Up Close and Personal With An Elephant

August 25, 2014 Jen

In January 2014 the cold wet winter was beginning to gnaw at my bones and my feet seemed to be in a constant state of numbness.

‘I am panicking, Gary. My feet are so numb that I can no longer feel the throb of Africa beneath them. I have got to get out and see some wildlife.’ I smile pathetically. ‘I suppose Zimbabwe is not an option?’

We settle on a day trip to Whipsnade Zoo. Our two little girls bob along excited to be out to see the elephants which their ‘Gog’ (me) goes on and on about. Dark brooding clouds tower high and accompanied by an angry growl of thunder, the heavens open and rain like a thick drape has us sprinting for cover. We stand with our noses pressed against the glassed doors of a restaurant waiting patiently for the sun to struggle through the thick blanket of clouds. Once the heavens stopped scowling down on us and veiled in a gauzy haze we venture out to see the animals.

I have nothing negative to say about Whipsnade Zoo. They do have outside fields to meander through.

However..a lump the size of a green apple is lodged firmly in my throat as I watch the elephants: ‘Prisoners of the times we are living in’ and I feel sad for them.

Our two little angels are full of starlight, fizzing over with excitment. They have been so close to real live elephants. Real live elephants..I drift off.. a funny little smile shaping my lips and my butt muscles twitch and tighten. Real live elephants in the bush..and a little too close for comfort. I think back to one of our fishing trips in the Zambezi Valley.

Our small green canvas tent sits like a blot under the large acacia tree. The guy ropes are strung taut keeping us upright in this wild paradise. The dry parched earth rolls down to the vast Zambezi river and small puffs of dust hang motionless in the still afternoon before freckling lightly over the tinder dry vegetation. The expansive river glistens: undulating in the mellow warmth of the late afternoon. A lone vervet monkey stares down from the low hanging branch. With the stealth and speed of a professional thief he shinnies down, grabbing a couple of bananas not a foot away from my chair and disappears into the high branches…raising his eyebrows..and grinning at my dumbfounded expression.

Warmth spreads like sunshine on my soul. Life does not get much better than this. Squadrons of midges and flies hover with summer laziness, irritating but also a part of evolution’s slow magic.

On the edge of earth and heaven, the large golden sun breaks free from the brooding clouds bathing the bush in a warm coppery glow. A solitary bull elephant ambles along the rich banks of the Zambezi river,tearing up grass and hyacinth with his large and rather formidable trunk. His weather worn tusks sweep out in front and although he is close, I focus in on him through the binoculars and can see the deeply incised grass-notch an inch or two from the tip of his right tusk. Bronzed by the afternoon glare and scolded by the fork tailed drongo he is surely one of the most noble and dignified animals in the animal kingdom. He continues to sway as light as a dancer and I feel my heart sink as he disappears out of sight. The air continues to pulse with a subliminal rumble you feel rather than hear. African Jacanas trot lightly over a rich carpet of water hyacinth boasting beautiful blue flowers and I am certain I can hear fish slapping the water. Evening stitches the horizon with the last of its golden thread. The liquid murmur of the river and the evocative call of the fish eagle brings the perfect afternoon to a close. The day has slipped through my fingers.

The smoke from the mopani fire helps to keep the mosquitoes at bay and we sit relaxed and happy listening to the hippo grunting and a cacophony of frogs and crickets. Africa’s nights are never lonely. Too soon we are lying in our minute tent, fingers entwined listening to the wind flirting with the trees and a distant echo of a throaty roar. There is peace in the solitude and I close my eyes drifting in that wondrous space between wakefulness and sleep.

