Each story hopes to illuminate what we can learn, what we can gain, what we can glean by coming back to nature – or at least, by coming closer to it. And how this can inspire us to give freely of ourselves in turn.
renewal
volume 3
contents
welcome note
inspiration
the forest is coming
rewriting the future
on renewal
small is beautiful
experience what we find in the wild pula, pula, pula
to eat from the earth
wisdom an appreciation of impala finding life in death sowing the seeds
welcome
There are so many possibilities in everything, from a humble seed to a new season.
Things grow and change, and we might not see or notice it. But still, they grow.
In this volume of the Singita magazine,
we explore the concept of renewal.
Each story hopes to illuminate what we can learn, what we can gain, what we can glean by coming back to nature – or at least, by coming closer to it.
And how this can inspire us to give freely of ourselves in turn.
We hope you enjoy, The people of Singita
Look with renewed appreciation
at the
little things.
Click here to listen to the sounds of Sweni while reading.
inspiration
inspiration
the forest
is coming
Slowly but surely, our property in Rwanda
is being reclaimed by the wilderness.
Click here to watch Sharon Machira’s video: The Forest is Coming.
inspiration
Renewal in nature happens constantly and in tiny increments, all around us, invisible to the naked eye. It’s often only when we look back that we can see how far we have come. Singita Volcanoes National Park is set within a landscape of wetlands and lush meadows, with the looming silhouettes of the Sabyinyo, Gahinga, and Muhabura volcanoes in the not- so-distant distance. An amphitheatre of majesty and mystery. A symbol of endurance, and yet ever evolving. When Kwitonda and Kataza House were conceived, part of the vision that inspired them was a commitment to regeneration, and to the land that hosts them, through great strides, but also small steps over time. The location of the property, right on the edge of the park, demanded a vision that was sympathetic to this precious ecosystem, that would also nurture it in the years to come.
Nature has been integral from the outset. The landscape is intentionally woven into the design through materials with a sense of place, in part to enrich the experience of being there, but also to allow people to feel the impact of its closeness. Moss has crept over volcanic stone walls, softening their edges and embracing the buildings. Eventually, trees that were planted will envelop the lodge, too. Mountain bamboo, ferns, and giant lobelias will form a natural backdrop that over time will engulf it and reclaim it into the forest. The land between the lodge and the edge of the park forms a bridge between the wild, unpopulated property and the private concession. Between the present and what’s possible in the future. When guests go on walks around the property, they can see first-hand how the borders between have blurred.
Previous spread The forest has gradually crept closer, merging with the lodge. Above Conservationist Charles Nsabimana was born nearby and has witnessed the changing landscape over time.
Where nature returns,
hope takes root.
inspiration
“We encourage guests to plant trees to participate in the restoration of this area. We want to leave the planet better than we found it. I want my children and their children to grab hold of this vision to see the wilderness of Africa thrive,” says Charles Nsabimana, a conservationist at Singita. Charles loves the diversity of this area, from the small flowers to the majestic volcanoes. “Nature is everything to human beings and wildlife. If we take care of nature, nature in return will take care of us.” And he is truly one with this place. Born at the base of Sabyinyo, he has always been connected to the landscape. He has witnessed the evolution of rainforest to community grazing and crop fields, and now leads its ongoing regeneration. Five years ago, there were just five species here. Now, 120 indigenous species and 350,000 trees thrive across the property.
And in the process of planting indigenous species and clearing alien ones, amidst ongoing efforts to care for the land, the cycle of renewal has taken on a life of its own. Simply by supporting its regeneration, nature has been allowed to take its course. Trees and plants have continued to seed themselves, creating a ripple effect – their spread gathering momentum as the seasons and years pass. Robert Mugabe, another resident conservationist, says that the Rwenzori turaco, a bird that usually remains within the borders of the forest, has been spotted in trees around the lodge. Tangible and colourful proof of this rewilding. The forest is coming. This is how Robert describes the gradual and welcome approach of the wilder landscape. “We are not separate from the forest anymore. When I see this forest growing, when I see the birds and the animals return, I feel happy. This is something worth seeing and showing. Good things are coming.”
