HUMAN ELEPHANT CONFLICT IN ASSAM

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Night of the Elephants

In the backyards of Assam's tea gardens, small-time solutions are laying

ground for answers to the human-animal conflict. Jay Mazoomdaar reports

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** <http://www.indianexpress.com/full_story.php?content_id=84626#>Manbahadur

Vishwakarma is too soft-spoken a man for his profession. Sitting next to a

pile of sickles, swords and kukris, the village blacksmith of Kalamati, in

upper Assam, closes his eyes and touches his forehead before breaking into a

muffled monotone: ''Ganesh baba takes this alley to the village in the

night. I peep through my door and pray: 'Spare me and my hut, Ganesh baba, I

never harmed you or anybody else'.'' Till now, his prayers have been

answered each night. Tomorrow is always another day.

 

A few yards from his hut, two village youngsters sound pragmatic. Santosh is

a Bhumich and Rahul's forefathers settled here from Nepal. ''God or not,

elephants should not be harmed. The (forest) department has finally put up

an electric fencing. Hope it helps.''

 

[image: Advertisement] Otherwise, they will keep joining the villagers and

create a racket with crackers and some plain shouting every night when the

giants walk in. ''That's all we can do and hope the noise drives them away.

We can't fight them.''

 

THEIR homes come in the way of the elephant corridor, their crop is fodder,

their people easy casualty. ''The problem is compounded by rapid loss or

fragmentation of habitat and corridors. Elephants don't roam about

everywhere. Along the north bank of the Brahmaputra, they use specific

corridors to move from one forest pocket to another. If you encroach those

corridors, conflict is bound to happen,'' says Tariq Aziz, head of

WWF-India's Elephant and Rhino programmes.

 

Owner of 22 bigha paddy fields near Bhobla village, Khagen Chandra Das

suffers about 50 per cent damage every year. ''Do something. Anything.

Farmers kill elephants in other states. And here nobody cares for us.''

 

Sometimes, this anger boils over. And even gods are not immune to poison

offered in the garb of delicious wheat dough. No wonder, Sonitpur district,

the hotbed of human-elephant conflict in Assam, logged 32 elephant and 20

human deaths in 2003.

 

Last year, the count came down to 10 elephants and 15 human deaths, thanks

to a WWF-sponsored project involving domesticated (*kunki*) elephants. This

year, while 16 people died, only six elephants lost their lives. The basic

strategy is simple:

 

• As a short-term measure, use kunkis to chase out wild herds back to

forests. This minimises chances of casualty. Also experiments are on with

innovative ideas like chilli fencing (with Bhut Jalokiya).

 

• The locals are also advised to brew away from the villages. Alcohol

attracts these jumbos like nothing else and many have developed a taste for

the local brew.

 

** Page 2 of 3

 

• In the long run, effective land-use planning that leaves corridors of

natural habitat to allow movement of wildlife from one area to another

without having to pass through agricultural areas or villages.

 

The programme also involves schemes to promote crops that don't attract

elephants, and encourage alternative livelihood.

 

Fortunately, retaliatory killings stopped completely since 2004. This year,

for instance, four calves died when they fell into trenches dug in the tea

gardens for drainage of rainwater. Two tuskers were electrocuted when they

rammed against power poles.

 

IT is the innovative use of the *kunkis* that has made a huge difference in

minimising the damage (see box). ''An elephant herd usually comes complete

with babies and the elders are very protective about them. So a couple of *

kunkis* can push back a big wild herd. But when they are scattered, it

becomes difficult to push them from all sides,'' explains Anupam Sharma, who

is leading the project from Tezpur.

 

A big herd means less threat of casualty. ''Together, they feel secure and

rarely charge. But small herds or stray elephants feel vulnerable and can

attack. A rogue male, typically alone, can get very unpredictable and is the

most dangerous of all,'' says WWF-India's Hiten Baishya, who manages the

operation on ground.

