetyoupleasedtomeetyou.”

  My brother Roberto said:

  “We’re toast.”

  Dad invited them all to take a seat in the air and ran to the kitchen to brew some mate for our guests.

  Mum took me into a corner to talk in secret.

  “Listen, my girl,” she said, “we really must throw a party now, seeing as you’ve brought such jolly people with you.”

  “But Mum,” I replied, “how are we going to have a party if we’re all so sad?”

  “Why are you sad?” asked my mum, who always has her head in the clouds.

  “What do you mean, why? Can’t you see we haven’t been able to find Dailan Kifki, or the Fireman? Can’t you see there’s no trace of them at all, not in space or in the clouds or on the moon or in the stars? Can’t you see that when it gets light we’re going to have to go off, all over again, on our expedition?”

  “It doesn’t matter, they’ll turn up,” answered my mum. “The Fireman will turn up and then you can marry him. But in the meantime let’s throw a party!”

  And she took me into the kitchen to make sandwiches.

  There wasn’t enough food in my house for so many people, so we had to use a bit of the sawdust that was left over from Dailan Kifki’s medicine and cut a few little ferns and geranium leaves to eat with the bread.

  We served the sandwiches, while my Auntie Clodomira turned on the lights and started up the record-player.

  We needed the guests to dance and get distracted so they wouldn’t notice the lack of furniture.

  So we all ate geranium sandwiches, we drank mate, orange squash and cold water and we danced the night away.

  I should mention that, since it was a long night, there was a point at which the mate and the orange squash ran out, so my mother sent me off to prepare some tap water with watercolour paint. It really looked like orangeade, even if the taste wasn’t exactly very nice.

&nb
sp; At the height of the dancing I saw my Auntie Clodomira chatting excitedly in a corner with the Superintendent, and I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that by the next day or the following they were a couple.

  The party was very lively, to the great outrage of the neighbours, who all showed up in their nightshirts and nightcaps carrying candles and saying, in unison:

  “Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  But when they discovered that it wasn’t, in fact, a party but a pause in the middle of a dangerous expedition to rescue Dailan Kifki, they decided to stay, and then to go with us.

  As if there weren’t enough of us!

  It was already getting light when the Superintendent stood right in the middle of the living room, stretched out his arms with white gloves at their ends and blew noisily on his whistle.

  We all presumed he simply wanted to direct the dancing so we wouldn’t all keep shoving into each other.

  Nope.

  “Halt!” he shouted. “It’s time to get ready for our journey to Ituzaingó to make the necessary arrangements with the Union of Kite-Flyers.”

  “We’re all coming, too,” said Mum.

  “No, Mum,” I protested. “There are far too many of us already.”

  “Absolutely not,” replied my mum. “Either we all go, or no one goes.”

  “Yes, that’s right, we’re coming!” said my dad.

  And my brother Roberto added:

  “We’re toast.”

  The person who was most insistent on joining the retinue was my Auntie Clodomira, who was clinging tightly to the Superintendent’s arm.

  I could tell they weren’t going to be dissuaded, because they’re all very stubborn.

  My mother packed the crumbs left over from the sawdust-and-geranium sandwiches into a hamper, and put on her hat.

  My father put on his rubber boots and his little poncho.

  My brother Roberto put on his sheriff’s star.

  And out we all went, hand in hand in hand, to take the bus to Miserere Square, where the train station was.

  We were so very sleepy, and so exhausted from all the dancing, I’m sure we all looked quite drunk.