When you travel, you meet countless remarkable people. From seasoned drivers with enough stories to fill a library to friendly locals and those vague backpackers who have been "finding themselves" for the past ten years. But sometimes, between all the rock-hard hotel beds and border crossings, you stumble upon a story that stays with you.
That’s how I found myself in the Chyulu Hills, an almost surreal stretch of green, rolling landscapes in southern Kenya. That’s also where I met Ali, a ranger for the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS), who guided us through these vast hills. As we trekked through the forests, he shared the history of this place—once a military training ground for the Kenyan army, now a hidden paradise between Amboseli and Tsavo. Ancient volcanic craters, solidified lava flows, and breathtaking views make this landscape truly unique. During the hike, he spoke of the silent war against poachers, men who sometimes hid for days among the thick vegetation.
You can check out Ali's photography on his instagram @alibedzenga
A Shared Passion
What immediately struck me about Ali, being a ‘photographer’ myself, was the distinctive camera hanging around his neck. Not some dusty, worn-out Canon, but a high-quality piece of equipment. A lens you’d sooner expect from a Western wildlife photographer than from a ranger in a remote corner of Kenya. I pulled my own camera from my bag, and his eyes lit up, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. And in that moment, we were no longer just a tourist and a ranger, but two people connected by a shared passion. Later that evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills, we sat together around a warm campfire. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle from the bush and the low whisper of flames cracking the wood. Ali chewed on a few khat leaves—picked during the hike, he explained, an energetic stimulant to help him stay awake during the night watch, he said with a wink. I sat, only semi-comfortable, in a rickety camping chair, an old mug filled with cheap whisky in my hand, the heat of the flames warming my face. We talked for hours—about life, about adventure and about each other's photography. Ali told me about his childhood in Mombasa, growing up surrounded by crime and drug abuse. He came from nothing, no foothold and no security. But he had one thing: a clear dream. He wanted to capture the world through his lens. For him, beauty lay in the unexpected. Photographing small animals, flowers and plants, the minuscule interactions within nature. He wanted to capture this small and hidden world, things you only notice when you really look. Maybe, I thought, that was a reflection of his own life. A boy growing up invisible in a vast city, knowing that the rhythm of life is often hidden in the smallest corners.
A Dream of 100mm
As a ranger, Ali had seen nearly every part of Kenya. He proudly showed me his photos, breathtaking sunsets, endless valleys and the tiniest wonders of the wild. When I asked him what his ultimate goal in photography was, his answer came without hesitation: "A 100mm lens." For those who aren’t photographers: a 100mm lens is perfect for razor-sharp close-ups at distance. A dream lens, but insanely expensive. Even for photographers in wealthier countries, it's a serious investment—let alone for Ali, surviving on a ranger’s modest salary. Still, he would not give up. Every shilling he could spare went into a savings jar, he told me. Since the birth of his son, now just over a year old, that savings jar had been growing a little slower. But he didn’t seem to mind. Moments later, he called his wife, something he did every night, no matter where he was in Kenya, just to wish his son a good night’s sleep. I understand very little Swahili, but I didn’t need to. The warmth, the longing in his voice were universal. A father, many miles away from his family, but with a heart full of love. After hanging up, he leaned back, gazing at the stars, chewing another khat leaf. He loved being a ranger, he’d been doing it for over ten years. But it wasn’t his final destination. As soon as he knew his son’s future was secure, he wanted to set out into the world with his camera. That was his dream, exploring and capturing the most hidden corners of the continent, dedicating his life to photography. "Once I have that lens, my dream is within reach," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.Why We Travel
Maybe it was the setting. Maybe the whisky. But his story touched me. Two people from completely different worlds, with entirely different backgrounds. Here sat a man, shaped by the raw edge of life, who had packaged his future into a lens he didn’t even own yet. A man who didn’t dream of wealth or fame, but of capturing the unseen. On paper, we had nothing in common. And yet, under a starry sky, in the heart of the wilderness, we shared the same passion: to bring the world into perspective, to capture it as we see it. Ali dreams of photographing the world. I hope he gets to. Because if anyone can capture the beauty of the small, the hidden, the overlooked—it’s him. This is why we travel. Both myself and with Charlie’s Travels. As an organisation, we stand behind these kinds of local encounters, and we actively encourage them. But on a personal level, too—this is why we keep exploring. Not just to admire landscapes or tick off destinations, but to make unexpected connections. To find, even in the most remote corners of the world, a like-minded soul. To meet someone you might have missed in another life. To share an obsession that transcends language, nationality, and background.
You can check out Ali's photography on his instagram @alibedzenga 
