RESCUE MISSION
In her book Meditating with Rhinos, Helena Kriel relates how working with traumatised baby rhinos set her on a path of personal growth.
Scriptwriter Helena Kriel healed after heartbreak through her work with baby rhinos, PLUS an extract from her book Meditating with Rhinos
HELENA KRIEL WAS LIVING a high-flying life. Early on in her writing career, she won the Steven Spielberg Award for Screenwriting and was suddenly launched into Hollywood as an A-list screenwriter. All the doors were flung wide open. Born and raised in Johannesburg, she split her time between South Africa and Los Angeles, moving wherever the next project took her. When she fell in love in LA, she settled there with her partner, thinking she had finally found the place where she belonged.
‘I was the ultimate romantic,’ Helena says. ‘When I finally found the guy I thought was The One, it was all very exciting. And then everything sort of collapsed.’
A writer’s strike in Hollywood caused a massive speed wobble in Helena’s career and, after seven years together, she realised her partner wasn’t the person she wanted to be with after all. ‘When you find the person that you think is right for you,’ she says, ‘you have all these dreams of belonging: I belong with this person; I belong in a family with this person; I belong in a house with this person. You feel like
you’ve come to a place where you can say, “I belong.” And then when all of that comes unglued, suddenly you start questioning where you belong now.’
In a state of emotional confusion, Helena retreated to her roots to find her bearings again – she came home to South Africa. When the opportunity presented itself to volunteer at a wildlife sanctuary for three weeks, Helena welcomed it with open arms. ‘I packed up my stuff, headed north and got further and further away from everything,’ she says. ‘The road was getting bumpier and the trees were getting thornier, and everything was getting wilder and wilder. I didn’t know where I was headed.’ The most important thing at that point was that she was headed away.
When she arrived and found out that Care for Wild Rhino Sanctuary was a recovery centre for abandoned baby rhinos, Helena was overcome by a wave of unexpected emotion. ‘I started weeping in the car. I was suddenly faced with the reality of rhino poaching and the fact that these innocent little creatures were the collateral of poaching. I knew every one of these rhinos was there because their mother had been brutally killed in front of them.
‘Rhinos are with their mothers for up to three years. It’s a deep bond of love. The mother rhino loves that baby with complete devotion and passion. You never see the baby without its mother by its side. Then this terrible thing happens: the mother is butchered in front of them. Not only has that baby had to witness this trauma, but suddenly it also finds itself alone in the bush. And it’s totally defenceless. Sometimes they’re only a day old.’
When sanctuaries like Care for Wild Rhino Sanctuary eventually find them, they’re emotional wrecks, Helena says. ‘We always think of rhinos as stoic, silent animals – but they’re not silent at all. They’re highly talkative. And when they’re deeply upset or traumatised, they cry.’
In those three weeks, Helena’s life took a completely different direction. ‘It changed my focus and it gave me back a real sense of what my purpose was. I had the unbelievable fortune of being put in charge of five baby rhinos. But it was a love affair with one particular little rhino that started this whole adventure for me.’
That was Mabush. He was found drenched in dried blood and with his underbelly covered in a thick layer of ticks. The only way he had survived was by drinking his own mother’s blood after she was killed. When he arrived at the sanctuary, he was severely traumatised: he smashed his wooden crate into pieces, he wasn’t eating and he refused to drink milk. Everyone feared that unless Mabush began drinking milk he could die.
Helena had no idea how to help, but she did know a few things to be true: one, rhinos are incredibly receptive animals – they can read and react to your energy. Two, she knew, from years of her own practice, that meditation can achieve a complete energetic shift, a settling peace in the space around you. And three, that just about anything was worth a shot. And so she tried.
After three weeks at the sanctuary, Helena realised she couldn’t return to her old life. She had been personally exposed to the huge crisis that rhinos face, and she knew she needed to help. ‘The first thing I did was to use my ability as a writer. The second was to start an NPO: Baby Rhino Rescue.’
In order to get the support of the public, Helena wrote the story of each baby rhino she met, creating distinct characters for these little survivors and putting them up for ‘adoption’ in order to get funding. That funding was then channelled into support for the sanctuaries that care for rhinos.
‘Care for Wild Rhino Sanctuary is now the biggest rhino sanctuary in the world,’ she says. ‘They have an army of guards with weapons for protection against the deluge of poaching and poachers; they have horses and dogs, drones and bomas for the baby rhinos, and three strongholds to keep the rhinos safe yet also allow them to be in the wild.’
Six years on, Baby Rhino Rescue now funds two additional rhino sanctuaries.
This deeply personal journey is the subject of Helena’s book, Meditating
with Rhinos. ‘The story moves between the wilds of Los Angeles and the wilds of South Africa. You’ll be introduced to some lovely animal characters, and some very interesting human characters!’
And it’s not just about healing baby rhinos. ‘It’s also my journey,’ Helena says. ‘I was healed in the process as well. Rhinos taught me resilience. When they come in, they are totally trashed, absolutely freaking out. But within three to four weeks that creature has completely turned around. They don’t get stuck in the sort of misery that human beings hang on to.’
