11/01/2026
Some lives don’t fit into a single job title.
This is what I mean when I say, “I’m the daughter of a conservationist.”
He moved easily between worlds because he met people where they were. He spoke Zulu, Shona, and Afrikaans fluently — not as a skill to display, but as a responsibility he took seriously. Many of the men caught up in poaching didn’t speak English. My dad believed they deserved to understand what was happening to them. To know their rights. To be spoken to in their own language, with clarity and dignity, at one of the most vulnerable moments of their lives.
He never confused individuals with the systems behind them. He understood that many people involved in poaching were human first — often vulnerable to the far greater evil behind it: the organisations funding and profiting from destruction.
That same ethic carried into the quieter, everyday parts of his work. He noticed wild peach trees growing along mountain roads — fruit going unused — and saw opportunity rather than waste. He taught local Zulu women how to make peach jam and sell it alongside the baskets they already wove and traded. It wasn’t charity. It was added value. A way to strengthen what already existed, create additional income, and make a real difference in people’s daily lives.
My dad began his career in conservation in his early thirties, during what many call the glory days of conservation in South Africa — the 80s and 90s — when Natal Parks Board later became Ezemvelo, and conservation meant long days, deep responsibility, and quiet leadership.
That worldview shaped my childhood.
Conservation wasn’t loud or performative in our home — it was practical, patient, and deeply human. Solutions were local. Relationships and connections mattered.
These images explain why I move the way I do.
Why I question extractive travel.
Why I care about who benefits, who protects, and who is left behind.
This isn’t the past.
It’s the groundwork.
This is for all the children of conservationists - mothers and fathers that were not only our heroes, but the heroes of life itself🦏🌿