We walked behind a man with a rifle slung loosely across his back as he led us through tall golden grasses. He warned us that those in sandals should stay behind and wait by the truck. I didn’t know where we’d be going, but I looked down at my worn flip flops and pressed on – I wasn’t staying behind. The muck was thick and I didn’t look up much as we walked for the next 30 minutes. Suddenly our leader halts and I’m confronted by our surroundings – we’re barely 10 metres from a herd of white rhinoceros. I look back and my brother has stopped in his tracks a few steps back, now staring at the magnificent scene before us. That man who led us, was their protector, and that day we bore witness to the largest remaining herd, not knowing that they would eventually be hunted.