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elephan t kneels a nd heaves hi mself into a headsta nd . His legs wave
in the spotli gh t like gia nt hyd ras. When she lies down , he rolls ove r
her , rises onto his hind legs, a nd circles the ring in waltz time . The
gentle rhythm of hi s movemen ts lends grace to hi s body in spite of its
size, ye t I once read tha t elepha nt tra ining is a bru tal business. A
trainer must hurt it so much that the elepha nt comes to fear him a nd
neve r forge ts how cruel he can be. H e beats the elepha nt until it lies
down on one side a nd heaves a n enormous sigh - the tra iner's sign
tha t he can begin .
I t is ha rd to bel ieve in such a pas t, as the elephant waits,
medi tatively, fo r the circus crew to fas te n a cable between two
weigh ted poles. H e ra ises his head to a drum roll , lifts one foot to tes t
the tigh trope, a nd stead ies himself upon it, selecting from the jumble
of legs the one whi ch will d raw him forward to where the lady per–
former fl ashes a sequined smile .
When the act is over, she swings on to the elepha n t's back a nd
rides him to the bleache rs on each side o f the ring to rece ive the
applause. As he moves towa rd my seat, a familia r picture is re–
emerging: din gy, splinte red tusks show through where white polish
has begun to chi p off. T he skin is loose a nd folded . Eyes whi ch have
di sappeared beneath hundreds o f wrinkl es a re rec reated with black
lines. And as the elepha n t's hide rolls back on one side, j ust behind
the ear a vague mass o f scabs shows through grey pa in t.
Next mo rning I find tha t the Intouri st offi ce has reopened . T he
same secre ta ry ha nd ove r my pass port with no comment , and a
guide hu r ries me to the a ir port. Back in Moscow my mai l incl udes a
cl ipp ing from the
New York Times:
a n ep idemic th reatening T urkish
and Southern Sov ie t la nds around the Black Sea has been checked . I
walk through wide stree ts to R ed Squa re where earl y morning lines
are beginning to stretch out of sigh t from Lenin's ma usoleum . Pil–
grims will wa it fo r hours to pa use above a small body with a domed
forehead a nd a poin ted moustache whi ch a ppears to be a M adame
T ussaud wax replica, before they a re dri ven out by a rmed guards.
The two ta ll sentries a t the ex it do not seem to blink the ir eyes.
Beyond Le nin's tomb , the candy-striped domes of Saint Bas il's
cathedral ri se a bove crowds mov ing ac ross the squa re. I am again
unsu re whether I am consta n tly watched or totall y ignored - or
which I would prefer.
Fi ve yea rs la ter , I watch the Sov iets prepa re for the Summer
Ol ympics. M oscow's emba rrass ing images have been swept from
