The following morning was Thursday and Jack had encouraged some of us to get up at the crack of dawn to head up river and look for evidence of Rajim following the sighting made by Jack’s bird group. As the main group was planning to take the elephants for a bathe in the river later that morning after a late breakfast, this seemed like a good plan. Tessa and I therefore agreed to join Jack, Susanna, David D-W and Captain Sarah and Bhim was assigned to guide us.

Tessa’s log: Earthdate 19 April 2012

Temperatures: 06:00  24°C    14:00  38°C    19:00  31°C

06:30 Bhim, Jack, Tessa, David DW, Susannah, Sarah A, Sarah L – walk up river to try to find Rajim´s footprints and/or dung from yesterday. Footprints (20” = were found on other side of the river (by dint of wading across), but no dung.

The lure of camaraderie

I admit at this point that the idea of a long walk before breakfast would usually have been a difficult sell for me. However, I found that getting up was a lot easier in Nepal than at home. The attraction of waking up in a tent to the sounds of the forest and the warmth of the sun always made it easy to hop out of bed and embrace the world.

There was, of course, the added attraction of this particular group of individuals. How could I not be persuaded to join them? Jack was a lovable rogue, Sarah easily admirable and always good for a laugh, and of course Tessa, my best and most trustworthy buddy. Being generally quiet, yet surrounded by an air of growing contentment, Susannah remained deeply intriguing, and David D-W could draw images that looked like photographs using a pencil! My heart rose at the mere memory of his abilities and he carried himself with such charm. I was already a huge fan. Although his wife will be pleased to know that I was reserving my own natural flirtiness for both Jack and Sarah.

There is definitely something intoxicating about sharing such an emotionally explosive, extreme adventure with a relatively small group of people. In my opinion the bonds formed during a ‘work hard/play hard’ scenario of such intensity are some of the most cherished. These relationships may not last beyond the trip but at the time the people you find yourself waking with, walking with and working with, seem like the most fascinating you’ve ever met. Those who were strangers until you met at the hotel, quickly become like family. Which is just as well as you occasionally find yourself trusting them with your health, safety and well-being.

Placed in this type of situation I would be described as ‘gregarious’ and ‘transparent’. Which is a nice way of saying ‘gobby’ and a little flirtatious. My mother describes me as a social butterfly and my father hangs his head when forced to remember my antics as a young woman. When it comes to life, the universe and absolutely everything, my husband and sons know there is very little I’m not willing to talk about squarely, openly and in-depth.

This approach to life can appear somewhat brash to some. To others it can be anything from amusing to down-right embarrassing. Peter, a true gent from a generation expected to be seen and not heard, quietly revelled in the novelty of it. To young Jack and Sarah it was an invitation to be as open and honest in return. And herein lies the real benefit to transparency. The more open you are, the more other people will reveal of themselves to you. Under these circumstances certain types of people will reciprocate with bright-eyed joy in the freedom of it and there begins what will feel like a meeting of minds. Mutual appreciation will ultimately turn into mutual attraction. Pheromones go crazy. Chemistry flies. Married women find themselves having to have serious talks with themselves on a regular basis. Trust me, I’m an expert. Luckily it is this bit I like best. The really naughty stuff seems unnecessary in comparison. This is what is known as ‘love of the chase’. It saves many of us from being truly bad. Sadly however it does not prevent us from making complete and total idiots of ourselves occasionally… but that was all still to come.

So, when asked if I might join a walk along the river with some of my most precious new friends I jumped at the chance. I wanted to spend as much time with these people as I could. And I guess I was also a little interested in finding elephant footprints and even dung too.

Competitive by nature

We took a jeep as far as we could before going on foot, through the head-high grasses along the bank and down to the water. As a group we followed Bhim along the river’s edge. The pebbles under our feet threatening to twist our ankles with every step and the further we went the larger and looser they became.

We soon reached the area where Jack’s team had spotted the bull elephant the day before. We scouted around for some time but found nothing of interest. The terrain on this side of the river was not conducive to footprints and there were no signs of any elephant droppings. All we found was some rhino dung that looked at least a few weeks old.

Bhim suggested that the other side of the river would be a better bet and, leaving us sitting in the morning sun on the pebble beach, he began to wade across.

The river was fairly wide and the water rose to thigh height at its deepest. Bhim used his walking stick to keep his feet from being swept out from under him as he forded the middle section which ran fast. We all watched him as he crossed, shielding our eyes from the sun with our hands so we could keep up with his progress.

With time to contemplate, I gave myself another layer of suncream whilst listening to the quite conversations going on around me. Jack and Tessa had already begun to discuss the possibilities of their following in Bhim’s footsteps across the river. Captain Sarah and Susannah were chatting with David about life at home.

It wasn’t too long before Bhim had crossed the river. He was clearly used to carrying out such feats. Within minutes of him reaching the other side he had scouted the far bank and was yelling across at us that he had found both footprints and dung. That was all the incentive Jack and Tessa needed. They were off!

Tessa simply waded into the water in her shoes which were designed specifically for being able to do just that. Jack had to take his boots off, string them together and hang them round his neck. This set him several metres behind Tessa from the outset but his competitive streak was in full play and they were both clearly aiming to reach the other side first.

Sarah and I agreed that there was more than a little part in both of us that wished someone would fall in. I had my video camera at the ready. Sadly however they both reached the other side without incident and disappeared into the greenery beyond.

Behind the curtain

They were gone for some time. I began to worry about the time. We were going to be late back to camp. It also occurred to me as we all sat looking across the river that we were rather exposed. I turned and sat watching the forest behind us instead, just in case. Time ticked on. The conversation between my companions evolved. David was sharing details of his life. His story was deeply personal and deeply moving. Although he talked directly to Susannah, both Sarah and I listened intently.

It can be shocking to peek behind the curtain of someone else’s life. When we first meet someone we learn of the most obvious things about them first and can fall into making assumptions about their lifestyle. We tend to imagine others’ lives as more glamorous than our own. We fabricate truths that must then stand up and be tested when the facts are revealed. Occasionally we are not too far from the truth but this is rare. More often than not, real life is nothing like our imaginings. And sometimes reality stops us short and we gasp and watch our preconceptions crumble to dust. In these moments we learn. We learn to appreciate the person baring themselves to us. And we learn to appreciate our own existence. Mine at least can seem sheltered and cushy when compared to the harsh experiences life has seen fit to throw at others.

David is an artist. I had looked up his website and seen a book of his work following our first meeting during the briefing day in January. He is, in my opinion, quite brilliant at what he does. Not only is he is an artist but an explorer too! I had therefore, instantly fabricated my perception of his lifestyle around those facts and assumed a fair amount of glitz.

That morning, on the beach, David described his daily reality. It was so far removed from anything I had imagined that my entire perception of him underwent a dramatic shift. I had admired his work before. Now I admired him as a human being.

Late home again

Eventually Bhim, Jack and Tessa reappeared from the brush and used sign language to let us know they would walk back along their side of the river and cross over where it was narrower. So we set off over the pebbles to meet them.

We were not as late back to camp as I had expected to be. But we were late enough to get an earful from the Colonel. On the plus side, Jack and Tessa’s excursion had won them some clear footprint data and several dung samples to add to our growing collection.

Lesson no. 29: When left waiting on a river bank in tiger territory, don’t forget to look behind you

I’m now up and running as a freelance copywriter, journalist and social media expert. See my website at www.for-content.com if you’re interested to know more.

Most importantly of course is that i’ve managed to carve out some time to start writing my story about Nepal again…

Hang on to your hat! Here it comes… the second half of what is clearly turning into a book.

As things are taking longer than I hoped they might, I thought I’d best let you all know that I am having to use every hour I have away from my formal employment to set up my new freelance business. Please bear with me. As soon as I have everything sorted I shall get right back to writing the account of my expedition.

In the meantime, please feel free to let me know what you think about the work so far.

Thanks

Sarah

Photo by Duncan Sharp

After our exciting sighting (what a lovely phrase) of the herd on Wednesday morning, we spent a very hot few hours back at camp while the sun was at its height. At around 14:00 the temperature rose to 38 degrees in the shade.

