The first time Greg Carr visited Mozambique’s Gorongosa National Park, in March 2004, he left a message in the visitor’s ledger, unaware the brief missive would prove prophetic—or that he would play a crucial part in its fulfilment. In the slim, faded black book from the early 2000s, among comments spaced months apart—a sign of the dismal tourism numbers—he wrote: “This is a spectacular park and it could become one of the best in Africa with some assistance. Greg Carr.”
Almost two decades later, his encouraging words in the guest book have begun to ring true. Only an eternal optimist could have written such a positive assessment of a place that had been all but abandoned, where the most visible signs of animal life were swarms of mosquitoes. Gorongosa, sprawling across more than 1,500 square miles at the southern point of the Great Rift Valley, in the central part of the country, was once an illustrious swath of land with a richly biodiverse terrain bursting with wildlife. It drew the likes of John Wayne, astronauts, and other high-profile guests and was considered among the greatest reserves in Africa. Portuguese promotional videos from the ’60s and ’70s advertise guests cruising through the bush in groovy VW microbuses and sitting beside a glimmering swimming pool at Chitengo Camp. That was all before the 16-year-long civil war, a devastating and complicated conflict that erupted after independence was won from the Portuguese in 1976. One million people were killed, and the park became a battlefield that decimated the wildlife population. Some animals were slaughtered for bush meat, others for their valuable horns or tusks.
When Carr, now 63, first visited—after receiving an invitation from the Mozambican ambassador to the United Nations, who hoped that he would provide aid