 

The state government too is acknowledging the advantage of using

*kunkis*and may mobilise more of its own. As of now, WWF-India pays

about Rs 1,500

to hire each and keep them ready at strategic locations for quick

mobilisation.

 

Local volunteers camp outside villages at strategic spots. One such group at

Sessa Tea Estate explains the strategy: ''Elephants usually enter the

gardens from the forests before raiding crop or villages. The idea is to

stop them here before they can enter the villages triggering conflict.''

 

Beyond a point, though, it's a cat-and-mouse game that can turn fatal even

with *kunkis*. ''Just one rogue male can kill a dozen and the statistics

will go haywire,'' admits Aziz.

Brother against brother

 

Brother against brother

A *kunki* versus wild elephants is not something you can be prepared for.

All you can hope for is to have the presence of mind to run when that

happens. A herd of 45 elephants had entered Tarajuli Tea Estate the previous

night. A *kunki* family of three was summoned to push them out across

Gabharu river to Sonai Rupai wildlife sanctuary.

While waiting for the *kunkis*, we saw how a giant of a male was forcing

itself on females in the herd. Once the charge began, it became evident that

the mast (on heat) elephant was a loner.

Chandrabahadur, the largest male of our *kunkis*, led the charge. Together

with his mate and kid, Chandrabahadur scared away the herd in 10 minutes.

The herd scattered towards the edge of the garden. Suddenly, the mast tusker

turns around. As he stood firm, the herd slowly started claiming lost

ground. The *kunkis* pushed ahead aggressively and the elephants gave way.

The entire herd crossed Gabharu river but the mast male decided to stay

back. He didn't want to take on Chandrabahadur and family head on but he was

fighting for pride. So he charged along the river towards a crowd of tea

garden staff. This time, we scattered in all directions.

Fortunately, the big jumbo changed his mind . He slowed down about 500 yards

from the *kunki* family and Chandrabahadur was denied a conflict. As the

crowd reassembled and Chandrabahadur proudly joined us with his family, we

saw the lone male walking away in the garden. Security threats apart,

elephants do cause damage to the garden. ''They uproot plants with their

trunk to scratch their back,'' estate manager Ravinder Singh sounds more

amused than alarmed. At least, the jumbos have not developed a taste for tea

yet.

 

At Akapanbari, Bridgit Tikri knows that too well. A rogue male mauled her

brother-in-law Cyril Dhanwar, 45, in his sleep. It was raining that night.

At two in the morning, the walls cracked and Cyril woke up. Before he could

move, the elephant threw him off the bed and trampled him.

 

Bridgit's Christian faith has not taken away much of her traditional

reverence for the Elephant God. But she can't justify: ''We don't mind if

elephants come to the fields and have some of our crop. But why enter the

village and kill us? Now who will look after my sister and these kids?''

 

Bridgit's sister Anastasia is away, seeking sarkari compensation. A few

hours before it started raining that dark night, the kids had celebrated

Teacher's Day at the adjacent village school. Weeks after, their blank eyes

tell that was the last time they smiled.

 

THERE is no lasting solution unless rampant encroachment of elephant habitat

is reversed. Try telling that to Ajit Basundhari or Lambar Basumati, Bodo

encroachers in Ballipara Reserve Forest. ''We have to live somewhere. Where

will we go?'' asks Ajit. Will they kill elephants? ''How can you kill them?

They are so big,'' is all Lambar will say. What if elephants kill villagers?

''It happens,'' Ajit walks away. He has no time to discuss resettlement

plans.

 

Hours away at Kalimati, Manbahadur is busy sharpening another dagger. Ask

him the same question and his right hand goes up again to his forehead:

''What do you do when God kills? We pray they don't.''

 

A few kilometres to Akapanbari, the sight of Cyril's orphaned children moves

Hiten to tears. He and his men work very closely with these villagers. They

will ensure the family gets over the trauma and is looked after. They will

ensure the first retaliatory killing since 2004 never happens.