In the short time he was with us, Askari reminded us of how important love is to elephants. I don't say this flippantly; it can make all the difference in the world. His arrival brought out the very best in two young elephants, Mzinga and Nyambeni — and, in the process, galvanised him. It has echoes of Murera and Luggard's story, but made all the more remarkable because of how young they are.

It was an extraordinary month in which one was witness, on a daily basis, to such selfless love and commitment. There are certainly lessons for humanity in a story like this one.

– Angela Sheldrick

It was the kind of call I dread: In the early hours of 23rd September 2024, Voi Wildlife Lodge reported that a baby elephant had been attacked by lions. Our Voi Keepers drove to the scene to assess the situation, finding a young calf covered in bite marks and struggling to stand. It was discovered that this wasn’t the first time he had been mauled: The same calf had previously been treated by the SWT/KWS Tsavo Mobile Vet Unit for injuries sustained by lions. Given the severity of his injuries this time, KWS requested a rescue.

In consultation with the KWS, we dispatched our helicopter to the scene. The baby was carefully lifted onboard and whisked to the Nairobi Nursery. We called him Askari — the Swahili term for warrior.

During the rescue mission, we were surprised to find a familiar face among the small herd who fought all night to save the calf: ex-orphan Naipoki, who is now living wild. The herd had spent the night standing vigil around the injured calf, shielding him from another lion attack. Remarkably, all the elephants remained totally calm during his rescue, as if they knew that we were trying to save his life. I believe that Naipoki, who we rescued from the bottom of a well 14 years ago, communicated that message.

As the aircraft carried its precious cargo up to Nairobi, Naipoki and her friends melted back into the Tsavo wilderness. Elephants are deeply rooted to family, but they are also wild animals whose primary focus is survival. If they feel that a loved one’s fate is sealed, they make the heartbreaking but necessary choice to let them go. That was plainly the conclusion they had reached with Askari. Still, I like to think that Naipoki imparted a sliver of hope, drawing from her own rescue experience all those years ago.

Askari arrived at the Nursery that afternoon. Our Keepers gently carried him off the helicopter and into a cosy stable. We decided to room him between Mzinga and Nyambeni. We had always known both young girls to be open-hearted and nurturing, but nothing could have prepared us for how they reacted to Askari.

The vet’s prognosis for Askari was always very guarded: Lion bites are notoriously prone to infection and the injuries to his legs were extensive and had penetrated the joint. Our immediate goal was to ease his pain and buoy his spirits — and this was almost as important as fighting the infections and healing his legs, for we know all too well that an elephant’s emotional state is what can make or break a recovery. Little did we know that Mzinga and Nyambeni would play a critical role in this area.

Mustering all his determination, Askari could manage a short hobble, but not much more. Two Keepers led him to the fringes of the forest just beyond the stockades, where he settled in a small clearing. Mzinga and Nyambeni were deeper in the park with the rest of the herd, but somehow they cottoned onto the fact that Askari was out. They charged through the trees and planted themselves next to the little elephant.

And from that day forward, they refused to leave Askari’s side. The following morning, as it was a predetermined plan, Mzinga and Nyambeni emerged from their stables and stood placidly outside Askari’s door. The Keepers tried to coax them into the forest with the rest of the herd, but they wouldn’t budge an inch. The message was clear: We go where Askari goes, and nowhere else!

What could we do but capitulate to their demands? Mzinga and Nyambeni clearly recognised that Askari needed support, and they felt that they were best suited to provide it. We encouraged them to take breaks from nannying to join the wider herd for the mud bath or milk feeds, but they rejected even the briefest separation from their baby.

The girls were in charge, and we just had to do their bidding. We started bringing milk bottles to them and setting up little mud baths in the forest, so they could enjoy all their daily rituals without sacrificing time with Askari, who was extremely immobile.

Mzinga and Nyambeni had an immediate and transformative effect on Askari. The depleted calf we rescued blossomed under their loving care. His injuries remained a real worry, but his emotional state visibly improved. He embraced the girls as his honorary mothers, basking in all the love and attention they lavished upon him.

Askari walked very, very slowly, but Mzinga and Nyambeni never showed any frustration or impatience. They matched his pace step for step, the little elephant firmly planted between their rotund bodies as they fussed over him with their trunks. We often struggled to catch a glimpse of Askari peeking out amidst his adoring entourage. This was by design; we often observed the girls subtly manoeuvres themselves into position to shield him at all times. Mzinga was particularly protective and would mock charge at any ‘unapproved’ (in her mind) person who approached, heart-shaped ears at full mast.

