Don't know what you've got 'til it's gone

Some of my favourite 'work memories' are from my first job. I was 19 years old and had just graduated from journalism. I joined the college, working in the Community Relations Department. We were a close team of about seven people and what stands out for me was how much we laughed together. We even socialized together and often talked about vacationing together. One of my colleagues often told me: 'You'll never find a team like this again'. 

Of course, I didn't believe him - I was 19 and thought 'it's always going to be this way'.

Of course it wasn't.

Ami Vitale followed Sudan's story and captured this moment shortly before his death. Read her story from NatGeo.

In 2018 I read a news story about the death of Sudan, the last known male of his species - the Northern White Rhino. By that time I'd been on safari quite often, having lived in Swaziland for a year and travelling in South Africa and Sri Lanka. I had seen Rhino on several occasions, including during an early evening game drive where they were grazing away right beside our vehicle. They couldn't see us clearly in the fading light, and we remained absolutely silent as they slowly munched their way along. With their poor eyesight we were probably just a big dark shape that smelled a bit funny; we were stopped on a dirt road in Kruger National Park.

Reading about Sudan, I remember wondering whether the Rhino I'd seen were Northern White, or Black, or some other subspecies. I had no idea. To be truthful I wasn't that excited about Rhino - compared to elephants or giraffes, I just didn't find them terribly interesting. But reading about the

end of a species made me terribly sad, and the photo of Sudan with his keeper brought on tears. (Cue the shoulder-shaking, nose-running type of tears). I felt guilty for not appreciating something that I could never get back. The photo was haunting.