Editor’s note: Walt Amses is a writer and former educator who lives in Calais.
[H]igh in the hot, humid mountains around Chiang Mai, Thailand, we spent Nov. 9 — very late on election night in the U.S. — at a sanctuary for elephants where they are protected and revered. No rides for tourists; no work details; no poking, prodding or chains.
Although it was more work than we bargained for, the experience was rich and unforgettable. Having the opportunity to be around these endangered, gentle beasts for a full day was especially moving considering what was happening 9,000 miles away as the nation went to the polls.
We were accompanied by a dozen or so travelers from a wide variety of other countries, all of whom were minimally 30 years younger than us and remarkably astute about what was happening in America and how important was the decision pending back home. They knew far more about us than we did about them — reminding us firsthand and more profoundly than we’d ever before realized that America was indeed a beacon to the rest of the world.
During sporadic showers that because of the heat didn’t even feel wet, we fed the elephants — several times, they eat a lot — we wallowed with them in the mud and plastered huge piles of mud on their bristly backs, which they apparently enjoy. We certainly did. Eventually, we showered with them under a waterfall where they frolicked and rolled around in the water like 5,000 pound toddlers.
We’ll be watching Mr. Trump very closely these next four years and as we learned during our day with the elephants, so will the rest of the world.
The day felt spiritual in some ways, doing things with creatures beyond our wildest dreams. Making eye contact with an elephant is at first profound, until you realize her trunk is fishing around in your pocket for the food you’re carrying. Then you laugh and for some unknown reason, your eyes well up a little as well. At times, it’s almost too much.
But the ominous undertone of the day were not lost on anyone, no matter their national origin but a cell signal where we were was weak and intermittent, sparing us the news our country was waking up with at least for a while.
State by state, bit by bit — like ancient torture — the biggest news on the planet trickled in to our mountain paradise. When Pennsylvania and then Michigan fell and it became apparent that it was Hillary who had no path to 270 electoral votes, a pall fell over our international group.
Everyone felt the same way — this was unthinkable. People were visibly upset. Our global neighbors were gravely concerned. A young woman from Colorado wearing a purple Bernie Sanders T-shirt was inconsolably sobbing. We were graciously offered support, hugs and condolences as though our country had died.
As we departed for Chiang Mai late in the afternoon, each of us seemed lost in personal reflection, trying to find some balance between our elephants and our confusion and dread over what had taken place in America, and what it would mean for the next four years.
Early the following morning listening to both Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama exuding grace in perhaps the most disappointing moment of their lives provided confidence in democracy and the peaceful transfer of power that remains its foundation. That grace was possible under these circumstances was comforting.
We’ll be watching Mr. Trump very closely these next four years and as we learned during our day with the elephants, so will the rest of the world.