As tender beams from the African half moon peek gently through the gauze window, the tree above us explodes and acacia pods come raining down. I sit bolt upright as Gary puts his hand firmly over my mouth whispering to me to be quiet. Peeping out the small gauze window of the tent, the most enormous wrinkled and abrasive looking back legs are blocking my view. The bull is leaning his full weight against the tree and rocking it back and forth, his large holed ears folded back onto his massive shoulders. The three foot of thick wiry hair on the end of his four foot tail, all 8 to 10 kgs of it thrashes the gauze window not an inch from my face. The metallic taste of blood clogs my throat and I realize I am biting down on my lip. Time has stood still. The pungent smell of urine invades the tent as he lets forth with a warm stream that surges onto the parched earth . I am mesmerized as he turns side on rasping back and forth along the tree, his gigantic backside firmly on the guy rope. Our small tent whirs back and forth..feeble in its stance. Rumbling with pleasure, his large trunk swings freely as the finger like nobes on the end fold over the juicy pods and they start the epic journey from tent top to his mouth. This ambassador of the wild appears to cross the moonlight disappearing quietly and with dignity into the dark shadows. Silence returns to the valley and the liquid murmur of the river flows merrily as it carves its way to the sea.

The silence of emptiness hangs..and I turn to Gary with a relieved yet sad grin. ‘WOW’.

This is Africa’s bush life in all its beauty.

My day at the zoo has been an eye opener for me and I cannot help but compare this day with my experiences in the valley. It reafirms my commitment to do all I can to help preserve our heritage. These enormous animals belong on the land and I cannot imagine a trip to our magical place in the Zambezi valley to find it empty of elephants.

These inconic animals are the essence of the African bush and at present they are being poached at a rate of 100 a day. To those fueling the demand which in turn fuels the destruction, do you have any idea of the chaos and death left behind, rotting in the vast wilderness of sun kissed grass and sturdy trees of Africa. Please say no to ivory and help to save these magnificent and sentient animals from extinction. ‘The True Cost of IvoryTrinkets is an infographic in Chinese and English to help raise awareness on the rampant poaching of elephants. This infographic was created for Chengeta Wildlife.

Chengeta Wildlife is a group of people from around the world who formed a nonprofit organization to support Rory Young and the work he does. He has skills and knowledge that the teams protecting wildlife badly need to protect themselves and wildlife. If enough funding is generated we would like to purchase tactical equipment needed by the teams. Things like night vision goggles, thermal sensing equipment and motion sensing cameras. Chengeta Wildlife is run by volunteers. So far 100% of funds raised have gone directly to the field where it is desperately needed. WE HAVE ZERO OVERHEAD COSTS!

Rory Young and Yakov Alekseyev have written ‘A Field Manual For Anti-Poaching Activities.’

A manual well worth reading..and full of information. This manual provides intense and detailed evaluation of how to decipher even the smallest and at times what might appear to be unimportant detail and encompass it all into the strategy. In the preface they talk about the fact that our existence clings to the fragile towers that are made up of innumerable life forms that we share this beautiful world with. When individual species are destroyed, we change their impact on the ecosystems and eventually the towers will begin to crumble and fall…causing a domino effect. We have to be incredibly egotistical to believe that we can survive without these ecosystems.

Let us ensure that these animals continue to wear their tusks with pride. ( My Poem)

My Childish Promise To A Dead Elephant

August 18, 2014 Jen

I came across an image of a dead elephant: a wrinkled gigantic heap of magnificence lying crushed against a Mopani tree.

I could feel my heart thumping as a storm of memory shot me back in time and I was once again a little girl of five or six crouched down in the African dust, the warm coppery sun beating down on my back staring into unseeing eyes forever frozen in time. I could feel tears rolling down my face leaving snail trails through the fine dust that freckled lightly across my cheeks. I recall how I stretched out my hand wishing that the elephant was just drowsy with the summer heat and I gently touched what had been a powerful and versatile trunk, its fine wiry hairs scratching my fingers. This magnificent animal still wore his scythe like tusks, cracked and worn with time. He had been tearing up grass as he ambled through the mid-morning heat and a green gooey mess oozed out of his slack mouth. He had become a problem bull in the farming area where I grew up, and a danger to humans…hence the fact that he was now dead.

