An emotional reunion of elephant and caretaker

After suffering through a brutal drought in 2024, the bush has transformed—luxurious, green, and beautiful again. Although the rains are late this year, there has been good runoff, and hopefully, the underground water has been replenished. 

The overarching teak trees were in bloom with their delicate lilac flowers. The pans were overflowing into wetlands of grasses and reflections of the sky. Dense foliage grew beneath the canopy of trees, layers of vegetation fully alive with activity. Young impalas were in abundance, alongside giraffes, zebras, waterbucks, kudus, and warthogs, all merrily filling their stomachs. 

But the highlight of the trip happened on my first night, when I realised that it was now safe to hug Moyo. We were finally one again in that moment. She remembered. She had forgiven me. She loved me.  

Living with elephants isn’t easy 

You may be wondering why this was so special. Don’t I live with elephants and see them every day? But I have not cuddled with Moyo in over 18 months. I have been too frightened. 

Losing one’s courage is a very alarming and paralysing phenomenon. All reason disappears, and fear overrides everything. I was physically unfit for many months but continued to care for Moyo. However, to her frustration, I did not get close enough to hug or allow her to grab me. I always stayed behind a fence.

A perfect reunion 

I have a relatively well-developed sense of intuition, and on each previous visit over the past year, I have tried to get in close to her but always, frustratingly, pulled back at the last minute. Something was always ‘off’. Perhaps it was just a figment of my imagination, but I did not feel safe. I was heartbroken that my bond with Moyo had been broken. 

This time, however, I arrived in Panda with a sense of excitement, renewal, and expectation. I was optimistic and childlike in my enthusiasm at the beauty of the transformed landscape. I had a feeling that the wheel had turned, the cycle was coming to pass, and all was well.  

On that first evening, I waited until there was no one around. The sky had just begun to darken. The boma was silent, except for the occasional elephant wind and brick-sized molars grinding.  

I sat and watched and absorbed it all for a while, then stood up, walked straight up to Moyo, and offered her a biscuit, and she took my hand. Then, I went in for the hug. She clasped my hand with her trunk and drew it into her mouth, as she had done since she was a tiny baby. I drew closer, up against her trunk, her tusks on either side of my ribs, whispering words of love and examining her forehead of cracks and wrinkles, passing my hand over her scars.  

Truly overcome, I wept silently. Moyo rumbled at me, and her temporal glands started running, which can happen to elephants when nervous or excited. She held onto my hand as she dozed with her giant head on the fence. She was totally relaxed and at peace—as was I. Not only was I forgiven, but I felt loved so deeply by this sentient being. 

Rebuilding a deep connection 

After that initial moment, I had many more occasions to reconnect with Moyo. I went down to the dam to watch the elephants frolic in the water, and Moyo came striding purposefully across to greet me. 

The carers were a little concerned, but I was completely relaxed. Moyo was herself again—a mighty young elephant.