The echoes of horns and scooters are ringing in my head and the scents of spices and petrol still linger on my clothes. I’ve returned to Africa and this time I’m in Morocco. More precisely, I’m in a small riad just off Djemaa el-Fna in the central medina of Marrakech.

The accommodation is not quite what I expected, with no towels or toilet paper being the obvious missing items. There’s also no lock on the door, but the ‘hotel’ does have security in the form of an 80-year-old man who sits on the floor at the entrance of the building.

The huge square in the centre of the medina houses dozens of stalls with waiters trying their utmost to draw you in. Settling for one, I’m disappointed that any menu choices I make are ignored. Funnily enough, the only options available are the more expensive ones. It’s comical to see couple after couple sit down and look completely bewildered when random food is dumped in front of them!

Surrounding the food stalls are many musicians and acts to pull in the crowds. I was warned about the relentless demands for payment if you take someone’s photo but I can barely point my camera anywhere without someone jumping in front of me demanding money. One act catches my eye; a man is forcing a chicken to smoke a cigarette and a crowd of about 30 surround him. My shutter barely snaps shut before a ’spy’ in the crown tells the performer that a photo has been taken. Immediately he stops the show and suddenly he’s in my face asking for money. With everyone staring at me, I stutter to find the right response in French. He’s not dissuaded when I tell him that I didn’t even get a photo of him (which was true), so I tell him I’ve got no change anyway. However, his reply to that is that he’ll take my bag instead! He then touches my shoe and says that will also do! What’s crazy is that I’d be glad to give him money if I actually got a decent shot or if he finished his act, but his aggressive stance leaves my unsympathetic. I quickly walk away and disappear into the crowd.

I spend the next hour lost in the labyrinth of streets, shocked by the lack of civilisation and chaotic mix of tourism and poverty. It’s a shocking start to my journey and a mentally exhausting day comes to a close. I’m looking forward to tomorrow, but I can’t help but wonder how many packs of cigarettes the chicken has had…

14th October 2007 – Marrakech

The city guide is informative but reminds me of being in school. He starts every fact with a question, and only continues when I give him an ignorant blank stare. The tour starts south of the riad in the Jewish quarter. The Palais de la Bahia is impressive but just exaggerates the difference between rich and poor. However, I can’t help but smile as I imagine the prime minister lying in his room and demanding that one of his four wives come and entertain him!

Next I see where these men were laid to rest. The Saadian tombs are extravagantly decorated; in particular the men’s, which I think is well-deserved after such a tough life…

A taxi, without seatbelts, hurtles through the traffic and drops us off in the northern part of the old town. Similar to the bazaars in Istanbul, I’m guided through the maze of souqs, stopping occasionally for brief pleasantries with the locals.

Every small area has its own necessities, from butchers to bakers and opticians to dentists, everyone is catered for. It seems that the guide has his fingers in every business; he walks me to a rug-maker, a carpenter and a pharmacist and each one presents me with their best sales pitch (no doubt our guide gets some commission!) The carpenter is particularly impressive; he carves the wood using simple tools and his bare feet. After creating a fancy design on a kebab stick, he then holds his feet and chisel and with a wide grin he says, ‘My Black & Decker!’

The pharmacist is a pleasant coincidence; I woke up with an awful sore throat and the shop-keeper is only too keen to present me with a solution. Snorting this black powder (which also passes as a treatment for many other random symptoms), my nose feels like it’s on fire, but I’m told in good faith that it’ll work…

The tour ends in the Djemaa el-Fna square. It’s totally different to last night and with the bright, blue sky you can see how big it really is. My photography experiences this time are also better; the entertainers suggest I take photos and hold out a tray for their tips; much better than last night’s aggressiveness.

The huge Koutoubia Mosque towers over the square, but it’s behind this mosque that Marrakech shows its modern side. There’s a huge colourful park and the locals clearly gather here for a little tranquillity away from the buzzing atmosphere of the main square. Further west and outside the walls of Marrakech is the new town with wide and modern roads surrounded by fancy hotels.

It’s already time for dinner so after a quick shower, I head towards the Djemaa el-Fna. This time I get to enjoy the madness from a restaurant balcony. As the sun sets behind the Koutoubia Mosque, the scents and colours of the Central Medina come alive.

Gazing down onto the square, it’s the perfect spot to end the day, watching the mix of donkeys, cars, scooters and bikes, weaving their way around the pedestrians and snake charmers!

15th October 2007 – Aït Benhaddou, Ouarzazarte, Zagora

It’s a 6 o’clock start this morning and the new guide is already waiting. We jump into his huge 4×4 and within an hour we’re climbing the High Atlas mountains. The views are incredible, in particular the formations of the rock that look like they’ve been carved out purposely, like the carpenter we met yesterday. Although it’s very warm and there isn’t a cloud in the sky, there is still a tiny amount of snow on the highest peaks.

