Kannika loved buffalos almost as much as she loved ice cream.

“Buffalos are stupid and stubborn,” her father said. “Only good for hard work and keeping the grass down.”

Kannika paid him no attention when he said things like that. She knew better.

He was a grumpy old man with a sour heart. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen him smile. She wondered what her mother saw in him. In Kannika’s eyes, her mother was the most beautiful woman in the district. Her beauty and grace were famous, her kindness unsurpassed.

When she wasn’t at school, Kannika was helping her father in the fields. If it were up to him, Kannika wouldn’t be allowed to go to school, but her mother insisted she needed an education. Still, long hours were spent toiling and listening to him scold the rice crop, grumble at the sun and moan to the rain.

She would laugh at his cursing. “They can’t hear you, father,” she used to tell him. “They only understand the language of the wind. Listen carefully and you will understand too!”

Her father would then chastise her for being a silly child. “What would you know of such things?”

Kannika just smiled. She knew a lot more than he thought.

Her father believed in hard work and sacrifice. He worked seven days a week and expected his children to do the same. Treats were a swear word. Luxury was frivolous. Life’s rewards would come in heaven, but only after a lifetime of sweat and toil on earth.

A year ago, an ice cream vendor stopped at the far end of the farm. It was a hot day, and Kannika stood in silence, looking at her father doe-eyed, face pleading.

He scolded her: “There’s no way I’m ever going to give away my hard-earned money to buy something as decadent as ice cream.”

She smiled a little sadly but paid him no attention.

Disappointed, Kannika started hugging her favourite buffalo. As he watched her, her father added: “No good ever came from buffalos and ice cream.”

What did he know?

Her favourite buffalo was a cow she named Lamai. Kannika loved spending time with Lamai, and Lamai loved spending time with her. Lamai graciously allowed Kannika to ride on her back for hours, transporting her on unlimited trips all over her father’s farm. Kannika spent so much time on Lamai’s back, that the local storks became jealous and would flap about frantically whenever they saw her approach. They didn’t like being made redundant. It was their job to ride the buffalos! Kannika just shook her head, then smiled at their arrogance and irritation.

It was Thursday afternoon. As usual for the time of year, the day was hot and sticky. Kannika and Lamai were resting under the shade of a welcoming tualang tree. Resting in the shade was an important ritual enjoyed exclusively on Thursday afternoons, as this was when her father went into town, and this was their favourite spot on the entire farm. It was where they waited for the highlight of the week – the arrival of Mr Pangthong and his tuk-tuk.  

The tualang tree stood the tallest amongst a thick glade of spindly grass, flowering shrubs and smaller fruit trees. Hundreds of geckos made this glade their home, and Kannika spent hours trying to befriend and play with these multicoloured and long-tailed good luck charms. She liked the geckos because, like her, they were always smiling.

The glade sat alongside a beautiful and seductively cooling stream. The playful stream danced and meandered Li-khe-like across the farm, swinging with the reeds and waltzing with the fish, mirroring the insects and birds. Every living thing loved the stream, for, within its waters, it carried the essence of life and held the secrets of the past it would never reveal. The stream also served as the boundary between her father’s farm and Mr Saetang’s, their neighbour.

Mr Saetang was a short, stocky man with a fiery temper and a red round face. It was said that he could frighten the snakes with a shout or stare when he was angry. Kannika wasn’t sure about that – he never scared her. Mr Saetang was slimy, and he and her father had been enemies for as long as Kannika could remember. She didn’t know the whole story but knew Mr Saetang coveted her father’s farm and his wife. He disgusted her. The thought of him anywhere near her, her mother, or her father’s farm made her feel sick.

“I don’t want you anywhere near that man,” her father once screamed to her mother.

“Oh, he’s not so bad,” she replied, looking toward the stream wistfully, closing her eyes like she was going to sleep.

Her father thumped his hands on the table, making the bowls jump.

“No more, woman!”

But Kannika knew there was more, at least for a little while. A few months ago she watched her mother scurry over to Mr Saetang’s farm. Then, a few weeks later, her father and Mr Saetang had a fight – a real one!

Kannika had never seen grown men fight before, but from behind a giant hibiscus, she watched on in alarm, worried that these angry men would hurt each other. Tear each other apart. She heard them yell. Then watched as they poked their fingers toward each other. Then they pushed, once and then again. Mr Saetang tried to kick her father but missed. Her father tried to punch back – but he missed too. They looked and sounded like squabbling monkeys. Soon they were wrestling each other on the ground. Kannika concluded that either they weren’t very good at fighting, or they didn’t really want to hurt each other. She giggled, wondering what the point was. But after the fight, she hardly saw Mr Saetang. Her father must have won.     

So, Kannika was startled and alarmed when she looked up and saw Mr Saetang approaching the stream by the glade.

Why would he be coming to the stream?

Not wanting to be seen, she silently crept forward, ducking behind a clump of tall grass.

She watched in worry as he waded across the ankle-deep stream, ruddy face, sweaty brow, intention unknown.

Why would he be coming onto our farm? Father is in town. Did he know that?

