Wendy Henrichs - When Anju Loved Being an Elephant

As a baby growing up on the Indonesian island of Sumatra with her dear mother, herd-family, and best friend, Lali, Anju loved being an elephant. Sumatra was home with its timbered jungles, cooling lakes, and refreshing mud holes. Always taken care of and protected, there was nowhere else Anju would rather be.

That all changed when, at five years old, she was stolen and sold to an American circus where she spent the next thirty-five years. Then, for fifteen years, she was the solitary elephant in a small zoo. In her nearly fifty long years of captivity, chains and shackles were all Anju knew.

Anju no longer loved being an elephant.

Now, Anju is old and tired. Her caretaker, Vincent, is taking her somewhere on a semitruck. Where is she going? Will she finally be happy? Will Anju ever love being an elephant again?

In this timely, emotional story about the life and needs of a captive elephant, wildlife illustrator John Butler complements author Wendy Henrichss story beautifully with his lush, heartfelt paintings of one of the earths finest creatures. When Anju Loved Being an Elephant is a story youll not soon forget.

Wendy Henrichs
illustrated by John Butler

PUBLISHED BY SLEEPING BEAR PRESS

To my dear family-Mark, Miles, and Eli

Wendy

To Margaret

John

She first came to America as a wee calf of only five years, bought and sold as a circus elephant. Although shes traveled untold miles since, her home these last fifteen years has been this small patch of zoo grass.

Now, shes on the move again.

Her mahout, or elephant caretaker, Vincent, chains her leg and asks her to walk up a ramp into a trailer truck. Even with her deep trust of Vincent, she holds fast, not budging her eight thousand pounds.

Cmon, Anju, he coaxes, tugging at the chain. Ease in, old girl. Thats right, Anju ... thats my girl!

In his outstretched hand, he offers slices of oranges, her favorite food. He knows he can sway her with that sweet, tangy fruit.

From the front of the semitruck, Vincent reassures her in his velvety voice, Dont worry, Anj. Youre goin to a better place.

Through the trailer window, she sees the tall, spindly Carolina pines, rooted in their rusty-red soil, for the last time. Although old and tired now, she remembers. She remembers trees like these on her childhood island of Sumatra.

There, in Indonesia, she was born some fifty long years ago. And there, she and her best friend, Lali, would give themselves glorious backrubs against the enormous orange-barked pines of their jungle.

She often thinks of Lali. Is she still thereso many oceans away, so many years awayor was she taken, too?

Anju was born under the star-blazoned night sky of Sumatra, then Lali, one night later. The matriarch, the biggest, strongest, and oldest female of their herd, welcomed them, caressing their heads and ears gently ... gently ... in her regal fashion.

Ears waving and always trunk-to-trunk, Anju and Lali would travel and eat ... travel and eat ... with their mothers and herd-family for eighteen hours a day, the soft jungle earth beneath their round feet. As the two friends romped and rolled in rivers and mud holes, their dear mothers taught them the many uses of their amazing trunks:

a hose to drink and spray with, a nose to smell and trumpet-talk with, a vacuum for sucking up seeds and small fruits with, and a strong arm for picking up tiny things and big things.

The rhythmic, lapping waters of the surrounding Indian Ocean and South China Sea were their island lullaby. Closing their long-lashed eyelids and lying together with their families, Anju and Lali slept in the tall, ticklish grasses, heartbeat-to-heartbeat.

Anju remembers those childhood days when she loved being an elephant.

As she stands on the hard floor of the trailer truck, the chain clinks and clanks at her ankle. From the trailer window, Anju sees cars whiz by on the highway.

She remembers the clown cars in the circus. Round-and-round, round-and-round theyd spin, a dizzying mix of color and noise in the grandstand ring.

In that new and strange circus-world, she remembers the constant travel from town to town in boxcars and trailers. She remembers long hours chained to one spot. And she remembers learning the circus tricks. Some trainers were kind, but others used the bull-hook.

Far away from her mother and Lali, Anju searched and searched for a new kind of family, one that spoke her languagethe language humans could not hearlow rumblings from deep inside their trunks, words shared to soothe their elephant souls.

But every time Anju made a new elephant friend, they were SOLD! to another circus, and she would once again stand alone, just as she did at the port of Sumatra all those years ago.

Yes, Anju remembers her circus days when she searched for elephant friends.

And now, where is Vincent taking her? Another circus? Shes too old for whips and tricks and rolling across America. Another zoo? Vincent has cared for her well, but it was a solitary place with no other elephants to befriend her for all those years.

Anjus heart has been lonely, although her mother and Lali have always lived in it.

The semitrailer jostles and sways ... jostles and sways. Vincent almost sings to her: Dont you worry, Anj. Youll always be my girl! Youre goin to a better place now! No more worries.

A days journey later, the semitruck finally stops ... far from her birthplace in Sumatra, far from the circus big top, and far from the zoo she has left with Vincent.

Vincent tugs at her chain, luring her down the ramp with more orange slices. A woman calls, Hello, Anju! Welcome! She leads Anju into her own barn stall where bananas, oranges, broccoli, and carrots brim over a basket, waiting just for her.

The smells of elephants are all around.

Will they be friendly?

CLANK!

Vincent drops her chain to the ground and hugs her for the last time, saying, Anju, I know youll be happy here. Anju touches him with her trunk. Wiping tears from his eyes, he says, Goodbye, Anju. Ill miss you, girl, but now youre free. Finally free! Youll see, Anj, itll be like going home again. In the wild. Where you came from.