Tuesday Voice: Missionary Kid

Raja

By Vic Midyett

I was about six years old when we got Raja, a half-grown elephant. He was about the same height as Dad. We didn’t have him long, because his appetite was bigger than Dad’s wallet. For several weeks though, I enjoyed his company immensely. I have no picture of Raja, so this one will have to do; Raja was about the size of the smallest of the three elephants.

    Raja and I played for hours with a bicycle rim that had no spokes. I sat on his neck tossing the rim out as far as I could. He would excitedly chase after it, then pick it up with his trunk and hand it back to me.
    To climb up on him, he would bend his knees and kneel. I stood on his left knee, grabbed a hold of his ear, and as he lifted his knee farther, I would swing up on his neck. I’m sure I had some adult help too.
    Raja was a big hit for my sister Anita’s birthday party, giving rides to invited kids. This particular day, however, was the last time we saw Raja for awhile. A local kid had a washer on the end of a string attached to a stick, swinging it around and around. This made an eerie sound that spooked Raja big time. Off he went, at a full run towards the jungle, jumping irrigation ditches in the rice paddies with me hanging on for dear life. One too many ditches later, I fell off over his head onto mine. It knocked me silly for a while. Some may argue forever.
    Raja was found several days later, hungry but safe and sound, and in need of elephant therapy, I would imagine.

Three years later we were stateside on furlough and a family friend took me and Anita to the Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus in New York city. Ahead of the show starting, people were invited to see some of the animals up close. In one enclosure was an elephant about the same size as Raja.
    Anita yelled out to me, “Look Vic! He looks just like Raja, the elephant we had!”
    Before I could answer, a man standing next to us barked, “Sure kid! Where did you keep him, in your apartment?"
    What’s an apartment? I wondered, feeling awfully confused, never having been considered a liar before.
    The lady we were with tried to explain our background to the man. My memory is that this caused his mouth to drop more with his own set of confusing thoughts and even more disbelieving attitude. We walked away and I learned to keep my mouth shut in this strange, in-your-face, rude country of America. It was many years before I again told anyone I once had an elephant for a pet.
    I think it was at that young age, and without intending it, that I stopped talking about my life as a missionary kid. Then again, without realizing it, I kept that decision going into my adult life. People would simply look at me like I was full of bullshit and making it all up. Even now, people who don't know me give me that response.

[Editor's Note: We are pleased that Vic has found a sympathetic audience in the readers of Moristotle & Co.]
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Copyright © 2014 by Vic Midyett

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