ELEPHANTS GALORE
By Sally Squires
When you are driving in Australia and a car approaching you flashes its lights at you, it means: “Slow Down. There’s a police radar trap ahead.”
But when that happens to you as you are driving on a road in Sri Lanka, it means: “Slow Down. There’s an elephant on the road ahead.”
That’s just one of the quirky differences you will come across when travelling around Sri Lanka.
Of course, Sri Lanka – which was once known as Ceylon – has always been known around the world for its wonderful tea. But when I was there recently I found that it also is known for the ubiquitious influence of its elephants.
Not only will you see wild elephants being hand fed by rangers in the very middle of a rural road, but you will see elephant-shaped tea caddies, elephant key-rings, elephant furniture, elephant pencils, postcards, elephants on clothing and all shapes and sizes on grocery items – and the ultimate in recycling – books made out of elephant poo! I kid you not!
But one of the most spectacular sites involving Sri Lanka’s elephants is the annual Festival of the Tooth. The Kandy Esala Perahera - also known as The Festival of the Tooth - is a grand festival celebrated with elegant costumes and is held in July and August in Kandy, Sri Lanka.
It is organized by the Temple of the Tooth in Sri Lanka’s ancient capital of Kandy. This year – 2019 – was the 1707th time the festival has been held. It is considered to be the oldest religious festival in the world. It is a ten-day/night festival which sees the historical procession held annually to pay homage to the Sacred Tooth Relic of Lord Buddha, which is housed at the Sri Dalada Maligawa in Kandy.
A unique symbol of Sri Lanka, the procession consists of many traditional local dances such as fire-dances, whip-dances, Kandyan dances and various other cultural dances, in addition to the elephants who are usually adorned with lavish garments. The festival ends with the traditional diya-kepeema ritual, a water cutting ceremony which is held at the Mahaweli River at Getambe, Kandy.
This year one of the 60 elephants involved in the festival was photographed collapsed after the event. There were also photographs of the elephant – Tikiri – looking extremely thin. (Sadly Tikiri has now died). However, the state of the elephants is not seen by the onlookers at the festival as each elephant is dressed in colourfully embroidered silk garments which completely cover their bodies. Their trunks, faces and ears are also completely covered by ornate cloths filled with bright lights which are reported to hurt the elephants’ eyes causing them to “weep”. As an onlooker at this year’s event – for the first time – it was also very distressing to see the elephants tightly chained and only able to shuffle with short steps.
Their distress was also evident as each elephant moved its head from side to side which is considered to be one of an elephant’s stress displays.
The photographs of Tikiri showed a completely different view to the one of the wild elephant being fed by the keeper on the rural Sri Lankan road as we drove past. The wild elephant was well-filled out in its body and eating heartily.
A spokesperson for the Temple of the Tooth which employs the parade elephants said that Tikiri has a digestive problem so it cannot properly digest food. But at 70 years old, surely Tikiri deserves to be resting quietly and not subject to the stresses of a 10 day festival, tightly chained and hurting while walking for miles.
The recent adverse publicity about the state of the elephants during the Kandy Esala Perahera this year is not likely to affect the staging of the festival in years to come. Not only is it a festival to celebrate the Buddha but it is also seen as a festival to ensure excellent rains throughout the country resulting in good harvests. This was emphasized in historic times when the British invaders cancelled the festival. For the first time ever there was drought and crop failures across the country. Subsequently it was allowed to continue which saw the rains return and good crops result.
It is disappointing however, that in a Buddhist country, which espouses the philosophy of the Buddha who is said to have believed in caring for all of nature’s creatures, that we see the sight of a severely distressed elephant – and who knows how many more of the 60 parade elephants were in a similar state.
Without elephants suffering, the festival would still be a unique and colourful event with the hundreds of dancers and human participants. Hopefully future festivals will be held without these magnificent creatures being subject to harm and humiliation.
By Sally Squires
When you are driving in Australia and a car approaching you flashes its lights at you, it means: “Slow Down. There’s a police radar trap ahead.”
But when that happens to you as you are driving on a road in Sri Lanka, it means: “Slow Down. There’s an elephant on the road ahead.”
That’s just one of the quirky differences you will come across when travelling around Sri Lanka.
Of course, Sri Lanka – which was once known as Ceylon – has always been known around the world for its wonderful tea. But when I was there recently I found that it also is known for the ubiquitious influence of its elephants.
