ROBERT SIEGEL, host:
In Thailand, the elephant is a national symbol. Elephants were once used in battle, and they have labored for the logging industry. But since the 1980s, they and their handlers have drifted into cities. In places such as Bangkok, elephants have become a controversial presence. They roam the streets as their handlers beg for spare change.
NPR's Anthony Kuhn traveled to Surin province in Northeastern Thailand to learn about an effort to create a safe place for elephants outside of cities.
(Soundbite of a buffalo horn)
ANTHONY KUHN: The sound of a buffalo horn summons members of the Kui ethnic minority to a pakam or shrine. In the old days, the Kui would offer prayers here before trekking off to the jungles of Cambodia to catch wild elephants.
Eighty-two-year-old Meu Sala-Ngarm is one of the last of the Kui elephant catchers known as morchang. He says he's been mostly unemployed since 1957 when the government banned the catching of wild elephants in order to protect them.
Mr. MEU SALA-NGARM: (Through Translator) When I was young, my parents told me I could get by without anything except elephants. They're rare. They're not like cars or cattle. They roam in the jungle. It takes three months to catch one. You have to take 100 people and 50 domesticated elephants to catch a wild one.
KUHN: Meu has caught more than 50 wild elephants, making him a kru ba. The morchang rode on elephants' shoulders, steering with their legs and lassoing wild elephants with buffalo hide ropes. Wild elephants were hard to catch, Meu says, but they're smart, and domesticating them was easy.
Mr. SALA-NGARM: (Through Translator) There's no real difference between wild elephants and domesticated ones, except for their smell. The wild elephants have a particular, natural smell, but the domesticated elephants acquire a human smell on their skin. Wild elephants find that a bit strange.
(Soundbite of elephant romping)
KUHN: Elephants romp in their pins as their ethnic Kui owners live nearby in wooden houses on stilts. This is Surin province's Ta Klang village, near the confluence of the Chi and Mun rivers, a favorite elephant bathing spot.
The village is the centerpiece of the Elephant Kingdom project. It's designed to keep elephants out of the cities. The project pays elephant handlers, known as mahouts, the equivalent of $265 a month to keep their elephants out of the cities.
Krittipon Sala-Ngarm, who manages the village's elephant study center, says he realizes this is not much money.
Mr. KRITTIPON SALA-NGARM: (Through Translator) I personally disagree with taking elephants into the city like beggars, but I understand why mahouts feel they need to do it. They can't survive on the monthly payments. They have to import elephant food from other provinces every two days.
KUHN: Elephants consume hundreds of pounds of vegetation and dozens of gallons of water a day, so mahouts have a tough time making ends meet. The Elephant Kingdom project is replanting farmland around the village with grass, and in five years, it should have enough for the elephants to eat.
(Soundbite of music)
KUHN: In the meantime, elephants make money performing for tourists, painting, kicking soccer balls and throwing darts at balloons.
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KUHN: Thirty-eight-year-old mahout Theerapon Homhuan has brought his elephant back to the village after years of roaming through cities.
Mr. THEERAPON HOMHUAN: (Through Translator) In the city, elephants are uncomfortable. They disturb the urban residents, which worries me. Back here, they're comfortable because they can move freely and they're in their natural environment. They can bathe and live without stress.
KUHN: Theerapon and his neighbors live with three generations of elephants. The grandmother elephant is 68. She has two children and one grandchild. Theerapon says that when they're happy, he's happy.
Mr. HOMHUAN: (Through Translator) I consider elephants a part of my family. If they are absent, I feel like I've lost an arm or leg. We have been together for so long. When I have business to attend to and I leave them one or two days, I always miss them.
KUHN: Elephants caught by the Kui people no longer ferry Siamese kings into battle or haul teak wood out of the forests, but the Kui continue to live lives that intertwine and overlap with those of their elephants.
Theerapon fondly remembers the first elephant he ever cared for, noting with satisfaction that it lived to the ripe old age of 105.
Anthony Kuhn, NPR News, Bangkok.
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MELISSA BLOCK, host:
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