Two Months, One Jungle, Infinite Joy

By Rose - 8 week intern

When I first arrived at Kindred Spirit Elephant Sanctuary for my two-month internship, I never could have imagined just how deeply a small Karen village, a herd of elephants, and a ragtag crew of interns, staff, visitors, kids, and animals could carve their way into my heart.

It was more than just an internship—it was a lesson in humility, connection, and the quiet magic of observing life unfold in the jungle.

Learning from the Elephants

As an intern, my days revolved around studying the elephants’ foraging behavior—an experience that taught me far more than I expected. Each morning, I’d follow the elephants through the forest, trying to keep pace with their seemingly endless appetite.

“Gwacha ocha muhjalaw?” I’d call out to the mahouts—“What is the elephant eating?”—and they’d reply with Karen plant names I’d scramble to match to our guide sheets, often to no avail. But slowly, with the help of the endlessly patient staff and coordinators, I began to recognize the plants by sight, learn their Karen names, and build a genuine understanding of the elephants’ diet.

It was a crash course in botany, language, and the art of paying attention. It was fieldwork in the most literal sense—and I loved every moment of it.

Before arriving, I hadn’t realized how much personality elephants could have. Day after day, observing their behaviors—simple, unhurried, yet deeply intentional—taught me to slow down and watch more closely. 

They’re not just animals here—they’re individuals, with quirks, preferences, and an uncanny emotional depth. They remain the heart and soul of KSES, and the reason we’re all here.

A Jungle Full of Life

But the elephants were only the beginning. Ban Naklang itself—its people, its creatures, and its rhythm—made the jungle feel like home.

With new visitors arriving every few days, the village was a constant swirl of shifting faces and shared stories. Some friends stayed for a day, others for weeks—but each brought their own warmth. Movie nights, card games, figuring out what to grill when we didn’t have marshmallows, or simply chatting by the fire—connection happened so quickly and naturally here. These moments built friendships that felt effortlessly real.

And the animals—oh, the animals. The much-deservedly spoiled base dogs, the wild village dog gangs, the cats that wandered through the homestays, the buffaloes, pigs, chickens, geckos, insects, and cows—all became part of the rhythm of daily life. Even the symphony of sounds they made in the middle of the night and early morning felt familiar, like companions in our shared jungle routine.

Observing them was meditative—a quiet reminder that life doesn’t need to be complicated to be fulfilling. 

I also had the joy of painting two elephant murals in the village—a small way of giving back to a community that had given me so much. The murals became a reflection of the rhythm of life I’d come to cherish here: grounded, vibrant, and quietly powerful—just like the elephants, and just like Ban Naklang.

Reliving Childhood with the Village Kids

The village kids were one of the biggest highlights.

During my first week, they lured me into a chaotic chasing game on the pavement. We didn’t speak much Karen, and they didn’t speak much English, but with gestures and laughter, we figured it out—and more games followed.

Sometimes they’d sneak up behind us with a giggle and a tap, other times they’d show up at base right after school or bang on our doors at sunrise on weekends, eager to play. Their acceptance and affection felt unconditional.

They let me relive the freedom of my own childhood, when the day’s biggest worry was what game to play next. It was the kind of joy that’s hard to find again as an adult—unguarded, spontaneous, and completely real.

On my last day, the kids and interns surprised me with a giant handmade card. When they handed it to me in front of my homestay, I couldn’t hold back my tears—and neither could they. We were all overwhelmed by the same emotions: love, gratitude, and the bittersweet pain of goodbye.

In such a natural, unfiltered environment, even our farewells felt purer—unclouded by screens or distraction. It reminded me of a kind of connection I’d almost forgotten was possible.

The Kindred Spirit of KSES

KSES isn’t just a sanctuary for elephants—it’s a place where humans rediscover what it means to be present. Between the jungle hikes, the kids’ laughter, the late-night card games, and the elephants’ quiet wisdom, I learned more about resilience, community, and joy than any classroom could teach.

To future interns: come ready to unlearn as much as you learn. Be ready to get muddy and to find friendship in the unlikeliest moments.

And to the team at KSES—thank you. Thank you for your endless patience, your warmth, and for creating a space where people and elephants alike can just be.

KSES gave me more than fieldwork experience—it gave me peace. Observing elephants in their natural habitat, disconnected from Wi-Fi and constant noise, reminded me how healing it is to be truly present. It brought me back to childhood, to unfiltered joy and curiosity. It reminded me how meaningful it is to feel needed, to feel valued, and to connect—deeply—with the world around you.

So thank you, Ban Naklang. Thank you, KSES. For the plants I now know, the people I will never forget, and the memories I’ll carry with me for a long, long time.