Paul

9,050 square kilometers of forest, and he knows it all like the back of his hand. He’ll stop where you can see nothing and point out a fist-sized bird with a lion-size name, telling you what it eats, where it sleeps, how it hatches its eggs, and possibly, if you press a little, its horoscope as well.

In the dark, he’ll hear a grunt and tell you that’s a leopard’s mating call. He’ll even ensure you look in the right direction and spot the spots, waiting while you take photos, softly explaining what’s going on.

50 meters from well-fed lions, he’ll pick up a recently gnawed-at zebra leg and hold it up for you to inspect from the safety of your car, smilingly confident that he can leap onto the car and drive away if a yellow-eyed predator comes charging out at him.

In the blackness of night he will remind you to look up and point out the Southern Cross as starry sawdust litters the sky.

In his entire life he has been away from the forest for only 3 weeks, to a nearby city.

So I was really disappointed when he told me that in those 3 weeks he’d not missed the forest at all. It would have been so much more romantic if he’d said he couldn’t sleep all those nights rather than that he enjoyed visiting the clubs.

But that’s what makes him human.