love for elephants

to be with no one and yet, 

to never feel alone.

stop.
breathe.
cry if you must.
that is love for elephants.

Karla Nova

Mae Boun Nam, an example for all of us.

Mae Boun Nam (pronounced Me-bu-nam) is the smallest and youngest of our 4 female elephants. She is just 17 years old and used to work in Hongsa District (the village I visited earlier in my trip), transporting tourist on hours-long forest treks. Fortunately, she was never used in the logging industry because of her petite size and young age.

She came to us about a year and a half ago when a poacher shot her. The veterinary team saved her life but the baby she was carrying did not survive. Though elephants do not forget, apparently they do forgive: our “Water Festival” is the most joyful and playful of them all. 

She loves people but the thing she loves the most is going for a swim in the lake (her name suits her perfectly!). She hasn’t had any medical issues, so Mae Boun Nam naively sees me as a friend instead of the veterinarian (which I enjoy very much). 

I always go to the pier when its time for her bath where I brush her, give her lots of treats and admire her thrill.

Currently, she is going into our fenced breeding area 3 times a week with the male elephant where they spend several hours getting to know each other better. I spend this time observing and recording courtship behavior for our breeding program. Our male is a little shy with girls though so he hasn't tried to win her over much! Hopefully that will soon change as Mae Boun Nam cannot wait to have a baby of her own; she always tries to touch and play with the babies here at the center but mommies are very protective and keep them away.

I am definitely connecting with “Water Festival”: her gratefulness for living reminds me why I became a veterinarian and her forgiveness toward people, her compassion, reminds me why I love animals with such passion. 

I think we could learn a thing or two from Mae Boun Nam...Watch and learn people, watch and learn.

More to come,
Karla Nova

Xang Phi: Elephant Spirit.

A few weeks ago I woke up in the middle of the night by a strong "crack"; it was one of those sounds that you never forget once you have heard it: an elephant eating a tree. I went back to sleep wondering why there was an elephant so close to the camp, normally the mahouts take them deep into the forest where there is enough natural forage for them to feed on. The next morning I demanded to know who was the lazy mahout that didn't take his elephant where he's suppose to. I noticed how everyone looked concerned and .... afraid? The Shaman was the one who finally broke the silence and explained to me that what I heard was an elephant's spirit that roams around the camp every full moon; an elephant that was buried here last summer and since then has never left. 

Apparently this elephant was a former patient of our hospital (cause of death still unknown) that was buried here at the center a few months ago (I wasn't here yet so couldn't give you more details). In Laos, they believe that elephants have 32 body souls (like humans) so when an elephant passes away, a day-long ceremony takes place where the Shaman chants certain Buddhist mantras and it finalizes with the cremation of the body (not a burial). Therefore, every full moon the elephant's spirit roams around and cannot move on to its next life. Lao people believe strongly in spirits and are very afraid of them... no one likes to speak of them, walk alone at night or even sleep by themselves!

Last night when I saw the full moon staring at me glowing over the treetops, I knew what I had to do: I gathered some food, water and candles and headed with the Shaman into the woods... I went to the spirit house. Initially, I thought of going to the elephant's tomb but then I recalled that there's a spirit house in every home in Laos; the house is intended to provide shelter for spirits which could cause problems for the people if not appeased so offerings are left at the house to propitiate them.

When I got there I lit the candles and placed my offerings (food and water) in the house; the Shaman kneeled on the ground and completed his prayers while I remain silent. What did he say? I will never know. When he finished he walked back to the camp without saying a word... I decided to stay and do some prayer of my own. I noticed how darkness and silence surrounded me, I couldn't even hear the Shaman's steps anymore. I looked around, I was clearly by myself but I did not feel alone at all. It was like the entire forest was watching...listening...waiting.

I knelt on the wet muddy ground and prayed out loud: I asked the elephant's spirit for his forgiveness; I said I was sorry that he wasn't properly cremated and that we couldn't help him or save him. I told him I believed it was time for him to move on to his next life or rest in peace or do whatever it is that spirits do but not to come back here since there was nothing left for him in this life. 

I walked back through the forest with the full moon as my torch... I had the feeling that no elephant spirit was going to wake me up ever again. And guess what? It didn't. 

More to come,

Karla Nova