Tessa’s log: Earthdate 18 April 2012

Temperatures: 06:00  24°C     14:00  38°C    19:00  32°C

15:30:

• Waterholes group – Sarah A, Sarah L, Tony, John E, Mandy, Barry, David DW, Susannah
• Fishing – Rajan, Carolina, Cathy, Peter
• Birding – Bhim, Jack, Villa, David R
• Survey – Duncan, Siv, Graham, Tessa

The waterholes group saw One-tusk.

Survey group found the herd again, which was rather close to the road we were on. The matriarch got quite excitable, but eventually moved off. Bhim Gaj then appeared following them.

The fishing group saw Gangetic dolphins again – probably 2 of them.

Some of the birding group saw Rajim.

The beauty of small things

Over lunch we discussed what each of us would most like to do that afternoon and were split into the most appropriate groups as a result. While Carolina and Cathy decided to take the opportunity to join the fishing group and go for a swim in the river, Jack initiated the idea of taking a group bird watching and, while he took Bhim as a guide, he took on the role of group leader as part of his leadership training. Tessa elected to go out with the survey group.

I elected to tour the watering holes again because I hoped the heat would draw a lot of animals to drink. As it turned out, the largest living thing we were to see throughout most of that afternoon were insects, although I did spend a few intrigued moments poking at a dead boar that lay in the muddy waters of one hole. It was odd to see such a meaty carcass simply lying about, although I suspect it didn’t last long following our visit.

As there was nothing larger to distract me, I was able to focus on the rather stunning insect life. In Bardia insects tend not to appear shy, but instead suggest adjectives such as ‘flouncy’ and ‘in your face’. Butterflies are many, varied and beautiful. Dragonflies buzz about in crazy bright coats of Ferrari red and iridescent blues and greens. Beatles are either madly bright in colour, skittering around the forest floor like animated hundreds and thousands on acid, or ominously black and massive, buzzing through the forest at chest height like enormous airborne tanks.

It made me realise how easy it is to become pre-occupied with the larger mammals and forget about the tiny lifeforms that were all around us, all the time. It is too easy to reduce these creatures to the footnote that requires you to pack heavy-duty insect repellant.

Caterpillars would find their way onto our hats and shirts and into every piece of equipment we possessed. The air was full of long-legged, brightly coloured beasts that would flit past, land on a leaf and either disappear into the background as it shut its wings or loom hugely in front of our eyes as we strolled along, daring the birds to try eating it despite the fact that it’s colours screamed ‘poisonous’!

Every tree in the forest is host to insects of some sort. There are the vicious fire ants that would get people hopping and yelping in their houdas if our elephants took us through any elephant-height fruit bushes. Or the snazzy shield beatles that wandered up and down the tree trunks, their backs sporting the most incredible designer patterns.

In addition to the glorious host of bugs that flew around the forests, some of the most exciting insects were those found around camp and which I had only ever come across on wildlife programs before this. Exotic beasts such as praying mantis, hornets and scorpions had my full attention.

One lunchtime, Siv and Duncan arrived at the mess lodge brandishing a photograph of a large, black scorpion they’d found sitting outside the entrance to their tent. I had to fight back almost as much jealousy at not having seen this spectacle myself as I had when I’d heard about the tiger being spotted. I was however hugely gratified to be rewarded a visit by a stunning, pale green praying mantis the next evening. It landed on the mat right outside tent no.9. I remember looking at the little alien-like thing in all its perfection and finding it odd that it looked exactly like photographs of itself. Even in reality, this spectacular creature was almost too weird to be believed.

Throughout the expeditoin Susannah spent tireless hours putting together a butterfly list, while Jack tried multiple times to set up successful insect traps to catch further nocturnal specimens. These traps became more and more extravegent, eventually becoming a bed sheet suspended in mid air and lit up using a collection of UV insect lights taken from each of our tents. Unfortunately none of his initial efforts worked well at all and his most successful trap attracted two enormous brown mantis which then spent the evening eating every other creature that dared to land. None of us could work out why Jack’s methods failed, but it was a lot of fun watching him try.

The excitement of massive things

Following many hours traipsing from waterhole to waterhole, we found ourselves on our way home in the jeep. The evening light was just beginning to fade and the temperature had dropped to a more reasonable 32 degrees.

Once again, those of us sitting in the back stopped chatting abruptly as our jeep squealed to a halt and the guide pointed into the depths of the high brush we had just driven past.

There stood an elephant, watching us.

It was the bull with one tusk. He stood alone in the brush chewing grass and watching us from about 15 meters away. We all grabbed our videos and cameras and started filming him. Through my camcorder lens I watched as he contemplated the situation for a few moments. Suddenly, without any warning, he was charging us. Hari yelled at the driver to go. The jeep jolted forward. We were all knocked back into our seats. I kept the camcorder running as we were bounced about wildly in the back of the jeep staring at the massive elephant running headlong at us. This time, he really meant it and there was a moment when my thoughts turned to the scene in the movie, Jurassic Park, when the ground shakes as the T Rex bears down on the tiny landrover.

Lucky for us the jeep engine had been kept running. Lucky for us we had stopped beyond the elephant. And lucky for us, once it got going, the jeep was faster than the elephant. Not more than fifty meters on, One Tusk decided we weren’t worth the effort and slowed to a halt. We too stopped. But this time at a much greater distance away.

We waited and watched until he crossed the road behind us. This gave us the shots we needed, from shoulder to ground, to get his height measurements.

When we got back to camp we were to find our elephant sighting was to be trumped once again by the survey group. They had seen the entire herd, with Bhim Gaj, crossing the road as they made their way home. The birding group had also seen a lone bull from a distance, later identified as Rajim, and the fishing group had yet another sighting of Gangetic dolphin.

Tony had been with us for the charge of One Tusk and stood in the mess lodge, video camera in hand, ready to share the footage with his wife. While she had spotted the brown hump of a dolphin as it surfaced briefly in the river, Cathy had yet to see an elephant.

“I don’t believe it,” announced Cathy in wild frustration. “I missed the elephants again. All I got to see was the bloody dolphin.”

“Don’t you dare!” said Tessa in dangerously dark tones. “Have you any idea how many people would give their left arm to see a Gangetic dolphin. Do you realise how rare they are? Don’t you dare complain about having seen one. You should count yourself as lucky.”

The whole mess lodge went quiet as Tessa gave Cathy an unequivical ticking off. Cathy sat in stunned silence for about three seconds before turning to Carolina, who sat next to her.

“Well that’s a bit of a cheek!” she declared. “Who gave her the right to talk to me like that? Perhaps if she’d missed every elephant sighting to date she’d understand. We are here to see the elephants after all.”

There was an awkward hush as Tessa kept glaring at Cathy and Cathy, her back turned squarely away, muttered to those sitting next to her.

“Calm,” I said to Tessa. “Sit down. It’s not worth it.”

Tessa sat. If she had been an elephant her ears would still have been flapping slightly.

“Mmmmmmm….” she said in tones of slatey grey.

“Tell me about your sighting,” I asked in a blatant attempt to switch the focus.

Tessa’s face immediately lit up.

“You should have seen it,” she said in delight. “There was a tiny baby and it fell into the ditch at the side of the road and couldn’t get out. We watched it as it worked out how to escape. It was ridiculously cute.”

If I were wicked, I might have believed that Tessa may have been speaking a little bit louder than usual. Perhaps just loud enough to ensure that Cathy could overhear everything she said. But luckily no one rose to the bait.

The spat was over. We all went back to our dinners.

The next day, Tessa apologised to Cathy and the air was cleared. But it also helped that Cathy was very careful never to grumble about having spotted dolphin again. In fact, she was less grumbly about her daily experiences altogether from that point onwards. She did, however, make Tony promise never to go out without her. They were to share whichever experiences they were lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to live through from then on.

Thankfully Cathy did eventually get to see both lone elephants and a herd.

