Sabi Sabi, Early 1990’s.

Three months later everything changed. It began with a simple invitation from a quietly spoken Shangaan tracker named Elliot Ngiba.

Elliot was about ten years older than me. A humble, dignified man who had grown up near the Kruger National Park. Among those who knew him, he was widely regarded as one of the finest trackers in the region.

Elliot invited me to track a white rhino with him.

The tracks of a large bull had been seen the night before and he wanted to find it.

I felt honoured to be asked.

We left at dawn and for the next four hours I watched him at work. Even now, many years later, I remember that morning with remarkable clarity. The most striking thing was that, during all that time, I was unable to contribute a single thing.

I couldn’t identify a footprint, interpret signs in the soil or even see the ‘silver trail’ of the animal through the grass. I couldn’t anticipate where the rhino might go or understand why Elliot occasionally left the spoor entirely before quietly picking it up again.

In truth, I was little more than an observer trying not to get in the way.

Around mid-morning we found the rhino, fast asleep in a dry riverbed.

To me it felt like magic, with Elliot the chief conjurer.

To Elliot it was simply another morning’s work. The logical conclusion of careful observation, pattern recognition, hypothesis testing and dozens of small, evidence-based decisions made along the way.

More than anything else, it woke me up.

It showed me that beneath the world I thought I understood lay another one entirely – richer, deeper and infinitely more interesting than I had imagined.

It also revealed an entirely different way of thinking.

Elliot had no certainty of finding that rhino. He didn’t wait until he knew enough before he began. He trusted himself enough to start, and he trusted the process enough to discover what he needed along the way.

He began with mere fragments of information. The scuff mark of an outside toe. A broken twig. A disturbed bird – and he pieced it together patiently and painstakingly over many hours until he had solved the puzzle!

It lit a fire in me. I was hooked.

Over the years that followed, Elliot, together with the remarkable Shangaan tracking community, generously opened their lives to me. We tracked rhino, lion and leopard together countless times.

Members of the Shangaan tracking community. Early 1990’s.

Slowly, very slowly, I learned enough to become useful.

I realise now that was Elliot’s greatest gift. He never made me feel foolish for not knowing. He simply invited me to keep learning.

Several years later I left the bush and entered the corporate world.

Once again, I realised how little I knew.

The animals had changed. We were now tracking customers, performance, projects, delivery, revenue and the bottom line. The challenge, however, felt remarkably familiar.

Leaders, I discovered, also operate in a world of uncertainty. The signals are often weak. The environment keeps changing. Yet decisions still have to be made. I came to realise that the ability to make sound decisions in the absence of certainty is one of the defining characteristics of effective leadership.

Earlier this year I had the privilege of seeing Elliot again.

It had been many years. We were both older now.

We laughed about that morning together and how useless I had been.

It was a joyful reunion. I felt immense gratitude simply to be with him again. Grateful for what he had done for me. For giving me access to a world I never knew existed and for showing me how it worked.

Elliot thought he was teaching a young ranger to track rhino. Neither of us realised that morning how far the lesson would travel.

It would take me many years to understand that the habits I had watched Elliot demonstrate in the bush – sound judgement, discernment, curiosity, adaptability, imagination and patience – were just as valuable in the boardroom.

For that, and for his generosity and friendship, I will always be grateful.