I was 50 years old, and on a precarious trek through the jungles of Rwanda, when I first glimpsed my true vocation. Until then, I hadn’t been sure. I’d left school at 14 and married my first husband at 21. I’d worked in advertising in the 1950s, which was a bit like Mad Men but far less sexy. Patriarchy ruled and sexism was rampant. One day we were divided into four groups to come up with campaign ideas. When my idea was chosen, the managing director said, “Jan, that’s a great idea. We’ll get one of the men to do it.”
I did well, though, finally working in the exciting world of Hong Kong advertising, and building my own publishing company (and my second marriage) there. Even so, I think I had a niggling feeling that this wasn’t ‘it’.
While I was running my publishing company, I worked on a photo essay by wildlife photographer and conservationist Karl Ammann, and his work affected me deeply. I couldn’t stop thinking about the wild and beautiful African animals in his photographs. I decided to follow my instincts and booked a ticket to Africa. My official reason was to interview Karl, but I couldn’t wait to see all those wild animals for myself, up close.
On that first trip, I met Karl and his wife Kathy at their home. I remember looking across their garden as a cheetah walked through. This was Moto, Karl’s cheetah. He allowed me to stand behind Moto and nervously touch his forehead. It took my breath away.
Back in Hong Kong, all I could think about was returning to Africa, and I didn’t have to wait long.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة March 2023 من The Australian Women's Weekly.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة March 2023 من The Australian Women's Weekly.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
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