Aït Benhaddou is the first stopping point and we’re lucky to be there so early when this Kasbah is practically devoid of tourists. The view from the top is incredible but it’s the view from the river that really impresses. The buildings look like sandcastles and the whole town almost looks fake. Of course, the locals take advantage and get money out of me in every possible way, including holding my hand as I step across the stepping stones in the river. One young boy rides a donkey towards me and it’s a stereotypical photo opportunity. The boy is whacking the donkey with a huge stick and the poor animal doesn’t have a clue what it should do, so when the boy holds out his hand and says, ‘Money, money!’ I can’t help thinking the donkey deserves it more than him!

Halfway up the hill, I’m invited into a small house, built with mud and stone. Inside, there’s loads of memorabilia from Gladiator, and I’m told which scenes were filmed here.

Further south-east, we reach Ouazazarte, which is the film capital of Morocco. Lawrence of Arabia and Cleopatra were both filmed here. After a soup and Tajines lunch, I’m back on the road and heading further south-east down the Draa Valley. The valley looks totally out of place, with a luscious green centre, full of palm trees and the bright reflection of the river makes a pleasant change from the dry landscape of the High Atlas Mountains.

The destination is Zagora, the ‘door to the desert’. It’s the last place you’ll find shops, petrol stations or any other commercial activity. There’s a buzzing atmosphere with people everywhere, all getting from one place to another by foot, bike or donkey. In fact, it barely feels that on the other side of Zagora, begins the Sahara Desert.

However, that’s no journey for a 4×4; those steps will be taken by camel.

Before I mount the beast, I’m offered more Moroccan tea. These people have an obsession! To say the English like tea after being to Morocco is laughable. The Moroccans drink it around every corner! There’s even a procedure for pouring the stuff, repeatedly sloshing it back into the teapot until it’s fully brewed.

Anyway, tanked up on tea I prepare for my camel adventure. It doesn’t take me long before I name him ‘Hungry’. Hungry belches and burps throughout the whole 7km walk into the desert. If Hungry gets anywhere near anything that resembles shrubbery, he swings his neck towards it and snatches a mouthful. He’s taking dumps on the move and it’s at least a comfort that if we ever got lost in the desert we could follow the breadcrumbs back home…

Emma’s camel behind me is called ‘Sleepy’. Every time I turn around he looks like he’s got his eyes closed and he’s staggering around like he’s either sleepwalking or pissed.

Our guide is a pleasant chap who seems to live and breathe the desert. He only speaks about as much French as I do, but it’s enough to have a bit of a chat and keep asking ‘are we there yet?’

When we finally do arrive, the sun is setting and the mountains in the distance light up in a beautiful array of purples and oranges. The nomad tents are already set up. We’ve one huge tent just for relaxing and dinner and at 100 paces rests another for sleeping. Of course, before I’m allowed dinner, I’m treated to another session of Moroccan tea…

The only light is a gas-fired cylinder and although the sun has disappeared, it hasn’t got too cold. It has become dark though. Incredibly dark. In fact, I’ve never seen a landscape so dark and I only have to look up to the sky to see something else I’ve never before; so many stars. It’s like someone has shifted the earth into a different part of the universe, as the sky is littered with thousands and thousands of bright stars. There are so many more than I’ve ever seen before and it’s simply breathtaking.

After dinner (tajines again), I’m all ready for bed. My sore throat has turned into a bit of a cold and I’m cursing myself for being probably the only person who could ever catch a cold in the Sahara Desert! Mind you, it’s another early start tomorrow as I’m told the desert sunrises are something not to be missed.

16th October 2007 – Sahara Desert, Zagora, Tamgroute, Tamnougalte, Ouarzazarte

My first and last night in the Sahara Desert is superb. Surrounded by nothing but nature, it seems a little odd to wake to a mobile phone alarm clock in order to catch the sunrise. The sun is already trying to peak over the mountains in the horizon, but before it does I’m treated to more wonderful colours.

The camels are enjoying them too, although Hungry seems to be heading in the opposite direction. With one leg tied up, he’s hopping on three legs towards some shrubbery in the distance. Every few steps he slips and smashes his front knee on the ground, but he’s relentless, determined to reach his goal.

As Hungry disappears behind our tent, I go towards the sand dunes. It’s these that were probably the thing I was looking forward to most and although a lot smaller than I hoped, I’m like a school boy at playtime, launching myself up and down the dunes. As the sun rises, the contrasts of colour on the sand dunes are amazing. It’s exhausting walking along them and as the strength of the sun grows by the minute, it’s easy to see how unforgiving the desert can be.

After a simple breakfast, it’s time to leave. Our guide has found Hungry and before we know it we’re on our way back to Zagora. It’s a different route back, through a desert village. There are locals around, but it’s the children that shock. They are full of life and have so much energy (’Bonbon?’ They ask, again and again…); it’s crazy to think how different one person’s childhood can be from another.

I’m relieved to get back to Zagora as this time my arse has taken a beating! It was only a couple of hours of riding but desert travellers must have buns made of steel – it absolutely wrecks!

Next on the agenda is a village called Tamgroute. I’m taken to an Islamic Library that contains over 4,000 books, all written out by hand over hundreds of years. It’s impressive, but even more so is the Librarian as he has so much passion for his collection and yet he looks old enough to have written the first one.

