The Surin Province claims to be the source of over half the country's captive elephants. Nestled within is the small village of Ban Ta Klang, known locally as “The Elephant Village”, and is home to around 300 captive elephants, with nearly every house we saw housing at least one.

Arriving here we felt a sense of unease, dropped into the car park of the village's main attraction, an elephant camp which offers riding and shows amongst other activities. We got out into the baking sun to immediately see 2 young elephants chained up in the car park, showing signs of immense distress. To the left, an older elephant chained up next to the road all alone, and just across from this, what appeared to be a bull (male elephant) chained up and looking incredibly malnourished. None of these animals had access to water. 

Upon approaching the two younger elephants they seemed to reach out to try and break free from their shackles and began to make pained calls, slamming their heads to the ground and twisting their trunks in unnatural ways. The look in their eyes is one I won’t forget. We were quickly told to move away. As we were moving on, out of nowhere at least 10 busses full of school children started to arrive, ready and excited for a day of watching the elephants perform. These buses accounted for practically all the other tourists we saw that day.

Walking into the little village we found a restaurant and shop, outside of which was a mahout and his friend, who was livestreaming an elephant onto social media to try and raise money to help keep it. This was something a lot of people chose to do during lockdown to provide for their animals. This elephant, although unchained, had visible bleeding wounds on its head from where it had been struck repeatedly with a bull hook, for them to perform for the livestream, which we witnessed. 

From here we chose to walk along one of the main roads parallel to the camp. Nearly every home we passed had a homemade shelter housing at least one elephant, chained up, showing signs of distress without access to food and water. It was uncommon to see a house without one of these shelters. All along were elephants in varying conditions, seemingly chained up and waiting to be used. 

Tucked away in the woods at the back of the village is a Buddhist temple, home to more elephants as well as a neatly kept elephant graveyard where more than a hundred elephants have been laid to rest, with traditional Thai hat-like stones to give the elephants “symbolic shade”. However, not far from this is a roundabout with statues of elephants being ridden by their captures, a reminder of the kind of place we were in.

As we walked back into the village we came across a resident washing his elephant and giving it water, what appeared to be the best-treated elephant we had seen. Once the cleaning was finished, he promptly picked up his hat and bull hook and mounted the elephant to go to work. It was showtime. As he left, an old lady emerged from the house, skinny, and dressed in tattered clothing. It was a stark contrast to how the man presented himself, yet a reminder that for a lot of these people here, the elephants are simply a means to get by, to be able to put food on the table. No lavish luxuries.

Heading back towards the camp we could hear the cheers from the audience as the show began. We walked along and found a spot on the other side of the fence where we could see clearly what was happening. The mahouts sitting atop their elephants waiting to perform, whilst some elephants inside were painting pictures with their trunks for the benefit of the tourists. All with the encouragement of the bull hook. We captured what we could from where we were positioned, and as the show ended and everyone left, the mahouts went home on their elephants. 

What I saw at Ban Ta Klang was some of the most distressing things I have witnessed, and it gives you a very clear insight into how much these animals suffer because of the industry they are unfortunately a part of.