Land of the Elephants: A Novel

By F. Celis Belina

Young zoologist, Dr. Catherine Spencer, tragically lost her father in Africa as a child, and questions remain as to who killed him and her friends’ parents the night they were attacked. After years spent in England and California, Catherine now returns to embark on her dream project to study the African elephant in the Kenyan wilderness, where she will follow, befriend, and embed with the elephant families.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483511610

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story.

Prologue

East Africa 1961

The Ewaso Gyro River in northeastern Kenya is the boundary between the Samburu District on the north and the Meru District on the south. The river runs east toward the Sabena desert; it winds through the dry land, creating with its flow lavish green banks filled with a rich variety of vegetation. There are tall palms and opulent high trees. Their trunks are partially covered with climbing vines and orchids. The forest floor on both banks is covered with short grass and a variety of ferns and short palms, some of them exclusive to the area. They are rich in important nutrients vital for the elephant’s health.

Several government officials and personnel have set up a base camp on the south side of the river, the Meru District. They are waiting for several elephant families or groups due to arrive during the course of the afternoon. These seven families will reunite after four months of exhausting migrations. The seven families together form one large unit known as the Lorogi herd with 273 individuals total. Their home is in the Lorogi Forest, a forty-five mile journey heading west along the Ewaso River.

This elephant gathering has given the Kenya Game Department (K.G.D.) a good opportunity to restore Victor, a three-year-old calf, back to his natural habitat. Victor is the only survivor from a family of twenty-six members that were massacred by a gang of poachers. They were the smallest family from the Kora herd, a unit of five families whose home was in Kora, an area located eighty miles to the southeast.

The tiny elephant had been left for dead by the gang of poachers and was later discovered by a K.G.D. patrol. He was operated on and treated for bullet wounds as well as severe bruises to the ribcage. Eventually, after two years of tedious and difficult rehabilitation, he will be put up for adoption to the entire Lorogi herd with great possibilities for success. With a little cooperation from the elephants, little Victor will become the latest member of the Lorogi herd.

At this point in the river, it becomes wide and shallow with small islands of sand and gravel, which allows the elephants to drink and bathe. For the young, it is an opportunity to splash and chase each other safely inside the water. It is easy here for the herd to walk across river, where it always looks greener. The northern bank also offers several mud wallows for the elephants to bathe and cover their bodies with refreshing mud that also works as an insect repellent. It is indeed an ideal spot for an elephant gathering. Four hundred yards downriver, on the Meru side, is the Shaba safari camp. Over a dozen safari tents are set permanently along the river just a few yards from the water. Behind the line of tents is the lounge and dining area, a comfortable building made with brick and stone walls and covered with an elaborate thatched roof.

The safari camp’s remoteness attracts a more adventurous type of visitor. There is a lower density of wildlife in the area compared to the abundance and variety of game seen in the plains below the Equator. Even so, several important species are indigenous to the area, including Grévy’s zebra, gerenuk antelope, and the beisa oryx, to mention some. This rear species attracts a fair number of visitors, including scientists and photographers from around the world. However, the main and most important attractions to this area are the fascinating and colorful Samburu tribes from the river’s northern side. The Samburu peoples are peaceful nomad families. They migrate inside their territory at the end of each season, herding their cattle in search of new grassland. The Samburu District is 8,000 square miles—almost five times the size of Rhode Island—with plenty of grass land for the Samburu tribes’ herds. Cattle are the tribes’ most important possession and their principal source of food. They drink a blend of fresh milk mixed with cow’s blood that they obtain from a small puncture made in the cow’s jugular vein by using the sharp point of an arrow; then they patch up the hole with mud after they have collected enough blood, one quart approximately. Yams and corn, when available, are often added to their diet, and for very special and traditional celebrations, they’ll sacrifice and eat one of their steers.

