Who is "The Military"

Yeterday I was watch CNN Larry King Live, follow the link for a transcript of the show. They were discussing ABC News Anchorman Bob Woodruff and His Cameraman Seriously Wounded Yesterday by a Roadside Bomb in Iraq. Someone from Ohio called into the show and asked,

...why are the civilian reporters given more media attention than the
American soldiers who are the everyday heroes that are wounded on a daily basis?

Two of the panel members' answers rubbed me the wrong way,

Christiane Amanpour:

Well, I think it's an incredibly good question. The caller is absolutely right. And, as Bob Schieffer has just said, of course we focus on very well known people and members of our own community. But the reason that the deaths and injuries of the American soldiers don't get as much publicity is because we are by and large banned from seeing it. The United States government has made a decision that we are not allowed to see the coffins, that we're not allowed to see the burials, that we're generally not allowed to go to any of the areas where there are wounded, U.S. military hospitals. Perhaps you can see a little bit more in Landstuhl in Germany. Perhaps when we go to the hospitals in the United States. But it's very, very difficult to get close to that kind of real tragedy that the American servicemen and women are going through as well.

Ok, that may be true but you aren't showing the body of Bob Woodward, you aren't showing the hospital or anything else that you are not allowed to show about American service members who are killed or wounded. It seems to me that you are quite capable of telling a story about the life and heroism of a reporter without showing a coffin, why can't you do the same thing for the service members? The conversation continues with Lara Logan.

Lara Logan:

I just want to say that Christiane is absolutely right, and on top of that there's a real irony in that caller's question. Because it's the military themselves that pressure us not to keep reporting the deaths of soldiers, not to focus on the deaths of soldiers and Iraqis ever single day in this conflict. They tell us you don't tell the good news, you don't show the schools that are opening, you don't do this, you don't do that, why are you always focusing on the death? And you try and say to them, it's because as a reporter I just feel like every time somebody else dies, I have a responsibility to make sure that death wasn't in vain. That somehow, in some way, it's acknowledged.

Who is this "The Military" of whom she speaks? And how come I never seen any of those stories she feels she has a "responsiblitly to make sure that death wasn't in vain"?

There are over a million people in "the military". Was there some poll taken asking their opinion? How many of "them" feel this way? If one person in "the military" says something or does something is that representative of "the military"? I am just curious? My thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the reporters and service members who are suffering.

Stress

• My final is tomorrow
• I have a ton of classwork to do by the end of the week
• My new class started yesterday
• Our colds are finally gone
• Jeff decided not to apply for that job
• My brain is no longer able to function
• I stayed up all night on Sunday to catch up on homework
• Yesterday was a blur
• Back when I was in college, when I younger, I could remember everything I read or the teacher said, now when I read my notes I have no recollection of ever having written it
• I have to memorize 30 dates, 40 people and answer two essay questions
• This weekend is the Towada snow festival
• Yesterday I took Lily and Pixie for a walk, it was 43 degress and sunny, which was an incredible gift from above (the winters here are quite harsh usually)
• That was actually the first time I had left the house in two weeks, I gotta get out more

Hopefully after tomorrow my brain will return to normal.

plantain

A couple of weeks ago while watching Sesame Street, I discovered plantains. I had heard of them before but never tried one. On Sesame Street they showed a mom cooking up some slices of plantain in a little vegetable oil, it looked pretty easy. So I bought a couple and gave it a try. It was fantastic, they taste like crackers, light and crisp. We have them salted or with a bit of cheese. Lily loves them. We call them banana cookies. Another bonus is that it slows down the poop machine a bit. A diet full of beans and veggies makes for a lot of poopy diapers.

We over bought the plantains and a few of them ripened to a yellow. You must cook them green or it doesn't work. So I didn't know what to do with the yellow plantains and I decided to experiment. I ended up making the best chocolate cupcakes ever, and they were without flour or egg. They were totally Miss Lily friendly and she got to taste cake for the first time. It was light a fluffy and moist. I was so pleased with myself. I mixed together mashed ripened plantain with some ricotta cheese, added a little vegetable oil and some sugar. In a separate bowl I mixed cocoa powder, baking soda and salt and then I sifted the dry ingredients into the wet. I haven't worked out the exact measurements yet, but I scooped the batter into a muffin tin and viola, chocolate cupcakes. I am currently waiting for another batch of plantains to ripen, but we keep eating banana cookies.

