The hunter rose before dawn, performed the private ceremonies demanded by his fetish, then moved unseen through the village hidden by a shroud of wafting kitchen smoke commingled with the lingering morning mist. He strode to the edge of the village and disappeared like a specter into the nearly impenetrable forest. Beginning at the site of the elephant’s destructive frolic he surveyed the area with an expert eye. Before him lay a maze of trampled, matted rice stalks that zigzagged through the farms across which the great beast had plodded before re-entering the forest. Tree trunks as thick as the hunter’s waist had been snapped in two under the elephant’s weight where it had paused to scratch an infernal itch. Gurgling guinea fowl searching for grubs scavenged among the splintered bark and broken branches that littered the ground along the crooked path. Their indignant, shrill chortles broke the silence as they scurried into the underbrush at the hunter’s approach. Squatting low with head bowed, the hunter followed the trail of havoc and mounds of fresh scat that marked the elephant’s passage. All day he tracked the beast, stopping from time to time to examine the feces more carefully, or sniff the air and listen with eyes closed and his head tilted back. As the blue-gray twilight settled and quickly waned, he realized that though he had hiked many, many circuitous miles that day he had not wandered very far from the village. He could sense all about him the elephant’s presence. He felt confident that he was close upon his prey.
But night and fatigue dictated that he make camp and complete his task in the morning. He ate without cooking, performed his simple evening ablutions, and then strung up his hammock between two stout tree trunks in the pitch-dark forest. He feared nothing in the bush for his fetish was very powerful. He nestled in the hammock’s embrace as the day’s exertion brought him immediate slumber. While he slept, the elephant he sought appeared to him in a dream. There it stood a dark, humungous presence astride a wasted landscape under an ashen sky. In his dream the hunter was inexplicably stricken with paralysis - not out of fear, no never that but as if he had been bound with invisible restraints. As he struggled against his confinement, the hunter hurled futile invective at his nemesis that landed as harmlessly as pebbles bouncing off its thick, gray-brown hide. The behemoth laughed at the hunter’s foolish pride and warned him that to continue his pursuit was dangerous folly. The hunter bristled at the elephant’s conceit, yet grew wary of a beast that could so easily invade his dreams. Surely this was no ordinary creature. The hunter, no stranger to the realm of witches and shape-shifters, had many times confronted their evil manifestations and had overcome their mystical powers. But never before had his dreams been so trespassed. The elephant’s musky redolence permeated the very air he breathed. The night’s rhythm seemed to rise and fall with its exhalations. Finally, the hunter, calling upon the courage of his fetish, challenged the elephant to reveal its true self (for surely the elephant-form hid the nature of a powerful entity).
“Reveal yourself!” the hunter demanded.
“Sina gende. Sina gende.” whispered the elephant as its visage faded. Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning.
As the rosy rays of dawn splintered through the darkened forest, the hunter awakened from his fitful slumber. The elephant’s essence completely suffused every aspect of the moment. The memory of the strange dream weighed heavily upon the man an unfamiliar anxiety. As he swung himself down from his hammock, the realization struck him like a blow. In the dark, he had strung his hammock not between two stout trees as he had supposed, but to the thick legs of the very elephant he sought. Fearing for his life, the hunter fled the scene and stumbled back to the village. An aged village matriarch, upon hearing the hunter’s tale, urged the people to quit the settlement, make sacrifices of rice, palm wine, goats and fowl, and re-establish their village at the place where the hunter had encountered the powerful spirit while he had slept “beneath the elephant.” They called their new settlement Helebu that has since prospered and never again did the elephant return.