Lesson no. 28: appreciate the Gangetic dolphin or risk the wrath of Tessa

After our amazingly busy day on the Tuesday, the following morning felt like a return to ‘routine’. We awoke at 05:15 once more, to be ready for a 06:00 departure. Even at that time in the morning it was already 24 degrees centigrade and the winds had died away to nothing leaving us all having to deal with the realities of more traditional Nepalese conditions.

So what, after only three full days in the jungle, did my perceptions already class as ‘routine’?

Tessa’s log: Earthdate 18 April 2012

Temperatures: 06:00  24°C   14:00  38°C  19:00  32°C

Teams:

1. JBS, Mandy, Villa
2. Duncan, Siv, John E, Cathy
3. Barry, Carolina, Sarah L, David R
4. David DW, Peter, Jack
5. Tony, Tessa, Angus
6. Graham, Sarah A, Susannah

06:00 departure by jeep to the elephant pick-up at Gaida machan. Elephant safari picked up lots of tiger trails including remains of kill, but no tiger.

Our jeep found the herd near the road, with Bhim Gaj. The other jeep found a one-tusked bull not far away.

Evidence of a kill

After our usual early morning snack of tea and peanut butter biscuits, we all got into the jeeps and headed off to meet the domestic elephants. This morning I was back on Saraswati, with  tall, slim David Read beside me to balance Barry, who sat next to Carolina behind me.

It was a relatively uneventful safari. There was one point when our phanit and Hari became excited and we found ourselves following some fresh tiger tracks, but this chase fell into confusion after about half an hour of searching. Having been joined by Raj Kali, we were sent to scout a small path along which a boar had clearly run soon before. However, that too led to nothing and it was on our way back from this fruitless trail that we spotted the back leg of a deer lying in a grassy glade. Fresh tiger kill, and it was no more than four meters from where the tiger tracks had first been spotted. If we had turned right, instead of following the path straight ahead, we would have caught the tiger feeding. Sadly we had been unlucky. Now, all that remained were a few bloody bones, bits of plucked hide and a skinny hind leg, complete with hoof.

Saraswati stood as we took photographs, but she was still uncomfortable being around this area. It stank of tiger.

The rest of the morning was spent in semi-trance as we scouted up and down a riverbed. I was on the side of the houda nearest the bank so had a fabulous view of the dry cliff face that stretched up above our heads. When the waters had been high, the river had sliced through this land, dragging away the layers of pebble strewn sand in which the jungle had grown. Trees clung to the cliff edge, roots half in the bank, half hanging loose, creating fantastic shapes, all creeping and twisted.

As Saraswati plodded along the natural river valley I was able to look back up the gulleys left in the bank by rivulets that had run perpendicular to the main flow. These were crisscrossed by roots and full of animal burrows. Dark, deep holes of all different sizes suggesting residents that might range from voles to porcupines. Even sloth bear are known to dig, although it wasn’t until days later I was shown clear evidence that a particular hole had been made by a bear. At this point, my experience extended only to porcupines.

David Read was a quiet companion. A retired carpenter from Chippenham, David had been on a previous expedition with JBS and had helped construct a watchtower to aid wildlife conservation in Burma. Interestingly, for this expedition JBS had paired David up to share a tent with young Jack. David had also been asked to ‘look after’ Jack. Unfortunately, this was a task born to disaster and poor David, who took the responsibility seriously, was to receive the disapproval of his young tent mate who had reached exactly that point in his life when the very idea of being ‘looked after’ was perceived as an insult.

Throughout this trip, I admired nearly every single decision JBS made with regards to his team. I was clearly delighted to be paired with Tessa and not just because we got on so well at a personal level. Pairing us up made us stronger as a team than we would perhaps have been as individuals. I blush at the idea that I might be of any aid to Tessa, but I can certainly vouch for the fact that having Tessa around made me more efficient on a daily basis. I was also impressed by the decision to pair Susannah and Captain Sarah. What might have seemed an odd pairing at first, became a clear boost for both of them. Sarah’s practical streak balanced Susannah’s calming influence beautifully. However, I’m afraid that the David Read / Jack pairing was to turn into a small drama that had both of them winding each other up until, by the time we got back to Kathmandu, there had to be a subtle rearrangement of hotel rooms to ensure no one ended up like the deer, nothing but a skinny, bloody leg lying in a grassy glade.

I, however, found David R perfectly enjoyable company on the back of the elephant and we sat side-by-side in companionable silence for most of the ride. It was calming. It was hot. There were times when we were negotiating the jungle branches. There were also times when we walked in open grasslands and had to suffer the direct sun. This was all classic elephant safari experience now. This was almost routine.

A hungry herd

Around 11:00ish we met the jeeps by the road and dismounted the elephants. Rather than bother with ladders at this point, our phanits simply asked the elephants to lie down as close to the jeeps as they could. All we had to do then was extract ourselves from the houda and step off onto the jeep seats a few feet below.

Soon we were heading back to camp for our brunch and to get out of the increasingly hot sun. We all sat in a slight daze as the jeeps drove. Now used to the jostles and jolts of the jungle tracks, our bodies relaxed and simply going with the flow of the vehicle.

I was in a jeep with JBS and Ram Din. They sat up front with the driver. There were perhaps six more of us in the back. Two rows of three, our knees intertwined in the middle of the vehicle, backpacks tucked under the seats and our legs, cameras always accessible round our necks.

Suddenly Ram Din pointed forward at a bush and the driver ground to a halt. The bush was right next to the road. It rustled wildly and parted to reveal a massive bull elephant. We all stopped making noise and sat staring at the enormous animal, less than twenty feet in front. A noise to our left then drew our attention to the large group of females and babies, all standing munching on leaves and staring at us from a group of trees about fifty feet into the jungle. We had come to a halt directly in front of them.

A few moments of concern as JBS and Ram Din assessed the situation. Luckily the bull, who was later identified as Bhim Gaj once again, decided we were of no harm and turned his back on us, delving deeper into the thick bush he was slowly devouring. This meant the other elephants were also relaxed about our presence. They too were far too busy eating either to worry about us, or move away. Ram Din instructed the driver to switch off the engine. JBS took up the radio and quietly informed the other jeeps. We all got our cameras and videos out and arranged ourselves as quietly as possible so we had the best view we might each afford.

“Take a video,” whispered Ram Din. “We can see their eating habits. This will make an excellent video.”

Typically, my video was still out of action at this point. All five of my batteries had been sent up to the lodge to be recharged. I did however have my camera and was using the video on that.

We watched the group of elephants as they tore down a tree, ripping the branches from it and devouring in a matter of minutes every bit of green it had spent so many years growing. A tiny baby elephant, the same one I had spotted the previous day being helped across the river between two adult females, stood under its mother suckling from her as she munched on leaves. It was a wonderful experience watching them from the relative comfort and safety of the jeeps. They stayed there eating for nearly fifteen minutes before slowly drifting off into the deeper forest.

After some time a second jeep arrived. JBS and Ram Din frantically tried to wave them down but they stopped right in front of the bush where Bhim Gaj was hiding.

Luckily, we didn’t see the bull again. He may have followed his herd, although he may also have remained in the bush to keep an eye on us all. No one from the second jeep was daft enough to want to check.

Just as we drove off, I spotted another tree being pulled down from the distant treeline. It reminded me of a scene from the American TV series ‘Lost’. One minute the tree was there. The next it was gone… almost as though some great beast had plucked it from the ground!

Upon our return to camp, we discovered that the second jeep had also spotted a lone bull elephant. This one had only one tusk and had also been grazing close to the road, not far from the main herd. It was interesting, from a scientific perspective, to note the two bulls and there relative relationships with the herd.

Over lunch stories were told, notes were made and photographs were shared. Once again, having been in the one jeep that had got all the way back to camp without seeing anything, Cathy was spitting bullets.

