Topsy's Voice Part Three

Imagining What Topsy Would Say

A whistle sounds. The train lurches forward. The journey begins. The nervous chatter of the Elephant Mind reaches a climax as the train gathers speed at the start of every ride. What will this trip be like? How long will it take? Will we reach the destination safely? The sliding doors rattle and jiggle. I fear they will fly open. I imagine our bodies tumbling out as the train arcs around the track’s sweeping curves.

The next time we see daylight, breathe fresh air, eat food, drink water, shit and piss, spray water over ourselves, move our bodies, stretch our legs, and relax our minds after the confinement, after hours of deprivation and discomfort from standing in a dark moving space. It will be tomorrow morning when we reach the tour’s next stop. Meanwhile, for how much longer do we have to be this close together? Some of us cope better than others. Me? I get short-tempered. My stomach gets upset. Nerves are on edge. It takes a day or two to calm down. It’s particularly stressful when we move shows several days in a row, travelling by train every night. No sooner do I feel better than we’re packed into the freight cars again to begin another journey to a new location. We’re frequent travellers. We’re familiar with the routine of arriving, leaving, and the journey in between that takes us there. Wherever there is.

We’re bored and distressed, wanting to escape from this psychological and physical rocking hell. I want to smell the fresh air, not burning coal. I want the wind to stop blowing smoke and ash on us. Our freight car is always immediately behind the steam locomotive. We may experience a smoother ride in the lead position than if our car were halfway down or toward the end of the long circus train. But we still lurch to the left and then to the right. I want the rocking motion to stop. We have no option but to rock ’n’ roll together as we speed down the tracks.

We fear train crashes. Several times, I thought we were going to die. Somehow, we survive. But not everyone does. We’ve had a few train crashes. I will never forget the loud rasping sound of the freight cars colliding and the feeling of flying as we lurched off the track and slid down the hill. I’m surprised the freight car’s sliding doors didn’t burst open. How we emerged unhurt, I will never know. Train journeys are never comfortable at the best of times. Now they’re recurring nightmares.

What is that I hear? Is the repetitive sound of the locomotive’s engine slowing down? We stir from our daydreams and doldrums. I’m restless now. I know we’ll be out of the freight car soon. The quicker the better. The piercing whistle and the constant tolling bell announce our arrival. The rocking to and fro eases. There is one more dramatic lurch as we come to an abrupt stop. I hear your voices outside.

I know you think it’s exciting, even glamorous, when you watch the circus train arrive and we climb out of the freight cars. You think I’m refreshed after the overnight journey and ready to perform for you. But you’ve no idea how I feel. I’m nauseous, tired, cranky, and I ache from the constant rocking motion and the confinement. My feet are painful. My eyes need time to adjust to the daylight. I’m not looking forward to performing meaningless actions again tonight in the noisy circus ring under the big top for your entertainment. Thousands of pairs of your eyes watching us is intimidating.