Sarah took her camera from her saddlebag and began to walk around the complex with Piet, stopping to photograph the interiors. The main lounge area was built into the face of the rock, and the counter on the bar had been cut from a single tree trunk, so highly polished that she could see her face in it. On the adjacent viewing platform were comfortable armchairs, and Simon appeared with cushions covered in hand-printed fabrics with African designs. There was a pile of thick blankets in a woven basket, so that guests would be able to stay warm at night as they watched the animals coming to the water. The bedrooms were in six separate rondavels, structured in the same fashion as the main building, each one looking out over a different view. Large, roll-down mosquito screens hung from beams on the verandahs, as a protection against nocturnal bugs and insects, and also from the colony of rock hyraxes that Sarah could hear chattering all around her. She walked on ahead of Piet, photographing the outside of the buildings. Dappled blue guinea fowl strutted on the rocks below her, and lizards with bright orange heads and turquoise bodies sunned themselves on the hot ground. The waterhole was empty of game, except for a troop of baboons on the far side. They watched her for a few moments before resuming their activities of the day, chattering and swinging from the trees, grooming each other, pulling one another’s tails. Then the place went silent, and for a moment Sarah felt something deeply sinister in the stillness. She shivered and looked around, as though some ominous presence might be lurking in the surrounding forest. But there was nothing to be seen. She shrugged the strange sensation away and turned her attention back to her camera.

Piet was thrilled by her questions, and her praise for the ingenuity of the design. Simon appeared with more cushions, and Piet encouraged him to answer some of her queries. Kipchoge stood under the trees below the viewing platform, his ebony skin blending into the shadows cast by the midday sun. At last they climbed the wooden steps that led back to the main viewing area with its deep verandah, and stood looking out over the plains.

‘That’s my most favourite place of all.’ Piet pointed to a ridge above them, its craggy head rearing up on the horizon. ‘We won’t have time to go there today, but I’ll take you soon. It’s the place I always go to when I want to solve a problem, or when I’m particularly happy about something. Or just to dream. My wishing seat. I feel close to the heart of the land there.’ He gave a shrug, as if to apologise for his flight of fancy. ‘Anyway, it’s the best spot for an all-round view of Langani.’