Not only will you see wild elephants being hand fed by rangers in the very middle of a rural road, but you will see elephant-shaped tea caddies, elephant key-rings, elephant furniture, elephant pencils, postcards, elephants on clothing and all shapes and sizes on grocery items – and the ultimate in recycling – books made out of elephant poo! I kid you not!
But one of the most spectacular sites involving Sri Lanka’s elephants is the annual Festival of the Tooth. The Kandy Esala Perahera - also known as The Festival of the Tooth - is a grand festival celebrated with elegant costumes and is held in July and August in Kandy, Sri Lanka.
It is organized by the Temple of the Tooth in Sri Lanka’s ancient capital of Kandy. This year – 2019 – was the 1707th time the festival has been held. It is considered to be the oldest religious festival in the world. It is a ten-day/night festival which sees the historical procession held annually to pay homage to the Sacred Tooth Relic of Lord Buddha, which is housed at the Sri Dalada Maligawa in Kandy.
A unique symbol of Sri Lanka, the procession consists of many traditional local dances such as fire-dances, whip-dances, Kandyan dances and various other cultural dances, in addition to the elephants who are usually adorned with lavish garments. The festival ends with the traditional diya-kepeema ritual, a water cutting ceremony which is held at the Mahaweli River at Getambe, Kandy.
This year one of the 60 elephants involved in the festival was photographed collapsed after the event. There were also photographs of the elephant – Tikiri – looking extremely thin. (Sadly Tikiri has now died). However, the state of the elephants is not seen by the onlookers at the festival as each elephant is dressed in colourfully embroidered silk garments which completely cover their bodies. Their trunks, faces and ears are also completely covered by ornate cloths filled with bright lights which are reported to hurt the elephants’ eyes causing them to “weep”. As an onlooker at this year’s event – for the first time – it was also very distressing to see the elephants tightly chained and only able to shuffle with short steps.
Their distress was also evident as each elephant moved its head from side to side which is considered to be one of an elephant’s stress displays.
The photographs of Tikiri showed a completely different view to the one of the wild elephant being fed by the keeper on the rural Sri Lankan road as we drove past. The wild elephant was well-filled out in its body and eating heartily.
A spokesperson for the Temple of the Tooth which employs the parade elephants said that Tikiri has a digestive problem so it cannot properly digest food. But at 70 years old, surely Tikiri deserves to be resting quietly and not subject to the stresses of a 10 day festival, tightly chained and hurting while walking for miles.
The recent adverse publicity about the state of the elephants during the Kandy Esala Perahera this year is not likely to affect the staging of the festival in years to come. Not only is it a festival to celebrate the Buddha but it is also seen as a festival to ensure excellent rains throughout the country resulting in good harvests. This was emphasized in historic times when the British invaders cancelled the festival. For the first time ever there was drought and crop failures across the country. Subsequently it was allowed to continue which saw the rains return and good crops result.
It is disappointing however, that in a Buddhist country, which espouses the philosophy of the Buddha who is said to have believed in caring for all of nature’s creatures, that we see the sight of a severely distressed elephant – and who knows how many more of the 60 parade elephants were in a similar state.
Without elephants suffering, the festival would still be a unique and colourful event with the hundreds of dancers and human participants. Hopefully future festivals will be held without these magnificent creatures being subject to harm and humiliation.
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MINDING THE SHOP
By Sally Squires
I was standing on the beach at beautiful Nha Trang, Vietnam when I looked out over the sea to see those big black thunderhead clouds rolling in.
“It’s going to rain and I’m going to get soaked,” I thought. Normally at the beach I’d have my bathers on and getting wet would not be a problem, but this day I had just given a speech to 111 government officials at the end of their English course and I had my best Vietnamese Chinese style silk shirt on and I didn’t want that getting rained on.
I looked around for shelter and spied an unoccupied coconut roofed shelter right on the beach so I headed over for it. As I got there the first rain drops started to fall. The beach was pretty deserted but soon after I arrived under my new coconut shell protection a local Vietnamese woman walked in complete with her “two baskets on a bamboo pole” mobile shop.
“Xin Chao Mamie,” I said but she didn’t answer. (I like the way the Spanish call all women Mamie which they tell me means darling – so sweet). So we stood there for a moment and I was intrigued by the goods in her baskets – big whole dried fish, dried squid – both caught in the clear waters of Nha Trang bay no doubt, raw peanuts, sweets and drinks.
Suddenly we were joined by three more local women – my shelter was getting crowded as they all bumped into me trying to stay dry.
Then my mobile shop owner spotted one of her friends not far away under another coconut hut so she and her companions rushed over to catch up on the local gossip or talk about the market for whole dried fish.