The locals were arriving in full force, a noisy teeming humanity pulsating with life. Not like the bull. I remember the gut wrenching helplessness as my echo of harmony was lost and I no longer felt like a child. The first axe fell and the fresh smell of blood grabbed me by my nose. My dad scooped me up and we disappeared through the melee of African people. I started to weep, huge sobs wracking my skinny little ribcage as I watched over his shoulder at the mass of people teeming like a colony of ants over the carcass. I did not understand how they could do that…but I had never known hunger.

That moment in time is set in my memory like a snap shot. I cannot even remember why my dad and I were there. He had not shot the elephant and it was not on our farm. I do remember that the corners of my mouth had sagged and I made a childish promise to that dead elephant: I would always fight in their corner, and my promises were always carried out..even back then. I was a feisty kid.

50 years on and I can still feel that heavy silence of loss that large jumbo and his unseeing eyes had engendered in me.

I have experienced the bush with no wildlife…and sometimes there is no peace in silence.

We went camping in Mozambique during the early to mid nineties. The long and harrowing civil war had finished and in it’s wake a country crippled and cloaked in human and animal tragedy…crypt-quiet, motionless and eerie. Not an animal or a bird to be seen. This was Africa at it’s most cloying, sticky and tragic. The wildlife did recover but that trip made a lasting impression on me…an impression that is not easy to erase from the mind, and especially when you read about the rampant poaching taking place in Mozambique, even as I write.

I am now living in the UK and still crazy about animals and especially elephants. About eight months ago, I was scanning the internet and came across a blog called ‘Anomie’s Child’. It took me straight back into the vast wilderness of sun kissed grass and sturdy trees. I pounced on Gary as he walked through the front door that evening, my voice choking with excitement as I bounced around him like an annoying and excited puppy.

‘Who ever is writing these blogs, Gary, is incredible. He is so knowledgeable and passionate about everything that we love about home. I love the way he is so truthful about how he feels and does not apologise for his beliefs..but he is open to discussion.’

‘Anomie’s Child’ for me was like a soul open wide to the breeze and I read and re-read many different stories, embracing each of my favourites. There were times when I could feel the frustration gripping the words and sadness at other times. Even from thousands of miles away, I could feel the throb of Africa beneath my feet and the earthy richness of fresh elephant dung would fill my nostrils. It was this blog that made me pick up a pen.

The cyanide poisoning of our Zimbabwean elephants was for me, a turning point. I could not ignore what was taking place in my beloved country. Having been told there was nothing I could do about the poaching, I decided that I was not going to be a person who pretended that this atrocious attack on our wildlife was not happening. I decided that I would write a poem a week to raise awareness on the destruction for as long as it takes…a huge undertaking for me as I had never written poetry in my life…apart from a few rhymes for ‘kitchen teas’ and ‘baby showers’ back home.

Having made this decision, I was always scanning the internet for news about elephants. During one of these searches, I came across ‘Chengeta Wildlife’. The name jumped out at me, as being a Zimbabwean, chengeta (look after) is still very much a part of our every day vocabulary, and even our two little grandies use ‘chengeta’ with their very english accents which always brings a smile to my face. It was here that I also came across a woman called Lisa Groenweg, who had been repelled by the rampant slaughtering of elephants with cyanide. She had asked Rory Young (a fellow Quora member) what she could do to help.

Rory Young, I thought to myself as I was reading about Lisa Groenweg. Why the hell do I know that name?

‘Anomie’s Child.’ He is the guy who writes the blog.

Lisa Groenweg had decided that she could not look the other way and started Chengeta Wildlife. She shook up fellow Quora members by raising a huge amount of money in 24 hours….showing that where there is a will to participate and make a difference..it happens.