Coming out of her own heartbreak, Helena learnt about the expansive opportunity for connection. But almost more importantly, she says, rhinos taught her to grow where you’re planted. ‘We don’t always have a choice about where life puts us down – the baby rhinos knew this especially. But there’s a reason life puts you down where you are. So grow from that instead of resisting it.’
This is a book with many happy endings, including her own. ‘My work with rhinos will never end,’ she says. ‘I will be deeply focused on them for the rest of my life. They are magical creatures.’
It’s early morning and cloud wafts across the hills, sending a cool mist our way. It’s fresh. It’s brisk. I walk through the mist to the barn. It’s like June gloom in LA when fog from the ocean rolls in, turning the world half-earth, half-sky. I walk through sky-earth to the barn for the morning meeting. ‘Get patio furniture, guys.’ Angelique dances to Jacaranda FM and drags a crate into the circle. ‘Very expensive patio furniture from the very expensive patio store!’
I help set up extra crates to accommodate the volunteers, who have just arrived: a group of five adults from Taiwan. They are neat and ordered, with bright backpacks that hold everything imaginable for day, night, winter, summer, storm and shine. The women are delicate and feminine, with splashes of subtle colour that augment a sharp, clean khaki. I marvel at the moment of green earring, the twist of a yellow ribbon, unexpected bright orange socks. They look as if they took a wrong turn en route to a Big Five game reserve, that’s how spruced they are. I envy their ability to pack! They came prepared and decorative. I am neither! They look around, eyes very big.
‘Ja, hallo to all the guys from Taiwan!’ Petronel says. ‘We have been waiting for you. Thank you for coming from across the world to help us here. We are working with an animal that is facing extinction if we don’t work together to turn it around. And this animal, we brought almost to extinction once before. A hundred years ago, the last surviving white rhinos were hanging on for survival; same kak – greed for rhino horn. Ten left! And one hundred black rhinos. But Ian Player, a magnificent environmentalist, who was a senior ranger at the Natal Parks Board, pioneered the method and the drugs to immobilise and translocate large animals so they could move the rhinos to safer places. He saved the rhinos. He tells the story of the day he first saw two white rhinos. They came out of the mist; there was steam rising from their flanks, and he saw how ancient they were. Prehistoric. Do you see? It was a primeval scene. He saw them, and fell in love with them. And that was it. His life changed because, as he says: “I was deeply touched.”’
‘He got the Rhino Portfolio,’ I say. ‘It landed in his lap. And he couldn’t turn away from it.’ Petronel nods. ‘You see, that is true. And if you get the Rhino Portfolio, if you let these ancient animals deeply touch you, your life will be very different going forward. We have work to do together. Because once again, this magnificent animal that feels and remembers, that loves its baby so much; this creature that changes the biodiversity is on the brink of extinction. You have one choice here. Are you going to let social media and the way modern life numbs you affect your life? Or are you going to be touched the way Ian Player was touched? Are you going to leave here differently to how you came? And are you blessed enough to get the Rhino Portfolio?’
The people from Taiwan listen with full attention and respect. Petronel regards them. ‘I can see you guys listen so nicely. I like that. It is a great talent to know how to listen! And I can see you have got the look of the first week here. It’s not called the First Week Monster for nothing. But don’t worry; you will get the hang of it. So today is Monday, guys. Monday is the day for raising hell. ‘We have a lot of young rhinos together in a small space. Wyntir and Tana and Thor, the little black rhino also. And now we have Mabush. Until we know they are settled, we cannot move them down to the big bomas. Four rhinos in a small boma together: think about it. Is this a natural situation for a rhino? No. So the thing that’s most important is hygiene. We’ve got highly compromised animals sleeping in the same place. So today we clean everything! If our cleaning stuff is not in the right place, I can kill. You’re taking all the joy out of the day when you’re looking for stuff. We start with the barn, then we go to the bomas. And we go pole by pole by pole. We scrub it clean and shining. Do you get me?’ She turns back to the Taiwanese team. ‘I’m sorry, you guys, we have to throw you into cleaning.’
Jacaranda FM plays The Beatles and I sing along to I’ll Follow the Sun, which is what it feels like I am doing. I never knew I could enjoy mopping a floor so much! Or wiping hardened hippo slime off the table and chair legs. The volunteers who have been here tackle everything with a concentration that waxes and wanes, because they didn’t really come all the way from Ireland to mop floors. But the Taiwanese fellows jump in, heart and soul. If cleaning is required, then cleaning it will be! They must all be devotees of Marie Kondo. They whisk the milk bottles into symphonic order and rhino crash groups. The files are no longer falling dominoes. The brushes and mop present as though the prop department of the epic movie Out of South
Africa has just finished the set-up for a scene soon to be shot. Because I cannot add anything to this harmony, I walk over to the ICU boma. Dare I hope that Tana and Wyntir have invited Mabush into their little crash? I open the door to the night pen and look into the boma. Wyntir and Tana are lying in the sun, rump to rump, their bodies touching each other. And Mabush is standing alone in a corner, his back to them. His head hangs down. I am crushed. They’re mid-process in a language I cannot speak. I want control over this. If my earlier visualisations worked, perhaps they’ll work again. I close my eyes and in my mind I bring the three together. I open the circle of intimacy with Tana and Wyntir and
‘A deep heat becomes radiant inside me. I am so connected to this creature. My entire body is consumed love.’ with love. '
include Mabush. I have his body line up with theirs. I see this in my mind. When I open my eyes, Mabush is still standing alone. He doesn’t belong, and Wyntir is making sure he knows it. You do not belong!
