wisdom
down those who wandered and bringing them home. “When you’re 12, you get a promotion to look after the cows,” he says. “Your brain is developing during this time.” This is when tracking becomes deeply ingrained. Ruel’s path to becoming a professional tracker was influenced by his brother, Julius, who started working at Mala Mala in the 1980s, before moving to Londolozi. “He would come back and show me pictures of guests, and I realised tracking was a way to put food on the table,” he says. “When I joined Singita in 2012, the Head Guide mentioned a tracking course. That’s when the fire started to burn in me. Every time they announced a course or assessment, I joined until I got a higher level.” Today, he’s a Level Four Tracker and shares that knowledge with new generations of aspiring and professional trackers. As urbanisation draws young people away from wilderness-adjacent communities, and
the legacies of spatial apartheid continue to shape access to wild spaces and livelihoods, knowledge like his is at risk of being lost. It’s what the Tracker Academy seeks to preserve. Founded in 2010, the Academy trains individuals from neighbouring communities in the traditional skills of tracking, both for ecotourism and wildlife monitoring and protection. Since its inception, more than 350 students have graduated, with over 95% now working in conservation-related fields. “There are two branches of the Academy,” says Ruel. One is the year-long Rhino Guardian programme, which equips 16 recruits per year with specialist tracking and bushcraft skills, alongside in-field anti-poaching and combat training. The Academy also takes another 16 students, focusing on wildlife tracking for ecotourism. This is the programme Ruel is involved in. “But I help with human tracking, too.”
Left It’s not what we find, but the act of looking that awakens wonder.
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