Chengeta Wildlife is a group of people from around the world who formed a nonprofit organization to support Rory Young and the work he does. He has skills and knowledge that the teams protecting wildlife badly need to protect themselves and wildlife. If enough funding is generated we would like to purchase tactical equipment needed by the teams. Things like night vision goggles, thermal sensing equipment and motion sensing cameras. Chengeta Wildlife is run by volunteers. So far 100% of funds raised have gone directly to the field where it is desperately needed. WE HAVE ZERO OVERHEAD COSTS!

Rory Young and Yakov Alekseyev have written ‘A Field Manual For Anti-Poaching Activities.’

A manual well worth reading..and full of information. This manual provides intense and detailed evaluation of how to decipher even the smallest and at times what might appear to be unimportant detail and encompass it all into the strategy. In the preface they talk about the fact that our existence clings to the fragile towers that are made up of innumerable life forms that we share this beautiful world with. When individual species are destroyed, we change their impact on the ecosystems and eventually the towers will begin to crumble and fall…causing a domino effect. We have to be incredibly egotistical to believe that we can survive without these ecosystems.

I loved the analogy between Robin Hood and the poachers. It made it so simple to understand that the people in the community have got to view the authorities as the representatives of and partners of the community. It is also important that the community see the poachers as a threat and not the other way around. It does not matter how well equipped the authorities are..if they don’t have the people on sides..it will be a waste of time and money. The Sheriff of Nottingham failed to apprehend Robin Hood..and failed to punish him..and as a result there was was also a failure of deterrence.

This manual should be a companion for every ranger throughout Africa.

I think back to my childhood encounter with the dead elephant and smile at my promise which is now taking form. I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like to deal with the mutilated bodies of these magnificent animals…and all to feed the unquenchable demand for ivory trinkets and jewelry. The following infographic has been designed for Chengeta Wildlife with thanks to Joe Chernov, Robin Richards and Leslie Bradshaw. Please share it by any means that you can.

Rory Young is the strength that the ‘future of elephants’ needs…

But for anti-poaching activist and forestry expert Rory Young, his passion for saving the African elephant from deadly poachers involves a detailed field manual and arming local teams with firearms to combat what he calls, “well-armed, ruthless and experienced gangs of poachers.

I made a commitment to a dead elephant 50 years ago…the memory of that day is still strong in my mind. For me, they are Beautiful Elephants. (My Poem) People, please make a commitment to our wildlife and let us ensure that we help to protect our heritage.

The Stain Of Shame

August 11, 2014 Jen

‘How can you look the other way?’ I feel my voice trembling with emotion and my heart threatens to leap right out of my chest. ‘You can’t tell me that there is nothing that I can personally do in regard to this poaching.’ I stare long and hard at my colleague.

A pair of dark blue eyes stare at me from over the desk. ‘Do you think that you are making a difference?’ I detect a scornful amusement creasing her mouth. ‘Do people read what you are writing?’

‘Please sit for five minutes. I want to share something with you.’ I dig deep into my computer bag, and push a photograph towards her. ‘Have a look at this.’ A disturbing image of a small herd of mutilated and bloated elephant carcasses jump off the page. I watch as a look of distaste and horror flashes across her face, and then the curtain comes down and she looks away. I turn the photo face down, tapping her arm to get her attention and begin to talk, my voice low and full of emotion.

‘An ancient life force pulsates through the trees snapping branches in the sun fried bush. Pausing momentarily, the matriarch sweeps her powerful trunk across the sky inhaling the sweet breath of the balmy wind, her large tattered ears fanning the breeze. Rumbling gently, she encourages her herd to follow as she leads them over the raw African earth into the warm sticky evening. Under the grotesque limbs of the ‘listening tree’ (baobab) she halts, her muscles taut and her insides trembling. The smoke from a mopani fire teases her senses and the whine of flies shreds the quietness. She can smell humans and feels lonely and vulnerable under the African sky, aware that mortality is shadowing her and the herd. The last solitary finger of sunshine catches her beautiful tusks, causing them to glow with warmth and life before she turns in the her quiet way, alert and ready: protective of her family.’

