It was so little to go on, but she treasured it anyway. In camp there were never enough hours in the day and she sat up late each night, writing up her notes and watching as the geckos ran across the walls or clung motionless to a single spot, waiting for a mosquito or some other unsuspecting insect to land in their target area. She liked their splayed feet and translucent skin, and the shine of their eyes in the flickering light. Outside she could hear the chatter and shrieks of the hyraxes as they made their night-time sorties. One night she was woken by the unmistakable sound of a lion close to the compound. Dan came to fetch her, and they climbed into the Land Rover with Erope and Julius, and drove to the gate. Just outside their thorn fence they saw him. He was old and battle-scarred, but he had killed a young zebra and dragged it under a tree. He stood his ground, yellow eyes glowing in the headlights, master of his territory, roaring out his claim to the kill, his tail swinging slowly as he faced them down. When he was satisfied that they would approach no closer he returned to his trophy and began to tear it apart, his muzzle glistening with blood. After a while he raised his head and called for his mate to share the spoils. When she returned to bed, Sarah lay awake, listening to the grunting of the old beast, admiring his unwavering sovreignty over his territory.

In the field, Allie and Dan were patient and meticulous. They taught her to log her observations and findings, and never to jump to hasty conclusions or attempt any quick analysis. Discussions were stimulating and informed. Dan’s comments were a mixture of determination and humorous resignation, and his balanced views on Kenya’s political evolution were optimistic but tempered by the reality of experience. Their staff admired and trusted them, that was clear. After a day of blistering heat in the bush, they would sit down with Erope and Julius under the trees in the compound, squatting on their heels and drinking sweet, milky tea out of tin mugs as they discussed the day’s findings.

‘You have to listen to these guys,’ Dan told Sarah from the beginning. ‘Listen to everything they say, because they understand that every small sign and sound is important. Their ancestors have been walking through this bush since time began, finding everything they need to know in a footprint or a torn branch, following a star or a flock of birds in the sky. They are your true guides and teachers. I think they carry a collective memory, and their wisdom is much older than anything you and I can ever aspire to.’