There were more “Joys of the Week”, but this post is just about one because “Fisher” deserves his own space!
When some shrug their shoulders and roll their eyes telling me there are simply too many animals suffering to make a difference, and that THIS one definitely will never make it and so should be “set aside to die”, even then, ESPECIALLY then, you stay the course. And for every time any suffering is alleviated, the energy that remains changes more lives than the one you were focused on.<
Remember “Fisher”, the wee one brought to me by his kind human after being attacked by a wild Fishing Cat? He sustained deep puncture wounds, one a hair’s width from his trachea, and had haggard, rattling breathing with 3 out of 4 puncture points infected. He couldn’t eat, and cried out in pain every time he was touched. Resources here are very slim. It didn’t look good and sustained Compassionate Action was all that remained. And yet every couple of days Fisher’s human carried him to me, wrapped in a towel and sheltered in her arms as she walked down the rough dirt roads in the blazing sun. I was very honest with her about the severity of the attack, but she kept showing up, and so did I. And then, with hard-won medication, nutritional support, and an abundance of tenderness and love and perhaps a bit of a miracle, Fisher beat the odds!<
In the face of all the struggle in this world, is this too small of a success for some? Perhaps. But as I kissed the woman’s cheek and our eye’s met over the top of Fisher’s head, I knew that more had been saved than the life of one wee pup. And the circle grows…
We live and work in the rice-farming villages of rural Sri Lanka. Every day we’re exposed to all sides of all of the stories and only one thing is perfectly clear: that the situation is getting worse for both elephants and people (2019 was the deadliest year on record since 1948), and that to turn this conflict into coexistence will require a holistic way of thinking/acting/moving forward.
Just yesterday we were driving down the main road that separates the Knuckles Mountains from the paddy fields to see 2 wild elephants bathing in the tank (reservoir) in the middle of the afternoon. Although they were beautiful, seeing them at that time of day and their proximity to the soon-to-be-harvested rice was unsettling, for the safety of both families of elephants and families of people.
In the midst of it all, we gather a momentum of hope when we hear those living among these majestic animals say: “The animals seem to appreciate a kindly touch. In the middle of his paddy, Lalith and his neighbours demonstrate their technique, passed down for generations. They sing to the animals: “Go away, little babies, go away. But once we’ve gathered the harvest, anything we leave is yours.” How on earth, Banyan asks, can that work? It just does, Lalith replies. After all, he adds, ‘We’re still here, and so are the elephants.”
This final quote is taken from a recent article published in The Economist. You can access the full article here.
The first story seen is not the whole story being told…
Confronted with suffering around every bend, it’s easy to judge and submerge oneself in anger, but looking deeper it’s possible to see that those who have few-to-no options are doing what they can, and will literally chase you down the road when they see an opportunity to help end that suffering.
At first glance, most of these photos look like stories only of pain, neglect, abandonment, or worse. And those themes are present, but they are not the only chapters to be read. There’s also love and hope and gratitude, so we simply have to choose which story we’re going to read, and which one we’re going to work from for what comes next…
We’ve begun setting up motion-sensor lights around test farms that have sustained recent crop-loss from several bull elephants. Different wattages, different angles and heights, and reflective tape hanging from the wires are being installed. Keeping subsistence farmers safe helps keep wild elephants safe, and when you help one you help the other.
And yet, this won’t fix the problem—no individual solution has been found anywhere in the international community. We hope that it WILL give farmers more time to respond when elephants approach their farms, while other conservation approaches are painstakingly implemented. Keeping an eye on and tending the immediate issues while also working to amend the larger problems is at the Heart of The Elephant Love Project.
Shifting conflict into coexistence will take creative and cooperative efforts by us all—farmers, conservationists, tourists, anyone anywhere who eats rice or papayas or loves elephants — such a tall order when it will be a slow change in a fast moving world. But not knowing how to fix the entire problem is no reason not to try to fix what we can, where we can, however we can.
Sometimes in the midst of such ongoing conflict it can seem impossible to even imagine that solutions can be discovered—and implemented—in time to save what we love. But it is that very love that demands we continue to try.
When I finally found the elephant I had traveled half way around the world to meet, she really wasn’t much of an elephant any more.
That little Temple Elephant swaying and straining against her chains slid into that scarred space behind my heart and would not let me forget what I’d seen.
The first day I met her I got good and lost walking to the temple through the noisy, disorienting city streets of Colombo. The birdsong and soft wild sounds of my previous few weeks in the rural villages of central Sri Lanka were replaced with what I’m pretty sure are the loudest horns on the most buses in the smallest area possible, and I couldn’t imagine how a holy Temple Elephant could live in the cacophony and feel it was holy from her point of view.
I smelled the incense steps before I turned the corner that finally brought me eye to eye with Ganga. Smoke from lanterns reverently lit spiraled upward, and flowers bathed the warm air in breezy sweetness as people on their way to pray for compassion streamed past the head-bobbing, empty-eyed little elephant.
Tourists from all over the world walked past her too, but usually after looking around the courtyard uncomfortably, willing themselves to make sense of the Temple’s reverential beauty juxtaposed against the forlorn little creature on display and the trash and refuse all around her. Not only did the emperor have no clothes on, but the elephant in the room seemed utterly invisible.
What to do?
In the village when I asked about a problem, the soft-spoken women would reply, “What to do?” and for the 3 days I watched people watch Ganga it became a mantra of sorts: What to do? What to do? When you implore “why isn’t anybody doing something about this” and still you don’t turn away, then you realize that “anybody” is you, and into the fire of transformation you go.
What do you do when you can’t turn away? You turn toward. You get off your couch or your cushion or your pew or your knees and you turn toward the very thing you wish you didn’t know.
The push I felt from Ganga was less of a request to “turn toward” and more of a sort of hurtling into the bubbling froth of grassroots activism, nonprofit start-ups, and a tip-to-tail tumbling into the stories about where the lives of people and elephants touch.
It’s a humbling practice as I try to work with a necessary patience that I never, ever feel, knowing each moment of every day she is still there, tied up in cultural servitude.
It’s been over a year now since I first learned about her, and half as long since I watched her repeatedly touch the tip of her trunk to the chain that shackled her front leg as she listlessly swayed toward some refuge in her memory.
Trumpeting and Charging Forward
A friend and I spoke to an enthusiastic group of 4th graders about an elephant at their local zoo who has lived in the exhibit for over 50 years, sharing how it is up to all of us to decide how to care for one another in the most merciful, humane way possible.
As the bell sounded for their next class, they were glowing with excitement, trumpeting and charging about, not unlike the small elephants whose future they had decided they would change. Hugging them and loving their conviction, I assured them “We can do it! We can do it!”
And then as we were leaving, a hopeful 9 year old girl excitedly asked me how many elephants I’ve saved so far. It was all I could do to answer her. Not one.