Right Conservationist Robert Mugabe walks with guests through the property, pointing out all the ways it has regenerated.
Light is the vehicle
by which we see.
Dawn blossoms.
Every sunrise is a message of renewal.
inspiration
rewriting
White rhinos now roam Gonarezhou for the first time
in nearly a century.
the
future
21
inspiration
When reading about a landmark event like this, you may not always know the full weight behind the moment, or realise all that came before. The culmination of years of planning and work and many moving parts, it’s a testament to the power of collaboration and a vision that doesn’t waver in the face of challenges. This was the case for the recent relocation of 30 white rhinos from the Malilangwe Wildlife Reserve to its southern neighbour, Gonarezhou National Park, in May. Thanks to a multifaceted operation and intricate planning by the Gonarezhou Conservation Trust, in collaboration with the Government of Zimbabwe, the Zimbabwe Parks and Wildlife Management Authority, and The Malilangwe Trust , white rhinos now roam this property for the first time in nearly a century. This achievement makes a future in which a viable metapopulation is possible here, in Zimbabwe’s second-largest national park.
Although there is the occasional record of individual white rhinos in Gonarezhou up to 1992, the last viable population here probably dates back to the early 1900s. Their reintroduction to Zimbabwe began in the second half of the 20th century from KwaZulu-Natal in South Africa, but until now, no attempt has been made to reestablish their population in Gonarezhou. A complex undertaking: While not the first rhino relocation to the reserve – a successful reintroduction of black rhino was completed in 2021 – this was the first that sought to move white rhinos. This marks another success in a long and close collaboration between The Malilangwe Trust and the Gonarezhou Conservation Trust over the past decade. “The rhino project is mutually beneficial because Malilangwe requires a safe destination for its expanding rhino populations, and Gonarezhou wanted to establish a viable population of white rhino in the park,” says Sarah Clegg from The Malilangwe Trust.
inspiration
A century
lost.
A future
bravely reclaimed.
This win-win scenario achieved the Gonarezhou Conservation Trust’s objective to preserve both rhino species and, with a suitable habitat for both, it made sense to build on the investment made into the protection of the black rhinos and grow a white rhino population too – restoring an element of biodiversity that was previously lost to the park. A different animal: While the operational and security infrastructure was already in place, this was by no means a simple cut-and-paste. Firstly, it was much larger – the 2021 rhino translocation involved 10 black rhinos from Malilangwe, while the 2025 translocation involved 30 white rhinos. “Black and white rhino translocations are managed differently. As a species, black rhinos are easier to manage under tranquilisation, and they settle relatively quickly into individual pens. In contrast, managing white rhino translocations can be more challenging because this species
is particularly sensitive to immobilising drugs. Unlike black rhinos, white rhinos prefer communal transition pens, but these large, shared areas make it difficult to protect small or subordinate individuals from their fellows during the settling period,” says Sarah. The sensitivity of the operation and the species, and the high stakes involved, necessitated thoroughness. Source populations were studied, and reintroduction methods and post-release monitoring procedures were carefully considered. The operation was then completed between April and May 2025. Says Simon Capon from the Gonarezhou Conservation Trust: “For Gonarezhou, the most rewarding aspect has been to be able to bring white rhinos back to the park after so long. The journey isn’t over, though – the rhinos are now in Gonarezhou, but there is still a lot of work to do to protect them and continue to grow and develop the project.”
inspiration
on
renewal
Visual artist Tatenda Chidora
shares his thoughts on nature’s role
in the creative process.
27
inspiration
“In this rushing world, we tend to get cluttered by everyday activities.
The overstimulating buzz of the city is our soundtrack,
and it’s made worse by the congestion of traffic
that becomes our screen time.
The many demands of life, moving from one present moment to the next, lead us to forget to look at the simple things that surround and coexist with us. Simple things like feeling and listening to your heartbeat become foreign, and watching a sunset undisturbed becomes close to impossible.
I think of renewal as a sense of reconnection,
as grounding oneself to a centre of calm, neutrality, and recharge. Or placement in a sense of optimal balance with what resonates with us. I’m often inspired, but more so when I’m in nature. This feeling of grounding just settles within.