They build rudimentary huts with branches, mud, and dry grass, the same way they’ve been building for hundreds of thousands of years. They set their huts close together, forming a circle big enough to include their herd of cattle—fifteen to twenty head on average. They surround their village with an impenetrable wall of piled bushes filled with long sharp and painful thorns. This wall protects the villagers and their cattle against attacks from lions, leopards, or hyenas. It also keeps the cattle from walking out into the night and facing a certain death by predators.

The Samburu family that lives directly across the river from the safari camp has remained in the same location for several years, breaking Samburu traditions and customs that go back to mankind’s beginnings. Chief Elias charges five dollars every time any of his people poses in front of a tourist camera, and there is a constant demand for photographs from the guests and the tour buses stopping by the camp. That respectable income could be the reason why Chief Elias has had to be a bit flexible in bending that particular tradition, just temporarily.

. . . .

Victor waited contained in the back of a pickup truck, restless and anxious to get out. The only visible part of his body was the end of his tiny trunk; every time he raised it over the wooden boards to smell the air, he was agitated, banging and kicking the reinforced door. He leaned his body hard against the side boards, rocking the truck from side to side, roaring angrily, attempting to trumpet, but only producing a high broken whistle.

The group of government officials and their family guests, as well as members of the media, waited anxiously for the elephant’s arrival. They loaded their cameras and equipment inside their vehicles, which were parked fifty yards down river from Victor’s location.

Only two K.G.D. men wearing green overalls remained near the truck guarding the calf. A portable wooden ramp had been placed behind the truck, and the two men just waited for the order to release the calf.

Young orphans are generally able to find adult females willing to accept and care for them as if they were one of their own. These adult cows are usually close relatives—aunts, older sisters, or grandmothers. In cases like Victor’s, when the calf belongs to an unrelated herd with an unfamiliar and undetected scent, the hope is that one of the mothers in the herd, who has herself lost a calf, will respond to the calls from a destitute calf. The desperate need for affection on the part of both parties speeds the process of becoming attached to each other, and very often, within minutes after the encounter, the cow is allowing the youngster to suckle from her. Female elephants continue to produce milk for several years after a calf’s birth. However, too often rehabilitated calves are found dead and abandoned just days after being adopted. Some die from starvation or severe dehydration, but in too many cases, they die from severe exhaustion. Young elephants are exposed and forced to endure long and hard migrations, which in most cases begin just hours after their births.

The forty-five mile walk to the Lorogi Forest would be a critical test for little Victor’s survival among the herd. Once in his forest home, he would have three months to readapt and build enough strength and stamina to enable him to endure the challenging migrations along the harsh plains of East Africa.

. . . .

The cameras were rolling and Doctor Nigel Gray, District Director of the Kenya Game Department, was responding to questions from the media, regarding the efforts made by his staff to save the young elephant’s life. The surgery performed on Victor to remove a bullet from his left shoulder had been successful. The wounded calf also had an ugly perforation near the center of his left ear; it was four inches in diameter and clearly too big of a wound for any caliber bullet. Dr. Gray and his staff had concluded that the wound was caused by the mother’s tusk when she collapsed, instantly killed by the poacher’s bullet. There was damage to the tissue surrounding the perforation, so it had to be removed, making the hole even wider.

Also rolling their cameras was a small movie crew working on a short documentary film based on Victor’s story. The crew started filming during Victor’s first surgery and then continued following the calf’s progress in the different stages of his rehabilitation.

Kenya was less than two years from having its very first presidential elections and finally becoming an independent nation, where only the people born in Kenya would have the right to citizenship and be allowed to be employed inside the new Kenya. That gave Dr. Gray and most of the people in his community less than two years to resume their studies and projects before the new regime took power.

Officials in the K.G.D. were concerned over the changes to come with the new Kenyan political structure. Would the new government continue the commitment to protect all of Kenya’s magnificent and abundant wildlife that inspired half a million visitors every year?

. . . .

Colonel William Spencer, head of the Anti-Poaching Commission (A.P.C.) in the region, was speaking to the media cameras. He stood proudly next to his Land Rover, and he was wearing his clean and neat uniform, including an elegant maroon beret slightly lowered to one side. He related proudly and in detail the capture of six of the poachers involved in the elephant massacre. Four others had been killed in the battle and an A.P.C. guard had been slightly wounded by friendly fire. Eight hundred pounds of ivory had been confiscated from the poachers and was stored in a secured warehouse; its location was undisclosed and classified.

