Argentina’s last captive elephant finally wins her freedom

On a hot day in July, Kenya the elephant was taking her time to exit her transport crate and enter her new home. But after 30 minutes, the 13,200-pound African elephant stepped out of the crate, shook off the dust, briefly explored her surroundings, then proceeded to roll in a mound of red earth.

“She did it like a little girl,” says Juan Ignacio Haudet, director of biodiversity and ecopark of Mendoza City in Argentina. It was the first time in the last three years of working with her that he had seen her frolic, bathe her entire body, or even enjoy food.

Kenya was the last captive elephant in Argentina. She arrived at the Global Sanctuary for Elephants in Brazil, the only elephant sanctuary in South America, after several months of rehabilitation at the Ecopark of Mendoza City, where she had lived her entire 40 years of life in captivity.

(Elephants are learning to live with us. Can we do the same?)

Her release earlier this year was made possible by a 2016 Argentine law—passed amid growing public pressure and advocacy from animal protection groups—mandating the closure of the nation’s zoos, their transformation into ecoparks, and the relocation of exotic animals to sanctuaries or rescue centers.

The team that traveled with Kenya to Brazil says she arrived at the sanctuary trumpeting, as if making a triumphant entrance that marked the end of 136 years of elephant captivity in Latin America’s second largest country.

A years-long journey

It was a difficult journey to get here.

Asian elephant Pelusa was the first elephant in Argentina selected for relocation. Like Kenya, she spent her entire life alone, though she lived at the La Plata Zoo. But Pelusa died in 2018 at age 52, just days before her transfer to the Global Sanctuary for Elephants.

(What happens when elephants live alone.)

That wasn’t the only loss. Merry, an Asian elephant kept in a private zoo who performed from a very young age in a circus, died that same year at age 50. In 2024, while waiting for international permits for relocation and cross-border travel, African elephant Kuky passed away at just 34 years old. And just a few weeks before Kenya’s trip this year, Tamy—a 55-year-old Asian male who had already completed his rehabilitation process—died as well.

In the wild, the average age of a healthy elephant is between 60 and 70 years, but that average changes significantly for elephants forced into confinement. In Kenya’s case, decades spent in captivity took a gradual but relentless toll, says Tomás Sciolla, a director for the Equity Sanctuary at the Frank Weber Foundation: leg problems from lack of movement, muscle loss, intestinal disorders, and liver disease.

“The winters are very cold, the summers are very hot, and the space we had was limited and on hard ground,” Haudet says about the conditions at Mendoza Zoo, which closed in 2016 and was turned into the Ecopark, a center designed for the conservation of endangered native species without keeping them in captivity. “We didn’t have the facilities or the budget to provide the specialized, intensive care elephants require.”

In 2008, Leandro Fruitos, a council member of the current Mendoza Ecopark, began collecting signatures to close the zoo. As a representative of the Franz Weber Foundation, a nonprofit that organized the relocation of all elephants from Argentina, he led communications with the Mendoza government and international institutions to secure permits—ones that expired four times for two other elephants and three times for Kenya due to what he describes as “political whims.”

The Mendoza Zoo has remained off-limits to the public ever since its closure. Over the past decade, more than 1,500 exotic animals from the zoo have been relocated to sanctuaries and rescue centers in Argentina and abroad—a slow but steady effort that has given the remaining residents more space and better living conditions, including permanent health monitoring to ensure the animals’ well-being.

Several other zoos in Argentina have also been converted into ecoparks since 2016, although the process requires both time and significant funding.

Kenya’s arrival to join Asian elephant Mara and African elephant Pupy—animals from other zoos in Argentina who reached the Brazilian sanctuary in 2020—stands as a testament to years of struggle, patience, and loss. Her first roll in the red earth was not just a moment of freedom, but a tribute to those who never made it.

How these elephants relearn trust

Elephants of Kenya’s age carry psychological wounds that are impossible to erase, according to Scott Blais, founder of the Global Sanctuary for Elephants. He explains that many were victims of “selective culls,” a practice common during the 20th century, in which hunters shot adults from helicopters.

“In some cases, they tied the calves to the leg of their dead or dying mother, and then put them in a box,” he recalls. These calves were then sent by poachers or animal traffickers to zoos and circuses around the world, condemned to a lifetime of confinement without a proper diet or adequate space to move, Blais says.

It is unknown whether Kenya experienced the tragedy of being torn from her mother, but she was just four years old in 1984 when she was purchased and brought to Mendoza following an agreement with Tierpark Berlin, a zoo in Germany. She was placed in an enclosure with another calf who died of pneumonia shortly after. From then on, she lived alone, the only African elephant at the Mendoza Zoo—a solitary member of a deeply gregarious species.

But veterinarian Johanna Rincón of the Franz Weber Foundation finds hope in the sadness. “There is a tendency to think that it is challenging to gain the trust of these animals, but they are so broken that it is easy to build it,” says Rincón, who participated in the transfers of Kenya, Mara, and Pupy, and also worked on the health checks for Kuky and Tamy.

Rincón learned to interpret each of Kenya’s gestures.

“With the others, I only saw their trunks; with Kenya, I learned to see her gaze,” she says. “You have to show them that you understand them and that you are going to establish a respectful relationship.”

Another obstacle is getting the elephants to recognize the transport crate as a safe place. There, they receive food, water, and care. The crate has a restraint system, similar to a seatbelt, designed to keep them comfortable.

But they must understand that this is a temporary, albeit stressful, situation. Closing the crate is often one of the tensest moments, as the animal can become frightened or angry, potentially delaying the entire process.

Kenya, however, responded favorably: She accepted the confinement and endured the five-day journey to Brazil without any major difficulties.

Blais describes Kenya as a “very sensitive and expressive elephant” who, at the beginning of training, exhibited “deep insecurities which were evident in the way she cautiously approached and interacted with humans.” He says he watches her transformation with awe, even though it’s just beginning.

Kenya and the future of other captive elephants

Now, Kenya is connecting with her neighbor Pupy, exercising her muscles more than ever, hiking hillsides, and knocking down trees in her habitat. She rolls in the mud and grass, which not only brings her joy, but also helps improve the health of her feet by exfoliating dead skin from her body.

“We are witnessing the layers of trauma begin to peel back,” Blais says.

Sciolla hopes Kenya’s story will inspire other countries. Zoos in Chile and Mexico already expressed interest in replicating the Argentine experience for the transfer of their elephants. “Elephants should not live in captivity,” Sciolla says. “That is not conservation.”

Haudet, director of the Mendoza Ecopark, often hears from disappointed zoo patrons who want their kids to see these elephants.

“People have to understand that what they saw at the zoo wasn’t an elephant; it was just the appearance of an animal with a trunk, ears, and legs… but it didn’t behave like an elephant, didn’t eat like an elephant, didn’t live like an elephant,” he says. “With every little step, Kenya brings us joy and shows us that this is the path—that she was the last elephant in captivity in Argentina, and that there’s no turning back.”