Previous spread In coming back to the earth, rain carves new ways through the world. In Spring, even shadows reveal signs of new life. This spread The power of a shower to reinvigorate and restore. Following spread Growth is growth, even when it’s hard to see.
inspiration
Click here to listen to our podcast with Tatenda Chidora.
Nature consciously slows you down, allowing you to be present and observe the world around you intentionally. Not trying to rush to the next thing or being under pressure to produce or meet the demands
of what hasn’t happened yet.
Being in nature allows my mind to declutter, wonder, dream, and follow through with the ideas that have gone away with the wind
because of so much distraction.
Because of what surrounds me,
being in the bush serves as a moment of refreshment and rest.
I’ve been able to find fresh perspectives for ongoing projects and clarity on the current ones I might have left behind.
My senses are awakened to noticing the details of everything around me. Observing sunrises and sunsets brings a metaphorical sense of renewal and hope.
I find a space that allows me to feel textures
and notice the colours, patterns,
and shapes that we are naturally a part of
but don’t pay attention to.”
TATENDA CHIDORA
The sudden wonder of emergence
shakes us out of plodding repetition.
inspiration
small
is beautiful
Our designs are an ode to nature. But more than that,
they’re an homage to nature’s artistry – to the tiny,
delicate, bright and lovely details
we sometimes overlook.
In Sweni’s spaces, the design mirrors these shapes,
textures, and colours
in all their complex beauty.
Look with renewed appreciation
at the little things...
34
inspiration
Multicoloured and complex: Gentle pastels create a soft landing, but are lifted by pops of intense jewel tones and grounded by earthy hues. Light and shade. Iridescent teal, warmed by dusky pinks and rich chocolate and gold. Electric and yet soothing. Bold and energising, but gentle and comforting. A microcosm of contrasts and contradictions. A celebration of the almost-impossible beauty of the colours in nature’s living things.
inspiration
Click here to listen to our Style & Design podcast.
inspiration
Honouring nature’s intricacy: The intricacy of nature can be seen in the patterns and geometric surfaces that make up the jewel box of the lodge’s interior. Strong shapes – expressed in chairs, tiles, and textiles – speak to nature’s intrinsic sense of order. Faceted vessels catch the light. Tiles are laid in diamond patterns that call to mind the symmetry of a tortoise shell. Rich and precious. Honouring the complex constructions of nature. The feathers, scales, shells, and pods that protect or adorn each life.
inspiration
inspiration
A gentle embrace: A cocoon of comfort. The softness of nature’s caress. Muted tones and soft linens speak to the earth and forest floor. Dip dye and ombre tones that mimic the gentle turning of a leaf, the gradual gradient of a bird’s feathers, a period of rest before transformation. Fluffy blankets, the softness of the dust on a moth’s wing, a seedpod bursting.
inspiration
A precious jewel: The sheen of birds’ feathers and the glint off a beetle’s shell find their way into Sweni’s spaces in the form of glossy tiles and metallic orb pendants. The mirrored surface of the river at its calmest is present in reflective glass surfaces that paint the dapple of the trees outside. Polished wood and the lustre of veined marble amplify the golden atmosphere, bringing the richness of nature in.
experience
experience
what we find
in the wild
In the wild, we are quietly restored.
Intuition knows it and science confirms it.
Nature offers glimpses of renewal,
both poetic and profound,
and a gentle return
to ourselves.
experience
Birds Like fragments of dreams, birds flying upwards lift us out of melancholy, promise future direction, and speak of opportunity. There’s renewal in the possibilities. Birds can go anywhere and carry colour to new places. We can be like this, too, moving up into blue hope. We have enough in common that we want to be like them: warm blood, two keen eyes, and a desire to be warm. Vulnerable yet visionary. There are so many different kinds that there’s
often one that really speaks to us, sings to us, stands out in a landscape, drawing our attention. Every eruption of wings is a new pattern, giving our minds a burst of freedom from the constraints of linear thinking. Found feathers are a simple benediction. A blessing. A reminder of avian grace. Birds are often dishevelled, like us, and need a bath – a glimpse of kinship. Their songs are a safe sound, not only musical, but a reminder to our deeper selves that danger is not close.
experience
Emergence The sudden wonder of emergence shakes us out of plodding repetition. All is not predictable. Delight is stirred. Curiosity and hope are interwoven; there is novelty, a hint of extravagance, and we find ourselves in childlike states where play and wonder are possible again. Something in us wants not to be in control, to receive the gift of surprise.
experience
Green Green is powerfully good for us. Extensive research shows it is calming and restorative for mind and body. In places where there are endless combinations in every shade, the restoration is deeper, more nuanced and profound. Gaze longer and allow immersion in greenness – you are being restored by colour itself. This mysterious power of the world has a word: viriditas.