It’s not just the library that Tamgroute has as its claim to fame. It’s also well-known for its pottery. I’m introduced to another guide who takes me around the village. Ducking and weaving through the streets, it’s another fictitious-looking town. The guide takes us through someone’s home just to get to another street and it’s absolutely pitch black as the guide holds our hands as we carefully tip-toe through the darkness. When I reach the other end, I turn and look back through the passage and take a photo of the entrance just as a woman walks past. The workers use holes in the ground to heat the pottery and simple tools to carve and create these items that will then be transported to the major towns for all the tourists to buy. Yet, half of the workers walk around with mobile phones! What is very interesting is how the colours are created. Each colour, from red to green, is created using different flowers, plants or other natural ingredients. He shows me one colour that he’s very proud of – they only discovered how to make it three years ago!

As we travel north-west up the Draa Valley the landscape turns from a monochrome brown to a mix of contrasts with green farmland and blue rivers. Ghost villages don’t appear that different to the inhabited ones nearby; they all look like sandcastles, strangely linked with telephone cables. The lucky ones also get electricity.

There’s one area that is made up of what looks like finely compressed sand and the way it bobbles up and down and forms row upon row of hills, it looks entirely man-made. Not that the dirt-bikers care. The quiet landscape is ripped apart by some tourists flying through on dirt-bikes, taking advantage of the dusty road and flying up and down on this alien-like terrain.

An average meal in a deserted (but incredibly unique) restaurant is followed by a tour in Tamnougalte. Here, the BBC is filming a new series based on the life of Jesus. It’s called ‘The Passion’ (which sounds awfully like a certain Mel Gibson film) and the film makers have turned this small village into a living example of village life 2000 years ago. There are dead animals hanging on a ‘market street’, pools of red and blue water to colour clothes and general props lying around – none of which are fake. The meat is practically cooking in the sun and the smells are absolutely real. The tour around the village is very interesting and our guide is brilliantly informed and has a cracking sense of humour. I particularly like the key and lock which opens the Kasbah – it’s made of wood and the way it has been finely carved seems like something you’d really find around the time of Christ. Incredibly, the key isn’t a prop; it’s the real way to unlock the Kasbah nowadays!

The next 75km brings us back to Ouazazarte and although it’s nice to be welcomed into a hotel, it was probably more comfortable in the desert last night! The hotel’s restaurant is pretty poor and a long and eventful day comes to an end.

17th October 2007 – Ouazazarte, Tamdakhte, Telouet, Marrakech

Breakfast is no better than last night’s dinner. I’m also starting to feel a little rough and it looks like the cold I’ve picked up is starting to get the better of me. Nonetheless it’s another active day which hopefully will keep me going.

Heading towards Aït Benhaddou, we pass many small villages. Occasionally they have electricity and some even have sporting facilities (well – a football pitch on a flat area of rock). Many look similar but it’s always interesting to see the locals go about their life. Time seems to stand still here. Most people live off their land or their local village and the lack of tourism means I get to see Moroccan rural life as it really is.

So it came as a bit of a shock when our guide takes us off-road to taste some of the real rural communities. The road steadily becomes more and more narrow, just as the drop at the edge of the road becomes bigger and bigger. Soon we’re climbing around the edge of the Ounila Valley with a sheer drop just centimetres away from out tyres. We crawl from village to village and in each one we see the hard working farmers in their fields and the small gangs of children who wave us hello and goodbye.

Out here you really see the true colour of Morocco. The earth is a striking red and it makes for some dramatic views alongside the harvested valley, despite the overcast weather. Some buildings are practically carved out the valley itself, supported by nature alone. The road itself brings some surprises. Occasionally there are locals walking or even cyclists braving this landscape, but there’s always the worrying thought of another vehicle coming the opposite direction. Fate showed its sense of humour when we approach a blind corner and suddenly a deafening roar brings us to a halt. I half expect a rockslide as an absolutely enormous tractor bellows around the corner and stops in front of us. I’m not so keen on us reversing along this narrow road, so I breathe a sigh of relief when it’s the tractor that squeezes past us on the outside!

Lunch is in Telouet and the food is another disappointment. I’ve heard so much about excellent Moroccan food but bar the odd meal, most have been quite average. Furthermore, the flies are so incredibly annoying and constantly land on your food; it’s a wonder I haven’t picked up a dodgy stomach.

Fortunately, Telouet is a great place at 1800m and it has been standing ever since the karavans made their long journeys between Marrakech and the Sahara. It houses the impressive Kasbah of el Glaoui, which unfortunately will not last much longer. Many parts have already fallen and what remains is practically ruined. The young guide for the palace is very knowledgeable and very witty. He obviously speaks Arabic, Berber and French, but his English is spot on too. He even uses slang expressions and continues to speak even when he has nothing to say; he practises words and pronunciation and then laughs at himself. We encounter some Germans and he then speaks German to them. To top it off, when he discovers I speak Italian, he’s proud to continue the tour in Italian!

