The Female Photographer and the Male Assistant

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Compared to Kane’s luck, Richie in the off-road vehicle felt today was decidedly unlucky.

It was 11 a.m., and by the schedule, they should have already reached the Maasai village to prepare for filming elephants. But thanks to that troublesome photographer Kane, they were a full 40 minutes behind.

“Forty minutes! A lot can happen in forty minutes! Cabbage loses 10% of its nutrients in that time, a nuclear bomb could be built, or the Twin Towers could be hit by two planes—but no, we spent it rescuing a fool!” Richie muttered, shoving a cigarette into his mouth.

The orange tip of his cigarette briefly flared and dimmed again, leaving a small trembling ash bearing his frustration.

“Don’t be like that, Richie,” Tang Mi chuckled, leaning over to grab a cigarette and lighter from Richie’s pocket. She lit it, taking a long drag.

“Colleague? If that guy was selling photos to Wild Nation instead of our magazine, he’d be a rival. We’ve got just two weeks left here, and 20 days from now, we’re due in Spain for the Iberian lynx project. Time is tight! Heaven knows if those elephants will even cooperate. Susie hasn’t got us the visas yet, the travel check bounced, twenty boxes of equipment are stuck at customs, and yesterday the lighting rig failed. Here’s hoping I can fix it before sunset.” Richie grumbled, flicking ashes onto the steering wheel, where they were instantly swept away by the wind.

“Everything will go smoothly with Super Mario here. We could fix nuclear weapons if we had to,” Tang Mi teased, blowing a smoke ring as she rested her chin on her hand.

She found Richie’s grumbling endearing—blunt, rough, yet oddly comforting and reassuring. He was like an all-capable big brother, handling contacts, budgeting, scheduling, and, of course, acting as driver, lighting tech, and equipment carrier.

Richie was the best photography assistant in the world, her most trusted partner.

For this, Tang Mi paid Richie handsomely, though it was nothing compared to the monthly family trust he drew. Why Richie, leaving a comfortable second-generation lifestyle, would come and work as an overworked assistant was something Tang Mi had a faint idea of, at least initially.

Richie had once liked Tang Mi very much, spending vast amounts of money and traveling the world after her, even bribing the magazine editor to become her assistant. Tang Mi had only said, “I need a capable assistant more than a boyfriend.”

After that, Richie never showed her any romantic interest again, yet he stayed. They began a peculiar working partnership, which lasted until now.

Though she wasn’t sure why Richie chose to stay after her rejection, Tang Mi thought their current arrangement worked well. She handled content and animals, he handled logistics and people. It was a tight partnership, deeper than romantic feelings—a connection almost like family.

“Hopefully, it won’t rain these days. Do you think those elephants will listen to you? I mean, have you tried talking to them with your special abilities?” Richie deftly turned the steering wheel with one hand and shifted gears with the other, guiding the vehicle around a puddle and along a relatively flat path by the river.

They had left the jungle edge, and just ahead was the Maasai village, where smoke from cooking fires rose into the sky.

“Never tried; these elephants are different. They’re alert, aggressive, and avoid contact with outsiders. I can understand animal languages, but if they won’t speak to me, there’s nothing I can do,” Tang Mi shook her head.

Richie’s face grew more grim. “So our success hinges on luck? Damn, we shouldn’t have taken this job; it’s low-paying and complicated. Just thinking of the editor’s scowl makes me sick. That old hag!”

“Old hag? I remember you calling her ‘sweetheart’ once,” Tang Mi laughed, recalling Richie flirting with the editor to secure this assignment.

“Wasn’t that just to help you get this story? I don’t see why you’re so interested in elephants. African elephants have been photographed to death. We’d be better off in Tajikistan photographing Marco Polo sheep. World Geography offered $2,000 per photo and a fully funded team, yet you turned them down!”

Tang Mi calmed his hand back to the wheel. “No, this project isn’t without novelty. I’ve read research reports and spoken with elephant experts here. In the past year, elephants in this area have become unnaturally aggressive, attacking rhinos and invading Maasai cattle herds.”

“Elephants are usually non-aggressive herbivores, so this behavior is strange.”

“It’s no surprise. Male elephants in musth are very aggressive—even lions avoid them,” Richie shrugged.

“But the issue is that these attacks are being led by young male elephants, some even tuskless from birth.”

“Interesting, but I still think Marco Polo sheep are more interesting. Beautiful horns, lush fur,” Richie remarked, still wistful about that $2,000-a-photo offer.

“The elephants’ unusual behavior may be due to environmental changes affecting their physiology and psychology. If we can uncover why, this could be a fresh story with research value. More importantly, it might draw other conservation groups to help. This reserve is severely underfunded and understaffed.” Tang Mi lowered her eyelashes, her face shadowed with worry.