Askari’s days were punctuated by long naps in the forest. While the little boy dozed on a soft patch of undergrowth, Nyamebeni would keep guard while Mzinga also enjoyed a brief kip. Then, the girls would swap roles, with a newly recharged Mzinga acting as the security escort while Nyameni rested. The group was always chaperoned by at least two Keepers, but the girls only trusted each other with the vital task of being Askari’s guards.

Their commitment to Askari spanned all hours. In the evening, when the trio walked back to their stables, the girls refused to enter their rooms until they saw that Askari was safely stowed away in his — and this was even with the promise of a milk bottle waiting inside, which usually woos even the most stubborn elephants!

There is usually a strict hierarchy when it comes to nannying. The eldest females have prime nannying responsibilities, while the younger ones are relegated to supporting roles. But interestingly, the older girls happily deferred to Mzinga and Nyambeni. On a few occasions, Kerrio snuck away to join the trio — where she was warmly welcomed — but otherwise, they allowed Mzinga and Nyambeni to have full guardianship of Askari.

This is the most remarkable part of Askari’s story. I was chatting with Peter, one of our senior Keepers who has been with us for more than 25 years. He has raised more orphaned African elephants than almost anyone else in the world, yet even he was bowled over by the Mzinga-Nyambeni-Askari story. As he said:

“It was an unusual situation, because Nyambeni and Mzinga were still very young. [Both were just two years old at the time.] Females always love to look after new rescues, particularly the little ones, but it is always the older girls who get that privilege. But with Askari, Mzinga and Nyambeni adopted him from the first day. They put their own lives on hold for a full month, giving everything to be with Askari every day, every hour — I have never seen anything like it.”

We certainly had no shortage of qualified nannies: Among the 13 females at the Nursery at the time, Nyambeni and Mzinga were the youngest bar two. It is simply astonishing that these little girls eclipsed nine older females and shouldered such an enormous responsibility.

And not just shouldered, but shined: Mzinga and Nyambeni did an incredible job looking after Askari. Both elephants were rescued as infants — Mzinga was just a few weeks old when she was orphaned, Nyambeni not much older. They likely have no memory of their natal herd, yet they nurtured Askari with the competence of far more experienced matriarchs. I believe this is a testament to our Keepers, who serve as surrogate parents, and their fellow orphans, who provide a much-needed family structure for young elephants who have lost their own families.

As we feared, Askari’s injuries proved too great to overcome. Despite a promising start and constant veterinary care and oversight, he started to decline in late October. On the afternoon of 22nd October, he drew his final breath in his stable, surrounded by his Keepers.

We didn’t want to subject Mzinga and Nyambeni to any undue trauma, so they were not present for Askari’s passing. But they understood what had happened. The girls were subdued but stoic for the remainder of the day, accepting the loss and turning to their big nannies for comfort. Appreciating that the tables had turned and the little nannies now needed support, Kerrio and Sileita showered Nyambeni and Mzinga with the same love that they had shown Askari.

Elephants, like most wild animals, seem hardwired to accept loss. But still we worried that Askari’s death might have long-term effects on Nyambeni and Mzinga. Fortunately, that was not the case. The girls were soon reunited with their old gang at the mud bath and appeared to have turned the page. Kerrio and Shujaa had clearly missed their besties, and they celebrated their return to the fold with a marathon session in the mud. It was a touching reminder that everything would be okay. I personally reconcile these losses by believing Daphne and David are there, waiting in the great somewhere.

Mzinga and Nyambeni’s chapter with Askari was brief but profound. I can say without a doubt that we are looking at two future matriarchs — a remarkable statement for elephants who are still firmly in the toddler phase. For now, they have embraced their return to being Nursery babies. Their time will come — in the not-too-distant future, they will be mini matriarchs, and many years down the line, they will raise families and lead herds of their own.

While Askari’s time on earth was tragically cut short, I try not to reflect upon his story with sadness. Two little elephants stepped up to the plate in order to make his final chapter a wonderful one. My lasting memory of Askari will be of him sitting in the forest, eyes half-closed as his nannies bustled around him like mother hens. There was no fear or unhappiness, just contentment. If one’s story must end too soon, what a beautiful note on which for it to close.