His pain is real; belonging is the most fundamental aspect of being alive. To belong with another is the societal norm. To belong to ground, to a country, is fundamental and gives one a pride of place. To belong within your time, to be current, to keep pace, to relate with the way society expresses itself, at this moment, means one is relevant, or not. But to belong to oneself would be the mystical approach. The notion of having to belong creates necessity; when that isn’t satisfied, it creates despair. The mystics would say: it’s in becoming free of those societal norms that one creates reliable freedom, and it’s the only true way to be. As soon as one relies on another, one is vulnerable because, in the end, no one can be truly counted on! This may seem like a cynical view, but death will remove even the most constant among us. So even those dependable ones are ultimately removed. World unto self, as they say. World unto self.
But how? Mabush’s misery shows how encoded it is, the need to belong. His deep squeaking shows pain, the pain of not belonging. He belonged with his mother. His world felt right. Now he belongs with no one. And his world feels wrong. I cannot watch the misery of it any longer. I hop over the night pen and approach the rhinos slowly. I’m learning that they don’t understand our human proclivity to approach with directional force. Unless they’re playing, or jostling for milk, they amble or trot. But they don’t rush. They eat with grace, and move their large legs and spongy feet with slow delicacy. I’m learning that an essential part of effective communication with them is to be slow too. I walk in their direction, quietly.
Mabush continues standing: a sorry young rhino, facing away from where he really wants to be, which is with the two females behind him. Tara has indicated that she is open to a hello. But Wyntir is having none of it and rams him hard if he even tries to approach. I don’t want to encroach, but I do want some proximity, so I elect to sit in the big tractor tyre.
It’s a warm lowveld afternoon. ‘Rhi-no,’ I say softly. He seems to associate me with the sound, looks over to where
I am and does a slow amble over. He stops beside me and stares off into the middle distance, a big baggy boy, a sad sack of a rhino boy. ‘Rhi-no,’ I say again. ‘Rhi-no.’ He leans up against the side of the tyre, getting close to me. I run my hands up and down his sturdy side. His skin is rough and hot from sun. My hands feel the coarse leather that covers him. He smells musty and thorny: a deep animal smell, one that I now know. He leans closer. His eyes have a sad look. Maybe I’m projecting, but he looks depressed to me. He bends his back legs into the tyre. This is my cue to rub behind his leg in the soft crease of his inner thigh. ‘Rhi-no.’ It’s a hot afternoon. My hair bakes in the sun. My khaki pants are hot to the touch. I make circles with my palms, covering him in big arcs. He drops to the ground with a deep grunt. I kneel, so I can touch him easily. My palms start out on either side of him and meet in the middle, as if I’m icing a massive cake with my palms. ‘Rhi-no.’ His eyes blink, languidly, then close. We breathe together. The sun bakes us together. I continue running my hands along him, leaning over him, so I can be as close as possible. A deep heat becomes radiant inside me. I am so connected to this creature. My entire body is consumed with love, as Petronel expressed it. Mabush and I are the unfathomable connection of a human and a rhino! I am not evaluating whether what I am doing is right or wrong. I am present, with no holding back. I need nothing from this creature. All I want to do is give everything.
It’s real lowveld weather. We need rain to cool it down. But the sky is a baking blue, no sign of rain anywhere. There’s no shade by the tyre; the sun is relentless. As I continue stroking him, I am taken over by primal heat. It intensifies, spreading out. I feel a profound joy. Mabush grunts. His eyes close as he surrenders to the afternoon. And so do I. He looks contented. I am ecstatic. There is no end to me and no beginning to him. He lies as close to me as he can get. I am folded into, encompassed by and vanished into radiance. I no longer feel like ‘me’. I am something else. And so is he.
He falls into a deep quiet, bonded to me. I feel molten. That’s it. I am molten. It’s as if the components of what makes up a human being have shifted. There is no ‘me’, no ‘him’, no rhino, no human. We are joined in the make-up of creation, we are part of all of it, melted into it all. I am not a woman here with a firm sense of my personality, my place in it all, my relationship to it all, my preferences. I am not any of that. I am all of it. And he is not an animal, a rhino. We’re in a raw merging with the bedrock, the energy of all of it. How long this goes on for I cannot tell. When I finally disentangle myself from him, I do not experience myself in the usual way. I walk very slowly. The earth seems to have an energy I can feel. The afternoon has a pulse. Everywhere I look my eye finds something to be euphoric about. I love it. All of it. There is a happiness into which I vanish. I walk slowly away from the boma.