Turning toward Lamai, who remained lazing and grazing under the tree, she gasped as quietly as possible, “How dare he! He can’t do that!”

Mr Saetang was within ten metres of her when he stopped and started picking the fruit off the mango and banana trees.

“The thief!” Kannika exclaimed, “That fruit is ours, Lamai; we can’t let him steal our fruit!”

She pulled out the slingshot she had secreted in her sarong. She had a deadly aim, as boys at school discovered if they ever crossed her. When she was little, before he died, her big brother Mee Noi had taught her how to make the best slingshots in the entire district. Which wood was the best, then how to get the best tension, and lastly, which shaped stones made the best projectiles.

While Mr Saetang might be able to frighten snakes with his loud voice and angry face, he couldn’t shoot a snake in the head from ten metres like she could. She was deadly and regularly rode around on Lamai’s back, imagining she was an American cowgirl, instantly taking care of any trouble or fracas on the farm with her trusty slingshot.     

She searched the ground around her and quickly found what she was looking for, a pebble, not too heavy, not too light. Rounded, but with a flattened end so it would have maximum contact with the rubber pouch. She stretched the sling back carefully, gaining maximum resistance. She aimed, ready to release. She didn’t aim for his big, bald, sweaty head – that would have been too easy! Instead, she aimed for the back of his right knee. She wanted to confuse him, make him fall over.

She released and scored a bullseye. Mr Saetang stiffened, screamed and then fell over as Kannika hoped he would. As he fell, she watched him reach around to behind his knee, obviously confused with what had just happened.

Roosting birds instantly took flight. All laughing noisily, wings flapping, beaks chattering, flying high and away to tell the world of Mr Saetang’s misfortune.

Kannika laughed loudly as she watched him regain his feet. He had landed in a buffalo pat and was covered waist to head in buffalo dung.

“Oh Lamai, what have you done?” she giggled.

Lamai grunted.

On hearing her laugh, Mr Saetang turned, looked surprised, then raised and shook a clenched fist. “I will get you for this, you evil child. You’re as bad as your father. You will pay – just wait and see.”

“Get back to your land, Mr Saetang,” she responded, “or I will set Lamai onto you!”

He spun around and ran back to his side of the stream, then stopped to try to wash off Lamai’s lunch.

The nearby frogs suddenly went quiet, astounded that this man would be so reckless and uncaring to sully their homes with buffalo shit. What would the fish think? They sucked in air and puffed their cheeks out in defiance.

How dare he, they mouthed silently, eyes bulging angrily.

After Mr Saetang left, Kannika picked up the basket she always brought on Thursdays.

“Come on, Lamai, let’s pick the fruit for Mr Pangthong.”

Smiling at nature’s bounty, Kannika wandered through the glade, collecting a handful of bananas, some paw paw, mango and papaya.

“That will do, Lamai; let’s go to the road, it must nearly be time.”

Lamai didn’t hesitate; she loved Thursdays as much as Kannika did. Most buffalos will nonchalantly stand by, aloof and unhelpful, when humans try to mount their backs. Not Lamai. While she had never been trained, she had learnt to crouch so Kannika could easily climb on. With the basket and girl safely on board, Lamai didn’t need any instruction: she knew exactly where to go. Off she trotted down the track beside the stream. The track that eventually intersected with the road where they would meet Mr Pangthong.  

Kannika sang her favourite song as they waddled along.

Elephant, elephant, elephant, elephant, elephant

Have you ever seen an elephant?

The elephant’s body is very big.

With a long nose called a trunk.

It has fangs beneath the trunk called tusks.

It has ears, eyes and a long tail.

Kannika spied a bees’ nest hinged to a low-hanging branch. She instructed Lamai to stop while she looked up and studied it carefully. If she could somehow obtain a piece of honeycomb, it would be the sweetest prize of all. Mr Pangthong would be over the moon. Whacking the nest down with a stick or fallen branch would be easy enough. She was strong; years of ploughing fields had made her tough too. She was also brave; Mee Noi had told her she was braver than any boy he knew, even braver than him! She had been stung many times before, so it wasn’t the fear of being stung or lack of strength that stopped her.

No. As she watched the bees fly in and out, she felt an immediate affinity with them. They worked hard, just as she did. Like her, they never seemed to rest. Flying in and out, tickling the flowers with their hairy legs, then depositing the sweetness collected from the land into their overflowing pannier bags. Kannika smiled as she imagined their frenetic wings flapping in time to a summer song, their little legs dancing vigorously in joy. No, they did not deserve to have their home destroyed just for a sweet tooth and an extravagant treat.

So rather than upset the bees, Kannika decided to pick some durian hanging next to the bees’ nest.

While Kannika and Lamai topped up their basket, Mr Saetang skulked back to the stream. Then he turned right along the track, away from the road, toward the fields. He knew with Kannika resting by the stream, there would be no one to mind the rest of the buffalo herd. As he approached their enclosure, the lazy storks turned their heads, paying the intruder no interest or fear; they didn’t want to know.

Mr Saetang laughed as he undid the wire holding the enclosure’s gate shut.