We have also been eating a lot of banana slices topped with organic peanut butter, yum. Very messy but worth it. I am very excited whenever I am able to expand Lily's limited diet to include something that is friendly to her food issues and something she is willing to actually eat.

She is allergic to wheat, oat, corn, egg, apple and tomato.

What is your ick factor?

Last weekend Jeff participated in a scavenger hunt. Many items of clothing from our home were collected for this hunt. An old maternity dress, a tie-died shirt, a Disney shirt, several sport shirts, I can't even remember all the items. Once the items were collected they were taken to the official location and placed on a table. Then during the judging of the scavenger hunt the items were touched by the judges, and later the other team members on Jeff's team may have touched the items while collecting their stuff to take home. When it was all over, Jeff brought all the items home. One of us thought those items of clothing needed to be washed, and the other one of us thought that they were still clean. What do you think?

Hey my therapy is finally paying off...

Back when I was a kid I was forced to go into therapy. The whole taken away from my biological parents, foster care and adoption thing being the reason. Your tax dollars at work, or your parents as this was almost thirty years ago. The only therapist willing to take the medical insurance provided by the government for adoptive parents, bet you didn't know the government picks up the tab for health care for kids adopted out of foster care, I don't know if they still do but they did for my parents. My mom had to drive an hour each way once a week to take my older brother and I to therapy. We had to ride in the back of the van. In those days there weren't mini-vans, just vans. Our van wasn't finished, there were two seats in the front and a big cavity in the back where my brother and I would lay on the floor and try not to anticipate turns. This was a recipe for disaster as my brother and I would fight the whole hour. The louder we fought the faster my mom would drive. By the end we were terrified.

Typically a therapy session would consist of meeting with one of the dozens of therapists, a different one every time. We would play games, go for a walk, eat French fries or whatever. One day my mom was so upset when we got there that she screamed at the receptionist, she wanted to talk to the therapist. She said something like, I don't know what you talk about in these sessions but how about you try and figure out how to get those kids to stop fighting the whole drive here every week. She screamed and hollered and one of the therapists talked to her for the hour. So Daryl and I were put together with a different therapist, one we had never seen before. He played games with us and didn't really say much, just listened while we went on and on about what a horrid mother we had. Finally at the end of the session he went all Dr. Phil on us and told us what ungrateful brats we were. I think he yelled more than my mom. While I was an ungrateful brat this didn't work and I refused to speak to any therapist ever again, I would just sit there and say, I get yelled at enough at home I don't need to listen to it here too. I was a gem of a kid.

Finally the only woman therapist took me under her wing. We went to a farm house in the country, two hour drive for my mom, and we walked together and talked. At the end of the session I remember admitting to her, tears streaming down my face, that I hate my mother. She said we made great progress and I never had another session with her again. I think my next session was with the yeller, he said no one else is available is ok to talk to me this time. He promised not to yell. I didn't talk again about hating my mother. Never really thought of it again until last week.

Last week I was sitting on the couch with Mandy and Lily. They were fighting. Mandy was touching Lily's book and Lily was screaming about it. At first I told Lily to stop screaming but then as Mandy kept on touching the book, I screamed at her for egging on her sister. Then I looked in Mandy's eyes and I saw her perspective. I saw myself as a teenager. My little brother was so spoiled too. I thought that my parents loved him so much more than me. He was their biological son and I was the adopted kid. I can't remember how many times I over heard my mother explaining to anyone who would listen that she wished she had been able to raise us since birth. What she meant was that she wished we had been spared the horrors of our childhood before they got us, instead what I heard was that it isn't her fault I was such a crappy kid. For me it all shifted in that moment on the couch with my girls. I actually realized for the first time that I had it all wrong, that my parents adored me. Just like I adore Mandy even when she picks on her sister. The reason they treated me different than my little brother was because I was 9 years older than him, duh.

I also realized that while I really did hate my mother my entire childhood, it wasn't a justified hate. Perhaps I was transferring the hate I had a right to feel toward my biological mother. Perhaps I was protecting myself from getting hurt again. Logically being a stray kid brought in from the harsh world into a loving family I should have felt grateful. A beautiful family was made. I needed parents and they desperately wanted a kid. That isn't how it worked. I hated them. I felt no gratitude. There wasn't a single hug freely given. I sat around finding fault with their every action. It took me until now to figure it all out. The greatest joy I have as a parent is the vast amounts of unconditional love my girls shower upon me. I wasn't able to give that love to my parents, so they had twice the work and none of the benefits.