So I stood there in charge of her mobile shop which she had obviously left in my care though she had not said anything. I didn’t speak Vietnamese and she didn’t speak English but that was understood.
The rain began to lessen and still I stood there watching the rough ocean make its inroads up the beach.
Pretty soon people started drifting up wanting to buy from me, thinking I was the owner of the various goods.
“How much for the fish Mamie,” I called over to her. She didn’t move, her friend must have been telling her something very interesting.
So I started to sell for her. “You should buy some of this fish,” I said to a visitor from Malaysia. “It has special properties that you can only find in the waters of Nha Trang bay.” (Well, you have to stretch things a bit when you are selling – tell a story, get them interested).
I spread the fish out along the bamboo pole so the potential customers would see the various properties of this fish as opposed to that fish. Then I sold a young woman a drink.
As Mamie hadn’t budged, I charged whatever I thought was a fair price - in Vietnamese dong everything seems like it’s expensive because we are talking about thousands of dong for a simple purchase.
Then some really discerning fish buyers wandered up and Mamie must have thought they needed more expert knowledge because she roused herself from under the other coconut hut and joined me.
I handed back my responsibilities as caretaker mobile shop seller and walked back out of my coconut hut into the early evening sunlight.
By Sally Squires
I was standing on the beach at beautiful Nha Trang, Vietnam when I looked out over the sea to see those big black thunderhead clouds rolling in.
“It’s going to rain and I’m going to get soaked,” I thought. Normally at the beach I’d have my bathers on and getting wet would not be a problem, but this day I had just given a speech to 111 government officials at the end of their English course and I had my best Vietnamese Chinese style silk shirt on and I didn’t want that getting rained on.
I looked around for shelter and spied an unoccupied coconut roofed shelter right on the beach so I headed over for it. As I got there the first rain drops started to fall. The beach was pretty deserted but soon after I arrived under my new coconut shell protection a local Vietnamese woman walked in complete with her “two baskets on a bamboo pole” mobile shop.
“Xin Chao Mamie,” I said but she didn’t answer. (I like the way the Spanish call all women Mamie which they tell me means darling – so sweet). So we stood there for a moment and I was intrigued by the goods in her baskets – big whole dried fish, dried squid – both caught in the clear waters of Nha Trang bay no doubt, raw peanuts, sweets and drinks.
Suddenly we were joined by three more local women – my shelter was getting crowded as they all bumped into me trying to stay dry.
Then my mobile shop owner spotted one of her friends not far away under another coconut hut so she and her companions rushed over to catch up on the local gossip or talk about the market for whole dried fish.
So I stood there in charge of her mobile shop which she had obviously left in my care though she had not said anything. I didn’t speak Vietnamese and she didn’t speak English but that was understood.
The rain began to lessen and still I stood there watching the rough ocean make its inroads up the beach.
Pretty soon people started drifting up wanting to buy from me, thinking I was the owner of the various goods.
“How much for the fish Mamie,” I called over to her. She didn’t move, her friend must have been telling her something very interesting.
So I started to sell for her. “You should buy some of this fish,” I said to a visitor from Malaysia. “It has special properties that you can only find in the waters of Nha Trang bay.” (Well, you have to stretch things a bit when you are selling – tell a story, get them interested).
I spread the fish out along the bamboo pole so the potential customers would see the various properties of this fish as opposed to that fish. Then I sold a young woman a drink.
As Mamie hadn’t budged, I charged whatever I thought was a fair price - in Vietnamese dong everything seems like it’s expensive because we are talking about thousands of dong for a simple purchase.
Then some really discerning fish buyers wandered up and Mamie must have thought they needed more expert knowledge because she roused herself from under the other coconut hut and joined me.
I handed back my responsibilities as caretaker mobile shop seller and walked back out of my coconut hut into the early evening sunlight.
Wear something leopardskin so I’ll know it’s you
When I was due to fly from New Orleans to Miami one year the police were warning tourists to be careful at Miami airport because six tourists had been picked up at the airport and shot – not all at the same time, you understand. So I made sure to book my ticket so that I would arrive in Miami during the day. No way was I going to arrive at night and make myself a target for tourist nappers. A friend of mine who now lived in Miami and who I hadn’t seen for 21 years was going to pick me up at the front of the airport. When I had last seen him he had been in full scale hippie mode with very long hair and a full beard and I was worried that I would not recognize him.
