Tsavo National Park.Painfully
thin and bearing the bloody marks of would-be poachers, little Simotua
was barely alive when he was found wandering, lost and alone, through
central Kenya's Rumuruti Forest.
With
a spear wound to his forehead and a deep slash around his leg from a
hunter's snare, the elephant calf, believed to be little more than a
year old, was in a bad way.
But despite
his injuries, Simotua is one of the lucky ones -- he was found just in
time, and thanks to the work of conservationists, his future is looking
bright.
For thousands of elephants every year,
there is no such happy ending: Experts say 96 elephants are killed
across Africa every day.
The majestic
animals' numbers have declined dramatically in Africa over the past 75
years -- down from three million in 1940 to 1.5 million in 1980, and
just 300,000 today, according to the David Sheldrick Trust.
The charity's founder, Daphne Sheldrick,
has dedicated her life to helping the elephants -- but says that despite
the hard work of her team and other conservationists, she fears greatly
for the animals' future.
"I doubt
whether my great-grandchildren will actually be able to see wild
elephants living a normal life," They are going very
rapidly, one every 15 minutes."
International
bans on the sale of ivory since 1989 have failed to halt the hunters --
with a single elephant tusk selling on the black market in China for as
much as $100,000 to $200,000, the poachers have a strong financial
motive to keep up the slaughter.
Sheldrick believes that the threat from illegal hunters will not cease until Asia's insatiable appetite for ivory is halted.
"Something
needs to be done on the other end," she says. "There's no welfare in
Africa -- there's poverty and unemployment, [so] as long as a man can
get money from killing an elephant, he will."
The
high stakes involved mean those battling against the poachers put
themselves in harm's way to save elephants -- but they insist their work
is a vocation.
"Our job is a calling,"
says ranger Willy Kemoi. "It's dangerous, but we try our best. This job
is not that easy, so if you do not have the passion [for it], then you
cannot go on."
Letoyia has been raising orphaned
elephants for 16 years, and sees himself as an adoptive parent to the
animals: "Here, we're playing mothers' roles," he says.
Kyalo
was working as a mechanic when he paid a visit to the elephant nursery
and fell in love with the animals. Inspired by what he'd seen, he asked
for a job.
"When I went for my
interview, they said, 'Go put on a uniform and the elephants will
interview you,'" he says. "That's when I really understood that
elephants can read humans' hearts."
Once
rescued elephants like Simotua have recovered from their injuries, they
are rehabilitated and taught how to live in the wild again -- the Trust
has released some 200 of the animals over the years.
But it can be an uphill struggle -- for the elephants and their carers.
"The
pain, the situation he is in, it has been caused by human beings,"
explains Julius Shivenga. "So to win the trust of the elephant, it is
very difficult."
Simotua is doing well
so far, enjoying their company of other orphaned elephants, wandering in
the bush and taking mud and dust baths with them.
His
young age means it will be many years before he can be released to fend
for himself; until then, his carers will do all they can to protect
him.
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