The day I met Angelina Jolie

I spent the weekend taking care of a sick two year old and now I am sick. I am hoping when she gets up today she will be feeling better. I doubt it since it is more than an hour later than she usually gets up. I feel bad that I can take cold medicine and she cannot, due to her food allergies. Next week I have finals and I procrastinated everything to the point that I am overwhelmed, with a cold. Next week I start my new class in computers and end my history class. Jeff hasn't made a decision yet, he says he is 50-50. He has until the 31st to make the decision so I will keep ya'll posted.

As a diversion to all my woes, I thought I would write again about Kenya. Our trip to Kenya was more than three years ago, but a bit more exciting than telling you about my day today.

We woke up on the third morning in Kenya (you can read about our first morning here) a bit tired from all the sleep we missed getting to Kenya. It usually takes me a couple of days to actually feel the effects of staying up all night, as we had getting from our house to our first resort. On our Safari we would get up in the morning have breakfast, drive about five hours to the next location, eat lunch and then go on a safari at the next location. On the third morning we were at our second location about to eat breakfast and go to the next location. Here we were at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro. This resort was surrounded by a big fence, each room was a separate bungalow, there was even a swimming pool.

Outside the gates of the resort there was an enormous watering hole with thousands of animals, as far as the eye could see. There were even hippos, my favorite. Beyond the watering hole and the green which surrounds it the landscape was very desolate. The earth was a red clay, a few Joshua trees were around but otherwise it was pretty barren. This is the location where Survivor Africa was filmed and the location of Tomb Raider II. In fact they were filming Tomb Raider II on the very day we were there. So if you ever watch that movie, at the very end when they are in Africa, I was there that day.

After the three of us managed our showers and packing up our stuff. Showers were hard due to the water was either too hot or too cold and it alternated back and forth. Our room was enormous, our beds were draped with mosquito netting. It was lovely but being tired and cranky, running late and still needing breakfast the three of us were bickering our way from the bungalow to the main building. We were supposed to drop off our luggage out front so our driver could pack up the vehicle and we could hit the road immediately after breakfast. When we got to the luggage drop off site I noticed Mandy did not have her hat. Mandy and I have the fairest skin you can imagine and being 2 KM south of the Equator in October I tried to keep up with sunscreen and hats. Mandy couldn't remember where her hat was so we started looking through her suitcase and couldn't find it. I gave her our room key and she went back to search the room.

Meanwhile, Jeff and I were bickering about something, each of us had a suitcase open, rifling through the contents. Just then Angelina Jolie walked past us. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Much more beautiful in person. She had on no makeup, she was wearing her costume from Tomb Raider II, and she said good morning to us. Jeff says she looked in his eyes and said good morning to him. Must have heard is southern accent, as she was in the middle of divorcing Billy Bob at the time. So there we were acting like hillbillies on our safari and we met Angelina Jolie. Mandy however never got the chance to meet her.

I guess I better do my homework now. Unless you want to tell me a story of meeting a celebrity, I would much rather read that than my homework.

adoption

My friends were unable to have a baby and they decided to adopt. When they discovered that the process of adopting a new born was so long, cumbersome and expensive they looked into adopting an older child. In no time at all their home was one member larger. A little boy named Jerry was placed with them in foster care. Jerry’s mother was recently divorced, his father was no longer in the picture. Jerry was the oldest of several children and had gotten into a bit of trouble since the divorce. His mother was encouraged by social services to place Jerry with another family. They told her that he needed a lot more attention. They told her that he would be better off.

At first Jerry went back to his biological mother’s home every weekend to visit her and his siblings. But, as time went by the visits became less frequent, until they disappeared all together. At this point my friends enquired about adopting Jerry. He had lived with them for years, his biological mother no longer had any contact with him and they simply wanted to legally formalize their family. However, when Jerry’s biological mother was asked to sign the papers she freaked out. She immediately took Jerry back to her home and forbad any more contact with my friends. This was completely within her rights as she was the mother and had placed him in foster care voluntarily.

My friends were devastated and decided that they were not intended to be parents. They instead went about living their lives as a childless couple. They got together with several of their friends and planned a two week vacation. They all pitched in and rented a house boat on Lake Shasta. Two weeks of sailing, water skiing and sunbathing.

