The rain gods almost prevented us from leaving Kandy for a second time. We waited at Victoria Country Club waiting for the helicopter for the whole morning, killing time drinking tea and driving golf balls. Just as we were about to give up, we got word that the clouds had cleared over the mountain pass and it was on its way.
Our pilot was a air-force veteran, survived three rebel attacks and crash landings behind enemy lines in thick jungle terrain. We felt pretty safe. Seeing the magnitude of rice cultivation and how human development interacts with forest areas from the air was essential in telling the HEC story.
Chopper Time
August 14th, 2010Rubbish Problem
August 11th, 2010
After two days without filming, we were on the road flying past tuk-tuks and bicycles with horn blaring. Escorted by two Department of Wildlife officials, we headed west out of Trinco to an area that only recently was liberated from the LTTE. The vast stretch of land was controlled by the LTTE since the beginning of the war. The majority of homes that once lined the road had been destroyed during that period. Their blasted foundations still litter the landscape. In 2008, after Trinco was recaptured, the government with the help of foreign aid, began redeveloping the area. Flimsy homes were erected to house Singhalese who could now return to their old neighborhoods. But the war had changed many things.
The area became somewhat of a sanctuary for wild elephants and the 2008 resettlement was to occur right in the middle of it. The elephant problem again was not factored into development plans. In just two years the area has been hit hard by HEC, and a huge percentage of the new homes have been abandoned.
The night was not over. We turned down a dark back country road, and suddenly we were struck by the putrid smell of burning garbage. All of the trash from the Trinco area is dumped here, strewn around in haphazard piles and set ablaze if flammable. The lack of planning is shocking. The site is located in a national park, without any kind of perimeter or boundary to separate the trash from the forest. A similar site in a more populated area was recently shut down, but the remoteness of this dumpsite aids in its further growth.
I can stomach a mountain of burning garage fairly well, but watching a herd of wild elephants sift through it to find food is what is most disturbing. Its the same feeling you get when you turn down a city alley to find a group of homeless people digging through a dumpster. These usually majestic animals suddenly seem ashamed, as they scurry away covered in filth. Their big bodies silhouetted by smoldering fires, a site so surreal, people may not believe we didn’t stage the whole thing.
The Key Ingredient
August 9th, 2010
She was lucky to be alive. She was a little angel of a woman, much more petite up close than from afar, I towered over over her as I tried to shake her hand. It was an odd gesture of my gratitude for her sharing her incredible story. If I gave her a hug I might have crushed her. Her tiny size made her story even more unbelievable. She was alone in her large brick house at about 9 in the evening. There was a stack of freshly harvested bags of rice in a back room.
Then it happened. A rogue bull elephant began his assault, and literally knocked down every single wall of the building. When the elephant had gorged himself on what he came for, this amazing woman lay buried under a pile of rubble. Her son came to her rescue and pulled her out from the bricks after an unknown period of time.
Rice is the key ingredient in this story. It sustains the whole country but also attracts elephants when their wild source of food has become limited.
There have been recent protests in Wasgamuwa against the Department of Wildlife and other government agencies. The villagers feel that they are not dealing with the problem effectively enough. The government run electric fences sit in disrepair, and villagers claim that they aren’t receiving the promised payments for damaged homes and loss of their harvest due to HEC. The tension is mounting, easily measured by fallen bricks and bullet wounds.
Back in Wasgamuwa
August 4th, 2010Apparently there is an entire guide to the meaning of how a gecko falls down on you. The other night, when one landed on my left shoulder during dinner, it meant good luck. But tonight when one fell directly into my lap during a battle with a praying mantis, the guys wouldn’t tell me the meaning in front of the girls. Its good to be back in Wasgamuwa after a week on the road. Everything is as we left it aside from the absence of the moon.
It was the second time I heard Jon swear he’d never be caught up a tree surrounded by a herd of elephants. Our bare feet were going numb as we tried to find our footing. A large herd of 38 elephants made up of a few different family groups slowly emerged from the forest and advanced towards the tank. There was something in the air.
Two large bulls were challenging each other like sumo wrestlers dancing around us for half an hour. They wrestled around trees, careening back and forth in slow motion.
The young adults and calves followed the lead of their elders and were also wrestling in small groups. We were stuck surrounded by a bunch of frisky elephants, but lucky to see such fascinating behavior. This lasted until it turned to night and they finally gave us enough distance where we could make our escape back to the truck.
The real cost
July 31st, 2010
Human Elephant Conflict at its core is very easy to understand. All creatures on this planet need food, water, and a space to live. When one population expands into new areas, its fairly obvious how that will impact another. It becomes difficult when you see the consequences of HEC firsthand, and you must divide your sympathy into two camps. We sat in the farmers’ open air hut around a campfire and listened to horror stories of men who perished at the heels of elephants. This time of year, they sit on edge throughout the night in the middle of vast fields of vegetables, sometimes singing songs, other times loading shotguns. They don’t usually shoot to kill, but are prepared to if necessary.
