When did you fall in love with the bush?
I have a confession. As a youngster, I hated going to the bushveld. I found it boring and monotonous and never understood why we’d have to stop the car every five minutes to watch lugubrious beasts eat grass. What more was there to see once you’d spotted them? Family trips to the Kruger felt like punishment; like being made to stand in the corner of a classroom. Except the classroom was an endless veld where nothing ever happened and the corner was a car window, with Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’ blaring from the speakers because my dad thought it made ruminating giraffes look like they were lip-synching. It made me wonder who did start that fire and if I could persuade them to start one where I was so we’d be forced to go home where I could race my best friend Steven to the mall on my 18-speed Raleigh bicycle...