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our faces downward to keep at bay the tiny bees following us with great persistence.
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    The guide finally stopped for a moment before crossing one of the unpaved roads that wove through the park and was frequently used by tourists packed into safari jeeps. On the other side was a lily pond surrounded by a circle of lightthat streamed down through a series of short, stubby bushes. When we got closer, I could see it was a clearing of trees that had been broken away, standing in a ring as though they were on their knees in prayer.
    â€œElephant take up trees,” our guide explained, making a pulling motion with his hands. “Yes, shamwari , your boy come here.” He gave us a big smile and dropped his backpack but kept the rifle on his shoulder. “Eat?”
    We gratefully nodded, and he unpacked cheese and fruits and vegetables and flatbread. We ate quickly. A troop of baboons found us and screamed loudly, opening their mouths wide, baring long, sharp teeth and snatching at us with sinewy arms until we threw food into the bushes for them. Our guide found a piece of wood and banged it against a tree while we ate, to keep them from returning. Suddenly he stood still, immobile, listening. I wondered what he was listening for—there was no sound at all except for the droning of the insects near our faces.
    For a few minutes, the silence was an oasis in time, in movement, as even the trees stopped their sway. The air filled with an expectancy, and I felt the skin on my arms tingle. Something was there with us, something close, but it was concealed, hidden by the leaves and brush. I looked to the guide, but he hadn’t moved at all. Diamond, too, had frozen.
    Then I realized he was here. I knew it. He had come.
    Suddenly, before us stood an elephant. He had slipped through the brush and trees like a stream of light, without bulk or gravity, without disturbing a single leaf. Like a secret revealed, with the hushed heralding of the most extraordinary, suddenly Tusker stood before us.
    His amber eyes looked from one to the other, his one tusk glowed pale yellow in the sun, and he stood before us as though he was granting a royal audience. He studied us for a moment, three figures. Were we enough to pay him the respect he deserved? He flapped his ears slowly and reached forward with his trunk. My heart stopped beating in deference to him. I, too, stood frozen.
    Diamond threw down her chunk of cheese, then slipped her camera from her pocket and surreptitiously pushed its button. Tusker swung the food into his mouth and reached for more. I threw my food before him, standing very still, not moving my arms, using only my hands. He was wild, we were at his mercy, I knew, and he knew. When he was finished, he waved his head up and down and stepped back, melting away into invisibility.
    The guide was immensely pleased. “Dustbin,” he announced, then asked Diamond, “ Shamwari , you get photo?”
    Diamond nodded. The guide squatted to close up the backpack. “We go away now, shamwari ,” he said to us. “ Haraka ! Haraka !” Hurry, hurry.
    Before he could finish, there was a soft rustling behind us, a flutter of leaves, and we turned our heads. Tusker had returned, materializing again as if he were enchanted.
    â€œBollocks,” Diamond whispered, her eyes wide. She was nervous, and suddenly I was, too, my nerves heightened because of her reaction. I knew she was thinking he had come back for more food, and because we had nearly exhausted our supply, this time he might get aggressive.
    The guide slowly reached into his pack and emptied its contents on the ground: a small piece of cheese and avocadoand some remaining fruit. He took out a few pieces of flatbread, looked at it, then smiled up at us. “Not for tembo ,” he said softly, returning the bread to his pack. “For me.” We understood. His people were starving and bread was very scarce. To throw it down for an