“No matter what happens, travel gives you a story to tell.” Proverb

SRI LANKA

They say an elephant never forgets, but what happens when an elephant is forgotten?

In Sri Lanka, abandoned elephants that cannot survive in the wild find refuge at the Elephant orphanage at Pinnewela. I have always loved the sight of these huge but graceful creatures and so that is where I decided to spend my 39th birthday.

I have spent the last nine of my 39th birthdays in some of the most picturesque parts of the globe, which is the main reason I became a photojournalist in the first place. I had already traveled to many countries around the world, when a friend suggested that I should try and sell some of my photos to help pay for my nomadic ways. A publisher then informed me that I could make a living out of traveling if I not only took the pictures but also wrote the accompanying stories myself. Being paid to be a professional tourist seemed like an excellent way of combining work and pleasure and the rest, as they say, is geography.

Sri Lanka is a teardrop shaped island set in the Indian Ocean. It has a population of 18.5 million, a tropical climate, lush green forests and a rich and colourful history. Around 400,000 tourists visit Sri Lanka each year to take in the sun, the sea and the sand but I had a different agenda. My focus was set on photographing pachyderms.

In Sri Lanka and throughout much of Asia, some of the world's larger remaining wild-elephant herds face threats to their survival from burgeoning human populations that are bulldozing forests into farmland and severing centuries-old migration routes with highways and urban developments.

In recent months the competition for space between man and elephants has led to unprecedented clashes as these giant beasts, squeezed out of their native habitat, have attacked villagers, and raided farm crops.

"They want to roam, and they overlaps with the people," the taxi driver informed me on the way to the orphanage.

When I arrived at Pinnewela I was met by one of the orphanage staff who was to be my guide for the day. He explained to me how the orphaned elephants arrive here from across the country.
Some have been rescued from remote villages where they have lost their mothers because they died in an accident but some had been shot by the locals, who had formed lynch mobs to resolve the conflict with the marauding giants in their own way.

At the orphanage, the motherless calves are raised by human foster parents who ply them with bottled milk five times a day and give them an occasional swig of beer in an effort to help preserve Asia's dwindling wild-elephant population.

As we walked down to the river, my guide told me that some of the orphans raised in this wonderful sanctuary are now rearing their own babies at the orphanage. I couldn’t wait any longer I had to see them for myself.

I had arrived in time to watch some of the elephants bathing in the river and squirting each other with water from their trunks, like little kids with their water pistols. I noticed that some of the baby elephants had hair all over their bodies, making them look like miniature woolly mammoths. I was awestruck and stood staring at these miracles of nature for a full ten minutes before I remembered I was here to do a job.

I could have watched and photographed them all day, so I did. Well it was my birthday.

On the way back to my hotel, the taxi driver asked me if I would mind stopping at his home for a few minutes as there was a special family gathering that he had to attend. Still on a high from the days visual feast, I happily agreed and then when we drew up outside his small and humble abode he asked me if I would like to come in.

I told him that I would be honoured to and, after taking off my rather smelly boots that had so recently trodden in Ely-poo, I entered a dimly lit room. I took off my prescription dark glasses, as I went indoors. At this point I should mention that I am blind as a bat without my glasses.

Inside the house there were quite a few people standing around and in a bed that dominated the room was an old lady, the driver’s grandmother I presumed. I was given a chair next to the bed. I smiled at Granny and she smiled sweetly back.

I was given a glass of non-alcoholic beverage and then the driver left me sitting next to Granny, while he started talking to some of his family. Everyone seemed to be talking in hushed tones and so I did the same and whispered quietly to Granny that she had a lovely home. When I got no reply I presumed that the old dear must have fallen asleep, so I whispered the same sentiments to my driver who was now standing next to me.
He looked at me quizzically and said:

”Excuse me sah but why are you whispering?”
“I don’t want to wake your grandmother.” I replied softly.
“Oh sir, you will have to speak much louder than that.
She has been dead for three days!”

I had obviously just attended the equivalent of a lying in state ceremony Sri Lankan style and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and so I did both. I guess that will teach me for lying about my age. Roll on my 40th I say.