I look up and her blue eyes are fixed firmly on mine.

‘The ‘kkkkkkkkkk’ growl of automatic gunfire slices the air. Elephants scream in fear and agony as they are cut down with alarming precision turning their peaceful world into one where they are crushed under the heels of supposed civilization. Heartbeats on the run as bullets slam into vulnerable flesh and trees explode in the cross fire. The matriarch lies gasping for breath, heart pounding with fear and her lungs heaving as she struggles for life. Her death gargle bubbles through the trees where the bodies of her magnificent family lie strewn through the bush, their wounds weeping and bleeding onto the dry raw soil. With her death a deadly quiet descends: disturbed only by the victory cries of the humans who approach, axes in hand and hungry for the ‘white gold’. They view the carnage of a family mown down and left among the bullet shells…with nothing more than blood lust in their eyes.

A small calf peers out from the thick jesse bush. With heart bashing against her ribcage and shaky steps, she settles near her mother’s body, her small trunk caressing and feeling, desperate to wake the large elephant. From the deep bush, the hysterical ‘whoop whoop’ of the hyena announces their scavenging arrival. The large tree with its peeling bark stares down…a silent witness to the evenings mayhem.’

I have been totally lost in my narration of this tragedy unfolding and become aware that my colleague is crying. She dabs at her nose with a tissue and stares at me.

‘Where did you get all that information about the elephants in that photo from?’

‘That scenario is what is happening to elephants throughout Africa. They are being slaughtered in their hundreds. One hundred a day are being killed …and all to make jewelry and trinkets.’ I stare at her. ‘For me to look the other way…I can’t.’ I feel my face burn. ‘The Stain of Shame..is what I call it.’

20 000 elephants were poached in Africa last year and this figure far exceeds the rate of growth. Southern Africa is fast becoming the last stronghold for these sentient animals on the continent.Tens of thousands of miles away, carvers are carving these pieces of ivory into ‘art work’ to feed the demand for trinkets and jewelry. Each carving represents the above scene and consumers need to become aware that behind every ‘intricate piece of carved ivory, there is a story……a bloody barbaric story.’ For those that are lucky to survive these attacks..there can be serious injuries.

To those fueling the demand which in turn fuels the destruction, do you have any idea of the chaos and destruction left behind, rotting in the vast wilderness of sun kissed grass and sturdy trees of Africa. Please say no to ivory and help to save these magnificent and sentient animals from extinction. The 12th August represents world elephant day. Let us all stand united and avert a huge tragedy. Have a look at this link….‘The True Cost of IvoryTrinkets is an infographic in Chinese and English to help raise awareness on the rampant poaching of elephants. This infographic was created for Chengeta Wildlife.

Humans: stop being so preoccupied with you. We appear to be unable to comprehend and feel compassion for the other sentient creatures that share this valuable planet with us. We are now being forced to look at ourselves. I know that I find myself apologising on behalf of humankind and feel an excruciating shame at the way the wildlife is being destroyed I do not believe that we hold exclusive rights to dignity and freedom…

Banning the sale of ivory for retailers in China…would…halt the trade. Banning the sale of ivory for carvers in China..would mean a vanishing of what they call a ‘unique art’. Banning the sale of ivory for elephants represents LIFE….they are not to be turned into ‘Melancholy Figurine.’ (My Poem)

The Land Of The Elephants

August 4, 2014August 5, 2014 Jen

I was reading somewhere that one should align oneself with the wisdom of nature! So getting as close to nature as I can …I lie flat on my back on the spongy green lawn staring up at the pale blue sky decorated with thousands of wispy vapour trails. A bumble bee whirs slowly past droning close to my ear. I close my eyes ignoring the bumble bee imagining instead the indigo hues deepening through the African bush as daylight wanes. My mind marches along to Africa’s timeless rhythms wondering what has gone wrong in this intricate web that we call life. Squinting up at the diaphanous vapour trails, I speculate on the fact that once man has ruined this planet, that maybe with all this modern technology and transport, thinks we have another planet to go to?

