On Thursday, I went out nice and early to take my geranium for a little walk, like I did every Thursday. But no sooner had I opened the door, than… Ker-BLAM! What did I see? The front step was filled by a huge grey mountain blocking my way.
So what did I do? I pushed it! Yes, I pushed the mountain and managed to get it down onto the sidewalk. And there I saw—I was sure I had to be dreaming—that the mountain was nothing less than an elephant. Would you believe it? An elephant!
Well, I was about to scream for help when I noticed that the huge animal had a very large letter hanging from one of its ears. Someone had written my name in really big writing on the envelope. So I opened it, and this was what it said. Listen up:
Dear Miss,
My name is Dailan Kifki, and I beg you not to be alarmed at the fact that I’m an elephant. My owner abandoned me because he is no longer able to feed me. He is sure that you, miss, with your good heart, would want to take care of me and cook me my yummy, lovely oats soup. I’m very hardworking and affectionate, and as for TV, I’m absolutely crazy about cartoons.
(Have you imagined?)
Well, you can guess what a problem this caused!
You might find a cat abandoned at your front door. You might find a dog, a cockroach, a stray ant… Even a baby in a nappy with a safety pin. Anything but an elephant!
It wouldn’t have felt right just leaving him there like that, all abandoned and hungry. But on the other hand, even though we do have a big house, I really didn’t know where to put him, and I had no idea what my family or our neighbours would say.
All the same, I decided to take him in just for a few days until we could find him someplace better.
You’d have done the same, right?
So I went back to pushing him, this time with his trunk facing indoors, his back end to the pavement, and without his offering the least resistance. He got himself inside very quickly, no doubt lured by the smell of rice pudding coming from the kitchen.
I took Dailan Kifki into the garden as stealthily as I could, trying not to wake anyone. But his footsteps boomed around the house like thunder, and soon my whole family appeared in their nightgowns at the window that looks out over the garden.
My mum fainted, my dad’s pipe fell out of his mouth, and my brother Roberto said:
“We’re toast.”
Dailan Kifki just stood there in the garden, nice and calm, looking around casually and sniffing the flowers.
I went back inside to deal with my family, and on my way ordered four hundred thousand kilos of oats from the market, and fifty-four thousand, six-hundred-and-seventy-two dozen bananas, an army of bottles of milk and three croissants, all for my new houseguest.
When I got back to the garden, there was another surprise awaiting me.
What do you think Dailan Kifki was doing?
He was working!
Yes, you heard me right: working!
He was turning on the tap with his trunk, filling the watering can and then watering the plants, ever so delicately. As he walked, his big feet squashed flat all the ants he met along the way.
I could see then that what the letter had said was true: Dailan Kifki really was an extremely hardworking elephant.
There could surely be no other elephant like him in the world!
I was standing there watching him, full of admiration, when my Auntie Clodomira decided to show up at the house for a visit, with her umbrella and her hat that was covered in daisies.
When Auntie Clodomira saw Dailan Kifki in the garden, she fainted.
I was just about to call the fire brigade because my aunt is really fat and I couldn’t get her out of the large plant pot she’d fallen into, when…
What do you think the elephant did?
He picked her up gently with his trunk, raised her through the bedroom window and set her down on the bed.
Then—still through the window—he fanned her with his ears, and stroked her softly.
As you can imagine, when my aunt woke up and saw she had an elephant as her nurse, she gave a terrible shriek and fainted again. But this didn’t alarm Dailan Kifki.
Do you know what he did then?
He walked over to the kitchen, opened the fridge, took out a jug of cold water, pushed the door closed with his little foot, and then tipped the jug delicately over Auntie Clodomira’s hat.
My family, meanwhile, were furious, and spurred on by my aunt’s terrible cries, they all begged me tearfully to get that monster out of the house.
They screamed so much, I learnt later, that the uproar made all the stamps come unstuck from the post.
I had no choice but to say to Dailan Kifki:
“Come on, then, sweetheart, you’d better come with me. Nobody here understands you. Let’s go. I’ll take you to the zoo.”
And what do you think Dailan Kifki answered?
Nothing. He started to cry, first two teeny little teardrops, then two great big teardrops, after that two absolutely huge teardrops and finally two hosepipe streams of tears.
He cried so loud that he made the whole block tremble and, naturally, the few stamps that were still stuck on the post came unstuck and flew out the windows.
My family were touched by this sorry sight, and had no choice but to stop their own crying. Everyone began trying to console him. Because the truth is, an elephant’s sadness is much greater than a person’s.
My father gave him a cookie, my Auntie Clodomira lent him her hat just for a little while, my mother stroked his ears and my brother Roberto said:
“We’re toast.”
And from that day on, Dailan Kifki lived in our garden.