Lesson no. 27: Never ask someone to ‘look after’ a nineteen-year-old who has just spent four months travelling alone through Australia and Borneo

Photo by Graham Lydiatt

What a day we had had so far! A raft ride, a buffalo cart ride, a school visit, a home visit, an elephant football match and an elephant safari. Not bad for one day. No wonder we were all tired and slightly bedraggled by the time we met the jeeps that evening. However, it turned out that, despite the fact that I’d totally run out of video batteries (sod’s law), this amazing day was not over yet…

Tessa’s log: Earthdate 17 April 2012

Temperatures: 07:00  24°C  19:00  30°C

The trip back was made on the elephants as far as one army camp, where we were picked up by the Landrovers. On the way back, we found the herd of wild elephants again – 27 counted – in a meadow heading for the river. Another good sighting. The bull Bhim Gaj was still with them.

Stalking the matriarch

I had jumped into the first jeep alongside Rajan, Tony, Duncan, Graham, Tessa, Siv, Susanna and Jack. We were first off, with JBS and the others following in a second vehicle some way behind.

We hadn’t gone very far when Rajan made the driver stop. He indicated a trail of damaged vegetation.

“Look,” he said. “Many wild elephants walked this way. Shall we get out and follow their path?”

“Yes,” we agreed as one.

Rajan got out of the vehicle and walked through the brush towards a line of trees in the distance. We followed him as quietly as we could; a trail of tired expeditioners, cameras at the ready. The sun was low in the sky making the entire world glow golden. The brush turned from dry grass to the clipped, charcoal-brushed stalks of a month old burning. The woody remains crunched under my boots and left black streaks on my trousers.

We had walked for a few hundred metres when Rajan stopped suddenly and raised a hand indicating for us to freeze. He raised an arm, pointing north.

Following his outstretched finger with my eyes I saw a cloud of dust in the clearing between one row of trees and another that ran parallel, perpendicular to where we stood. Between the trees the land had begun to replenish itself following the fire, lush green grasses rising up between the remnant stalks of the old forest.

Rajan put a finger up to his mouth; ‘Quiet!’. My eyes focused on the dust cloud and eventually picked out the grey blob that quickly took on the outline of a large elephant. A second elephant stood some way behind her but the animal closest to us was large and looking directly at us.

“Stand still,” whispered Rajan. “She’s the matriarch. Get ready to run if I say run.”

We stood, frozen to the spot. I lifted my hybrid camera and aimed it ahead of me. I took a few shots without even looking at the LCD screen. My eyes were on Rajan and the elephant. The elephant continued to look directly at us. She looked edgy.

Suddenly, and without any warning, she charged towards us.

“RUN!” yelled Rajan, already bounding back towards us.

We turned and ran back in the direction of the jeep. The next few moments took on a peculiar slow motion. The world around me seemed more detailed and somehow brighter as my senses were heightened by the chemicals that washed through my body, helping me escape the danger.

I remember as I turned away from the charging animal that I was able to note that the second jeep had joined ours on the road. The second team had started out on the path to join us. They too had heard the warning call and were turning tail back to safety. Then my eyes were on the ground. I watched my feet. I was focused on the ground where my feet were going to land. My brain calculated the territory under which each step would fall. A dip in the ground ahead – I lengthened my stride to compensate. A fallen log – I leaped over it. Each footfall crunching through the clipped tops of the old grasses. I was running. I was aware that I was running.

My brain suddenly became aware of its own focus.

“Oh my god,” said an inner voice in a weirdly calm way. “This is me. Right now. Here I am running away from a wild elephant. How crazy is this? Am I over-dramatizing this situation?”

I found myself wondering if running was still necessary. I slowed slightly. My peripheral vision caught sight of Rajan passing me by on my right hand side.

“Shit!” I thought less calmly, and quickened my pace again.

I could hear the others running ahead of me and beside me. I ran.

The whole scene lasted only seconds. We probably didn’t run more than 70 metres. But, inside my head the time extended into a crystal clear memory I shall cherish forever.

Rajan, now ahead of me, stopped abruptly and looked back. The elephant had stopped. We all stopped too, turning to watch her. She had established the upper hand and was clearly much more relaxed about us being there. We were prey rather than predator. She could make us run like rats if she so wished. She snorted in disgust and turned away, hustling her herd ahead of her in a northerly direction.

Being stalked by the matriarch

“Do you want to follow them?” asked Rajan.

“Yes,” we all said. At that point we hadn’t worked out the relationship we had with our guides who were bound to ask our permission, and bound to take us where we wished to go. From our perspective, they had the knowledge and were therefore in charge. From their perspective, we were in charge. This slight mismatch meant we were about to make a crazy decision. We were however, comfortably oblivious at this point.

We had total faith in Rajan. We followed Rajan. Rajan followed the elephant herd. Not one of us turned round. If we had, we would have seen JBS waving at us furiously to return to the vehicles. Ultimately, it was JBS who was in charge of all of us. We were his responsibility. But we did not look back. Rajan was in front. The elephants were in front. Our eyes were firmly ahead of us.

We were following a rough path that was half way between the two parallel rows of trees. The elephants dispersed to the right, disappearing among the lusher growth.

Rajan stopped and turned to us.

“The elephants are going to cross the river,” he said. “Do you want to try to get behind them to watch them cross?”

“Definitely,” we said.

Rajan, ever the willing guide, indicated that we must be very quiet and follow him as closely as we could. He then turned and ran. We ran. One by one we ran between the two rows of trees. Those to our left were dry, brown and stood apart. Those to our right were green, bushy and closely packed together. The grass beneath our feet got greener but the old burned growth spiked persistently through the new vegetation. The elephants were no longer in sight.

Again, my memories slow to a crawl. I was running. Rajan was about thirty feet ahead. Tessa was behind him by about twenty feet. I was behind Tessa by another ten feet or so. I could hear others running behind me. One hand held my recording equipment against my chest so it wouldn’t bang up and down as I ran. I occasionally hit the camera shutter button hoping for a lucky shot. I was exhilarated from the previous encounter with the matriarch. I was happy. The world was still glowing gold in the evening sun. The ground under my feet was bright, bright green.

As I ran I glanced to my right.

There, among the trees stood the matriarch. Staring straight at me. I was running directly across her path. She looked furious, her ears flapping madly, her eyes boring into me.

“Holy crap!” I thought with an almost comical inner voice. “There is a good chance we shouldn’t be doing this. Here I am again running in front of an elephant. I’m even closer this time. Oh dear. Should we be doing this? I should look ahead. If I don’t look ahead I might trip but I can’t stop looking at the elephant. She’s very close. She looks pretty angry. Drat. I need a pee. I wish I’d gone for a pee before getting on the jeep. But if I’d gone for a pee I wouldn’t have been on the first jeep with Tessa and Jack. I wouldn’t be having this amazing experience running away from the big, angry elephant. Oh dear. The pee is coming out a little. Can I afford to stop running so I don’t pee myself? If I stop running I could brace my muscles a little and stop my bladder letting the pee out. I’m still staring at the elephant. She’s still staring at me. I don’t seem to have run very far past her yet. I think I should keep running in case she charges me. I’m going to have to keep running. Hey! I’m a real expeditioner on expedition. How cool is this. I’m going to have to pee myself to stay safe. This is a true adventure. I’m running away from an elephant. I think I may be doing something a little stupid. Drat. Another little bit of pee escaped. I hope I can stop running soon.”

Somehow I managed to drag my eyes away from the elephant staring at me from across not far enough.

With eyes forward once again the distance I covered seemed to increase and time found a more realistic pace. Another one or two hundred feet and we rounded a clump of trees that sat in the middle of our path. This gave us enough cover to slow down and as soon as we skirted around the copse we could see a break in the treeline on our right, revealing the river.

We peeled off and each found a spot on the river bank. With a clear view south, downstream, we were able to see the herd.

A herd of expeditioners watch a herd of elephants

The next ten minutes was spent in silent wonder.

There they were. The entire herd. Peacefully crossing the river in groups. Young ones protected by older ones. Tiny ones literally held between two adults to ensure they weren’t knocked off their feet by the current.

As they stepped into the water they would take a long drink. A swathe of pebbles just off the near bank gave them the opportunity to stop awhile and simply stand, waiting until their comrades reached the far side safely. Then the next group would follow them across. The occasional youth swishing the water with a trunk irresistably. Knocking back a trunkful, splashing their heads, sides and backs with the cooling water.

