Our first task today is to pay our camp fees, and for that we have to locate the kilaguni lodge. But before we leave the camp a man, Gabriel, appears, who is in charge of the campsite, and lives near the old Chyulu gate, just a mile away.

He expressed his satisfaction with the way we hooked up the water and closed off a leaking hose. 

Then he points us to the lodge and soon we enter the carefully guarded gate of the Kilaguni lodge. Electric fences protect the tourists from wild animals. Beautifully manicured gardens surround a huge wooden building, and inside the view is staggering. 

The rear side of the lobby with luxury restaurant looks like a fantastic painting of savanna hills with dry yellow grass and deep red soil. In a low spot is a water hole, where zebras are drinking. 

But when I walk closer, I realize that the lobby has no rear wall. It is completely open, and the painting is reality. The zebra are walking away from the water, and I see some gazelle approaching. It's beautiful.

I now notice all the comfortable chairs, a price list of various alcoholic mixes starting at $10 per glass, and a large bar and kitchen for the hungry and or thirsty explorer.  

After some searching we manage to pay our park bill and purchase a map of the park. We are told it's hardly necessary because there are many signs posts with distance.

Nevertheless we buy the map and go on our way. Very soon I feel very happy we came here. Soon we see kudu, eland, unbelievable numbers of dik-dik, all kinds of birds, next to the omnipresent Thomson gazelle, Grant gazelle and impala. 

We drive to the mzinga springs, where water collected on the slopes of Kilima N'jaro and in the Chyulu hills gushes out of the ground in enormous quantities.

I think of my eldest brother 'Oom Piet' for the boys, who spent some time in his travel logs describing this spring. 

Since we were teenagers we dreamed about visit Africa. We even composed songs about it. He has visited Africa many times, mainly to give medical training and as part of Doctors Without Borders. Now, finally, my time has come. 

And one day, on our planning, we hope to navigate the Nile together.

And today I walk over the path along the small ponds, with a hippo here, and a crocodile there, and watch the clear water with plentiful fish, and the luxurious vegetation - so different from the dry and dusty savanna everywhere else - and ponder the dreams of a boy, and the fulfillment after so many years. I am very happy.

In the afternoon we drive to Think valley, where we search - in vain - for rhinos. There is also a rhino sanctuary, but we are told it opens from 4 to 6, and cars line up enter. To us it feels too much like a petting zoo.

Rhino valley hits the spot. A small and lonely path winds through the yellow grass. We pass water holes, where we watch giraffes drink. Later we see an elephant family wade into the water and drink plentiful. It's like watching creation it was meant to be. 

At sundown we are back at the camp, because Gabriel has invited us to come to his little house to observe the leopards that drink from his water bin every night.

We park our car next to the tiny one-room building. Didi and Kari stay in the car (with open roof for better game watching). Sisi and I follow Gabriel into the one room, which he shares with another ranger. Two beds fill half the room. On the ground are a stove and pans, at eye level are clothing lines with extremely clean clothes. I still wonder how they manage to wash so clean in this land.

Darkness comes over the land, and we only whisper. Much time passes. There is no electricity in the house and by an LED torch light they study a nature book provided by the park.

Suddenly they look up. 

'Hear that high sound? It means the leopards are approaching.'

Another ten minutes, Ang suddenly a shout and dog barking tear through the night. 

' You hear the barking? That is monkey. And the low growl, that is leopard.'

The noise continues and I understand that the leopards have probably caught a monkey. But nothing can be seen. 

'After eating, they come here to drink.'

We wait, and Gabriel and his colleague take turns starting out of the tiny window.

But around nine, they shake their heads. They don't understand. 

'They never come so late. We don't understand. You are not lucky today.'

They feel bad, but I tell them not to worry. I have had a fantastic evening. The tension and excitement - we heard the kill - the evening seeing how they live their lives.

We give them some shillings and drive back to the camp, where we make a campfire until sleep overwhelms us.