A new social worker was looking for an emergency placement for a little girl. She called my friends and begged them to take the little girl, just for a night. My friends were not sure. But, the social worker was in tears. She didn’t want this little girl to have to go to a state facility, even for one night. My friends agreed, one night.

The little girl arrived and she was a tiny thing, dirty blond hair (both in color and condition) ratty ill-fitting clothes and dark circles under her eyes. Introductions were made and the wife asked if the little girl was hungry, if she perhaps wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The six year old little girl not wanting to be a burden, but very hungry offered to make the sandwich for herself. My friends fell in love with that little girl, in that moment and told the social worker that she didn’t need to find another foster home they would keep her. My friend’s mother stayed with the little girl on their vacation and soon after their return they found the little girl’s big brother. He had been in one foster home after another for five years. The children were reunited and adopted. The day they signed the papers on the adoption my mom found out she was pregnant with my little brother, Jerry. I am that little girl.

That day, I first met my parents as a frightened little girl happened over 30 years ago. It took me all that time to see that day with clarity. I had viewed that day, plus the sum total of my childhood as tradgic instead of beautiful. I saw myself as rejected instead of embraced. Weird how you can be right and justified in your view of a situation but at the same time be completely wrong and missing the truth.

I have a proposal for you...

This was the subject of Jeff's email yesterday. He wants my permission to volunteer to go to Afghanistan for a year. A year. I would stay here in Japan. Without a job, without all that much contact with the outside world, with a two year old and a teenager. It would suck.

He joined the military to serve, to do his job, and so far he has never been sent to the front lines. Twelve and a half years in the military and his job is to write reports about reports, now he has been promoted to upper middle management and he is given the pleasure of writing reports about the people who write the reports about the reports. So to go to Afghanistan would be to fulfill his reason for joining the military in the first place. Instead of waiting for them to order him to a forward location he wants to volunteer.

Volunteering also has its rewards, we would get the opportunity to hand pick our next base, Europe here we come, and we would get more money, and it would help Jeff’s career. The higher his rank is when he retires the more money we get paid in retirement. One of the biggest benefits of the military is that you get ½ your pay for the rest of your life when you retire, plus healthcare. Bla, bla, bla I don’t want him to go.

I know I married a man in the military . I knew this was his dream when I married him. I really don’t want to be alone for a year, I really don’t want him anywhere near the war. Very selfish I know.

So I told him that I would support him no matter what, but that I don’t want to be the one to make this decision. It is up to him. If I told him to follow his dream and go, and then he got killed I would forever feel it was my fault. I guess I will no matter what because I know that if I insist he doesn’t go he wont. I told him that if he doesn’t go, and he resents me that would be awful too. So it is his decision. He worries we will hate him. I said we wont. I know it would take a lot of adjustment when he got home, but we would survive. So do you think I did the right thing? Should I have told him not to go? Should I have told him to follow his dream?

Towada Soroptimists

Mandy and I spent the day with the Towada Soroptimists on Monday. This is a friendship club between the wives of the American Military and some lovely Japanese women who live in the town of Towada. We take turns hosting a luncheon. We were invited to learn some Japanese Caligraphy before a lovely lunch and a traditional Japanese tea ceremony. Mandy's picture is of the word moon in Kanji, mine is of the word spring. Kanji is actually Chinese. The Japanese written language is composed of the Chinese Charaters called Kanji, and Japanese Characters and Japanese characters dipicting words whose origin did not come from Japan. I forget the names of those Characters.

There is actually an art to writting these characters. We used a paint brush and practices for at least an hour. The angle you hold the brush, the pressure applied, the speed of your stroke, all these things impact how the line turns out. Mine is actually really horrid. It is supposed to look more like this See how my lines are more uniform in width and they are really supposed to taper, plus my horizonal lines were not equal distance appart or parallel. We got to take home our brushes and ink, so I can practice. It was so much fun. At lunch we got the chance to visit. Everyone at my table besides Mandy and I spoke Japanese. I really should learn the language. Still it was fun. The Japanese ladies were very warm and lighthearted. Just like women everywhere.

