Joseph Ssenkoomi was nineteen, working a boat at Mabamba for a tour
operator who paid him for the fish he caught, not the birds he could
find. A visiting birder handed him a pair of binoculars to hold while
she changed a lens. He pointed them at a grey shape in the papyrus.
The Shoebill did not move for forty minutes. Neither did he.
By the time it finally struck at a lungfish, something had rearranged
itself. He had grown up beside these birds without ever really seeing
one, because nobody had put the right piece of glass in his hands.
That is the whole idea behind this company. The best guide in the forest
grew up beside it — but only if somebody gives them the binoculars,
the training, and a reason to stay.