There’s one area of the Kasbah which has been kept in very good condition, with marble that has been imported from Italy (traded with salt – the ‘gold’ of the time). It’s incredible to think that this crumbling building holds a floor of marble!

Climbing back into our 4×4, we relax for the drive back to Marrakech. I say ‘relax’, but the driver decides to put on a music tape; the five awful songs are repeated for the next two hours and by the end of it I’m convinced I know most of the Berber words… Fortunately, it does keep my mind off my dodgy cold that seems to have taken a turn for the worse.

My cold becomes even more of a problem after arriving back in Marrakech. It’s a slightly bigger, nicer riad that again is within a stone’s throw of Djemaa el-Fna, but I can barely bring myself to move, let alone mix with the crowds of the central medina so I go to bed at a ridiculous 7pm.

I wake up over 12 hours later and I’m dripping with sweat. It’s terrible to say but I’m grateful it’s the last day and even more grateful that this didn’t happen 2 nights ago in the Sahara Desert! Furthermore, I have picked up a bug from something I ate (damn those bloody flies!) and my whole immune system seems to be giving up the ghost. I drug myself up with anything and everything from the medical bag that looks like paracetamol and I force myself to wander around the souqs to try and find any hidden corner that was missed on the first couple of days.

If ever there was a sign that I wasn’t well, my camera doesn’t even leave my bag. So, as my shutter has a holiday of its own, the next stop is Marrakech airport to catch the flight home to London.

Finally! I’m south of the equator! However, I need proof! So I head straight for the wash basin and with a big grin on my face, I watch a litre of water spin down the plug hole in the “wrong” direction!

I thought that was going to be the biggest culture shock of the day, but I was immediately proved wrong. I’m in Nairobi for just one night and staying in a modest 3* hotel (which has enough staff for a place four times the size). The hotel is surrounded by an electric fence and barbed wire, but it’s great inside; in particular the outdoor bar area. It’s a quick stop though as we grab some lunch (the spiciest salad you could ever imagine) and head out in a tiny minibus. I’m excited about the tribal dancers that I’m going to watch and even more so for the giraffe sanctuary I’m visiting, but it’s the journey there that surprises me the most. The so-called roads are barely wide enough to fit a couple of cars, but there are cars overtaking bikes with trucks coming in the other direction ! Add the potholes and the five men literally standing on the back of some vehicles and it made for an eye-opening ride…

Furthermore, are the numbers of pedestrians who must be walking for miles, just inches away from the heavy traffic. However, it’s the thousands of people in their hut-like buildings alongside the road that really makes me feel so far from home. From dual-purpose businesses (hotel & vet in one!) to metal-workers and from carpenters to single shelf stands (with hardly enough fruit to feed a single family), it’s a life I’ve never seen before.

The vehicle is moving fast so I snap away, hoping I can capture any of these memories. Some people wave at me, but some shout. I actually have found the Kenyans to be very friendly so far, but I can understand why some aren’t impressed; tourism is helping the country so much but the number of cameras capturing their poverty must be horrible for them.

The tribal dancing is good fun and really gets me in the mood for this African trip. The only problem is that despite the strong sunshine, the performance is carried out indoors and the light isn’t brilliant.

The giraffe sanctuary is excellent. They are kept for up to two years so that they can survive when released into the wild. Despite their young age, they are really enormous and it’s great to feed them and their tongues are like stubbly sandpaper and seem to have a bigger appetite than a drunk male student on a Friday night! It starts to chuck it down with rain, but there’s one photo I want before I go. I reel off about 10 shots standing on the edge of the road, getting absolutely soaked, but to me, it’s worth it as I think I’ve got the photo I want.

The drive back is even more hectic than the first, as we hit rush hour, but soon I’m back at the hotel and eating a fantastic buffet dinner!

1st February 2007 – Nakuru

My alarm gets me up in time for a super buffet breakfast. It’s an early start as the journey to Nakuru is 156km. It doesn’t sound like far, but the roads seem to get worse and worse each kilometre away from the capital. It means the journey lasts all morning, but the scenery makes up for it.

As the “road” climbs up to over 2000m, the number of building reduces, but there are still people everywhere. Some walk, some cycle, and some are just sitting in the middle of nowhere, watching the few cars go by, but it’s shocking how many smiles and waves you get. In particular, the young children who live (and even work) on a tiny patch of earth by the main road, with a plastic sheet and four wooden branches the only thing sheltering them from the sun and rain. It’s so surreal and yet they get so much pleasure from a returned smile or wave.

Just before lunch, the 4×4s are stopped by armed guards at the entrance to the Nakuru National Park. Despite the size of their massive machine guns, they appear friendly and welcoming and the journey continues past the barricade.

Neither the road nor the landscape has changed, but it suddenly becomes quieter. There’s not a person in sight. It all becomes clear when just a few hundred metres down the road, there are four or five jeeps stationary in the middle of the road. There’s not a moment to think as next to the jeeps is a small pack of lions, crossing the road in front; I whip out my camera but already the moment has gone as the lions seem to disappear into the long grass. Then comes a moment of luck; the leading lion jumps up a tree and climbs onto a branch to look around. Lions rarely do this in Kenya, but these young male lions still seem to have some of their playful instincts.