One young elephant was so busy drinking that he didn’t spot his mother and sisters depart. Looking up he realised they were almost at the other bank without him. With a nasal squeak he set off alone, rushing through the water until he had caught up with them. He reached out his trunk to make contact and howled a protest at having been left behind.

Having run out of camcorder batteries I had reverted to my camera. Luckily, I remembered that is too had video capability and was able to take some footage as well as stills. As I settled into filming, the previous inner turmoil calmed and was replaced by total awe. Cameras clicked all around me as my colleagues recorded their own versions of this incredible experience.

The moment became so peaceful that I was soon able to take in my surrounds as well as appreciate the elephants. I spotted Duncan perched out on a tree that stuck out from the bank. He was crouched with his long lens aimed at the herd. He looked the image of a wildlife photographer. Tessa sat next to me, her camera clicking away furiously. Behind me I could sense Graham’s calm presence. He took fewer photos, preferring to simply watch and appreciate this event in the moment. In between were others, strung out along the river bank, relatively evenly spaced, each respecting one another’s right to appreciate this moment as an individual.

Jack turned and smiled at me. I smiled back enjoying the act of sharing too.

I relaxed further and allowed myself to move from the immediate squat one takes when in a rush to get the shot. I sat firmly on the ground. Calm enough to begin thinking about getting more stability. Remembering to slow my breath so as not to shake the camera. Considering the light.

The elephants continued to cross calmly. Those who reached the opposite bank disappearing in dusty clouds, backlit by the sinking sun.

Then a single large female appeared from the near bank. She was huge. When this elephant reached the bar of shingles her elder sister joined her, even larger. This was the matriarch. She made a point of looking across at us. Letting us know that she knew we were there.

The two huge adult females crossed to the other bank.

“How many did you count?” whispered Graham.

“Twenty-seven,” said Tessa with great authority.

“Yes,” said Graham. “Me too.”

But then came yet another elephant. Even larger than the previous two. This one with the tusks and a great bulbous skull lump indicating that he was a male. Walking with the herd, but slightly apart from them.

He was enormous.

I used my camera again to video him but, as I did so I fumbled in the pouch that was clipped to my belt and took out the range finder. As he reached the shingle he was fully visible, shoulder to foot. I aimed the range finder and hit the button to take a reading.

“138 feet,” I said to myself. Just to be sure, I also unzoomed the camera completely so I knew I’d have a shot of him with no complicated optics messing up the measurement. Of course, I had Tessa a few feet away. Which meant I could easily have got away with not bothering with any of this. Tessa is ultimately reliable. I knew she would have the height data covered. But I was here to do a job too so felt satisfied knowing that I was able to carry out the task, even under these ridiculously exciting circumstances.

The bull drank copiously. He splashed himself. He stood grandly in the evening light. He strolled across the river, up and over the other bank. He was magnificent. We decided later that this was Bhim Gaj.

What a sighting!

A well deserved telling off

We walked back to the waiting jeeps. Following one of the guides who was under the impression the jeeps would drive to meet us, I ended up in a group that were still walking down the road as we overheard JBS reading the riot act to those who had already returned.

He was, quite rightly, angry that we had all put ourselves in such danger.

That evening, he read from his book ‘Mammoth Hunt’. It was an extract (p103-104) from the ‘Close encounters’ chapter and covered a similar incident. That time, the elephant had not stopped charging.  Miss Alexandra Dixon had been chased, caught and tossed by a bull elephant, his tusks penetrating her hip and leg. Luckily Dr Chris Thouless had managed to save her life. A heroic act for which he was awarded the Queen’s Gallantry medal.

During my expedition interview with JBS he had told me the same story.

“How silly she was for getting so close to the elephant,” I had said. “I wouldn’t expect you to save me if I did anything that stupid.”

How quickly I had forgotten my own judgement when faced with a choice between excitement and safety.

I was ashamed.

Lesson no. 26: When escaping a charging elephant, make sure you run faster than the man behind you

Photo by Captain Sarah Armstrong

Soon after we got back to the school, the elephants arrived.

To help the locals overcome their natural fear and hatred of these huge animals – known to them as the wild, uncontrollable beasts that raided their precious crops and destroyed homes – JBS had been bringing the domestic elephants to the school and allowing the children to ride them. It had quickly become tradition following past visits to get the elephants to play a game of football. Unsurprisingly, this was a much-anticipated part of the day’s schedule and the great rush to be onboard an elephant was taken up by children and adults alike.

Once again, many of the children lost out to their parents. However, it was perhaps no bad thing that the adults were also being influenced towards a more positive attitude towards elephants. I suspect, the first elephant football match, more than a decade ago, would have seen far fewer of the population fighting over one another to hop aboard one of these pachyderms, despite their obvious domestication. Progress in building better relationships between man and beast was therefore apparent, even if the cultural acceptance of elders climbing over their youngsters to get aboard them seemed odd to us as spectators.

The game itself was a wonderful spectacle.

Two-a-side trunk ball

Four of the elephants were to play. Each of their houdas packed and overflowing with happy riders. Rajan, JBS and the phanits called order and brought the four enormous players to the centre of the field for a quick discussion of the rules. A whistle blew sharply twice and two pairs of elephants plodded to either end of the pitch.

“Ready?” called JBS from the centre of the field. Rajan placed the ball on the ground. JBS blew the starter whistle and… no one moved.

A count of three as slowly the phanits’ instructions were transferred by leg, to foot, to ear, to brain, to body, to legs and finally movement. An attack elephant from each team began to lumber, at pace, towards the football, leaving a defender behind to protect the goal at the end of the field.

The fastest elephant overshot the ball completely, affording the other team the first touch. Trunk hovered over ball, finding sweet grass instead. The elephant plucked the delicious fodder and tucked her trunk back to her mouth. She chewed contentedly as her comrade on the other team turned around and ambled back towards the ball. Soon two trunks were exploring the meadow around the ball as two phanits sat above trying desperately to get their charges to pick it up. At last, a trunk found the ball, nudging it a few feet. The two attack elephants continued to mill around with no real direction. The ball lay abandoned in the grass.

JBS called a false start and Rajan went to retrieve the ball. The elephants all returned to each end of the field.

Another whistle blow and this time, rather than simply placing it on the ground, Rajan threw the ball into the middle. All four elephants saw it and were off like a shot. Attack and defence strategies were totally forgotten as every elephant charged forward to get the ball. Rajan had to leap back out of the way. Now we had a real game on our hands!

The first elephant reached for the ball with her trunk and scooped it up. But her phanit made her drop it. The idea was that they should kick it with their feet, rather than use their trunks. The ball bounced around under her legs as she tried to back up and retrieve it. She trumpeted in excitement. All three of her fellow competitors gave a resounding honk along with her and soon four elephants were all face forward, the ball lying in the middle. It was anyone’s game.

A second elephant took control of the ball in her trunk, turned and ran towards the goal. All attempts by her phanit to make her drop it and kick were abandoned in the race to the end of the field. Her team-mate protected her flank. The two opposing elephants raced after her. Unfortunately she reached the goal line only to find her own team-mate blocking her path. This gave the opposing team enough time to catch up and fill the gap her team-mate left when she finally extricated herself from in front of the striker. Mild chaos ensued as the phanits tried to negotiate their elephants. Two blocking, one with ball firmly held in the crook of her trunk still trying to score. They appeared to be carrying out a strange, slow motion dance.

Eventually the ball was dropped. One of the elephants from the opposing team plucked it up and managed to get a quarter of the way down the field before being squarely blocked by both members of the other team. This made her drop the ball in turn. Footballs are not the easiest things to hold in a trunk.

The other team took possession, but only for a moment before ball slipped from trunk once more and bounced directly into the path of the opposition. The only elephant who had not yet had the ball finally took it up snorting a high-pitched squeal of delight. I believe this was probably Saraswati. As she ran to the other end of the field, she used her trunk to tuck the ball firmly in her mouth. The crowd went wild. With the ball so securely held, she was able to run at full speed, reaching her destination well ahead of the other players. The whistle blew.