Ding Dong the Witch is Dead

Typically at our house, Jeff is the reasonable one and I am the crazy one. When we are getting ready to go on a trip Jeff is sweet and relaxed I am temperamental and snapping at everyone. By the time we are out the door I have usually said something awful to each and every one of my dear family. I am usually ready for a nervous breakdown. I have always thought that I am just an awful person. I am don't handle stress well and that Jeff is a Saint for being so sweet.

The other day, Saint Jeff was giving me the day off. He was taking care of Lily. He typically gives me a day off once a week, usually Saturday. I use the time to catch up on homework and housework. He usually doesn't cook or clean, just takes care of Lily. Which is really sweet and further proof that I don't deserve him. On this particular day off Jeff and I had plans to go out. We were to attend a going away party at a Japanese restaurant which included Karaoke. I have never done Karaoke, so this was very exciting.

As we were getting ready, I only had to worry about me. Jeff had to get himself ready and Lily. Even though we weren't taking her with us, there were a dozen details that needed to be seen to in order to leave her with her sister. She had to be fed and changed, emergency numbers had to be assembled, etc. I even took on the responsibility of obtaining Mandy's dinner and running her around to do her errands.

About an hour before we were set to leave, I was completely ready to go, and Jeff still in sweats was freaking out. He sounded exactly like me. He was making smart remarks and complaining about every detail. Mandy and I weren't doing things exactly the way he wanted and he was letting us know. I have never seen him act like this, it was hilarious. He was acting like me. I was calm and collected, sweet and understanding. I offered to help him. I smiled and made funny comments to lighten the mood. It was awesome. I love being the nice one. I guess it turns out that I am not such a Witch after all, just a bit stressed by the details. This is so nice to know. That even the most Saintly of people would be crippled into bitchiness by my job. I can't tell you how much better I feel about myself seeing Jeff fall apart like this.

The next day when I told him my theory. He was all upset that I was blaming Lily. That is not what I am saying. Lily is an amazing asset to my life and I enjoy her so much. I am saying that the millions of details, the lack of control, the insurmountable odds against having successful outing are stressful. Anyways, it is so fun to be the nice one. The next day Jeff locked his keys in the car while at the movies with Mandy, see just taking care of Lily one day a week is turning him into a scatter brained harpy. It is the job, not me. Maybe I will ask him next time if he has PMS. Probably not, if I value my day off. Still it is funny.

I am thinking that instead of a New Year's resolution to be nicer to my family I am going to make a resolution to delegate more to my family, so I can enjoy life as much as they do.

Snow Shoeing in Japan

Jeff on a recent snow shoeing adventure, check out the frozen snot.

Last weekend Jeff went snow shoeing. It was one of his Christmas presents. A portion of the trip is to hike through a valley, between two mountain peaks. In this valley the winds get going and the tempurature drops. It got lower than -10 degrees. It is about a half an hour walk through this wind tunnel with the wind directly in your face. Jeff's goggles kept fogging up, his ski mask rode up and exposed his neck, and he took a few tumbles. I haven't had a chance to upload all the photos from the trip but this one is his favorite. Notice the frozen eyelashes and especially that big wad of snot frozen on his mustache. I sure hope I didn't kiss him before he took a shower.

Miss Lily is just a few days away from being 2 ½ . Six months ago we were terribly worried about her lack of talking. According to the doctor she was delayed. We had her tested and found that while her speech was delayed she was advanced in other areas and this most probably meant that her learning curve was just different than what is considered normal, but that she would talk in her own time. Six months later, um… she talks a lot.

She talks, when I am on the phone, she talks when I am watching TV, she talks when I am talking to someone else, she talks at my eye doctors appointment, she talks while I am registering for school… and she is loud.

Lily’s favorite thing is to repeat everything I say, preceded by the word, no.

Me: Good morning Lily.
Lily: No good morning Lily.

Me: Would you like some milk?
Lily: No like some milk.

All day long, no, no, no. She only does this to me. For daddy she repeats everything preceded by the words I love.

Daddy: Good Morning Lily
Lily: I love Good Morning Lily.

Daddy: Would you like some milk?
Lily: I love milk.

I am one of those wacky hippy parents that doesn’t say no to their children. Well mostly, sometimes I say it but not everyday. I did at home daycare for five years, and worked at a child development center for a year. I have taken four child development classes, did 12 modules about child development at the child development center to get certification… bla, bla, bla. The conventional wisdom of the experts in this area says that if you redirect the little ones they learn faster than if you tell them no. Which in my opinion is true. I am not trying to protect her from discipline, just trying to get my way the fastest way possible.

