From fear to trust: a community ranger’s path to protection

His house stood near the road, new and clean, with wide eaves to keep off the rain. The kitchen was alive with the rhythm of family: sisters, aunts, pots clattering, voices rising over the steam of rice. In Dai families, when a guest arrives, everyone contributes. It felt less like a meal, more like a welcome.

Over tea, I asked Sanshuai why he chose this work, even though it was often hard, sometimes dangerous. He paused before answering.

"At first, it was just a job," he said. "It was close to home. I could care for my family. But then I saw it had meaning. In the beginning, villagers didn't listen. They simply wished for us to 'control the elephants'. Now, it's different. When they see me in the fields, they come and ask: 'Where are the elephants? Are they close?' Sometimes they even tell me what they've seen. That trust-it makes the work worth it."

He smiled, then added, "Before, I only walked the nearby villages. Now, following elephants, I've walked every field, every valley in Mengman. I've come to know my home again."

"People here are afraid of elephants, but they also love them. If we do our job well, if we monitor, warn, and promote safety measures day after day, then fewer people and elephants will be hurt. That is the best gift we can give our home and our community."

That's what the Community Ranger Network has become-a way to protect, to connect, and to come home. It isn't always easy. It requires long days, sleepless nights, and deep patience. But through the work of Sanshuai, and others like him, we are seeing fewer injuries, more understanding, and a future where people and elephants can share space with less fear and more respect.

In the next piece in this series, we'll step back to look at the wider impact of this programme: the data, the shifts in public perception, and what it takes to support the rangers who carry the work forward every day.