The warehouse was built with stone and reinforced concrete, and it was protected twenty-four hours a day by a squad of well-armed A.P.C. guards. Over 3,000 pounds of confiscated ivory had been accumulating in it for several years, as well as 460 rhinoceros horns.

The colonel described to the cameras the preparations for the event on the following day, which would also be covered by the same movie crews and members of the media. It would take place outside the security warehouse, where the giant pileup of elephant tusks would be torched, as well as mounted heads of buffalo, antelope, and gazelles, plus hundreds of tanned pelts of leopard, cheetah, zebra, lion, and crocodile, and dozens of python skins, and also hundreds of empty ostrich egg shells. All would be burnt in a giant bonfire, creating very powerful pictures, with great political value as well as international recognition and prestige for the country; perhaps, the event and news coverage could help these dedicated officials to carry on with their difficult task of continuing to protect the magnificent Kenyan wildlife against a senseless and irrational extinction.

Standing on the passenger seat inside the Land Rover was Catherine, Colonel Spencer’s eight-year-old daughter, a wiry redhead with freckles on her face and shoulders. She had been born and raised in the region and it showed in her appearance; she was looking with great interest through her pair of binoculars, and she was completely ignoring both of the interviewers. She had heard the same stories enough times already, and her whole concentration at that moment was focused on young Victor. She was sad and skeptical about the whole operation; she had gotten very attached to the little guy. Catherine had played a direct role, helping with the calf’s feeding and caretaking, especially during his last few months of rehabilitation. She understood it was time to let the calf go free; she had heard enough of how strong and ready Victor was to face this new challenge, but she was also aware of the several possibilities for things to go wrong; she worried about his feelings of sadness and fear, not knowing anyone in the entire herd. She knew she was going to miss her little elephant friend.

A cloud of dust in the distance caught her attention. She was having difficulty holding the binoculars steady enough, due to the cast that she wore on her left arm and wrist. An angry Victor had run her hard against a fence when she kept trying to jump on his back and ride him. The tiny cast had several drawings and funny sympathy notes written on it that were already partially hidden by layers of dry mud and bloodstains.

I see them, Father! I see them! she yelled excitedly, interrupting the interviewers and starting an immediate mobilization. A Land Rover, with Dr. Gray, two of his female technicians, and a well-armed park ranger on-board, was the first and only vehicle allowed to drive toward the arriving elephant family. The doctor and his companions had to do their work first, counting all the individuals in the herd, photographing the whole formation, and later confirming the official count of each family. Dr. Gray would also take a close look at the herd’s general health and any particular individuals in need of special attention or treatment. This work was easier to accomplish when the herd’s formation was long and narrow, before the caravan of vehicles would cause a change in the formation, making the herd more compact and harder to count.

. . . .

It was a very special and overwhelming experience to see at close range a large group of wild elephants traveling free through the vast eastern plains. This particular group stretched for nearly 200 yards, with approximately forty-five individuals, making it the largest of the families from the Lorogi herd. The elephants appeared to be tired and thirsty, but they also looked fairly healthy and determined to finish their journey to the Ewaso River.

They’d been on the move since early that morning, marching almost silently, walking on the small clouds of dust that lifted with every stride of their giant padded feet. They hadn’t stopped to feed or drink since early that morning; they continued their march at the pace dictated by Sonia, their leader and matriarch. She was tall and tusky, maybe forty-five years old. Her followers assumed their positions in the file, always following the family hierarchy; adult daughters and sisters always close behind the matriarch. The young, and mothers with calves, walked near the center of the column; other single adult cows regularly walked close to them for support.

