Ilike to think that the people who work at go! and the people who read the magazine see their glasses as half full. No, three-quarters full. We don’t always think of life as a song, but we’d rather hum one under our breath than mumble about all the problems in the world. Sometimes I get asked about the go! philosophy. Well, we’re unashamedly pro-South Africa and pro-Africa. Our country and the broader continent is packed with wonderful places and people. We’re not oblivious to the negatives, but we purposely choose to celebrate the positives. There was a time when I looked at everything through first-world spectacles, but I found it helpful to take them off. I was standing on a beach near Inhassoro in Mozambique, watching local fishermen hoist a dragnet ashore. Hundreds of fish wriggled around on the beach. But there was more than just fish in the net: A boy snatched a seahorse and played with it like a rubber toy, twisting its head and tail in different directions. Starfish lay to one side and small sand sharks were gasping for breath. This scene, and the wastefulness of human beings it represented, bothered me greatly. That night around the campfire our conversation became philosophical. Why is it that we regard one species as “cute” and worth saving, and another as food? Do we have the right to interfere in another culture’s way of doing things? The subsistence fishermen put their dragnets out to sea every day for nine months of the year. “No wonder there’s nothing left in the ocean!” one of us exclaimed. Our guide, who until then had been listening in silence, finally spoke: “Do you know that a single commercial super trawler catches more fish and other sea creatures in one night than all the fishermen of Inhassoro catch in a year?” The neatly packaged fish we buy at our supermarket is, of course, caught by those super trawlers. And it doesn’t bother us because we don’t see it happening. Context and perspective are important. That being said, I do struggle with context and perspective when it comes to rhino poaching. The cruelty of this greed-inspired slaughter is depicted in a portrait on page 22, by South African photojournalist Brent Stirton. It’s one of a series of rhino-poaching photos that won Brent the title of Wildlife Photographer of the Year. It’s a shocking photograph – a murder scene that stops you in your tracks. It’s not Africa at its best, but we decided it was important enough to publish. If you don’t see it, it doesn’t bother you. And that’s just unforgivable.