Bagus.

On the t-shirt is the portrait I created for him: an Asian elephant with medium ears and no tusks, wearing the mustard corduroy shirt and brown gentleman's waistcoat, set against celadon green. Behind that calm lies a whole childhood spent on the mountain. Bagus learned about plants as a calf, walking close behind the matriarch, his grandmother Sekar, who taught him to tell one leaf from another by smell and to know which bark was worth something and which wasn't. What he knows, no book taught him; the old one left it to him, step by step, up the slope.

Bagus has his stall in Liwa, up in the mountains, where the air is cool and smells of coffee and rain on the way. They call it Kota Berbunga, the city of flowers, and it's one of the greenest and coolest spots in that part of Sumatra: a place with a climate made for plants, tailor-made for a herbalist. A t-shirt of his carries that mountain green and a big elephant who never raises his voice. If you want to know how he came down from the herd to set up his apothecary, his biography tells it at its own pace. Here, the cool of Liwa on a t-shirt is enough.