Sometimes the work we do for the elephants can be heartbreaking. And sometimes it gets so hard that I can't bear to take any more. And when that happens, I take a deep breath. And I think about Tong Jan.

In my last post, I mentioned that even though we've only recently returned to the United States, Tim and I had plans to visit Thailand again for 2.5 weeks. In addition to spending more time at Elephant Nature Park, there was a very specific reason we were returning to the land of smiles so soon after our round-the-world trip had ended.

The adults stop laughing and smiling. The children stop talking and playing. Where moments before there was joy, now there is this sudden, unexpected sadness. And shame.

The pickup truck rumbles over the stream of rubble that passes for a road, and we splash full-on into the river. With a bit of wheezing and complaining, the engine holds out and we push on across to the other side. It's official now: we've crossed the border. Illegally.

Abuse is somewhat endemic in the world of the working elephant, but in Jokia's case that abuse was taken to the extreme. It only begins with the scars she has all over her body, with the large hole that was torn into her left ear by someone weilding a metal hook. It culminates with her pregnancy, and the tragedy that followed.