In the serene and picturesque village of Tsakaling, nestled under the watchful gaze of Patshaling Gewog in Tsirang, tranquility has been disrupted by recent encounters with unwelcome visitors: elephants. What was once a rare sighting has now transformed into a recurring nightmare for the villagers, as one tusker’s destructive rampage has prompted drastic measures to safeguard lives and property.
Last month, the peace of Tsakaling was shattered when a tusker, in a fit of rage or perhaps just seeking sustenance, wreaked havoc on two houses. The incident left the villagers shaken, realizing the potential threat looming large in their midst.
In a courageous act of defiance against the encroaching pachyderms, 40-year-old Tashi Wangmo took matters into her own hands. She decided to chop down all nearby banana plants, a known delicacy for elephants, in a bid to deter their presence. Her actions, while symbolic, echo the fear and determination of a community grappling with an unfamiliar and menacing reality.
But Tashi Wangmo is not alone in her battle against these gentle giants turned unwitting assailants. Fellow villagers have followed suit, uprooting their banana plants in a collective effort to discourage elephant visits. The lush foliage, once a source of delight, now represents a potential danger zone for both life and property.
The underlying fear among the residents is palpable. Elephants, once regarded with awe and reverence, are now viewed through a lens of apprehension and caution. Tashi Wangmo recounts the regular visits of a mother elephant and her calf to feed on bamboo near the farm road. Now, a lone elephant lurks, its solitary presence a source of concern and anxiety for all.
The human-wildlife conflict in Tsakaling extends beyond the boundaries of property damage. For years, farmers have grappled with the repercussions, unable to tend to their citrus trees along the riverbanks due to the persistent threat of encounters with wildlife. The once-lucrative harvest of mandarins has become a distant dream as citrus trees wither away, victims of a conflict that shows no signs of abating.
The plight of Tashi Wangmo and her fellow farmers is emblematic of a larger crisis unfolding in Tsakaling. The reluctance to rear cattle, once a staple source of livelihood, speaks volumes about the pervasive sense of insecurity that has permeated the village. Pema Euden’s decision to send her cattle to an animal sanctuary reflects not only a concern for their safety but also a profound loss of faith in the ability to coexist harmoniously with nature.
As the villagers grapple with the repercussions of these encounters, their once-thriving agricultural practices have suffered a severe blow. The cultivation of maize, a staple crop, has been abandoned out of fear of attracting elephants. The prospects of growing vegetables on a large scale are dashed by impassable farm roads and exorbitant transportation costs.
In the shadow of neighboring dzongkhags, where tales of human casualties at the hands of elephants loom large, Tsakaling finds itself teetering on the brink of an uncertain future. The damage inflicted by the tusker on drinking water pipes serves as a stark reminder of the fragile balance between man and beast.
In this remote village, where the echoes of resettlement from distant lands still reverberate, the residents of Tsakaling grapple with an existential dilemma. As they confront the encroaching presence of elephants with courage and resilience, they are reminded of the delicate dance between progress and preservation, where the stakes are nothing less than survival itself.