Goal!

Once again, the players dispersed to either end of the field and, on a whistle blow, Rajan cast the ball into the middle and stepped back out of the way. The fastest elephant, Saraswati’s team-mate, once again overshot the ball a little but was able to back up and recover it before the others reached her. The next moment was a real testament to the observation and learning skills of this amazing species. Rather than running, ball in trunk, this elephant copied Saraswati’s winning tactic, immediately tucking the ball in her mouth and running full pelt to the goal.

Score! Every player trumpeted and snorted in glee, ears flapping and trunks waving and patting one another in delight. They were clearly loving the game.

Sadly it was getting late and the phanits knew their animals could only afford to expend so much energy if they were to also carry us all on a safari back to camp. So time was called and the elephants all returned to the shade of the trees to let their Nepali passengers dismount.

I panned my camcorder round until it landed on Tessa who sat next to me on the bench.

“Hello Tessa!”

“Hello,” she replied to camera indulgently. “That was a lovely game of elephant football. Even if it was elephant trunk ball… or even elephant mouth ball.”

A sturdy ride

Half an hour later we found ourselves atop four of the domestic elephants. Two were to stay behind to bring the medics home. The rest of us would take a longer safari home in search, as always, for the wild herds.

For the first time I found myself aboard an elephant other than Saraswati. I was squeezed into a houda, along with Duncan, David D-W and Peter, on top of elephant no.4 – the largest (and therefore the eldest and most experienced) of the government elephants.

Relative to Saraswati, this animal had a wide back with musculature that rose up around her spine ridge. This meant her houda rocked less as she walked. Additionally, it turned out that having such an overstuffed houda meant that we were all involuntarily supporting one another. All in all therefore, this was to be my most comfortable elephant ride throughout the entire trip. Oddly, it makes me feel rather unfaithful to the beautiful Saraswati to admit this, but she is young and has much time to build muscle, so I’m sure she’d forgive me for saying so if she knew.

As we left the village, we walked in parallel to the broken elephant fence. It was surprisingly low to the ground because, as our guide explained, elephants can’t lift their feet very high. However, they are so clever that they do find multiple ways of getting passed these fences if they are really hungry. There are stories of them digging below then, throwing enough mud at them to build a pile over the top, pushing trees down onto them, and even throwing baby elephants to bring an electric fence down. It is this wily intelligence that makes it particularly difficult to find sustainable solutions for protecting crops and villages.

Once passed the end of the fence our little parade turned west to cross the great, wide river. Third in line, those of us on the back of elephant no.4 had the childish fun of watching the two animals in front defecate enormously just ahead of us. It doesn’t matter how much we think we might have grown up, there wasn’t a single one of us on the back of elephant no.4 who didn’t find humour in this situation. We all chuckled like school kids and took photographs.

Elephants seem naturally inclined to drop dung as they walk through running water. Whether this is to prevent it being left around to mark their passage or as a matter of cleanliness I have no idea. I did however notice that, as she stepped onto the bank, the elephant directly in front of us dipped her tail brush in the water and used it to wipe her own anus. She then dipped it back into the water and swished it about to clean it. This left me with the belief that, to elephants, a river is as convenient as a flush toilet.

I’m certain elephant no.4 was also taking the opportunity to dump a load, but sadly the fourth member of our party, who would otherwise have been behind us, had had to stop to realign and tighten a rocking  houda. This meant her riders missed out on the chance to revel in the immature joy of elephants pooing. They caught up with us an hour or so later as we were scouting through the grasslands.

We safaried until an hour or so before dark, but saw little other than a pile of bones left by tigers. We finally met the jeeps at a designated spot along the road. Saying goodbye to our four tired elephants, we climbed wearily into our wheeled transport and set off back to camp.

Lesson no. 25: elephants are truly smart

Tessa’s log Earthdate: 17 April 2012

Temperatures: 07:00  24°C    19:00  30°C

Cont. Some of us went with Rajan to visit a farm in the village, which was fascinating. Later on, the elephant football match caused much excitement and merriment

An invitation to the real Nepal

After lunch, Rajan took a group of us to visit one of the village homesteads a short walk from the school.

As we arrived a small group of women stood for photographs in their brightly coloured attire  carrying large baskets and bowls on their heads using traditional carrying rings.

Traditionally Nepali women wear Chaubandicholo, a naval-length blouse similar to mens’ daura. A fariya or gunew (like the Indian saree) is worn below the waist and another piece of cloth worn between bust and hip is called hemmari. They cover their heads with a piece of cloth called majetro. Just like western women, they are very fond of ornaments particularly golden and silver. Married women also wear necklaces made from strings of tiny beads called potey that are woven together. While the women we visited were wearing more western style one-peice dresses, they were as colourful as ever.

We followed Rajan into a pristine little courtyard surrounded by dust coloured buildings and barns. A dog lay on the ground, fast asleep in the sun. We had to step over him to sit under a roof that covered a square of benches. Here Rajan introduced us to the owners of this lovely little property and began to instruct us on local culture, farming and about the consequences and outcomes of the recent civil war in this area.

The conflict between government forces and Maoist fighters in Nepal lasted from 1996 until 2006. During that time, more than 15000 people were killed and 100,000 to 150,000 people were displaced from their homes and their lands. Rajan explained that many, like our hosts, no longer officially owned the land they worked. Even under the new regime, the rights of ownership were under constant dispute.

Here, on this beautiful little farm it seemed terribly difficult to imagine these people at war. Every building was so well looked after. Every nook and cranny well swept, neat and tidy. Even the open bar across the quad was clean enough to lie in.

We were then invited inside the main house.

Inside a Nepalese farmstead

Ducking down to avoid hitting our heads on the roof, we stepped over the threshold and into the first room. On the floor was a pile of flour clearly in the middle of being processed. It was covered over with a hessian sack. Directly opposite the front door opening was a back door leading out to a well kept little vegetable garden. I looked out enviously at their rows of tomato plants and the chickens running around among them. To the left of the main entrance stood a wooden cabinet, its doors hanging proudly open. Inside it, on full display, was a much prized television set. The man of the house stood in front of the cabinet and, as I entered, put out his arms to frame the set and draw my attention to it. I nodded back at him with great approval. He was very pleased.

Off this first main room was a long dark corridor. It had been designed for Nepalese so seemed like a tight squeeze for the more well-fed among us. This led the way passed two simple bedrooms, one on either side of the house, both furnished with beds and hammocks swinging above them. At the end of the corridor the house spilt into a kitchen and a larder. Both these end rooms were windowless and, as a result, almost pitch black.

We all gathered in the kitchen space and as our eyes got used to the gloom I was able to slowly appreciate the beautifully practical simplicity of the layout. Shelves and cabinets had been built up from the same mud as the walls. The final architecture was smooth, with rounded corners, all a pleasant shade of beige to match the ground. A small fire in the corner had two iron hob rings over it. A neat set of pots and pans sat next to it.

I quickly spotted another PR opportunity and asked the ladies of the house if one of them would be prepared to try a piece of my sponsor’s kitchen towel to clean her stove. Rajan translated. The women all looked back at me quizzically but nodded.

I dipped into my rucksack and pulled out a wodge of paper towels that I’d pulled off the roll I’d given the dentists and handed it to one of the younger women. She held it in her hand and said something in Nepalese. Rajan translated.

“She doesn’t understand why you would use this lovely paper to clean a dirty kitchen,” he said. “It’s too nice.”

“My sponsors would be very pleased to hear that,” I said. “Is she happy for me to film her using it?”

The young women listened to Rajan’s translation and nodded happily at me as I set the camera going. She then bent over and pretended to clean the little hob with it. It took a little further persuasion from Rajan before she was confident enough to actually make contact between surface and paper and get the towel dirty. To her, it was far too precious a thing to be used to clean something.

Again, she was a PR dream come true. A pretty young subject, happy to help and clearly fascinated by the product. She even offered to say the brand strap line to camera, her lilting Nepalese voice struggling to articulate the odd English words.