Water Thirsty landscapes echo thirsty souls. The sight and feel of rain refreshes our spiritual state. Water, like a womb, holds possibility. The many states of water reflect our own liquidity - we can be tame, wild, natural, constrained, misty. Ripples move at a different pace from our regular rhythms, captivating and quietly drawing our attention. The unfocused movement counters our busyness, resetting the deeper rhythms of the soul.
experience
Seeds Opening amidst hardship, there is beauty in seeds, and in their pods once they’re sent. There’s extravagance to their design. Life offers seeds in every season, no matter how bleak. Seeds are little centres of renewal, focus points of pregnant hope, of possibility. Seeds in us, grains of ideas, growth is possible even after years of dormancy, we have something good waiting in us, and seeds can call it out. Our own growth is mirrored in them. Like us, they guard the future. Eager packages of potential, full of hope. Eternal optimists. Little knights in smooth armour whose very existence is to continue, perpetuate, and defend the grail of life.
experience
Patterns Visible patterns at the level of both landscape and leaf offer a sense of relief that there is enough hidden structure and substance in the world to hold our faltering humanity. Unstructured organic shapes rest eyes weary from angular
human designs. Paying attention to order, fractals, structure, and design, we intuit there are deeper worlds within the earth and within us, a sense that we are carried by something greater than ourselves.
experience
Light Our eyes seek both places of constancy and the novelty of change. Light is the vehicle by which we see. Dawn blossoms. Every sunrise is a message of renewal. Both natural and dappled light have proven health benefits, easing anxiety and depression.
Views Vast distances allow the eyes to readjust from staring intently at fixed intervals. To glimpse infinite possibility through gazing, where the eye can roam freely to the horizon to drink a view until your thirst is met.
drawn drips descend.
Tiny drops condense,
experience
pula,
pula,
When the rains come,
they return more to the world
than water.
pula
experience
Throughout history, across Africa, people have actively called for the rains. Songs were sung and rituals performed to please the ancestors – the mediators between humans and a higher power – who would release them, enlivening the earth again. In the Mamaala clan of the Ndebele Tribe, this responsibility fell to priestesses called Baroka, who practised their elemental control from a homeland west of the Kruger National Park, in central northern South Africa. Reaching for the rains: Spring in the Southern Hemisphere starts in late September, and the rains follow in the next few months. But when they didn’t, a Moroka would call for them from a shrine built and decorated with elements of the natural world, which few were permitted to enter. Young, abstinent males would embark on a barefoot hunt for hard-to-find buck or lizard, led across undulating terrain by an elder. Their live bounty, along with the flesh of a sacred snake and a branch of a sacred tree, would be placed at the shrine’s entrance, and all would chant, “ Pula, Pula, Pula ”. “ Rain, Rain, Rain .” Young, abstinent females would also collect water from a specific waterfall in a calabash
using their left hand and return to the shrine with it balanced on their head. If it fell, they would leave it and chant, “ Pula, Pula, Pula .” If they made it back, they would leave it on the ground and chant the same. With these resources, the Moroka could begin her ritual, stirring the water in a clay trough and sprinkling it over a great reptile that lived in the centre of her shrine. And so, it was said, the rains would come. But, if they still didn’t, women would collect water in the same way as the girls and pour it over the graves of deceased rainmakers in order of seniority, chanting “ Pula ” at each one. And if that didn’t work, the boys would mix water with the bark of a specific tree, and move in procession around the village, pouring this mixture on every mark of impurity before sweeping it with a wattle branch and chanting “ Pula ”. Then they would smash their calabashes in the Moroka’s maize field and shout “ Pula ” again, before returning to the shrine, where they would be doused with water, then pour it on the roof of one of the Moroka’s female relatives and pass under its dripping thatch, chanting one final “ Pula ”. Always, there was a way to reach for the rain.
