Elephantism

Maybe it is man’s nature to be in awe and scared of something bigger than himself. The matter of size and power scares him, heightening the feeling of not being in control. So he tries to overcome that fear by transferring it, instilling the fear in the bigger, wiser animals and controlling them. He tries to have power over the animals by teaching him his ways, his understanding of things, what he wants the animals to do until man has brainwashed them and the massive, powerful beasts are subdued and tamed to thinking that man is their master.

Yet even with man’s self imposed stature in this power structure and being able to command the animals, fear is still never far from his mind and heart as evidenced in the way he conveys his instructions. He screams, yells, and gives orders seemingly angry at himself for being small and weak thus projecting fake confidence by hurling rough words in booming voices like whips trying to convince himself that he is in charge. It reminds me of the way people talk down to other people – when they do not understand or when there is a perception of higher and lower stature perhaps, intelligence, material wealth, age and yes, sometimes in terms of race.

The master and servant role has been played out for me again when I went for the second time to an elephant camp. Again, I stood in awe of the massive maybe only a teen elephant. Who knows, I might be older than them. I again observed the huge creatures made timid by the small, tiny, miniscule men who exercise power with their voices and sharp metal hooks pushed to the elephants’ body parts to make them wipe the brush here, tap there, stop, move faster, and it pains me to see them in captivity, acting like clowns for 20bht bananas and sugar canes and applause of people who might not even care whether the elephant species survive – do they even know what applause means?

Maybe in time, they would, once they have been indoctrinated enough into the world of men. And maybe the cartoons are right. Like people, some prefer being tamed than being in the wild – especially when being in captivity and following orders were the only life that they’ve known, if they were born and grew up in the camps trained to play soccer and paint and entertain for a steady and sure stream of food, security in the camps, hospital when they get sick. Maybe in time, the tugging at my heart will stop every time I look into those gentle, seemingly sad eyes of the majestic beasts even as they pull tricks on people. Maybe when the mahouts no longer have to poke their sharp hooks in the elephants’ flesh cutting them and they play the tricks on their own without the promise of applause or bananas but just because they want to. Or maybe they would want something in return. They do remember.