It’s a stunning start to my first safari and minutes later the jeeps arrive at the Sarova Lion Lodge. The complex is situated inside the National Park, with a feeble looking electric fence and a cattle grid the only thing between us and the wild! This isn’t overly reassuring (especially the cattle grid) as it’s not the animals with hooves I’m worried about! Furthermore, the regular power cuts don’t make me feel any better about the electric fence!

Nonetheless, it’s beautiful and the view is outstanding. It’s such a strange feeling to walk into a hotel room (more like a forest cabin) knowing that there are deadly jungle animals just a few metres (and a single cattle grid) away!

In the room, I’m drenched with anti mosquito spray and I’ve sprayed enough repellent into the room to bring down a rhino, but two relentless mosquitoes refuse to leave me alone; I therefore ignore the fact that I’m in a National Park and make my first kills of this safari…

The buffet lunch is good but I’m only too happy to jump back into the jeep and back on the safari. I see a number of giraffe, zebra, waterhog, buffalo and birds, but by far my favourite is the huge group of baboons, making their way along the track. They pass right by the jeep and the youngest look so cute dangling in between their mothers’ legs, looking around with curiosity. It’s not just their bottoms that are funny – they play and jump around with each other all the time.

Back at the lodge the staff put on a tribal dance, which could have been fantastic with all the bright colours around the fire in the dark, but unfortunately the lights are turned on, which slightly spoiled the atmosphere. Another huge buffet is then served and once again I go to bed completely stuffed.

2nd February 2007 – Nakuru

After another buffet breakfast, the day gets off to another excellent start as a few lions are protecting their own buffet; a dead zebra. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything like this before and yet I’m not shocked – maybe because it isn’t that close to the jeep. You can only just see the zebra and apart from what seems to be a small blood stain, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The aim this morning is to get close to Lake Nakuru and see the flamingos. John, one of our two safari drivers, decides that the most direct route is impassable due to the heavy rain; but we soon spot some people who thought otherwise. In the distance, and out in the complete open, are three people with their arms in the air trying to catch our attention.

As we approach, two of them turn and start walking down the muddy track and the third tells us that he’s their driver and they are stuck in the mud. I watch with utter amazement as these two men (who we later discover are an obnoxious and ungrateful German/Dutch pair) walk about 100m back to their abandoned car. You hear quite a few stories of tourists being killed by stepping out of their vehicles and yet these men show no fear (or an incredible amount of stupidity) just a few hundred metres away from where the lions were seen!

After the rescue mission, I’m pleased to see some more monkeys. These are even more playful than the baboons; in particular two small monkeys that were chasing each other around. I catch a few shots but miss the classic one when one of the monkeys performs an impressive body slam from the tree branches down onto his friend!

As the lake becomes closer, the number of animals increases, including ostriches, zebras, different types of birds and of course flamingos.

However, I’m disappointed by the flamingos as the weather has become slightly worse and despite being able to get out of our vehicles (now that we’re in a flat, open terrain), I can’t get the classic, pink flamingo shot. Nonetheless, it’s a perfect opportunity for a group photo, which is probably a good time to describe the group: There are 12 of us in all, including my father. Despite everyone not knowing each other (I knew no one but my father before leaving London), the group has bonded well and there’s a great sense of humour in the camp. Both our drivers are called John and we’re making our way around Kenya in two huge Toyota 4×4s. With the happy snaps taken, the jeeps are on the move again, but not for long as a zebra is spotted on the sand, looking rather motionless. A closer inspection reveals that it is dead and has died recently, most likely from heat exhaustion, poisonous leaves or possibly even from eating too much following a dry spell. The tracks around the corpse show that its last steps were difficult and that it lay struggling for a while before dying.

Returning back the lodge, we see (amongst other things) some more funny baboons and monkeys, a rhino right next to the road and even a hyena, which would probably have been grateful to know about the recently deceased zebra.

I promise myself a smaller lunch, which proves to be difficult as it’s another excellent buffet. The weather has been wet each afternoon and today is no different. However, I take advantage of it this time and jump into the pool, with the locals shocked eyes all on me. It’s absolutely chucking down with African rain; the best kind of swim you can have! Soon after, we jump in the jeeps and head off again.

We go anti-clockwise around the lake this time and climb to the viewpoint. Although impressive, we’ve picked the worst possible time, as visibility is poor and it has started to rain again. The baboons on the cliff edge keep up the entertainment though.

As the weather dries up, we see a hippo in the distance. It’s out in the open and our driver does a remarkable job of keeping up with him despite having to stick to the road tracks. There is a single warning from the hippo, but apart from the odd (rather evil) look, he doesn’t appear to be too bothered about our persistent chasing.

It’s getting late, so John puts his foot down a little to get us back to the lodge. Suddenly, as we’re turning a corner, a rhino appears from nowhere; we’ve clearly startled it as it lets off an aggressive noise and points its horn toward us. We slow down slightly and that’s when the rhino starts charging!