Previous spread The spectacle of storm shows in its scale, and what comes after. Right All life has a relationship with water, some more unique than others. Following spread Rain coaxes creatures big and small out from hiding.
Click here to enjoy a chorus of African bullfrogs.
experience
Where the rains falls,
life will follow.
With rain comes renewal: This is just one example, but the art of rainmaking lives on across much of Africa – in oral histories, folklore, and memory. In some places, it’s still being practised. In others, efforts are being made to preserve it, as with the Mamaala. These rituals, intricate and deliberate, are driven not only by desperation or drought, but by hope and respect for the inseparable link between people and place, water and life. With rain comes renewal. Wherever it falls, grasses surge, watering holes swell, and life follows in abundance. Over a few weeks, the landscape, dusty, brown and endlessly yellow, becomes overwhelmingly thick and green. Ferns unfurl, buds burst open, and creatures big and small emerge, singing their gratitude for the respite. Choruses of birds and frogs ring out through the crisp air, and if you look closely in trees and the bushes around pools, you’ll see them, clinging to dewy shoots and branches, waiting to mate. Herbivorous hermits emerge from their hiding places to graze on the abundant greenery and give birth, and predators follow
suit, hungry and ready to hunt. Leaves and flowers of every shade fill the veld with stipples of colour. With the worry of drought washed away, wildlife becomes more sociable, gathering around watering holes and rivers. One gets a true sense of Africa’s natural richness. The earthy smell of petrichor can make us feel alive – invigorated, even. On a biological and instinctual level, it’s meant to. As with most things, rain can be just rain. Beautiful and vague in function. But the closer we look at it, the more we think about it, the more we realise it isn’t just a necessity for life – it’s life itself. An act of return: In many ways, Spring is a season of return. Rain returning to earth. Nourishment returning to soil. Populations returning to balance. And with this, the wonder in everything – from a single raindrop to a thundering shower – shifts from being about magnitude to being about meaning. And we start to understand why our ancestors’ efforts to call for the rains were so elaborate.
Left Water, like a womb, holds possibility.
Skies darken
and the land
comes alive with colour.
experience
to eat
from
the
earth
Giving begets giving,
and a gift stays in motion.
77
experience
Wherever we dig, we’re bound to find some depth. Sometimes, it leads away from our rooted understanding, and what once seemed simple takes on new meaning. Eating from the earth is one of these things. Region to region, season to season, the earth offers itself freely, with gifts in the form of nourishment. And it expects nothing in return, knowing that it will eventually gain from the act of giving. When a flower blooms, it becomes food for insects, who also pollinate it before becoming food themselves, and everything returns to the earth. This momentum continues perpetually. It’s not an exchange of value, but mutual benefit – a quiet commerce that trades in common good. When we eat from the earth something ripe and ready for harvest, we’re not attempting to rush or change it. Instead, we change. Our expectations and way of living are reframed in line with the reciprocity inherent to the natural world, of which we are a part. Maybe that’s why it feels so good to enjoy vegetables grown in a garden, or meat from a field rather than a factory. It isn’t just about the quality or it being free-range, but the unseen sweetness of a gift, something more sincere and generous than a product that is bought or sold.
Wherever we dig, we’re bound to find some depth. And a gift lives underneath its facade. It can be a thought, an “I thought of you…”, a fond memory, or a remark you didn’t know they’d remembered. It can be a taste of heritage passed down. A story personified – and sharing stories is what we, as humans, do. Robin Wall Kimmerer writes that giving begets giving, and a gift stays in motion. Those who take from the earth tend to it in turn, so we can all continue enjoying its gifts. They prepare meals with care and respect, then receive thanks, assurance, or an invitation to the table. These become a recipe passed on, a recommendation, or the impetus and inspiration to start growing one’s own food. We may not think of these things as gifts, but they are. Food brings us together around a table, but it’s the vulnerable act of giving that dissolves the boundaries between self and other, creating community around something shared. When we return to eating from the earth, we take with us this lesson from nature: that a gift carries no obligation – only the potential to change us and inspire us to give again. We’ve been inspired lately by Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, The Serviceberry.