Four adult females with bad attitudes covered the flanks, two on each side of the formation and fifty yards from the main unit and a similar distance from each other. Two twelve-year-old males traveled close together and also several yards apart from the main formation. The two teenagers were getting very close to that age when the matriarch and other adult cows would be chasing them away from the herd permanently, as they always did. Adult bulls live different and independent lives away from the females, only getting together for very short periods of time during mating activities. The flankers were always vigilant, pointing their trunks in every direction, smelling the air for water, new food grounds, or to identify the scent from other elephant groups, and always to be alert for the presence of humans. Their enormous ears were constantly spread wide; tracking for sounds and calls from the other Lorogi families—sounds that indicated their present location, the distance between them, and each family’s conditions. The ears were capable of receiving and detecting sounds coming from as far away as twenty miles. Large and powerful cows covered the column’s rear; even though attacks from predators during migrations were very rare, when they did occur, the results were painfully unsuccessful for the predator. The family also needed all that muscle to discourage and reject the not-so-rare and not-so-welcome visits from those unfamiliar massive bulls.

. . . .

Catherine, still standing inside the Land Rover, held tightly to the window frame using all her available fingers to hang on. The colonel drove the vehicle slowly and with caution, waiting for radio clearance from Dr. Gray to approach the elephants. He was leading the caravan of vehicles—tour buses and news and movie vans, as well as family and guests, including three more children.

Covering the caravan’s rear was a K.G.D. patrol vehicle with four armed guards. Catherine was wearing her eye goggles and a red bandanna to protect her from the dust and wind blowing into her face. She enjoyed riding with her father out in the plains. He had even allowed her to drive his Land Rover on several occasions. For the colonel, these experiences were extremely important for his daughter to live through and witness for as long as possible; he wanted his daughter to take advantage of these opportunities of a lifetime, which would most likely end for them soon after the presidential elections.

Catherine wished her mother, P.K., was there for the occasion. Dr. Paula Kay Spencer had been in America for well over two months on a trip to her native California. Her aging father had taken a bad fall and P.K.’s mother needed temporary help dealing with the chores in their farmhouse. It was supposed to be a short trip. Unfortunately, P.K. had to miss this event after all the work and dedication she had put into the project. P.K. had been the one who actually performed the surgery, treated all of Victor’s wounds, and gave him his name to honor his brave and gallant victory over death. P.K. had prescribed the therapy, nutrition, and rehabilitation program that also included miles of walking.

Catherine herself had played an important role in the project, at times riding in the back of a pickup truck, calling Victor, yelling his name repeatedly, encouraging him to continue walking. She had used a large bottle with milk to encourage him to follow.

No one ever mentioned her mother’s name during the interviews. Not fair, Catherine thought. Her father had also been avoiding comments regarding his wife, confusing little Catherine even more by not allowing her to ask any more questions about her mother, the plan for her return, or if there were even a plan for her return. She tried successfully not to look sad or to cry—not in front of her father, who was having difficulty seeing his little girl unhappy and missing her mother.

. . . .

The two cows covering the east flank had gotten closer to each other. They were obviously disturbed with Dr. Gray’s presence, shaking their heads aggressively and blowing and kicking dirt as a warning. Sonia, the matriarch, had recognized the usual intruders in this area and that their intentions were not an apparent threat to her family. Nevertheless, she had slowed the herd’s pace slightly, and the formation had compacted to less than 100 yards in length.

Dr. Gray was harassed by the two young bulls when he tried to get closer to a group of new mothers; the bulls bluffed several times by roaring, trumpeting, and faking outrage; one of the bulls, with the end of his tail missing, charged at the vehicle in a mock attack, only to stop abruptly a few yards later. After a few bluffs, Dr. Gray had experienced enough with the two punks and decided to drive back to the river, allowing the caravan led by Col. Spencer to approach the herd.

It’s Sonia…Father, its Sonia! I was right! said Catherine excitedly, while looking through her binoculars.

The colonel and his followers veered to the west to approach the herd from its left flank. Driving with obvious elephant knowledge, Col. Spencer drove close enough to the elephant family to allow the visitors to admire them and take their photos, avoiding distressing or provoking the elephants. He always kept an escape route available in case of a real attack.