It’s all very dramatic but the charge was only a small warning, done out of fear more than anything else; it was still three or four metres away from us and cautiously walked away when it realised what we were.

Of course, this isn’t the story we relay on our return to the camp: The rhino becomes a black rhino; the charge was fierce and at speed; we were all in imminent danger etc. etc. However, I think Fred (the story teller) may have pushed it a little too far when he explained that a leopard jumped between the jeep and the rhino and saved the day!

3rd February 2007 – Mount Kenya

Another morning of driving quickly passes. There are always plenty of things to see, as poverty is written all over the Kenyan countryside. Part of the journey involves a wet, muddy road. We’ve been in the jeeps for a couple of hours so it’s a welcome rest to stretch our legs and take some shots of the jeeps making their way through the most difficult sections although disappointingly, the drivers avoid the deep water!

Driving through the Springwater region just east of Mount Kenya, there’s suddenly a shout of ‘elephant!’ The jeeps come to a sudden halt and through the trees I see my first African Elephant. And then my second… and then third! One is huge and turns towards us for a closer look. I’m shooting away and just catch enough before he loses interest and wanders away.

We arrive at Ol Pejeta House, which is a luxurious home that sleeps 12. Everything is on another scale: The living room is about twice the size of my own apartment and the gardens extend for acres. However it’s the bedrooms that are unreal. They are all different, some with sitting areas and fires, others with enormous balconies and some that are simply huge; one measured over 200m2! Its bathroom alone was bigger than a normal room with a bathtub around four times the size of a normal one! Everyone is happy and we settle down for some lunch.

We’re served by a very friendly lad called Walter who has the biggest and whitest smile I’ve ever seen. The other is a rather nervous looking girl whose name I didn’t catch. Despite the calm and slow service, I’m actually very pleased with the food. It’s all table service which is a relaxing change following all the (excellent) buffets.

However, this natural, slow rhythm isn’t appreciated by everyone. Some grumble about the speed of the service and most people complain about the quality of the food. I think the better a place is, the more people seem to complain! I’m enjoying every minute of it though; it makes quite a change from my usual holiday: a pizza, a bunk bed and a shared bathroom in some dodgy hostel!

I’m keen to get outside again but once we do, we don’t have the luck we did with the elephant: There are a few animals around, but the rain at lunch seems to have kept the majority hidden. Before we know it, we’re back at the lodge and yet again the food isn’t good enough for some of the others. I understand that you are not always going to be happy with the food, but I think the treatment of Walter (our only waiter for the evening) is nothing short of rude. Personalities are starting to break the surface, or maybe I’m just starting to feel the effects of constant company. Either way, cabin fever is setting in!

4th February 2007 – Mount Kenya

Today I went to the only place in Kenya where you can see the Big Five as well as chimpanzees. I also went to (probably) the only place in the world where you can stroke a black rhino’s horn (in the wild) without being in trouble!

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any accommodation in the world that is good enough for (some of the people in) the group with whom I’m travelling. Today the number of complaints has increased again.

It has been a mixed day, starting with an excellent breakfast (although not for some of course) and a visit to the chimpanzee sanctuary. As I’m walking along the route to see the chimps, we pass a small marsh area, which has some deep water surrounded by lots of mud. From the water, through the mud and along the path I’m on, there are some huge footprints. I’m quickly told that they are hippo footprints – and apparently quite fresh too!

Further along, we see the numerous chimpanzees that are being protected by the locals. We meet a small Spanish television crew who is taking two years to make just six episodes about nature conservation. Their high definition camera probably costs more than any property in Kenya, but it’s their absurd 1600mm lens that makes me jealous!

Our next destination is Morani’s home. Morani is a black rhino whose parents were killed by poachers. He has had two rhino fights since and lost both, meaning he would die on his own in the wild. For years, the locals have looked after him and allowed tourists to say hello.

We each take our turn touching this huge animal’s back. He’s lying down but we’re warned that although tame, he is a wild animal after all and can act randomly. That’s two tonnes of unpredictability!

I approach and the guide says I should touch his horn. The moment I do, the motionless heap stirs and before we know it, he’s up on his feet, turned towards us and checking us all out. There’s a slight panic as people back away in all directions, but the guide calmly points us which way to go, leaving an empty route for Morani to stretch his legs and find some lunch.

Returning to the lodge for our own lunch and it’s the same story with the service. It’s slow but again I find it a perfect way to relax after this morning’s adventures. Some of the others don’t agree and make their feelings known.

Two or three in the group had one mouthful and then left the whole plate of food, muttering about the incompetence of the staff. I can never forget the phrase I was told as a child in order for me to finish all my food at every meal: ‘Think of the starving African children…’ Somehow, that phrase seems more relevant here!

Unfortunately, yet more rain has kept the animals out of sight in the afternoon, although we do get a great view of some giraffes. Some rhinos also show off their toilet skills with a spray so powerful that it seems they have an industrial pressure hose in their bladders! They then take some pleasure in walking along the road, refusing to move out of the jeep’s way.

