Blog

We recently published some thoughts from caregiver Michele on her process of getting to know Maia over time. Our goal is to share experiences that our care team has had with each of the elephants and what people have learned from them and about them during their daily interactions. Today, we share some moving thoughts from Flor, who has begun working with Rana on a regular basis. Rana is lovely and sometimes complicated, but she and Flor are becoming a good team. Here’s her story:

I am only just beginning to get to know Rana—to open my heart to her and to become part of her daily treatments. When I was told that I would begin working with her, I felt a mixture of happiness and deep nervousness. Before starting, I asked for some time. I didn’t feel ready. My heart was still very broken after the loss of Pupy and Kenya, and I felt that maybe I wouldn’t be able to do it. My sadness felt overwhelming, and I was afraid that I wasn’t strong enough to support such a sensitive soul.

With time, I began getting to know Rana. In my own way, I shared with her how I was feeling. Almost immediately, I felt as if she embraced me deeply, as if she somehow let me know that I could do it, that love is stronger than pain. [The elephants] too have lived through very difficult stories—through loss, hardship, and many years of suffering. And yet, here they are, giving themselves another chance to live. Another chance to trust. Another chance to allow themselves to be helped… and to be loved.

In our daily conversations, as we share feelings, observations, and different perspectives about the elephants, I often heard that Rana has a very selective personality. She seems to need to feel that you are truly sincere—that you open your heart completely and hide absolutely nothing. To me, Rana carries a powerful and imposing presence on the outside. But within that strength, I sense something else: a deep tenderness. A fragile softness that is not always easy to see, and a huge love that seems to live quietly behind her majestic presence.

For me, Rana is like those friends in life who gently remind you who you truly are. As if she were saying: Be who you really are. Be transparent. Be real. Don’t forget to stay present with what you do, with what you feel, and with what might affect or hurt you. Walk through life with both your eyes and your heart open. Never lose your focus, and never lose your essence. And something equally important: respect yourself. Know how to set the boundaries that need to be set.

Rana also has a very unique way of communicating. Her vocalizations are unmistakable. When she vocalizes, it is never just a sound. It feels like an expression of everything she carries inside—a way of saying that she is here, present. It is as if her voice moves through the space, reminding us that she also has so much to say, so much to feel, and so much to share.

I am only at the beginning of my journey with her. I am still learning how to know her, how to listen to her, and how to understand everything she communicates—even in the quiet moments, when there are no obvious sounds or movements. Every moment with Rana is also a small lesson for me, a reminder of the importance of patience, presence, and emotional honesty. With her, it feels like there is no place for masks, no space to hide what you feel. Rana seems to perceive everything.

After going through such deep sadness, reconnecting with these relationships has also become a form of healing for me. They, who have endured so much in their lives, still find the strength to open themselves to life again. And inevitably, that transforms those of us who walk beside them as well. Sometimes healing is also the quiet work of helping the heart understand what the mind already knows. My journey with Rana is only beginning, and I know I still have so much to learn rom her story, her sensitivity, and her unique way of being in the world. To understand their world.

Photo of a very muddy Rana