The following day we travelled to a gem mine about an hour away from Dambulla, guided by a local journalist who specializes in HEC issues. Beyond the mounds of orange colored earth we followed one of the miners down a path through the woods. He carried with him two buckets, which he filled with water from the river that we had to cross. Through a clearing of dry grass, it finally became visible. The dreaded moment had arrived. Beneath a billowing tarp, lay the massive animal. You become accustomed to looking up at elephants in appreciation of their tremendous size. But even looking down at it, the appreciation was still there. However this time it was accompanied by something horrible.
He had already been laying there for four days, but he still had enough strength to move his legs. He had enough energy left to collect water from the muddy pool beneath his head and spray it onto his body. Someone had removed the tip of his tail; the hair is regarded as good luck to a special type of person. The tip of his trunk had been cut off in a previous incident but had healed and he clearly had learned to work around his handicap. The reason why he would soon die here in this forest is because of the massive gunshot wound to his right hip. The bone had fractured and he could no longer support his own weight. The pained bursts of air from his shortened trunk was the most difficult part. The noise could be heard as we walked away back towards the river defeated.
In Sri Lanka, under the current law, anyone who decides that this animal should be put out of its misery will spend ten years in jail. It would be regarded in the same way as killing a healthy animal, and most people are very cautious to take that risk, especially with white shirted department of wildlife officials milling around. They were blunt when we suggested that he didn’t deserve to suffer for another four days under the hot sun; we would simply go to jail and SLWCS would lose everything they have. For naturalists this is heart wrenching and the only comfort is believing in Karma, and hoping that the outdated law can be amended.
Full set of photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/buccellato/sets/72157624470341461/
Vigilance
July 28th, 2010
Some smelled of liquor. Some had panicked looks on their faces. Some appeared as spectral apparitions silhouetted by car headlights. Some crouched low barely lit by makeshift oil lamps, a crescent of orange light defined the edge of their faces. Some wore blazers because they were cold. Some sat in poorly made tree huts, nodding in and out through-out the night.
This army of men remains vigilant in the days leading up to the rice harvest. They line the long thin road that separates Wasgamuwa National Park and the acres of rice ready to be harvested. They are armed with torches, government administered flares, and their own voices as the last line of defense.
They wait until the early morning ready to defend against an elephant raid. If there is a weak link in the chain and someone falls asleep or decides to go home early, they’ll wake up in the morning to discover that six months hard work has been wasted. Under the bright arc of a flare, these are the front lines of human elephant conflict.
Full set of photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/buccellato/sets/72157624470341461/
The Long Search
July 28th, 2010
After two days of searching for elephants, we finally arrived at the right place at the right time. They eluded us last night by the tank. They eluded us this afternoon in the steep mountain passes in the Knuckles Range.
We transected an area around a “village” called Red Bana. The “village” consists of a wonderful stone and mortar house 2 kms away from the nearest paved road, and 5 kms away from the nearest provisions store. A man and his wife live in seclusion aside from the occasional trip to get supplies. Their neighbors are towering rock facades and herds of the elusive mountain elephants, the latter we came to find and the former the source of my exhaustion. We followed Nimal through the thick forest as he effortlessly walked barefoot through jagged dry brush, sticks, and rocks, all the way to the top of a nearby peak. From the top we had an unobstructed panoramic view of the Knuckles Range as far as the eye could see. While there were many traces left behind we failed to locate the herd.
We shifted gears and headed back down to Wasgamuwa to try our luck in the tall fields of gunea grass surrounding the tank. Like colossal ghosts they emerged from the edge of the forest, a group of about 25. They were hardly visible in the high grass, their backs barely showing. We watched as the pachyderm caravan inched along in the direction of the water as the sky went orange then black.
A dirt road cuts through the gunea grass and at any given time, especially after dark, there could be elephants within a few meters away. This is an incredibly dangerous time for farmers who must make this journey every night. Whether on bicycle, motorcycle, tuk tuk, or tractor, that stretch of road is terrifying. The pops and hisses of the elephants come from all directions, echoing off the nearby hills. A high number of deaths involve bicycles. Without a noisy engine, you could sneak up and startle the 8,000 pound beast, causing it to charge in a moment of excited frenzy. The human skull pops like a grape under the weight of an elephant’s front foot. The fear is very real to everyone living out here in the country.
Full set of photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/buccellato/sets/72157624470341461/
http://instantoilspill.com goes live!
June 30th, 2010Day two and we’re nearing 100,000 views with http://instantoilspill.com
Its great to see people experimenting with URL’s. Keep spreading the word! Thanks to Mark & Phil for an awesome collaboration.