The evening meal is just what I’m after, but what started as muttering at lunch, has now become quite loud and frankly I find it embarrassing – so I finish dinner and go straight to bed.

5th February 2007 – Masai Mara

A day of travelling has actually turned out to be very exciting. Heading south of Mount Kenya, we soon stop at the equator. Here, there are a couple of dozen tourist shop ‘huts’, but more importantly, we can watch the ‘equator test’.

It starts with a local showing us that 20 metres south of the equator, the water spins clockwise. We then walk 40 metres to where he says we are in the northern hemisphere and the opposite happens. It’s actually more impressive when he stands on the very point of the equator and the water does not spin in either direction!

The next few hours are hard; the roads are in awful condition and we only have one short break. However, the people along the road always give you something to look at; in particular a long stretch of road where you can buy your potatoes from one woman (and her small box of potatoes) and then you’d have to walk about 500m to the next woman if you wanted another type of vegetable and so on. I suddenly appreciate Sainsbury’s home delivery so much more!

When we get to Nairobi, we drive straight through the centre. It’s lunchtime and the only word I can use to describe it is ‘chaos’. It makes the London underground seem like stroll in the park! I’m not impressed either; it’s dirty and polluted and suddenly rural Kenya doesn’t seem that unappealing after all!

We arrive at the Wilson airport and upon entering, we practically double the number of people in the whole departure lounge. However, we’re efficiently taken through security with just one slight concern about my tripod and another passenger’s penknife – which could both be used as weapons (the absurdity of this soon becomes clear…)

Walking over to the plane, we have to identify our bags, and then jump onboard. I’m too busy taking photos of the smallest plane I’ve ever flown in and before I know it, there’s just one seat left – in the co-pilot’s! It was a great feeling to be at the front, although apart from the take-off and landing, I do wonder whether pilots get quite bored. Our pilot didn’t do too much and he looked quite automated throughout the flight. I did find it funny that the confiscated penknife was left on the ‘dashboard’ between the pilot and me!

The 12-seater plane lands on a dusty airstrip and the only tings in the vicinity are three wooden huts; one is the toilet, one with a hand-written board saying ‘Departure/Arrival Lounge’ and the best, a shack with the words ‘Duty Free Shop‘ on it!

Waiting for us are a couple of Maasai, with their fantastic red clothes and designs shining in the bright sun. We’re told that the relatively short distance to the lodge has been compromised by the heavy rain that has been falling since October. It is supposed to be dry season and yet the plains are green and the tracks are thick of mud and water. It takes nearly two hours to travel to the lodge but it absolutely flies by. We stop to see some hippos in Lake Mara and see the numerous Maasai villagers walking around, some empty handed, some carrying food and some armed with a carved piece of wood!

I expected a dry, brown and dusty landscape and although it’s a shame not to see that, the 4×4 journey certainly makes up for it. Grinding our way through the deep water, the jeeps are climbing over all angles with its passengers flying around like rag dolls!

We have been told that the final lodge is the most luxurious of all. If ever there was an understatement..!

The lodges (Saruni Lodge) remind me of the kind of accommodation that Indiana Jones would choose in the 1940s; the location is just outside the Mara National Reserve in South East Kenya, lost in the hills with a stunning view to the west into the Masai plains.

Best of all, is that everyone who works there is an actual local Maasai! In fact, for the 12 of us (there are six double lodges in the whole place), there are an incredible 48 Maasai on call to help! This is particularly useful since the lodge has no fences, no boundaries and no way of preventing animals (lions too) from walking right up to your lodge!

It’s so surreal having to flash a light at your front door so that a Masai Warrior can accompany you to the main communal area! At any time, a lion could approach and the only thing in its way would be your Masai guide! I’m not sure how reassuring it is that his only weapon is a pointy stick!

After a great dinner, I’m escorted back to the lodge (!) and ready for my first night in the wild…

6th February 2007 – Masai Mara

It’s supposed to be an early start for a game drive but the weather was really wet last night again, which means we’re no better off leaving early. Furthermore, the rain has made the roads even worse.

Eleven of us set out (one staying at the lodge due to some… er… stomach problems) and we’re bouncing up and down across the Masai Mara. There are plenty of animals to be seen, as well as all the local Maasai (including one small child actually being stalked by some vulctures!) but what makes this really special is that our Maasai drivers are free to drive wherever they want. This means that when we see something, we can drive straight off the track and zoom toward it – rather than letting my camera do all the zooming.

It doesn’t take too long before we do so, as in the distance we can see some elephants running around. As we approach, we realise that one male is chasing a female and is rather determined!

They are absolutely huge and stampeding around in such a random fashion that it’s important for us to be able to quickly drive away if things become dangerous.

The male elephant finally caught its mate and lifted the front of its enormous body metres into the air, landing on the back of the female. The elephants both let off an ear-piercing screech which sounded nothing like your stereotypical elephant trumpet. If anything, it sounded all rather painful for the female, who slipped away from the male’s grasp and then started charging in our direction! They were probably about 100m away and fast approaching. Although in a prime position, the situation was becoming a little risky so our driver decided to move to a different position so we could safely watch this pornographic display.