Only one of the cows seemed to be guarding the left flank; she walked near the front of the column, just a few yards behind Sonia’s entourage. She kept a close look on the visitors, stopping at times, facing the vehicles, and allowing the rest of the herd to pass by, always standing between the herd and the visitor’s vehicles. Col. Spencer was leading the group of fascinated tourists and movie crews, admiring and shooting their cameras at will as they slowly circled the group, which was now moving in a more compacted formation, perhaps a bit shy and uneasy from all the attention, but still determined and focused on finishing their journey. Little Catherine looked with great interest at every one of the adult cows, wondering whether one of them could become Victor’s new mother. She felt some relief by looking at calves that were Victor’s age or even younger, and seeing they were doing well keeping up with the pace and longer strides of their mothers. The vehicles circled the herd one last time to end the photography frenzy, and very satisfied, the caravan headed back to base camp. The main event was yet to come.

. . . .

Through the binoculars, Catherine looked with concern when the two men in green overalls opened the back doors of Victor’s truck and began to walk away in a hurry, toward a waiting vehicle parked 100 yards away from the base camp. Victor started to move out of the truck, unusually slow and cautious. He stopped at the top of the ramp, looking intensely in the direction of the approaching elephant group. His ears spread wide and his little toy trunk rose up, assimilating the strong and very familiar scent of an elephant herd. He vocalized in a deep grunt-like sound, some kind of gurgle, long and continuous at times. It sounded similar to a very low note from a church organ or the low tone from a cello. Victor could hear Sonia’s family getting closer; he was excited, and very confused. Catherine wished she were there for him. But no one had been allowed to have physical contact with the calf for two weeks prior to the adoption day.

After showing his head in and out of the door several times, Victor finally walked down the ramp. He started slowly and carefully, but suddenly, he roared remarkably loudly and started to move hysterically and with surprising quickness. Stopping 100 feet away from the truck, Victor shook his head from side to side, looking at the dust clouds moving in his direction; they were getting closer, bigger, louder, and smellier. Agitated and confused, he ran back to the truck and hid inside, leaving behind a trail of healthy elephant dung the size of baseballs.

. . . .

With the river in sight, Sonia’s family became excited and anxious, celebrating, trumpeting, and roaring with joy at a faster but controlled pace. They spread wide into a sort of front line formation, allowing quicker access to the water for all the individuals in the group.

Sonia and all her girls rushed into the river, splashing and kicking water. They used their trunks to hose their backs and bring their body temperatures down. There was a wonderful display of loud and diverse sounds—trumpets, organs, bass mixed with powerful roars of joy that involuntarily announced to other elephants in the area their findings of water and plenty of fresh vegetation.

They entered the river 100 yards further west than Dr. Gray had anticipated. They spread out along the river, forming small groups from three to six individuals, which had claimed their own drinking areas along the river. The nearest elephants to Victor’s truck were more than thirty yards away; they were drinking and bathing, unaware of the scared little calf hiding in the back of the truck. Come on, Victor….Say something....Do something, Catherine whispered while holding a steady focus with her binoculars. Patience, Catherine, darling...patience; he is going to be just fine, the colonel replied while also looking through his binoculars. Another, different cloud of dust was also moving toward the river. Victor’s curiosity helped him find the courage to take another peek at what was happening. Slowly, he put his head out of the truck, looking mesmerized by all the elephants along the river. He felt a great attraction toward the group, but he remained in the truck where he felt safe. His mini-trunk instinctively pointed toward the herd, searching the air for that special scent he would always recognize and remember, but that he would never smell again.

The two teenage punks, already out of the water and with their skin still dark and wet, were blowing and kicking dirt to each other. They jousted roughly and aggressively, but in a fun playful manner. Suddenly, they stopped, reacting to the sounds of a different family arriving at the river. They were less than a quarter mile away, arriving safely and punctually for the gathering occasion; they trumpeted with joy and vocalized, welcoming their friends and relatives, after the ten-week marathon migration out in the eastern plains.

