Ari's Planet

Crack, the stick falls across the side of the elphant. He stands a minute, then the mahout urges him along. Crack, it falls across his head. The elephant twitches, the strong strike is felt. A beast this large, 6000 kg, is not easily moved. The stick is sturdy bamboo, solid, flexible. Enough to beat off a rhino, a tiger, or so the park guide would believe. Another elephant comes up carrying its cargo of tourists, fleas on its back in an unpadded wooden enclosure, caged. This elephant's brow is painted a shiny black and colorful patterns are drawn on its head. Tourists disgorged, the elephants stand side by side. The trunk of the painted elephant moves up, to the ear of its companion, it rests on the spot where the ear is torn, crusted with puss and old blood, where its mahout cuts with his sharp barb. The tip of the trunk rests there, caressing the wound. I am taking pictures of the elephants, the mahout of the painted elephant wants money. Instead I decide to give the elephant some bananas. Its trunk reaches out and takes the offered bananas as gently as if I were grasping an egg. Its wounded friend wants some too, I give it a few, but the mahout says it is dangerous. Then I see that a trickle of dried blood stains its forhead, where its mahout strikes it. The painted elephant again reaches its trunk up and gently touches the wound, while the struck elephant raises its own trunk and they stand side by side. I notice that all the elephants have the slight cut in their ears, but only this one seems to have a worse wound and to have blood on its forhead. It is also unpainted. It seems its mahout and it have a poor relationship. Is it an especially obstinate elephant? A poor mahout? They all strike their elephants to keep their obedience. The elephants have their own ways.