Follow the White Elephant, Brunei
Retelling Magellan’s Southeast Asia
On July 15th of 1521, 500 years ago, a Venetian friend of Ferdinand Magellan was escorted on elephants to meet the Sultan of the Brunei Empire in its Golden Age. In this moment in history, travelers, traditions, and technologies crossed paths from distant corners of the world. The following is a fictional narrative based on historical documents, archaeological artifacts, and other anthropological data.
[notes on language and other details follow at the end, including the connection to “White Elephant” gift exchanges]
Cool water trickled into the garden pool of the royal stables. From the shade of a fig tree, Ting watched the ripples as the White Elephant slipped halfway into the water. It was remarkable to notice every morning how softly the Chang Samkhan could move despite its size. Its name was Por Tai.
Por Tai’s trunk came out of the water and sprayed it’s own face. The sound of it breaking the morning’s tranquility helped Ting feel more awake. The rest of the royal herd began to dip their massive feet into the water too. More kwan chang, elephant keepers, shuffled out of the quarters in preparation for their daily chores. They would clean the stables, fill the feed troughs, and otherwise tend to the elephants’ needs. Ting mumbled a few good morning’s to the others: “สวัสดีตอนเช้า (sà-wàt-dee dton-cháo)” in Thai to some and “selamat pagi” in Malay to the local ones.
And then a blast of water soaked Ting head to toe. That made Ting more awake. The startled kwan chang spit and shook the water off his face noisily. When he could see again, the White Elephant was looking right at him mischievously. Someone passing by chuckled sleepily. Ting could only stare at the animal and sigh. He shook the water out of his robes, and shook his head in resignation. Despite its age and its holy countenance, the White Elephant had its antics.
A warm voice broke the morning quiet again, calling, “Ting…”
Ting greeted the stablemaster by folding his hands before his face and bowing his head. “Good morning.”
“His Holiness the White Elephant will be escorting some ambassadors to see the Sultan today. At midday.”
Ting stood up and more water dripped down from his clothes. “Ambassadors? From where?” Ting asked.
“From… well I don’t know, actually… From Malacca probably. They came in the Black Ships.”
Ting began walking across the grass toward the monastery and the stablemaster walked alongside. “Malacca ambassadors… Maybe they can tell me what it’s like these days in—”
“Actually, I mean the Farangi …you’ve heard of Farangi?”
Ting thought for a moment. “…Yes, I’ve heard the word, at least…”
The other explained, “Well, you know Malacca was taken by foreigners ten years ago. They had black powder too, like the sultans do. But the sultan of Malacca thought it was just another raid, so he left. And then they didn’t let him come back in…”
“These foreigners are called Farangi?” Ting asked. There was still so much for the man to learn of the world, despite traveling so far from his birthplace already.
“That’s what the Arab people call them, yes.”
“Farangi…” Ting repeated, as if to stow the word away for later.
After he’d changed into dry robes, Ting fetched the Elephant’s ceremonial silks from the stable. By the time he’d returned to the garden, the White Elephant was leading the royal herd out of the water. Ting walked alongside his charge patiently — patiently in his mind but quickly in his steps, another irony of caring for a beast so enormous: to take big steps yet not hurry.
The White Elephant knew where they were going somehow. Maybe it heard the doors of the storage room when Ting fetched the silks. Maybe it heard the word “procession” from the other keeper’s lips. Maybe it just knew.
Outside the stable, Por Tai patiently stood while Ting climbed up on a platform and draped a carpet patterned in emerald and gold colors across the Chang Samkhan’s back. He looped a belt behind the haunches and under the tail to fasten the carpet in place. Then another belt under its neck, and lastly one across the belly. Next, Ting hunched over the Elephant’s feet one at a time to tie embroidered brass-colored bracelets around each one. Lastly, he mounted the platform again and laid a broad embroidered cap against the Chang Samkhan’s pale head. Its design matched that of the carpet on its back.
The sacred White Elephant stood in the late morning sun, shining in its own splendor. Ting smiled proudly as he circled around his charge to check the accoutrements a final time. When he stood in front of the Elephant again, Por Yai nudged its giant face against Ting’s body and wrapped its trunk lazily over Ting’s shoulders.
Ting laughed as he struggled to throw the heavy trunk off. By the time the kwan chang clamored up the platform again, and finally onto the Chang Samkhan’s back, two other elephants and their keepers were ready to walk down the river road to the General’s estate.
A couple dozen spearmen of the Royal Stable’s guard formed into three columns on the road. They led the way into the forest. The three elephants and three keepers followed single-file. Ting and Por Yai led the other two.
Occasionally, the river was visible through the leaves on the right side of the road. A few birds sang from the trees and fluttered across their path. But otherwise, the only things for Ting to watch were the backs of the spearmen and the forest opening to the road. And the only other things to hear were the overlapping rhythms of soldiers’ footsteps and elephants’ footsteps.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
At midday the party arrived at the house of the General, the Panglima Tentera Darat. It was a large compound built of bamboo platforms and walls on a frame of thick timber. Some lookout towers stood around it.
The soldiers stepped to either side of the road, and Por Tai led the elephants into the courtyard below the front door. One of the General’s attendants stood on the steps of thick bamboo. Behind him several Farangi poked their heads out the door. Ting picked them out immediately by the tones of their faces: as pale as the most sheltered royals. And by their expressions: eyes wide in awe as if they’d never seen an elephant before.