Richie didn’t care about the reserve’s finances—he was more concerned about hers. Raising his eyebrows, he let out a slight scoff. “So our photoshoot is a charity fundraiser for the reserve? Didn’t know you were a philanthropist.”

“Richie, it’s to help the elephants too,” Tang Mi lifted her face, her eyes reflecting a soft blue under her lashes, looking especially endearing from a certain angle.

Richie stared at her for a while, then sighed, “Sometimes I wonder if you love animals more than me.”

“No, you’re equally important,” she laughed, hugging his shoulder, her dimples adding a playful touch to her otherwise cool face.

“Thanks for letting me know I’m not totally second to elephants,” he replied, lighting a second cigarette, a bit gruff.

They reached the village entrance, where chief Onoraso stood with his family and several Maasai warriors, waiting for them by the thorny fence.

Before the car fully stopped, children gathered around, cheering, “Semaie! Semaie!” Dark-skinned and agile in the sunlight, they reminded her of playful fish.

Semaie, the name the chief gave Tang Mi, meant “lioness” in Maasai. Though it sounded funny, she liked it, especially after learning the tribe’s bravest warrior was named Sangah (Hyena).

Tang Mi got out, ruffling the children’s heads and handing out gum and chocolate from her pockets.

“Semaie, welcome!” Chief Onoraso beamed, his bright white teeth contrasting against his red “shuka” in a way that outshone any toothpaste commercial.

He opened his arms, hugging Tang Mi tightly.

“Onoraso, it’s great to see you all!” Tang Mi hugged him back, but as her fingers brushed something cold, she paused.

She saw an iron-gray Colt AR-15 assault rifle slung over his shoulder.

Then Onoraso’s son Natu and some other men approached. She noticed they, too, carried guns, and she was stunned.

The Maasai, though fierce fighters, weren’t usually combative, using spears and bows to protect their cattle from large predators—not modern weapons.

“What’s going on?” Tang Mi asked, eyeing Onoraso’s gun.

Onoraso’s smile faded, and a serious, angry look settled on his face.

“Let’s talk inside,” he said, guiding Tang Mi and Richie toward the village.

Their friendship had begun three years ago, when Tang Mi stayed in the village for a month filming a documentary on warthogs. The Maasai’s kindness, love for animals, and extreme poverty had deeply affected her. Onoraso had told her how they’d been relocated to this barren land by the government, struggling to feed their cattle and, at times, going hungry themselves.

In response, she filmed a documentary titled The Kindness of Killing, which eventually garnered enough attention to pressure the government to fund them monthly.

“The thieves over the mountain. Those damn poachers and killers!” Onoraso fingered his gun, his gaze colder than the steel.

“Poachers? They’re back?” Richie asked, sipping some strong local liquor that made his throat burn.

“These are not the same people. This group is organized and trained soldiers with more lethal weapons. You’ve heard of the recent uprising in the neighboring country, right?”

“Yes, the rebel group tried to take over the airport and police station, even killing civilians. But the army drove them back,” Tang Mi replied.

Not far across the ridge lay Country Z, known for its conflict and starvation. Despite abundant gold and diamonds, corruption, and factional wars had plagued it, making it a haven only for arms dealers.

“The rebel forces retreated to a valley over there and are planning a new assault. They cross the border to hunt elephants for ivory, trading it for weapons. They kill 23 elephants each week; soon, the elephants will be gone,” Onoraso said.

“Did you report this to the reserve authorities?” Tang Mi asked, frowning.

“Yes, last week that group of people came poaching again. The wildlife patrol arrived at the scene and had a gunfight with them. I led the men from our tribe and joined the fight. But their weapons were incredibly powerful, and they were all desperate fighters. We simply couldn’t match them.

In the end, the patrol had to retreat. Before they left, they handed us their guns.”

“Those worn-out guns you have won’t be of much use. The guerrillas don’t just have guns—they have grenades, armored vehicles, and anti-tank missiles. With enough money, they could even buy an aircraft carrier. You’re fighting cannons with muskets here.” Richie shook his head dismissively, clearly not believing that the courage of the Maasai alone could stand up to those heavily armed professional soldiers.

“We Maasai were raised to believe that the land and animals are sacred gifts from the gods—the most precious things given to us. Our ancestors have held to this creed for generations, and if anyone dares to take them away, we will fight to the end!” Onoraso clenched his weapon, his knuckles bulging with determination, firm and powerful, as resolute as his current resolve.

Richie looked at Onoraso and sighed inwardly. Another stubborn and passionate animal protector—it was no wonder that Tang Mi felt a connection with him. Thinking of her, he glanced at her worriedly. The rampaging elephants were already troubling enough, and now there was also this band of war enthusiasts.

All the known and unknown dangers hung like heavy, layered clouds in the distance, mysterious and oppressive, making it hard to breathe. He began to wonder whether it might be wise to call off the filming expedition.