John Hume is 77 years old, his knees are eaten up by arthritis, and he dreams of the next generation. 200 Rhino calves in a year’s time, born on his Farm in the middle of Nowhere in South Africa, which all belong to him – that is his desire. In spite of everything. Hume shuffles in green socks in his house wandering around, sits down at a table for 18 people, and takes a bowl on your lap. Three to fat Jack Russell Terrier jumping around him. He throws you a bone from the bowl: “Many will say Yes, you should dogs to give bones to eat,” says Hume, “but I don’t believe in.”
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