So how did she learn no? We got this new book about shapes and colors. In the book Mickey is looking for his ball. We see a red triangle and ask, is this a ball? No, this is a red triangle. All through the book we say no. Until finally Mickey finds his ball. This is the first book Lily memorized. Now she repeats the book all day long, during her bath, during her diaper change, in the car, everywhere I hear the entire book word for word. So I taught her the word no, and now I am paying the price. The evil book of no.

I am on a mission to trick her.
Lily, do you want to go to the jumping castle?
Lily, do you want to watch Bob, the Builder.
See her two favorite things. I wonder if she will tell me no. Insert evil laugh here.

I make it sound worse than it is. I am just a little bent out of shape that she is so sweet to her dad. I understand, I like him too, but jeez. Last night she took the remote out of my hand and gave it to her dad. I am loosing the popularity contest in my own home. I lost Mandy’s favor years ago. Basically Lily is just like her father 99.9% of the time she is really happy and full of life. She lights up the world and spends way more time laughing than screaming, but this no thing is so incredibly annoying.

Carnivale - Venice February 2002

I don't really have any reason to post this picture except that it makes me laugh.

Baby Elephant

In October 2003 my family was stationed in Italy and we had an opportunity to go on Safari in Kenya with an Italian tour company. I am so glad we went. This was our second trip to Africa, the first was to Egypt six months earlier. Going to Africa changed me, changed the way I see the world and people. I am searching to find the words to describe how these two trips changed me. I thought I would share a few of my stories and maybe that will help me to get my thoughts in order.

I first saw the herd of elephants on my first day in Kenya. I left my home in Italy at midnight and traveled by bus to Milan for four hours, by plane to Kenya for nine hours, and then by Jeep on dust dirt roads, filled with potholes larger than my house, for eight hours, finally on the last 15 minutes of the ride we saw some animals. They were the same animals I have seen in zoos and circuses my entire life, but after all the distance we went threw to see them in their natural habitat I tried to at least act excited, for my daughter’s sake. Most of the trip we spent on our hands and knees in the jeep trying to find the little tiny screw that popped out the frame of her glasses, which seemed to hold the entire frame together. I didn’t think we were going to find an eye glasses repair shop anywhere nearby as we drove the eight hours threw desserts, jungles and grasslands.

On our safari we would spend the mornings driving from one nature park to the next, eat, spend our afternoons driving around the reserve looking at the animals, have dinner and go to bed early. After being away for what seemed like days, we arrived in time for lunch. The family of elephants we had seen upon arrival, they had all ran along side our jeep, hiding behind the trees and popping out in front of us. It was like we were running in the middle of a giant herd. They came in all sizes and they were very friendly and seemed to have a sense of humor the way the were playing peek a boo with our jeep. It was amazing. We also so giraffes and hyenas, baboons, thousands of birds etc. Just like the Africa section of the local zoo.

So we had taken our showers, and we were sitting out on the deck of our hotel restaurant eating lunch. This first nature reserve we were in was a grasslands type area. There were a few scattered trees but very little underbrush. I hadn’t seen any water sources along the road. Here at the hotel, there was a man made pool of water. This attracted the animals so we tourists could sit drinking a glass of wine and enjoy the native wild life. Our hotel was built up on stilts, the floor was about 8 feet in the air so we were protected, or at least I hoped we were protected from the wildlife that came to drink from the pool. There were walkways, high in the air instead of hallways which lead from our room to the restaurant giving us the opportunity to see the wildlife even as we journeyed down to our buffet lunch.

As we were sitting at our table on a balcony overlooking the pool eating our lunch. We saw that the elephants we had seen on our drive in had been just a small fraction of the herd. Over the course of a half an hour there were probably 50 elephants surrounding the pool. It was amazing to watch them, they are very social animals. At a zoo I have never seen so many together or had the opportunity to see them socialize. They took turns drinking. The communicated with one another with stamping, yelling, and ear flapping. Some would flutter around like a social butterfly spreading gossip among the group. I was mesmerized. They began to shift their positions and the herd of elephants parted like the red sea as a couple came toward the pool. The others quickly closed in around the new couple, the seemed to be lined up like a fence now instead of just milling around in no discernable pattern.

