There are few better places to drink a cold beer than on a quiet patio overlooking a waterhole as evening starts to fall. Not that the big five make a special guest appearance, or that anything remotely dramatic happens. But the slow gathering of warthogs, baboons, a couple of zebra and one majestic kudu make for a fine spectacle. A cool breeze sweeps through thorn trees, orange whirls of cloud turn slowly to bruise, and the night air is full of birdsong and the faint smell of wood smoke.

Part of what makes the moment beautiful is that one’s presence seems incidental to it. One is merely privy to a primal pantomime that has been playing out, according to its own brutal logic, for hundreds and thousands of years without any need of an audience. Everything seems as it should be, as it always has been ... And yet, this is not the case...

BL Premium

This article is reserved for our subscribers.

A subscription helps you enjoy the best of our business content every day along with benefits such as articles from our international business news partners; ProfileData financial data; and digital access to the Sunday Times and Sunday Times Daily.

Already subscribed? Simply sign in below.

Questions or problems? Email or call 0860 52 52 00. Got a subscription voucher? Redeem it now