“This will teach the little brat! Go on – get out of here – go,” he yelled, slapping their rumps, chasing the buffalos out of their pen.

He smirked, knowing how much trouble Kannika would face with her father. Nineteen buffalos wandering freely on the farm, destroying crops and fields, was sure to anger him.   

Feeling very pleased, he turned and walked back along the stream track.

Kannika and Lamai soon arrived where the stream and track intersected with the road into town. They just had to wait now. Girl, buffalo and basket sat on the side of a pot-holed road waiting for Mr Pangthong. Five minutes later, they heard the unmistakable put-put of his tuk-tuk approaching the bend. Lamai stood, mumbling her approval and excitement.

Lamai loved Mr Pangthong. He was a night-time taxi driver in town, moonlighting as an ice cream vendor during the day. Carrying passengers in the evening, then in the daytime converting his tuk-tuk into the only ice cream truck for miles. He would stop at the small bridge crossing the stream every Thursday, especially for Kannika and Lamai.

Kannika’s parents were poor, and her father too stingy to give her any pocket money, so in exchange for fresh fruit, Mr Pangthong gladly gave the girl and buffalo a huge ice cream each. Not a single, double or triple; no, they would each be given four scoops of their favourite flavour. Kannika loved banana and mango, and Lamai plain vanilla. Mr Pangthong’s ice creams were the creamiest and most popular in the entire district.  

“Hey, Kannika, nice to see you,” he called out, pulling up next to her. “How are you and Lamai today?”

Kannika glowed. “Oh Mr Pangthong, we are so bright we make the fireflies jealous!”

“Ha ha, well, you have certainly brightened my day! What’s in your basket of goodies today?”

“We have banana, mango, paw paw and papaya. Oh, and some durian too. I thought of bringing you some honeycomb, but it would have meant destroying the bees’ home. I didn’t want to do that!”

“You were right, Kannika,” Mr Pangthong replied; “without the bees, we wouldn’t have all this luscious fruit.”

He took the fruit from the basket, placed it in a box at the back of his tuk-tuk.

“Right,” he slapped his hands, “Ice cream time, my young friends! Same as usual?”

Lamai grunted; Kannika smiled.

Mr Panthong made two enormous ice creams, one in a double cone for Kannika, the other in a cardboard tub for Lamai. Handing the cone to Kannika, he walked toward Lamai, tub in hand. Lamai started to drool and slurp greedily.

Mr Pangthong laughed. “I’ve never known a buffalo who likes ice cream as much as you do and makes such a fine mess!”

A few minutes later, Kannika started licking her ice cream-dripped fingers and then laughed, watching Lamai try to lick her smeared milky face. Her tongue wasn’t long enough, and she had cream everywhere.

They suddenly heard the pounding of hoofs and felt the ground beneath them vibrate. They all looked up at the same time and were surprised to see nineteen buffalos running toward them along the stream track. Startled and a little anxious, Mr Pangthong ran to his tuk-tuk.

“It’s all right,” Kannika said, “They want to see what’s going on, that’s all. They get jealous of Lamai being able to wander around the farm with me. But goodness knows how they got out of the pen.”

Lamai coughed and snorted her greeting to her herd mates.

The herd immediately stopped before her.

Two buffalos cautiously approached Lamai, barely recognising her under the foundation of vanilla ice cream. One of them sniffed, the other licked, then swished her tail and mumbled and grunted loudly to the others. In an instant, the entire herd tried to lick Lamai’s face.

“I think they like ice cream, too,” Kannika laughed.

Mr Pangthong nodded in agreement. “How will you get them back into their pen?” he asked, worried the buffalo herd might suddenly charge his tuk-tuk seeking their own ice creams.

“Easy,” she answered, “I have an idea.”

A few minutes later, Kannika was back on board Lamai, heading back down the stream track with an empty basket in one hand and another ice cream tub in the other. Trotting behind, nineteen buffalos jostled and shimmied for position, trying to catch up and lick the ice cream held in Kannika’s outstretched hand.

As she approached the durian tree, she spotted Mr Saetang stealing fruit again.

She dropped the basket, deftly pulled out the slingshot again. There was no time to search for a suitable pebble. Instead, she placed the ice cream tub in the rubber pouch. She aimed, this time aiming directly for his head.

“Hey, Mr Saetang,” she called before releasing, “you want an ice cream?”

He instantly spied Kannika, Lamai and nineteen buffalos, and then ice cream hurtling toward his face!

It was a direct hit, right between the eyes! Then, to his horror, he heard the buffalos charge. He turned in fright but blinded by ice cream, he ran directly into the bees’ nest.

Infuriated by the intrusion, the bees flew out of the hive. Stingers ready, they charged the vanilla faced perpetrator. Mr Saetang screamed and fled down the track as fast as possible, bees and buffalos in tow.

Kannika smiled and patted Lamai’s broad shoulders, “I guess father was wrong,” she said to herself. “There’s plenty of good to come from buffalos and ice cream!” Although she knew she could never tell him, she would simply smile instead.

– Roly Andrews