My daughter saw it first, and pointed it out. Soon all the humans were on their feet peering over the edge of the balcony in hopes of getting a glimpse of the very new born baby elephant. He had shiny gray skin, while the others were a dull gray, even the other children. He was not even as tall as his mother’s knee. He emerged magically from between his mother’s legs and went head first into the pool. This being a man made pool instead of a lake there wasn’t the gradual deepening of the water, it was more like a swimming pool, edge and then water. The baby charged from between his mother’s legs and into the water before his parents knew what was happening.

The father elephant started stamping his feet and with his trunk high in the air he let out loud decisive trumpets. The other elephants which had been shielding the family all scattered to the edge of the tree line, about twenty feet from the pool. The mother was attempting to wrap her trunk around the submerged baby elephant who was in over his head. Every time the mother got her trunk around the baby and started to pull him toward the edge he would slip from her trunk. A wet baby elephant appeared to be too heavy and slippery for the mother to pick up. She was able to hold him up and he was still breathing, sputtering a bit, but alive. One of our friends began to film this event. After about a half an hour he stopped filming, we were all convinced that it was only a matter of time before the baby would drown. The mother had been trying for so long and each time she attempted to get him out he would slip under the water. The father elephant was pacing back and forth the entire time, screaming and stamping, shaking his enormous head. I wanted so badly to vault over the balcony and save the baby. I wondered why the Kenyan people who worked and owned the hotel didn’t save this baby. It was all their fault building such a deep pool. It was very dramatic. My daughter was in tears, I returned to the table, not wanted to see the drowning.

My daughter shouted to me to come back to the balcony railing, “look,” she shouted, “the mom is going in.” I raced back to the railing and saw the mother elephant gingerly stepping one foot into the pool, all the while keeping the baby’s head above water with her trunk. The mother elephant seemed to be very concerned about the slipping in the pool, I would imagine that a fall would most probably cause irreparable damage to an animal that enormous. She slowly stepped into the pool one foot at a time, first the front two, then she lowered herself to her knees, the front two knees, I am guessing for more stability while she stepped her back feet into the water. The water was only about half way up the mother elephants legs, which illustrates how small the little baby elephant was, with the water being over his head. So the mother was finally completely in the pool. She managed to keep her baby’s head above water the whole time.

Now the mother was able to position herself behind the baby elephant and use her trunk to push him to the edge of the pool. She push and pushed the baby with her trunk, but every time she got him about half way out of the pool he would tumble back into the water. She must have tried this pushing method a dozen times or more. No progress was made. The father came to help, he tried pulling the baby with his trunk while she was pushing with hers, but it just wasn’t working. The baby had no balance, and appeared to be very slippery. This trial and error went on for more than a half an hour. My friend who was video taping the ordeal put down his camera because he didn’t want to tape the baby drowning. We all began to lose hope that the elephants would be able to get the baby out. The baby was under water more and more. He was lifeless and unresponsive, no longer assisting his parents. I was so frustrated that no one working at the hotel was attempting to save the baby. After all they built this pool, they were responsible for the baby getting stuck, shouldn’t they assist the elephants in the rescue. I was so frustrated I left the railing and sat back down at the table. I really just wanted to go back to the room. I didn’t want to be around for the drowning. I didn’t want to see a dead baby elephant. My daughter wouldn’t leave the railing. She still had faith. It seemed that my daughter the only child present was the only one who still believed this baby elephant would live. My husband and I sat at the table, trying to squeeze another drop of coke threw our straws. Suddenly Mandy yelled for me to come quickly. I really didn’t want to go, but she insisted.

The mother elephant was somehow supporting the baby against the side of the pool. The baby had his trunk over the ledge. The mother was putting her feet up on the ledge, one at a time, and then lowering them back in the water. She appeared to be demonstrating to the baby what she wanted him to do. She would put her foot up on the edge of the pool and then nudge his foot to do the same, all the while supporting him against the side of the pool so he didn’t slip under the water. After just a few demonstrations the baby put one foot and then the other on the edge of the pool. At this point he had his trunk, head, and two feet on the edge of the pool and the mother gave him a swift shove from behind and he tumbled onto the embankment outside the pool. It was amazing. Everyone, all the humans, was so surprised and relieved an enormous roar came from the crowd. The mother elephant had travel up the embankment away from the pool so that at this point she was at eye level with us on the balcony of the hotel, she turned around and faced us, eye to eye, and lifted her trunk in the air and trumpeted a salute of gratitude.