An Inconvenient Elephant by Judy Reene Singer

the minister said, his mood suddenly turning grave. “You have not chosen well.”
    â€œWe can take him off your hands,” Diamond replied. “We have a place for him.”
    â€œI see,” he said. “You bring him back to Kenya with you, so you can show your customers what a bad Zimbabwe elephant looks like?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and giggled at his joke.
    â€œWe have enough bad elephants in Kenya,” Diamondsaid, laughing with him. “But I am leaving for America tonight. I want to show bad elephants to the Americans.”
    â€œAnd you?” he turned to me. “Miss Diamond tells me you are Miss Sterling. A capital name!”
    â€œThank you,” I replied. “I am president of”—I took a deep breath—“ELLI. It’s an organization that saves elephants.” I hoped I hadn’t sounded pretentious.
    â€œSo why don’t you save a good one?” Joshua Mukomana said, his face serious at first, before he laughed at my perplexed look. He leaned back in his wide leather chair. “I know of this elephant,” he said. “I am told when he comes into the campgrounds to steal food, he frightens the campers. We cannot take the risk.” He gave a sad sigh. “His disposal is already scheduled.”
    Diamond leaned forward and pressed her hands against his desk. “Joshua, shamwari , that is the ministry speaking. What can you do to help us?” He rocked in the leather chair and pondered. He sipped his tea and ate a sugary cornmeal cake and pondered for a long time. I felt impatient, but I remembered Diamond’s words and just calmly sipped my tea.
    â€œI can sell him to you,” he finally said. “We sell many elephants.” He paused. “To hunters. Do Americans like to hunt?” He gestured to me. “Ah! You are too pretty to hunt.”
    I felt my face flush at his words.
    â€œWe don’t want to use him for hunting,” Diamond said casually. “We just want him. He is of no use to you.”
    â€œTrue.” Joshua Mukomana drained his tea, holding the cup daintily, with one pinky extended. He pressed a small buzzer on the front of his desk. The armed soldier returned.
    â€œTea.” Joshua Mukomana held up his cup. “More teaand more cakes.” The soldier saluted and left the room. We waited. Joshua Mukomana studied us. “You came especially to see me because of this elephant?”
    â€œWe did,” said Diamond.
    The soldier returned with a red clay pot filled with more steaming black tea and another tray of little cakes, then poured us each another cup. Joshua Mukomana pressed his thick, cigar fingers together and rocked some more in his chair. “Since we are good friends and I have a debt to you I feel obligated to repay, I will authorize his sale to you. You can have the elephant.”
    â€œThank you, shamwari ,” Diamond said. Her voice was filled with relief.
    â€œSeven hundred and fifty zillion Zim dollars,” he said. “A bargain, because we are old friends.”
    It sounded like a defense budget, and then I felt like giggling. A trillion zillion. A squillion. A bozo-illion, an elephantillion. No one in the whole world spouts numbers like that. I glanced over at Diamond, who just kept sipping her tea. No one except people in Zimbabwe.
    â€œTen trillion Zim dollars,” she said evenly.
    â€œHe’s a fine, big elephant,” Joshua Mukomana argued. He stared at Diamond. She took another sip of tea. “Fifty-five trillion.”
    â€œFifteen,” Diamond countered. She looked at her watch. “What time is our flight?” she asked me. “It’s nearly five o’clock.”
    â€œSix thirty,” I choked. How could Diamond be so calm? We didn’t have any money at all to buy Tusker, let alone a few bazillion joke-atillion lying around.
    Joshua Mukomana rubbed the expanse of stomach that protruded from under his