Ting circled Por Tai around the courtyard before stationing the Auspicious Elephant several paces before the door. The other two elephants faced the house and knelt down at their riders’ commands.
The Farangi descended from the steps. There were less than ten of them, all dressed in drab loose shirts and dark loose pants tied at the knees. Most of them had beards covering their faces and hair dangling loose to their shoulders.
One Farang man with a captivated smile on his face broke off from the others and walked briskly around the elephants, inspecting them. Occasionally he called over his shoulder to the General’s attendant in a funny mix of Malay words and what must have been Farang words.
The stately attendant trailed behind the foreigner and called up to Ting from the ground,
“He wants to know where elephants live in this country.”
Ting pointed back upriver and said, “They live in the royal stable.”
Without turning back to the foreigner, the attendant replied curtly, “he means if they’re born here.”
“Sometimes,” answered Ting flatly.
The attendant’s face looked unsatisfied, but he simply turned to the foreigner and spoke a few words in Malay. Ting’s Malay was imperfect but he recognized him saying the names of countries across the water back west; Champa south of Đại Việt, Cambodia further inland, and then Siam…
Ting remembered Siam, where elephants lived wild in the forest. And he remembered the rice lands far from the sea. Por Tai was smaller when they lived in Siam. Ting was smaller too, and much moreso… Por Tai grumbled beneath him as if agreeing with Ting’s distant thoughts. He patted the lucky elephant’s neck affectionately.
“How do you say the name of your country’s capital, Elephant Keeper?” The General’s Attendant asked.
“Ayutthaya,” Ting announced: [ayu, tie-yahh].
By now the General himself stood among the group, dressed in extravagant robes. With calm dignity, the General moved his wiry old body onto the back of one of the elephants kneeling at Por Tai’s side. He waved to the Farangi to invite them onto the thick saddle cloth with him. The inquisitive one climbed up first, aided by the Attendant. Then a more serious-looking Farangi lifted a young boy among them and passed him up to the first one; the boy was dressed in their style, and slightly pale like them, but seemed to be of a different stock. Ting noticed the serious one seemed to be the leader of these Farangi, judging by his countenance as he gestured at and spoke to the others with hardly a glance in their directions.
In a short time, the procession began. The Attendant had joined those on the first elephant; four other Farangi mounted the other one, and as always Por Tai led the way with only Ting on his back. Twelve servants carrying jars started up the road. Two lines of bare-chested spearmen standing on either side of the road would flank their path all the way to the palace. Ting had only to lean forward and the White Elephant began to march uphill in formation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
This road lined with soldiers would carry the procession parallel along the river up the side of the slope, then turn the opposite direction, still upward. It would maintain a gradual climb with a few switchbacks.
After a couple turns, they were high enough on the hill that Ting could see clear across the mouth of the Brunei River. The shallows were permanently crowded by houses on stilts. Deeper in the water, parao ships of all different sizes sailed and paddled in every direction. Today it seemed quiet. But on other days, the sounds of war drums rumbled up from the water up against the hillsides.
At last, they rounded the last turn up the road. The soldiers on the uphill side of the road were now in the shade of towers and a wall that was nearly twice as tall as an elephant. Half-a-hundred beastly brass heads poked their snouts out from the gray battlements over the White Elephant’s procession; these were royal cannons worked into the shapes of naga. The Farangi had arrived at Kota Batu: Stone Fort, the palace of the Fifth Sultan of Brunei.
Source.
This is part 6 of Retelling Magellan’s Southeast Asia
Next Chapter: The Untouchable Sultan, Brunei
Previous Chapter: Land of Promise, Palawan
Farangi, also spelled “Ferenghee” or “Ferengi” is a word that was used across South Asia and SE Asia mostly in reference to Portuguese people, who were the first Europeans government to make a concerted effort to reach the region. It came to the SE Asian islands from Muslim traders based in mainlaind SE Asia, including Malaysia and Bangladesh; earlier it was spread across the Indian Ocean by Arabic traders from the Arabian Peninsula. It originated in the Middle East as an Arabic pronunciation of plural “Frank” — as in, the Franks: the French and Germans who came to the Holy Crusades starting about 500 years before Magellan (1000 years before today). Even Chinese records name the 法蘭克 / Fǎlánkè in the South China Sea.
Thus it could be said that 16th century Brunei mistook Magellan’s voyagers for Frenchmen.
No connection to the name of a certain shrewd alien race in Star Trek has been conclusively discerned.
White Elephants are particularly revered in Thai culture, as well as Buddhist and Hindu traditions across Asia. One with 6 tusks is said to have been present at the Buddha’s conception. Southeast Asian monarchs traded and fought over White Elephants as national treasures; even Muslim rulers benefited from having them, since Buddhist and Hindu subjects would regard the kingdom as blessed if graced by a White Elephant’s presence.
“Chang Samkhan” actually translates to “Auspicious Elephant.”
“White Elephant” is an imperfect translation of “Chang pheuak” / ช้างเผือก which more accurately would be “Albino Elephant.”
The construct of “whiteness” in both elephants and humans was a subject of debate in American media in 1884, when PT Barnum acquired a white elephant that turned out to be only spotted pink on its face. At this time, it was also a popularly held belief that Siamese monarchs sometimes gave away White Elephants with negative intentions, as a gift that would be too much of a burden for the recipient to take care of. That analogy of the White Elephant burden persists in English-language journalism today. And it has the more benign use in the practice of holiday gift exchanges with items of limited value.
