Despite Walter Zulu’s status and pivotal role in the early stages of developing the Phinda model, his name is not the most famous one associated with its inception. That distinction belongs to Zibane Mazibuko, a poacher caught with a dead nyala antelope on Phinda Reserve. Mazibuko was apprehended during the construction of Phinda Forest Lodge, a project that initially faced challenges due to strict environmental standards. When no construction company agreed to take on the project, andBeyond took matters into its own hands. Instead of facing legal consequences, Mazibuko was brought into the project by tribal decision. The construction was a labour-intensive process. Since vehicles were prohibited on site, everything had to be transported by hand or wheelbarrow, with concrete mixed by hand. Mazibuko’s role was significant: he produced more than 300,000 bricks for the build.
The lodge’s eco-conscious design blends Japanese-style organic minimalism with Zulu artistry, accentuated by a recent refurbishment by the multidisciplinary design practice Fox Browne Creative and architect Jack Alexander. Its treehouse-like suites, set in private areas of the sand forest, now feature wraparound floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing guests to watch nyala and tiny suni antelopes grazing below. Interiors were a big focus of the refresh, and each suite has been enriched by earthy hues and hanging lights inspired by traditional Zulu necklaces. Geometric Wolkberg bathroom tiles decorate the bathroom, where each of the original freestanding bathtubs has been wrapped in woven cane.
The refurbishment also introduced a serene spa, gym and infinity pool, along with a library and art gallery. The Zulu-Japanese design seamlessly defines the latter space, which has high beamed ceilings and hanging lights made out of traditional Zulu grass brooms sourced from the local Zamimpilo Community Market. The gallery showcases woodcuts and prints by the South African artist Cecil Skotnes, depicting the story of the Zulu king Shaka’s assassination by his half-brothers in 1828. From the gallery, a path leads to an expanded dining area, which includes a deck carefully built around torchwood trees (all of the buildings were carefully placed so that no tree thicker than a person’s wrist needed to be cut down).
On our third day, I pull up a seat under one of the tables in the shade, wary of the vervet monkeys above. I order a salad made with seared kudu, a large woodland antelope native to the area. It presents like beef and has a similar consistency. As I’m finishing, Romer-Lee arrives to share the plan for our next game drive. “The lion cubs we heard the other night have been spotted eating a kudu,” she says. “We’ll head straight there.”
On arrival, there isn’t much of the kudu left to see besides its spiral-shaped horns and the remains of a head. The presentation had been much more appetising when it was on a plate. One of the six lion cubs lay on its back, sleepily rolling from side to side, suggesting it had been a long afternoon of eating.
Later, we drive onto the open plains, eager to spot our first rhino. At Phinda, the rhino population is dehorned to deter poachers. “It’s not the answer, nor is it cost-effective,” Wepener concedes. To dehorn a rhino costs about $6,500, he points out, so at best, the practice is a temporary fix. And yet it has had a positive impact. A state reserve near to Phinda that doesn’t dehorn its rhinos is believed to have lost more than 300 of the endangered animals to poaching last year. The last rhino poaching at Phinda, on the other hand, was back in 2019.
As the sun sets, I spot a lone creature with a prehistoric-looking head that seems disproportionately large for its body. Against the backdrop of orange and peach hues, it appears almost like a mirage. As we approach, it looms nearly as large as our 11-seater vehicle. It’s a white rhinoceros, ambling through the knee-length grass, equally unfazed by us and the red-billed oxpecker catching a ride on its back.
Later in the evening, Romer-Lee parks under a Lebombo wattle tree to set up a picnic. She is busy telling us the story of how she once climbed this same tree years ago to escape a pride of lionesses and spent two hours perched in its branches until the coast was clear. Mr T listens quietly with a warm smile, although he’s likely heard the tale before. A rustle catches my attention. At first, I dismiss it as an intrusive thought, my senses having been on high alert since our arrival. We clink glasses just as two white rhinos appear near the base of the tree, mere footsteps away from our group. Instinctively, I move to run, but Romer-Lee calmly suggests we stay put. The rhinos, gentle and with relatively poor vision, graciously walk past. Then there follows an overwhelming stillness.
Overjoyed by the intimacy of the experience, we can’t stop talking about it on the drive back. Instead of retreating to our king-size beds, we arrive at a candlelit campsite to sleep under the stars — a popular activity offered by the lodge. As night falls, we huddle around the open fire, warmed by Amarula liqueur-spiked hot chocolate.
“So, how old exactly are you?” a familiar, soft voice asks. Mr T’s simple question opens a space for me to peel back layers. He speaks of his family, his son, who is the same age as me, and his grandchildren eagerly waiting for him in his nearby community. He reveals he was an anti-poacher before joining Phinda. I offer him a drink, but he tells me he doesn’t drink alcohol. Mr T isn’t shy, I realise. He is a product of his environment, not giving away too much until trust is established.
I stare up at the stars. Again, a stillness. But not a silence. I can hear a hyena in the distance and the pop and crackle of the fire. The stillness is more of a feeling, one so relaxing that the idea of being surrounded by deadly beasts deep in nature doesn’t stop my heavy eyelids from closing. And with that, I drift off to sleep.
A group of artists, writers, musicians and curators gathered at the Villa Lena hotel in Italy’s Tuscany region to celebrate the end of the MQBMBQ residency for Black queer artists. Photograph by Enea Arienti. 
Divers Creek Safari Tents. Photograph courtesy of Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm. 
One of the junior suites at TriBeCa’s new Warren Street Hotel. Photography by Simon Brown. 
The newly refurbished andBeyond Phinda Forest Lodge in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. In the foreground is its library and art gallery, connected by a walkway to a communal fire pit inspired by a bird’s nest. Photography courtesy of Phinda Forest Lodge. 
Photography by Anna Pihan. 
From left: Raes on Wategos general manager Marty McCaig, interior designer Tamsin Johnson and Raes on Wategos managing director Jordy Catalano out the front of the new site in the former Victoria’s at Wategos. Photograph courtesy of Raes on Wategos. 
