The Elephant in the River

Often it's not until after you've come back from your "Tourist Excursion" that you remember that you've a considerable responsibility as a tourist in how you distribute your spend, as it not only has economic impact but also a moral one.  We unfortunately only realized this too late as we drove away from what sounded like a magical early morning experience but instead turned out to be an unwitting contribution to the sad exploitation and humiliation of one the earth's most splendid creatures.

It is hard to think of a more awe inspiring and majestic animal than an elephant and being in their presence leaves one with a uniquely privileged feeling.  Quite emotionally intelligent in their dealings with each other, we are told, elephants have always held a special place in our hearts and minds.  No where more so of course than in India where they are revered as a god - the great Ganesh, god of fortune, providence and good luck.  It is for this reason that their treatment at our eventual destination early one morning is so perplexing, and angering.

My last experience in close proximity to an elephant was in Nepal 15 years ago where I am sad to say I rode on the back of one through the jungle on a brief "Tourist Excusion" in the Chitwan National Park.  The guilt-edged residue of that day clearly had not left enough of a mark on me it seems to inform my decision around this engagement.  However, I did vividly remember the awesome power of the animal as I watched it tear down a tree in a single movement.  (Speaking of movements, being witness to some of his bolidy functions was equally surprising!)

On this occasion we were to watch elephants at a Training Centre at Kodanad bathe, and perhaps even take part in the ritual.  However "training centre" did not accurately describe the facility, which put me in mind of a animal-loving atmosphere staffed by caring volunteers and enthusiasts.  It was instead more of a drill camp where these marvelous creatures in captivity were cruelly it seemed schooled in the duties of a captive animal.  Very little carrot was used in their education as far as we could see.  It was all stick.

Chains are never a lifestyle choice and so whenever you see an animal in chains, it acts as an icon of its imprisonment.  These animals we're bound in chains and rope and denied any freedom of movement outside the commands of their handlers.  And that was part of the considerable difficulty of this: this fine, majestic creature under the strict control of two fairly portly, seemingly unsophisticated gentlemen who seemed intent on using their control of the animal to command humiliating tricks for the benefit of tourist in order to line their own (not the facility's) pockets.

The supposedly enjoyable and relaxing bath we thought we had come to see was another example of their denial of freedom.  They were scrubbed by a scrubbing brush and unable to move outside of what was required to enable to cleaning.  To underline this, he was forced to keep his trunk tucked neatly over his tusk (as pictured).  The only really pleasant part of the visit   was when his handlers went off to wash themselves in the river and the elephant was (relatively) free to wash himself how he wanted - by skillfully employing that most unique cleaning tool of his.  This seemed like his only true moment of freedom to be himself.

His handlers commanded every other movement with unfriendly sounding shouts and the use of a wooden stick, and another one with a metal tip for harsher punishment.  This animal seemed beaten; both physically on many an occasion, but also spiritually.  There was stoic resignation in his demeanor but as he washed I almost wished he would make a dash for freedom while his handlers turned their back.  The beauty and wonder of his form and presence was juxtaposed by the sheer sadness of the scene.  The only thing more conflicted was the sight of the babies, so cute and innocent but not yet fully initiated into their "training program".

I was left with the questions: is there anything we really need to train an elephant to do that we can't do another way?  Do we need to ride them to enjoy their company? Is it not time that we ennobled ourselves by truly setting this wonderful animal free, everywhere?  Can we not secure swathes of national park for them and see them free to roam their own natural habitat?  Is the elephant not the next whale?

Smelling Jewtown

While images, videos and words can bring one's adventure to life for others, one thing I wish I could capture is smell. India is well known for its assault on all senses - for good and bad - and while it's a blessing that readers of this blog are protected from some of the more putrid smells of the sub-continent; it would be awesome if you could - for instance - digitally bottle the aroma of what is questionably called "Jewtown".

So with the ability to convey smells digitally still not invented, please grind together a rich cocktail of ginger, pepper, cumin, nutmeg, tumeric and cardomom - with maybe a hint of perume - and read this post with that aroma wafting around your nose to mimic the air.

 

The terrific pungent cocktail of spices and perfumes that pervade the very atmosphere of this old section of Kochi in Kerala is an ancient one. The  spice trade that continues today is a global one that dates back to the days of the Phoenicians. Since then the Romans, the Chinese, Arabs, the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British have all done a roaring trade in this vibrant harbour.

 

Those last three have left a more lasting mark.  (Although the iconic Chinese Fishing Nets still dominate the harbour skyline.)  The area known as "Fort Kochi" remains startlingly reminiscent of the days when those three great empires in turn monopolized trade around the world, and a walk down its narrow lane ways is quite evocative of bygone eras of the Spice Trade that defined many hundreds of years of European colonisation in India and across south Asia.

 

But an even older - and with the perennial spicey air, even more evocative - is the area officially known today as Mattancherry.  But historically is known as " Jewtown".

 

I first became aware of the Jewish community in Kerala perusing the exhibits of the Museum of the Diaspora in Tel Aviv. There, with transparent nation- building agenda,  the Israeli government set out to collect and curate the collective experiences of all those Jewish communities that set out from The Levant when the Romans exiled them after the failed rebellion, and subsequent sacking of Jerusalem, in AD 70.   The Keralan Jewish community landed in 72 AD in fact.  Their descendants had been trading with India since the days of King Solomon around 900 years BC.

Well known for their aptitude in trade and finance, Jewish communities flourished here from that early time lubricating this lucrative business with loans, connections and general know-how.

 

Typically ghetto-ised, this is mercifully one of the few Jewish communities of the diaspora  to mostly escape the kind of persecution their brothers and sisters routinely suffered across Europe and North Africa. This is exemplary testament, I think, to the characteristically cosmopolitan, hospitable and tolerant traditions of their Indian  hosts.

 

The area remains a hub of furious spice, tea and perfume business; and with those products still transported in sacks and bottles not too dissimilar from those they have always been moved about in, and with the 16th century shops and warehouses still standing, it's not too hard to let your imagination drift  back to the romantic days of the spice trade here, or in the Mallacas themselves for that matter.

Jewtown on the still-standing Jewish Synagogue (above), first built in 1568 but represents other didications from as far back as the 4th and 14th centuries. The international nature of the Quarter is epitomised by features in the Synagogue including Belgian chandeliers, Chinese floor tiles and a rug from Haile Selassie, the last Ethiopian Emperor.  The place makes the perect climax to a visit to Jewtown because it seems wonderfully trapped in time.

 

For the real experience I strongly urge a visit to Kerala for about a hundred other reasons - but this is a good one!  (The fact that the first Indian Biennale is being held in many of the oldest buildings in this area until March is another.)