I stop my mind from marching and pull my thoughts close. I need to think about something that makes me feel better. I sit bolt upright. No…the goal is not about feeling better. It is about getting better at feeling. It is about compassion and justice. These are two words that many world wide seem to lack in.

Why is it that a continent blessed with riches and natural resources has blood flowing into the rivers? Corruption and greed: my mind feeds on this information, chewing quickly and swallowing. This I already know, and it gives me indigestion.

How is that the ‘dentine body parts’ from these magnificent and sentient creatures ends up in countries far from where they belong. I feel myself choking with emotion and a stomach churning weightlessness. My dad died in a country far away from where he was born due to political upheaval and a touch of corruption. I remember how I could see beyond the cheerful exterior… sadness had a firm hand on his shoulder, but with a bright smile he would always maintain that he was one of the lucky ones. I always worried about dad’s ashes as I know deep down that they do not belong here in this country. (His ashes are buried in a huge pot and I have planted a tree.) They belong back on Ferndale farm Umtali/Mutare in Zimbabwe where he was born, and although he did not farm the farm, he loved it and all those that lived there with his whole being.

Tusks from these sentient creatures also do not belong on somebody’s table or mantle piece thousands of miles from where they come from. They belong in the land of their birth….and on the land. (I know I am an idealist).

I watch a plane whizzing past and I imagine that there could be contraband in the hold. Do the people who create the demand have any idea of the bloodshed this demand is creating? (infographic for Rory Young and Chengeta Wildlife).

A huge thank you to Joe Chernov, Robin Richards and Leslie Bradshaw for creating the infographic for Rory Young and Chengeta Wildlife.

Ivory carving has a history of 5 000 years according to archaeological studies. These carvers are desperate to keep the art of carving alive, claiming that they have tried to combine wood and ivory, ox and camel bones but nothing can compete with ivory. Yes, the carvers work is intricate but it lacks the life and luminescence that one gets from ivory where it rightly belongs: on an elephant. How can they hope to achieve something beautiful from something that is so symbolic of suffering and death. I do not believe they can.

Coming from Zimbabwe, I do not believe that anything can be more beautiful or real that sitting quietly watching the fire of dawn bursting over the horizon and lighting the way for a herd of elephants. One cannot describe the elation of being in an open air amphitheater where fingers of sunshine caress your cheeks and the sweet smell of buffalo dung fills your nostrils. DEAD IVORY does nothing except symbolize ‘death’. Southern Africa is where the big five roam. This is where elephants amble past with the lightness and grace of dancers. This is a wild paradise with limitless skies and a rugged beauty. This is where survival of the fittest should be the rule of law..but greed and corruption are ruining this natural world where the land pulsates with a subliminal rumble that one feels rather than hears. This natural world is being desecrated and the demand for ivory, rhino horn and other animal parts is out of control.

China, please do not allow the demand for ivory to wipe out an entire species. The only enemy our African bush and her wildlife riches has to fear is man..the biggest and most lethal predator. I continue to lie flat on my back staring up at the sky. Where do we go from here? I roll over onto my stomach and flicking open my folder, I continue to read ‘The Field Manual for Anti Poaching Activities’..written by Rory Young and Yakov Alexseyev I take a deep sigh feeling my heart hammering a little faster. Yes there is hope out there. We just need to get this manual out to every anti-poaching ranger.

This book is an absolute must for those who do anti-poaching work. It is an intriguing read for the lay person who wants to understand how skilled professionals deal with dangerous criminals in the bush.

We also need Governments to take responsibility before it is too late. I am sharing a link to this must see interview with Rory Young from Chengeta Wildlife. Rory is on the ground and gives a clear overview of the current catastrophic levels of poaching. A passionate plea for action rather than words. Rory, thank you.

China, please put a stop to the demand for ivory. Do not let this become ‘The last Call of The Elephant’. (My poem)