She clearly enjoyed the process and played her part beautifully. I was mortified to find out later that my inexperience had meant the film was almost too dark to use. However, it was such a lovely moment that I sent it to my sponsors anyway, in the hope they might be able to enhance it and use it somehow.

Unfortunately, I quickly began to feel claustrophobic in the tiny internal space with all those people in it. So I turned tail and went back outside.

Watching the world go by

Wandering between another two of the buildings surrounding the courtyard I discovered a little bridge that led out onto a little road. Standing on this bridge I spent a fascinating fifteen minutes or so just watching village life. Animals were everywhere. People squatted together in small groups chatting and working. Carts drove up and down the road carrying animal feed.

Behind the main barn of the homestead was a second, smaller barn. In it stood two huge buffalo, their horns curving round the sides of their heads before sticking forward and out. They stood chewing the cud and watching me as I watched them, snorting loudly in disgust at my intrusion.

In the distance, across the fields, were the mountains. A constant, solid boarder to what was now a peaceful world. I found myself trying to imagine those mountains, their thick forests full of insurgents. These men and children carrying guns. These fields as battlegrounds. These farms as host to death and destruction. It was a painful thought and one which I was glad to be distracted from when the others reappeared from inside the house.

School’s out!

We made our way back to the school along a path that ran along one of the raised barriers designed to trap the water in the patchwork of rice paddies. As we walked in the direction of the school, some of the children and adults who had come to see us were walking home.

As we passed, one woman stopped and invited us to come and visit her home. She was animated and insistent and made Tessa and I both realise that our presence in her home would be something she would talk about for years to come. Sadly, we didn’t have time to oblige her, but it made me realise how much our visit really meant to these people.

I considered the conversation David and I had had in the carts on the way here and thought about the way the people had understood what I would be looking for with my branded toys and camera. I had believed that perhaps they were very used to visitors. But then seeing these people walk passed us with genuine curiosity I was becoming confused. I decided to take the time to ask Rajan how many tourists came to this area.

“I have been working in tourism for one and a half decades, and this is only my second visit to this village,” he said earnestly. “JBS and the Scientific Exploration Society have been here before and have made a real difference to these peoples’ lives, but tourists do not come here.”

Suddenly I fully accepted the priviledged position we were in. This wasn’t a tourist trail after all. These people were highly likely to be genuinely glad to see us. Not just were the medics bringing direct assistance, and JBS the potential for new batteries for the electric fence, but our presence gave these people real connection to the wider world.

This news melted my previous cinicism away and I began to truly enjoy the experience.

Lesson no. 24: When videoing in a dark room, use additional lighting

Tessa’s log Earthdate: 17 April 2012

Temperatures: 07:00  24°C    19:00  30°C

Cont. Presentation ceremony made for the gifts, and the donation of the computer was mentioned. JBS talked with the villagers about the problems they face living in close proximity to the national park – the electric fence is currently not working due to a defective battery, 4 houses were recently destroyed by a wild bull elephant, and the government no longer gives them compensation for loss of property due to the wild animals.

Handing out the herd

Having offered my assistance to the dentists and been told that the fewer additional people in that already over-crowded room the better, I made a hasty exit and went to find Tessa. She was sitting on one of the benches among a gathering crowd of school children in the middle of the school grounds.

A large table had been set up under the trees and was now strewn with packets and parcels full of the gifts we had brought with us. These were going to be handed out centrally. However, I had a number of little soft elephant toys that had been branded by my sponsors and I planned to give these out myself, hoping to ensure I could make best use of them for photo opportunities.

The original plan had been to give them to the children who got their teeth pulled, as a treat to cheer them up. But it was clear that few children would benefit from dental care today so I decided to simply hand them out among the younger children who were sitting with their mothers outside the medical facility. I asked Tessa to film me.

The elephant toys were in a bright yellow water resistant bag which I’d brought to protect my photographic equipment during our boat trip. I hauled it out of my backpack and went to sit among the crowd on the steps, my yellow sack between my legs like a summer-time Santa Claus. Tessa stood back and aimed the camcorder.

I spotted a small child, drew out one of the elephants and offered it to him. He looked at me warily. His mother eyed the toy and the giver with great suspicion. She then spotted the camera and twigged what was happening. She quickly pulled her child so he stood directly in front of her before instructing the boy to take the gift. She then spotted the branding and showed him how to hold it up, brand name to camera, and nudged him until he smiled. These people were wise to PR.

This scene quickly attracted a multitude of small children and I found myself engulfed by demanding little faces and outstretched hands. My small herd of happy gifts suddenly seemed far too few. But I did my best and remembered to look up and smile at the video recorder myself as I handed them out.

Despite working in PR as a copywriter, I had never actually been in front of the camera in this sense before. It felt a little odd and I’m not sure I’m what you might call a natural. But, photos and videos can be used to create interesting social media content and produce a win-win-win scenario for commercially savvy brands, conservation expeditioners and the local population. I firmly believe that this kind of corporate social responsibility activity, combined with the power of social communication platforms, can form a strong basis for mutually beneficial relationships between conservation projects, conservationists and companies.

The children who I gave the elephants to were all quick to recognise their value as a guaranteed way of getting filmed. Each time an elephant was held up, the camera was turned on it. Groups of children would huddle around the boy or girl with the toy and negotiate for the opportunity to be the one holding it up.

Celebrity and the lure of film were as powerful in this little society as they are in America.

Ceremonial giving

Having exhausted my own sneaky hoard of gifts, I followed Tessa back to the benches under the trees. The school children had formed a neat circle around the table, the tallest standing, the smallest sitting cross-legged in front of them.

JBS stood next to the table of gifts and Rajan translated as the school’s deputy head master welcomed us all formally and thanked JBS for returning once again. JBS made a short, expertly delivered speech explaining that we hoped that the gifts would be enjoyed by everyone. A computer, which had been delivered to the school two weeks earlier had been checked over by Duncan and Siv. He was able to report that it was up and running without problems and would enable the children of Janak Nagar school to explore the benefits of this new technology.

Having brought skipping ropes to hand out, Cathy then introduced the children to the art of skipping. Duncan, six-foot something and fit as a fiddle, demonstrated all sorts of skipping techniques before helping Cathy turn a long rope and show them how to turn jump rope into a group activity. The Nepalese children claimed never to have skipped before but those who then came to try it turned out to be suspiciously good at it.

Interestingly, it was the simplest gifts that produced the most hilarity. We had brought several footballs and a pump. As quarter-master, the task of pumping them up and passing them out fell to Graham. He instantly became the most popular person on campus and as soon as the first one was thrown to the waiting children an impromptu game of football was started at the end of the field.

Balloons were also highly popular. They were the long ones designed to be blown up and then let go at parties. The balloons squealed as they zip about, air propelling them in crazy arcs in the air before they plummet to the ground ready to be blown up once again. The children squealed more loudly than the balloons and the excitement of trying to catch them overrode their instructions to stay seated. The youngest of them began to edge into the middle of the circle, reaching out and even jumping up and running to grab at the air. Their deputy headmaster was forced to call order. It was joyous to see the pleasure these small gifts brought and it made me glad that we had come.

A consult with JBS

After the children had dispersed, a group of men set up several rows of benches and chairs around JBS. With Rajan translating the men began to explain to JBS the issues they faced as farmers living among wild elephants and other protected species.

“An elephant destroyed my house,” said one man. “I get no compensation. The animal is protected, but I am not. My family and three others are now homeless because of this wild bull.”

“This is why we built the electric fence,” said JBS. “Does it not keep out the elephants?”

“Right now the fence is broken,” the man explained. “We need new batteries to make it run again.”

“This we might be able to help you with,” said JBS. “I cannot make promises but I will try to raise the money for two new batteries.”

“It is not just the elephants,” said another man. “I lost two goats and a piglet to a jaguar. This is very expensive for me. I cannot afford this kind of loss.”

While they understood the importance of the conservation efforts being carried out within the National Park, and they appreciated that the wildlife drew in tourists, they still had to live with the consequences of living among occasionally destructive wildlife. The more successful the park, the more difficult the human/animal relationships are going to get.