wisdom
wisdom
an appreciation
of impala
A marvel of design,
the impala shows us that something doesn’t have to be rare
to be miraculous.
wisdom
One of the bush’s most ubiquitous creatures, impala are almost as certain on a game drive as a sunrise or set. In a world where rare and unobtainable seems to increase something’s value, this could imply they’re not something to be acknowledged. But every species, no matter how often you might have seen it, is a miracle of nature and deserves to be celebrated. Because each is a link in the chain, an invaluable part of the ecosystem. Look through this lens and learn. Born collaborators: Impalas are synchronised breeders. Guides will look to the impala to mark the change in season – the first birth indicates the rainy period has begun. At the beginning of the breeding season, females will usually give birth within a few days of each other. This gives calves the best chance at survival because, aside from there being plentiful food
and water at this time, there is safety in numbers. This sense of community extends to after the young are born, when herds form crèches or nursery groups. Engineered for survival: Twice as many female impalas are born each year as males – one of the ways that nature, in its supreme wisdom, maximises the opportunity for breeding in a herd. Nature knows. Abundant but unique: Impalas may be easy to spot and bountiful in number, but they are one of a kind. Not just for their unique traits, but scientifically too. They are the only members of the genus aepyceros that fall under the Bovidae family (which includes buffalo, cows, goats, and sheep). Aepyceros is, in other words, a monotypic genus, meaning it contains only one living species: the impala. Literally one of a kind.
wisdom
Every species,
is a miracle of nature
and deserves to be
celebrated.
Natural athletes: Impalas are known for their supreme agility and athleticism, traits that are displayed in their ability to leap up to 10 metres in a single running bound. This is all the more remarkable when you consider that they measure only around 1.5 metres in length. Nature’s perfect design: Impalas’ beauty is not simply for decoration. Their delicately dipped ears, immaculate coats, and mesmerisngly lined eyes are highly functional too. There is efficiency, evasiveness, and energy built into their elegant and compact physical makeup. They display three main colours – a dark russet on their backs, cream coloured flanks, and a white belly,
which reflects heat that rises off the ground. When fleeing from danger, their tails are raised to expose their rump, which is marked with distinctive black and white stripes. Like many animals, impalas view their surroundings in shades of grey, so this flash of black and white acts as a marker for other individuals to follow. To help the herd remain together, impalas also release a scent from glands on their heels to help individuals locate one another. Next time you spot an impala out in the wild, remember the miracle of their design – their sense of community and natural intuition – and look at them anew.
89
wisdom
finding life
in death
When they die,
different forms of life allow for renewal – ensuring that further life
always comes from decay.
wisdom
Humans have a different relationship with death to the rest of the natural world. Whereas we tend to resist it, as something to be feared or avoided, the wilderness recognises that it’s part of the necessary process. And that, in fact, death gives way to renewal, and further life. Even something as impermanent as a baobab flower, which lasts for only one day, makes exponential life possible in its demise – encapusulating both the logic and magic in nature’s design. While it takes months to form, the bloom will eventually burst open around dusk but wither and die by morning. During this short moment in time, nocturnal creatures like bats, moths, bush babies, and beetles will pollinate it. A one-night lifespan securing the future of trees, and food for animals and people. When an animal dies, it also provides sustenance for others, from the predators who benefit first to scavengers like vultures, and eventually the insects and microorganisms who make the most of the nutrients in the soil. Nothing is wasted. Decomposers and scavengers not only feed on the decaying organisms, but in doing so, also help prevent the spread of diseases – a crucial part of maintaining a healthy ecosystem. Everything, no matter how small, has its role.
