He was thirsty. It was midday and he was out in the open under an overpowering sun. The sound of water, flowing beneath his giant frame, was enticing. Lowering his head, ploughing a tusk under the earth, the bull pulled at the pipe that fed the houses below. The pipe burst and water spouted like a fountain. With a trumpet of glee, he quenched his thirst and then stood over the water. He was in ecstasy as it cooled his underbelly: the annoyed yelling of people below didn't bother him at all. Moving away, to drink some more water, he ambled off majestically after he was satiated. As soon as he disappeared behind a few trees, estate workers rushed toward the broken pipe and expertly repaired the damage. We had just arrived at the bungalow, known as Cloud Mountain, and presently had water in our taps. The in-house staff told us all about the elephant. "He is a killer. Two years ago, he had killed two workers and now nobody goes out when he is around." That was our introduction to the Highwavys.
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