Facing the elephant in the room: A morning in Gunitsoga

On March 6^th 2025 in Seronga our Coaching Conservation team packed up camp and set off for Gunitsoga Primary School in Seronga. Spirits were high as we headed out to deliver our Rapid Awareness Programme (RAP) - our signature session designed to help children reconnect with nature, and themselves. 

Upon arrival, we were greeted with warmth and curiosity. The school head, Mrs. Mokgwathi, welcomed us with open arms and soon entrusted us with her upper primary students. As per tradition, we divided the learners into three groups: Standards 5, 6, and 7 with each group ready to dive into their session. 

Coach Goitse took the lead with the Standard 6s. The lesson began as it always does: with energy, and one very large presence — an elephant. Wearing a playful elephant mask and standing beside a flip chart showing the majestic animal, Goitse stepped into character to introduce the students to nature’s giant. 

But something unusual happened. 

As the session began one boy sat stiff unable to look up. He was visibly terrified of the mask. Meanwhile several other students loudly expressed their dislike (even hatred) for elephants. When gently asked why, two students bravely shared a painful truth; an elephant had killed their grandfather. 

Suddenly there was more than just a lesson to deliver. There was a real emotional elephant in the room. 

Despite the tension Coach Goitse pressed on with compassion and care. She explained the role of elephants in the ecosystem helping the students understand how these animals, though powerful and at times dangerous, are also deeply intelligent and vital to our shared environment. The group then moved outside for some games reconnecting through play. 

When the students returned for their post-session M&E reflections something remarkable happened. 

The same three children who had either feared or resented elephants now raised their hands with eager smiles. “I want to help elephants,” one of them said. Nancy, her face glowing with realization, added: 

“I never knew elephants are important and help us. Now I understand that I need to learn their body language to protect both myself and them.” 

Karabo chimed in: 

“I want to be clever like an elephant. From now on, I love them — and I’m going to study hard so I can be like them.” 

Even the quiet boy who was afraid of the mask giggled and said: 

“I always thought elephants just attack people. Now I know they don’t.” 

In that moment, it hit me: this is why we do what we do. 

Sitting beside me, Phatsimo from unchartered Africa, leaned over and admitted she had been worried — unsure how the coach would navigate such a sensitive situation. But by the end of it she smiled and said, “You handled it beautifully.” I couldn’t have agreed more. 

That day in Gunitsoga reminded me that change isn’t always loud or immediate. Sometimes it’s in the shift of a child’s understanding. In the courage to confront fear. In the willingness to replace pain with empathy. That morning we didn’t just teach children about elephants. We helped them feel differently about them. 

And that, without a doubt, has been one of the highlights of our year.