In a more indirect path to nourishment, these nutrients break down and decompose slowly over time, absorbing into the ground. This creates humus, a nutrient-rich organic matter that enriches soil. Renewed with vital life force, it then calls forth more prolific plant growth, and further down the line creates abundant food sources for grazers and herbivores, shelter for birds, and oxygen for us all to breathe. When they die, fallen trees offer shelter too: homes for small animals, nesting sites for birds, and even a safe and healthy habitat for organisms like fungi to flourish. This initial loss of life makes way for habitat creation, and in turn, for the ecosystem’s complexity to thrive. There’s a bigger picture at play here, too. Death not only serves the purpose of facilitating life, but also of strengthening species. The death of weaker or less adaptable individuals, while sad when viewed through a sentimental lens, allows for the survival and reproduction of stronger, more resilient organisms, driving natural selection and evolution. Showing us once again that nature’s plan is perfect, and that there is purpose behind everything. Even death.
Everything,
no matter how small,
has its role.
wisdom
sowing
the seeds
Conserving the wilderness
for future generations
relies on involving them
today.
wisdom
Mtoto umleavyo
ndivyo akuavyo
The way you raise a child
is the way they will become
Kupotea njia
As the custodian of Singita Grumeti Reserve, the Grumeti Fund is responsible for vital conservation and community development work along the western corridor of Tanzania’s Serengeti ecosystem. Driven to create a world where people and wildlife can coexist and thrive together – now and into the future – it understands the importance of cultivating young environmental ambassadors. At its Environmental Education Centre (EEC), the Fund trains youth from surrounding villages on key environmental topics, like sustainable resource use, land, water, and waste management, and wildlife conservation. In the outdoor classroom of the world, students balance theory with hands-on learning. Along the way, they gain the knowledge, leadership skills, and respect required to care for their environment – and the will to encourage others to as well.
ndio kujua njia
To lose the way
is to know the way
It’s our nature to grow used to things, and from there, it’s a short step to forgetting how precious they are. But if we never strayed from the path, we might never understand what we lost. And in losing our way – perhaps seeing it afresh as these young students do – we find renewed purpose and an even greater need to protect what remains of the natural world. This need stirs something primal within us, something we’re compelled to pass on. Because it has always been our duty to guide those who walk the path after us.
Previous spread EEC students gain the practical skills needed to protect and regenerate an ecosystem. Left Laurian Lamatus, Headmaster of the EEC, is shaping future conservationists through a hands-on approach.
wisdom
Utumainie mmea
ulioishia panda
Put your hope in the plant
you have planted
Throughout each year, the EEC hosts five-day courses for groups of 520 students from 16 different secondary schools and their teachers. These courses comprise lessons, bush walks, going behind the scenes with regional game scouts and wildlife research and monitoring teams, and visiting Singita lodges. Day by day, students’ connection to their natural heritage is deepened, and they gain a better understanding of different components of conservation, which broadens their horizons – and prospects. When they return home, some carry this renewed passion forward by forming conservation clubs at their schools, leading tree-planting efforts, or organising initiatives to combat soil erosion and support waste collection. Their schools, families, and communities feel the ripple effect of what they’ve learned. They become changemakers and catalysts, helping shape an inclusive conservation rooted in local knowledge and driven by the youth. To date, more than 3,000 students have graduated from the EEC, each a weighty droplet in an ever-growing river. Learn more about the Grumeti Fund or support its work here .
Haba na haba
hujaza kibaba
Little by little
fills the container
Conservation is an act of hope for the future – borne from the belief that, because our hands are our own, and the fate of the planet rests within them, we can shape it however we choose. Hope begins as a single droplet. It might seem small, but witnessing what it can become changes us. If we shift from seeing the world as something we inherit from our ancestors to something we borrow from our children, we realise that passing on knowledge is not enough. We must also instil hope and the will to act. With skills, tools, and information, future generations might preserve the world we leave them. But with hope, they can imagine and build what it could be. And slowly, a droplet becomes a river, carving a new path; unstoppable.
Right The power to reshape how we live on – and with – the land rests in our hands.
wisdom
Today the winds of confusion and disarray
are blowing me all over the place. Stumbling through the day with too much to do
and too little will to engage with it all, I scan the horizon for hope,
some form of plan.
A single tree,
whose branches jut geometry against the clouds, provides a firm and structured scaffold for these fractured rambling thoughts, giving structure to the chaos,
aligning me to a safer, better-ordered world.
A POEM BY JOHN ROFF
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