In the northeastern village of Ban Ta Klang in Thailand, Siriporn Sapmak starts her day by doing a livestream of her two elephants on social media to raise money to survive.
The 23-year old, who has been taking care of elephants since she was in school, points her phone to the animals as she feeds them bananas and they walk around the back of her family home.
Siriporn says she can raise about 1,000 baht (US$27.46) of donations from several hours of livestreaming on TikTok and YouTube but that is only enough to feed her two elephants for one day.
Photo: Reuters
It is a new — and insecure — source of income for the family, which before the pandemic earned money by doing elephant shows in the Thai city of Pattaya. They top up their earnings by selling fruit.
Like thousands of other elephant owners around the country, the Sapmak family had to return to their home village as the pandemic decimated elephant camps and foreign tourism ground to a virtual halt. Only 400,000 foreign tourists arrived in Thailand last year compared with nearly 40 million in 2019.
Some days, Siriporn doesn’t receive any donations and her elephants are underfed.
“We are hoping for tourists to (return). If they come back, we might not be doing these livestreams anymore,” she said.
“If we get to go back to work, we get a (stable) income to buy grass for elephants to eat.”
Edwin Wiek, founder of Wildlife Friends Foundation Thailand, estimates that at least a thousand elephants in Thailand would have no “proper income” until more tourists return.
Thailand has about 3,200 to 4,000 captive elephants, according to official agencies, and about 3,500 in the wild.
Wiek said the Livestock Development Department needs to find “some kind” of budget to support these elephants.
“Otherwise, it’s going to be difficult to keep them alive I think for most families,” he said.
‘LIKE FAMILY’
The families in Ban Ta Klang, the epicenter of Thailand’s elephant business located in Surin province, have cared for elephants for generations and have a close connection to them.
Elephant shows and rides have long been popular with tourists, especially the Chinese, while animal rights groups’ criticism of how elephants are handled there has given rise to tourism in sanctuaries.
“We are bound together, like family members,” Siriporn’s mother Pensri Sapmak, 60, said.
“Without the elephants, we don’t know what our future will look like. We have today thanks to them.”
The government has sent 500,000 kilograms of grass across multiple provinces since 2020 to help feed the elephants, according to the Livestock Development Department, which oversees captive elephants.
Elephants, Thailand’s national animal, eat 150kg to 200kg each day, according to the Wildlife Conservation Society.
Siriporn and her mother, however, said they have not yet received any government support.
“This is a big national issue,” said Livestock Development Department Director-General Sorawit Thanito.
He said the government plans to assist elephants and their caretakers and that “measures along with a budget will be proposed to cabinet,” without giving a time frame.
While the government is expecting 10 million foreign tourists this year, some say this may not be enough to lure elephant owners back to top tourist destinations, given the costs involved. Chinese tourists, the mainstay of elephant shows, have also yet to return amid COVID-19 lockdowns at home.
“Who has the money right now to arrange a truck... and how much security (do) they have that they are really going to have business again when they go back?” said Wiek.
He expected more elephants to be born in captivity over the next year, exacerbating the pressures on their owners.
“Some days we make some money, some days none, meaning there’s going to be less food on the table”,” said Pensri.
“I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.”
The canonical shot of an East Asian city is a night skyline studded with towering apartment and office buildings, bright with neon and plastic signage, a landscape of energy and modernity. Another classic image is the same city seen from above, in which identical apartment towers march across the city, spilling out over nearby geography, like stylized soldiers colonizing new territory in a board game. Densely populated dynamic conurbations of money, technological innovation and convenience, it is hard to see the cities of East Asia as what they truly are: necropolises. Why is this? The East Asian development model, with
June 16 to June 22 The following flyer appeared on the streets of Hsinchu on June 12, 1895: “Taipei has already fallen to the Japanese barbarians, who have brought great misery to our land and people. We heard that the Japanese occupiers will tax our gardens, our houses, our bodies, and even our chickens, dogs, cows and pigs. They wear their hair wild, carve their teeth, tattoo their foreheads, wear strange clothes and speak a strange language. How can we be ruled by such people?” Posted by civilian militia leader Wu Tang-hsing (吳湯興), it was a call to arms to retake
This is a deeply unsettling period in Taiwan. Uncertainties are everywhere while everyone waits for a small army of other shoes to drop on nearly every front. During challenging times, interesting political changes can happen, yet all three major political parties are beset with scandals, strife and self-inflicted wounds. As the ruling party, the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) is held accountable for not only the challenges to the party, but also the nation. Taiwan is geopolitically and economically under threat. Domestically, the administration is under siege by the opposition-controlled legislature and growing discontent with what opponents characterize as arrogant, autocratic
When Lisa, 20, laces into her ultra-high heels for her shift at a strip club in Ukraine’s Kharkiv, she knows that aside from dancing, she will have to comfort traumatized soldiers. Since Russia’s 2022 invasion, exhausted troops are the main clientele of the Flash Dancers club in the center of the northeastern city, just 20 kilometers from Russian forces. For some customers, it provides an “escape” from the war, said Valerya Zavatska — a 25-year-old law graduate who runs the club with her mother, an ex-dancer. But many are not there just for the show. They “want to talk about what hurts,” she