Moving slowly along the dusty track, brushing past giant banana leaves and dodging the odd cluster of rambutan fruits, we see the beginnings of a small village. There are makeshift bungalows lining the path with people going about their Sunday business, washing, sweeping and cleaning, making the best use of the cool early-morning air. We have a few seconds to take this all in before we are spotted by a small child, who rushes out from his hiding place to greet us with jubilant cries of “gajah, gajah, gajah”. Soon enough, everyone is alerted to the elephants’ grand entrance and we have lots of smiling faces staring up at us. Being at such a height and with such an enthusiastic welcome it is difficult not to feel rather regal, and I inadvertently find myself returning the greetings with a gentle waft of my hand, in a manner uncannily similar to that of the Queen on coronation day. However, it is of course the elephants that really steal the show.
Within the grounds of the park surrounding Borobudur Temple, is a small elephant corral housing five Sumatran elephants, donated to the park by President Suharto in 1990. The gift commemorated the completion of the UNESCO-led restoration of Borobudur, and was seen as a fitting gesture considering the symbolic significance of elephants in Buddhist culture. It was hoped that they would add further attraction to the Borobudur experience, by allowing visitors to ride the elephants around the temple or to take short ‘safaris’ into the nearby villages. In fact, it is well worth dragging yourself out of bed early in the morning to see the sun rise over Borobudur, and then follow this up with a leisurely elephant ride through the breathtaking scenery surrounding the Temple.
On reaching the elephant camp expectations were running high, and it was very surreal to be faced with the sight an open-air stable with elephants thoughtfully munching on their breakfast. It was strangely mesmerising to watch them scoop up one pineapple after another with their trunks and then nonchalantly pop them into their mouths. Although smaller than I had expected (Sumatran elephants are considerably smaller than their Indian and Thai counterparts), their strength is displayed in being able to take up to three passengers. Two can sit comfortably in a basket strapped on the elephant’s back whilst an elephant trainer, ‘Mahout’, balances precariously on the elephant’s neck. At first it is impossible to do anything else but hold on for dear life, but once you get used to the movement it is actually very relaxing. Not so much a sway, but more like a soft rocking motion, often punctuated by gentle lunges forward as the elephant’s wayward trunk searches for tasty grasses and cassava roots.
The Mahouts at Borobudur, like those in Sumatra, have learnt their skills from traditional Thai methods of elephant training. They use both verbal commands and what looks like a miniature boat hook, ‘karicau’, to tap the elephant’s head issuing different commands. Despite their size the elephants are surprisingly agile, and when we emerged from the first village to the banks of a river, they skilfully negotiated their way down the slippery slopes without hesitation. This was further backed up when we came to the last village and a football was strategically placed in our path and I was rather stunned to find our elephant cantering (well, more like a swift amble) towards it in order to punt it up the path (much to the merriment of the children who had obviously seen this trick before). This strength and agility has meant that wild elephants in Indonesia have been captured for domestication for hundreds of years. For centuries, the northern part of Sumatra had a tradition of elephant domestication and they were often used for royal ceremony, and it is easy to imagine them as part of the colourful pageantry of ancient court processions. They were also used for warfare as a precursor to the modern day tank, and under Dutch colonial rule, they were used to transport weapons as well as to help clear the forests for agriculture.
Ironically, this long history of forest clearance by elephants in both Thailand and Indonesia has gradually led to the erosion of the elephants’ natural habitat, and corresponding conflicts between villagers trying to grow crops, and elephants searching for food. These problems are particularly acute for elephants living in Asian countries, where the amount of wild forest is rapidly declining as population densities increase. As an alternative to culling, the Indonesian government tried to overcome these problems by capturing wild elephants and putting them into elephant training camps, training them for riding and simple tasks. The five elephants at Borobudur were originally sent from the first of these camps set up in Lampung province, South Sumatra in 1986. However, the recent economic collapse in Indonesia has meant that captive elephants have become an added financial burden to the government, and although the capture of wild elephants has ceased, the long-term funding for those elephants already in captivity remains uncertain.