Victor instinctively growled in unison with the teenage bulls, and then he timidly and quickly walked back inside the crate. The bull with the missing tail began to walk with curiosity toward the truck; he had obviously heard Victor’s call. He stopped by the first baseball-sized dung pile in the trail; he sniffed at it carefully, and not recognizing the scent, he continued to follow the track directly to the wooden ramp. He stopped when he discovered the little guy cornered, horrified, inside the truck. The bull tested the ramp’s strength with his trunk, and then with his foot, before making his first step toward the calf, he was rumbling with greeting sounds and reaching inside the truck with his trunk to offer friendship. Victor, roaring with all his might, charged toward the bull, his ears spread, trunk curled, and tail erect—the whole bluffing repertoire. The young bull backed down gently, but he remained within a few yards of the truck, vocalizing louder, intrigued by the young stranger’s presence.

Catherine, behind her binoculars, could hardly breathe from anxiety, and everyone else witnessing the moment felt the same way, with cameras rolling and everyone snapping photo after photo. Col. Spencer moved next to his daughter and patted her gently on her shoulder; she was deeply focused on the new family, entering the river this time closer to Victor’s location. Dahlila, she said in a low voice as she recognized the group leader. Dahlila and her party of twenty-three hot and thirsty elephants entered the Ewaso River’s refreshing waters; they drank and cooled down their body temperatures before greeting and gathering with Sonia and her family. Most of them were already out of the water, scattered on both sides of the river, eating from the huge buffet of diverse nutritious vegetation. The various sounds of joy and delight, coming from both of the families, sounded very familiar to the little elephant, and that inspired him to pop his head out of the truck once again. Instinctively, he began to vocalize emphatically, getting the attention from several cows, which intrigued, began to walk toward the little stranger. Soon Victor’s truck was surrounded by curious and concerned cows, hesitant to get too close to the truck.

Dahlila, followed by a small entourage—three daughters and one sister—walked her way through the crowd and stopped at the ramp’s end, facing the distressed calf. The thirty-eight-year-old family leader, gentle and cautious, looked at Victor for a few seconds and murmured softly and motherly to the frightened and confused calf, captivating the needy calf’s attention, causing him slowly to walk toward Dahlila, and innocently to sniff the tip of her massive trunk. They smelled and touched each other with affection. Dahlila, intrigued, touched the inside of Victor’s mouth with her trunk and continued sniffing around his body. She stopped at his shoulder, touching with the tip of her trunk the scars from his old wounds and the strange hole in the left ear. Victor turned his back to her in submission, allowing Dahlila to smell his rear and capture his scent. From then on, she would always be able to identify and recognize Victor.

Catherine turned to her father and hugged him emotionally. The colonel held her head against his chest, supporting and encouraging her; she turned back to the binoculars, using them to hide from the colonel the tears about to roll down her eyes.

Victor was getting sniffed by cows and calves of all ages, including Punk, the young tailless bull, who seemed to be fascinated with the mystery calf, who had agreed to follow Dahlila and her daughters among the curious and excited elephant members of both families. Sonia, in particular, inspected Victor, gently caressing him with care and affection, obviously delighted with the herd’s latest addition.

The rest of the families continued to arrive during the next hours; they mixed together, socializing and blending once again into one joyful herd. It became impossible to find Victor among the 274 individuals, all spread out in the foliage for half-a-mile along the river. Important questions were still to be answered; Victor had made several instinctive attempts to suckle from Dahlila and her oldest daughter, but he was roughly interrupted by the overwhelming attention from all the herd’s members. Catherine wanted Victor to stay with Dahlila’s family; she was Catherine’s favorite matriarch, the prettiest of them all. She was wise and dignified, and she had impeccable white tusks in the classic sable shape; she was perfectly proportioned with her distinguished tall stature. She also had an adorable little daughter, the same age as Victor; Catherine named her Chopsticks for the size and shape of her diminutive tusks. She could be a great friend for Victor, she thought, but the answer had to wait until next morning when the entire herd would be traveling home along the river