“No problem,” he said. “Just wear something leopardskin and I’ll know it’s you.” I hadn’t realized I was famous for my leopardskin clothes though I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t worn leopardskin. But I was amazed that he had remembered that small detail after 21 years. So I made sure to pack my favourite leopardskin dress when I left Australia so I would “stick out like dog’s balls” (Aussie slang for being conspicious) at the front of Miami’s airport.
Well wouldn’t you just know something would ruin my plan. The night before I was supposed to fly to Miami and arrive in daylight, a barge hit a bridge just outside of New Orleans and for some reason that affected all the flights to Miami so my flight was re-scheduled to arrive at midnight!
‘Don’t worry,” said my friend. “I’ll be there to pick you up.”
I dressed in my leopardskin dress and duly arrived at Miami Airport which, by the way, is the most convoluted airport terminal I have ever been in. How easy is it to find the front door when you get off a plane?
So it was half past midnight when I finally found my way to the front door expecting my friend to have been waiting around for half an hour at least but there was no sign of him.
I stood there outside the front of Miami Airport in my leopardskin dress looking like a target for tourist nappers. Then I started to notice cars circling around and coming back around in front of the airport. Then I noticed one particular car and sometimes there was one man in it and sometimes there were two.
The clock was ticking – 1 am – no sign of my friend, 1.45am – still no sign of him but plenty of sightings of the car going round and round.
2 am. I kept standing there expecting any minute to hear a gun shoved into the back of my head so by 2.15am I’d had enough. I went back inside to find a phone and the first four people I asked for directions had no idea about English – they all spoke Spanish.
Luckily I had the phone number of a hotel on South Beach so I rang them and booked a room and just managed to catch the last shuttle out of the airport thus cheating the tourist nappers out of a possible target.
And what had happened to my friend?
Well I found out the next day that he had taken his kids to a baseball game and they had parked their car in one of the giant lots that American baseball stadiums have. But when the game ended – just in time to pick me up at the airport – they couldn’t find their car.
So while I was cooling my leopardskin heels (yes I have the shoes to match) he was wandering around the carpark looking for his car!
When I was due to fly from New Orleans to Miami one year the police were warning tourists to be careful at Miami airport because six tourists had been picked up at the airport and shot – not all at the same time, you understand. So I made sure to book my ticket so that I would arrive in Miami during the day. No way was I going to arrive at night and make myself a target for tourist nappers. A friend of mine who now lived in Miami and who I hadn’t seen for 21 years was going to pick me up at the front of the airport. When I had last seen him he had been in full scale hippie mode with very long hair and a full beard and I was worried that I would not recognize him.
“No problem,” he said. “Just wear something leopardskin and I’ll know it’s you.” I hadn’t realized I was famous for my leopardskin clothes though I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t worn leopardskin. But I was amazed that he had remembered that small detail after 21 years. So I made sure to pack my favourite leopardskin dress when I left Australia so I would “stick out like dog’s balls” (Aussie slang for being conspicious) at the front of Miami’s airport.
Well wouldn’t you just know something would ruin my plan. The night before I was supposed to fly to Miami and arrive in daylight, a barge hit a bridge just outside of New Orleans and for some reason that affected all the flights to Miami so my flight was re-scheduled to arrive at midnight!
‘Don’t worry,” said my friend. “I’ll be there to pick you up.”
I dressed in my leopardskin dress and duly arrived at Miami Airport which, by the way, is the most convoluted airport terminal I have ever been in. How easy is it to find the front door when you get off a plane?
So it was half past midnight when I finally found my way to the front door expecting my friend to have been waiting around for half an hour at least but there was no sign of him.
I stood there outside the front of Miami Airport in my leopardskin dress looking like a target for tourist nappers. Then I started to notice cars circling around and coming back around in front of the airport. Then I noticed one particular car and sometimes there was one man in it and sometimes there were two.
The clock was ticking – 1 am – no sign of my friend, 1.45am – still no sign of him but plenty of sightings of the car going round and round.
2 am. I kept standing there expecting any minute to hear a gun shoved into the back of my head so by 2.15am I’d had enough. I went back inside to find a phone and the first four people I asked for directions had no idea about English – they all spoke Spanish.
Luckily I had the phone number of a hotel on South Beach so I rang them and booked a room and just managed to catch the last shuttle out of the airport thus cheating the tourist nappers out of a possible target.
And what had happened to my friend?
Well I found out the next day that he had taken his kids to a baseball game and they had parked their car in one of the giant lots that American baseball stadiums have. But when the game ended – just in time to pick me up at the airport – they couldn’t find their car.
So while I was cooling my leopardskin heels (yes I have the shoes to match) he was wandering around the carpark looking for his car!