Professionally run tourist operations, like the camp at Borobudur, may be the only viable alternative for these elephants. The Mahouts informed us that they make several trips per day and seem to have a small but steady stream of tourists. The experience is certainly unique, particularly after the smog, dirt and stress of city living. It feels incredibly refreshing to be sitting on top of an elephant surrounded by luminous padi fields, with views of the world’s largest Buddhist sanctuary on one side, and then out on to the imposing Menoreh Hills on the other. In fact, it was not long before a couple of rather eccentric émigré Russian artists caught wind of what was happening at Borobudur. They decided to try and introduce the elephants to a new occupation, which, if successful, may help to revolutionise their lives.
Conceptual artists Vitaly Komar and Alexander Melamid had been following the plight of the elephants in Thailand with increasing dismay in the late 1990s, and decided that drastic action needed to be taken to try and improve their plight. The resulting solution seemed to fit in with their rather whimsical temperaments, and they set out to establish the world’s first “quadruped occupational retraining programme” – a network of art schools for unemployed elephants. It was hoped that if the elephants could learn how to paint, they might earn enough in just a few hours a day to support themselves and their trainers, leaving the rest of their time free to indulge in more obviously elephant-like activities, like playing, eating and sleeping. On finding a suitable camp near Chang Mai the artists set about instructing the Mahouts and their charges. To their astonishment the elephants quickly caught on to the idea; grasping their brushes in their trunks they started to create expressionist masterpieces. Before long, each elephant seemed to have developed their own method of covering the canvas, and what is more, were doing it with a minimum of encouragement and without stopping for bananas.
Now even the most indulgent person may view this experiment with an ounce of scepticism. Do the elephants really know what they are doing when they create these paintings? Or is it nothing more than a trained behaviour, intended to alleviate boredom and earn them an edible reward? Komar and Melamid suggest these motivations are not so far removed from the reasons why humans choose to pick up a paintbrush, and more often than not, we too, have little idea of what compels us to do it. In any case, the elephants’ paintings are pretty spectacular, not least because of their resemblance to the work of Abstract Expressionists, like Jackson Pollock and Franz Kline. Supported by the World Wildlife Fund, Komar and Melamid set up their own charity, the Elephant Art and Conservation Project, and have achieved remarkable results, culminating in the world’s first auction of ‘elephant art’ at Christie’s New York headquarters in 1999.
Since then they have also worked with a number of other elephant artists outside of Thailand: in Cambodia, India and Indonesia. After hearing about the camp at Borobudur the Russian artists teamed up with a local hotel, Amanjiwo, whose guests had been using the elephants for daily excursions into the surrounding villages. It was decided that they would enlist the help of local artists in teaching one of the older female elephants to paint. Sela has turned out to be a very prolific artist, using powerful broad brushstrokes to sweep paint over the canvas. Guests at the hotel can commission their very own painting and Sela also does public displays once a week in front of the Temple. All the profits from her paintings go back into helping the elephants at the Camp. It is also hoped that future funds can be used to set up an art project, donating art materials to local schools. This collaboration between humans and elephants is in stark contrast to the increasingly negative attitudes had towards ‘problem’ elephants, after they raided crops and destroyed properties.
The Camp at Borobudur is an example of one way in which in the welfare of captive elephants in Indonesia can be ensured. It also presents a wonderful opportunity to explore the rural landscape of Central Java from a unique vantage point. The project’s success is testament to the awe that these creatures continue to inspire in us. Their immense power and strength is coupled with a cautious grace and intelligence that is hard to forget.
Practicalities:
• To beat the crowds and watch the sunrise over Borobudur book in at the Manohara Hotel, situated just 20 metres away from the Temple. They can also organise the elephant rides, either around the temple (day or night), or into the surrounding villages. Tel: (62) 293 788131, 788680; fax: (62) 293 788679, or email: manohara@magelang.wasantara. net.id
Web:www.borobudurpark.com/manohara
• Or if you feel like treating yourself to a bit of luxury, check out Amanjiwo Hotel, a beautifully positioned hotel carved out of the local limestone, looking out onto Borobudur. Tel: (62) 293 788333; fax: (62) 293 788355, or email: amanjiwo@amanresorts.com
Web: www.amanresorts.com
• You can find out more about how to purchase elephant art from Amanjiwo Hotel and also from the Asian Elephant Art and Conservation Project’s website: www.elephantart.com
• Garuda Indonesia has up to eight flights per day operating between Jakarta and Yogyakarta with a flying time of 1 hour. It is then about an hour’s drive from Yogyakarta airport to Borobudur.