Lesson no. 23: Wild elephants may be great for tourists but they can cause chaos among the local farms

An amusing arrival

As we drew up to Janak Nagar village in our buffalo carts, we saw more and more locals. Passing under a large archway that announced the entrance of the village school, the buffalos halted and we slowly began to extricate ourselves from the various contortions that had kept us aboard.

Having had my legs tightly crossed and squeezed under the bar opposite they were a little deadened. As I jumped down from the cart I tripped sideways, startling one of the buffalo. It bellowed at me, making me jump and yelp in mild shock. A roar of happy laughter made me look up and realise that we had been surrounded by neatly uniformed school children ranging from six-year-olds to young teens, both male and female. They were all finding my predicament, and the buffalo’s loud distaste of me, highly amusing.

I blushed and laughed with them. What an entrance! I smile when thinking about it now. I’m not a naturally funny person in general, but I find I have no issues coping with accidental situations that make me appear even sillier than the average visitor. It meant that the children were less nervous of me from the outset and, when I produced my video camera – complete with overhead microphone covered in a ‘dead cat’ wind sock – I was an immediate curiosity.

Janak Nagar school

The school had been visited by previous expeditions. They knew who JBS was and knew we would have gifts with us. There was therefore a great deal of anticipation and inquisitive posturing going on from the outset.

These kids had clearly been instructed by their teachers to be on their best behaviour. They were dressed in their best and were always polite. It transpired later in the day that it wasn’t even a school day. Everyone had turned up, in full uniform, on what should have been a holiday, just to see us.

The entire village was there. Children and adults alike. The adults, men in shirts and trousers, women in more traditional clothing in gorgeous bright colours, had formed a tight group around one of the buildings at the side of the campus. This was where our medical party had set up shop.

The children milled around us in small groups, slowly gathering in the middle of the grounds where there were benches and shade. Most waited for us to approach them. But, just like children everywhere, they would be egged on by peers, allowing their curiosity and excitement to get the better of them. Just occasionally, I found myself with a grinning imp dancing in front of me in the hope of being filmed, or a slightly shy individual sloping across shot trying to look inconsequential while staring back to make sure the camera was pointing at them as they did a little spin, or drew some precious object from their pocket, displaying it with great pride.

Girls gathered in groups, turning into one another, covering their mouths with a hand as they whispered into their friend’s ear. I would catch them giggling together and shifting their gaze tellingly. A ten-year-old boy on a bicycle found a spot to casually carry out a few tricks. He was being very cool about the whole situation, until his foot slipped and he crashed down painfully onto the seat. His immediate response was to look up at the camera and blush deeply, giving himself away completely. It was wonderful to see them all being so like every other group of children I have met. We could, in fact, have been almost anywhere in the world at that point.

Girls will be girls

I noticed Siv take a photograph of a group of girls, then turn the camera screen to them to show the image she had just taken. Their delight and fascination to see the resulting image and comment on its acceptability was clearly a gift in itself. I began to do the same, reverting from video to camera to be able to do this more easily.

As soon as I was spotted doing this for one group of teens, I was surrounded by females of all ages. I would lift the camera and they would all jostle one another to get in shot. Then I would show them and there would always be at least one grown woman who would point at herself in the photo, wave a finger and make it clear that this one must be deleted. Her teeth made her look ugly. Her scarf was in the wrong position. Her hair was blown out of place by the wind. Her friend had stood in front of her. She just didn’t like it…

I guess people really are just people in the end. Perhaps we need to stop blaming fashion magazines for our vanity. Females clearly need no incentive other than themselves and one another to feel they don’t quite meet the grade for one reason or another.

I gave up trying to satisfy the crowd and went to see if I might film the dentists in action.

Not exactly dream dental conditions

Just left of the school entrance, away from the main teaching buildings, was a long low structure made from simple breeze blocks and concrete with a corrugated tin roof. It had bars across its windows with green wooden shutters and a green wooden door. It was high off the ground and had concrete steps rising, into almost theatre-style seating, with a wide concrete landing all along its front. I have no idea what the school would usually use this for, but today it was a clinic.

When I approached, every inch of step and landing was occupied. To get to the door it was necessary to step over and in between people. Once there I had to get Ram Din, who was helping to police the crowd outside, to ask the guide who was holding the door shut, to let me in.

Once inside I was accosted by a hot, dark room and a hive of activity. I found myself a corner where I hoped to stay out of the way and took a good look around.

Dr John was at the back of the room. He was carrying out initial checks on patients before they saw the dentists as well as those who simply wished to see a doctor. There were people squatting all around him.

There were two chairs in the main section of the room, each with a tiny table next to it. One was being used by Captain Sarah’s patients, the other by Angus’s patients. Carolina had her patients sitting on the edge of a table next to a window at the back so she didn’t have to bend over, sparing her back.

Each dentist had a small selection of spit bowls, tin cans for throwing sharps, gauzes and a big green bucket sat at the edge of the room. This was where the teeth, blood and used gauze was being gathered. There was also a large table in the centre of the room that had been covered in towels and had drugs, syringes and dental instruments laid out all over it.

Carolina, glasses perched on the end of her nose, looked in total control as she took a hypodermic syringe and injected its contents swiftly into a female patient’s gum before the young woman had a chance to change her mind. These people were turning up voluntarily for treatment they would otherwise have to travel far to get and pay for once there. However, the lucky few who did reach the front of the queue did occasionally back out when faced by the choice; pull it out or live with the pain? In these difficult conditions, there was rarely any other option the dentists could offer them other than a check up, referral to the clinic for serious conditions, or an extraction, there and then.

I watched Captain Sarah as she administered anaesthetic on one of the local men before bracing herself to pull a tooth from the back of his mouth. She called for assistance and Villa was there immediately. With her back against the concrete wall for support, Villa held the man’s head between gloved hands as Sarah, her stance wide, her shoulders at an angle as though she were about to carry out a karate move, pushed the tooth back into the man’s jaw before swiftly pulling it forward and out. The patient grunted a little but the whole thing was over quickly and the tooth was out. Sarah held it triumphantly up for the patient to inspect before presenting him with a wad of gauze to hold against the wound.

Seeing Captain Sarah carrying out dentistry is akin to watching a child playing with its favourite toy. She has clearly selected the right career. She thrives on it.

Angus, on the other hand, though equally brilliant when at work, looked tired, hot and flustered.

“It’s like working in a bloody abattoir,” he said in frustration. “I thought we were here to see the children but they don’t get a look in. The adults just push them aside.”

This was the outcome of what became a fairly clear cultural standard. Children were not afforded the same levels of favouritism that we display our offspring. The adults need to stay healthy to look after the children. It was every man, woman and child for themselves. The bigger you are, the harder you can push. It was that simple.

Mandy and Villa had the most difficult jobs of all. As well as jumping in to hold the heads of patients during extractions, they were also the ones trying to coordinate the patients and keep the dentists supplied with clean instruments. Mandy was having to keep a fire outside constantly lit under a large pot of boiling water and had to negotiate the crowds, lifting the instruments high above their heads to keep them sterile, each time she needed to add or take from the pot. WIth Hari’s help translating, Villa would have to get personal details from each patient as they sat down with one of the dentists so she could keep record of their age and the work carried out. If not required to hold a head, she would then liaise with Ram Din to let the next patient in. Once in the room, each patient would have to join a queue of people crouching against the back wall. This often required a great deal of persuasion from both Villa and Mandy.

Each time the door was opened those waiting would push and shove to be let through. Ram Din had to physically hold them back, shouting at them to be patient. This meant the door had to be kept firmly shut. The few windows at the front were were full of people, young and old, peering in, blocking any light and air that might otherwise be getting through. The sheer number of people in that room was extraordinary and, despite the ability of the Nepalese to pull themselves into a tight squat, the body heat that built up adding to the heat and humidity of the day itself was extreme. It was claustrophobic and chaotic. None of the medics had had anything to eat that day and even the drinking water was in short supply.

The fact that they managed to help so many people was somewhat miraculous in my opinion.

Lesson no. 22: All medics prepared to work in the field deserve medals