You can guess what happened next.

The wheels spun but the soggy, thick mud offered no grip whatsoever. Even with four wheel drive, there was no hope; we had sunk deeper and were well and truly stuck.

All heads snapped back to the approaching elephants and we all breathed a sigh of relief as the female turned towards some trees, with her number one fan eagerly following behind.

There were some small trumpets from the trees, and some rustling of branches and leaves that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Carry On film, but it seemed like we were out of danger.

The driver stepped out of the jeep and took a look at the situation. Suddenly, a deafening growl came from the trees. The driver’s reaction was hilarious – he seemed to whisper, almost mouth, the word ‘lion’, as if trying to convince himself what he heard was real! Within seconds, he was back in the jeep and all eyes were on the trees just 50m away. Then, a second growl came. However, although it sounded similar to the first, the driver relaxed, saying that it was simply the elephants mating!

The next 20 minutes involved a rescue mission, so as the natural sounds continued to come from the trees, the second jeep pulled us from the mud.

Safe on firm ground, we continued to watch some of the other elephants, including a mother with its tiny baby, who was hiding under its mother’s trunk.

There are plenty of other animals to be seen too. A large herd of buffalo keep us entertained and it almost seems normal to be surrounded by zebras. It’s strange, but each day that passes makes you more accustomed to your environment and each day I’m longing to see more extravagant things. I think I summed it up quite well (albeit rather sadistically) when asked what I wanted to see next: Chasing, blood and death!

There’s a quick stop to rescue yet another stuck vehicle, but soon afterwards we have a real break. We’re in the middle of nowhere and the two jeeps stop side by side; we’re all told to get out and make ourselves comfortable. The thought of being ambushed by a pack of lions soon disappears when the Maasai reveal a huge picnic for us all! Despite the strong sun and dehydration, I simply can’t resist a beer in the wild!

This rather surreal situation makes me think of a potential Kitkat advert, in which a chap jumps out into the African plain, alerting all the nearby lions. ‘Snap’ goes the chocolate bar and he’s saved, as the lions all join him for a break. The ambience suddenly changes when he swallows the last piece…

Following the meal (and the obligatory photos with the Maasai), we’re back on the ‘road‘ and heading back to the lodge. We’ve travelled quite a distance today but the road is never tiresome; the views are fantastic and every few minutes we pass a local Maasai. It has been a great day of safari.

7th February 2007 – Masai Mara

Today has been one of the most shocking, eye-opening and thrilling days of my life. It has also given me the opportunity to test out my photography skills and has certainly given me the most rewarding shots of the trip so far.

The plan is to head out early and spend as much time game watching as possible. The Masai guides are asking what we would like to see so they can plan the day as efficiently as possible, especially as the weather hasn’t helped our cause too much so far. What also hasn’t helped is that there are still a few in the group who seem to be more bothered about when lunch and dinner will be. We appear to be planning our safari around when some people want to be back at the lodge! It all seems a bit backwards to me and fortunately a few speak up and say we want to see animals, animals, animals – who cares when we eat!

The difference in scenery is clear: By setting off earlier, there is far more wildlife and we’ve also caught the time of day when visibility and landscapes are really eye-catching.

Passing the locals is always interesting and despite quite a long drive on the ever-deteriorating roads, there’s not a moment when I’m not enthralled.

First on our checklist is a leopard. It’s the only one of the Big Five that we’ve yet to see and the guides know of a potential spot (pun!) to see some.

We’re in luck: Deep in the tree’s branches lies a single leopard. I take loads of shots but he barely moves. It’s a shame but we’re all very happy to have completed the Big Five. As the guide is whispering facts to us, my father suggests that he will step from the jeep so he can film from a better angle. I look at him with despair, hoping that he’s joking. His face is deadly serious and he’s preparing to step out.

‘Stai scherzando!?’ Are you joking?
‘No.’
‘Ma non hai sentito cos’ha detto due minuti fa?’ You didn’t hear what he said two minutes ago?
‘No.’
‘La madre del leopardo – sotto l’albero – solo qualche metro dalla macchina!’ The leopard’s mother is at the bottom of the tree – just a few metres from the car!
‘Veramente!?’ Really!?

I’m nodding in disbelief and my father is either acting very convincingly or he’s just realised how serious his mistake could have been!

Next, we come across some hyenas that appear to be circling a group of springbucks. However, they don’t appear to be making much of an effort and they start moving into the opposite direction. The springbucks’ reactions are sublime. There’s tension in the air and yet they all stand motionless, reserving their energy unless absolutely necessary. One hyena passes right by a springbuck as if he wasn’t there and there’s a huge part of me willing the hyenas to crave some breakfast!

However, my telepathic attempts fail and it seems that the hyenas aren’t in the mood for working for their food. They suddenly pick up their pace and we quickly get the jeeps in gear, hoping that they’ve smelled something that we clearly can’t.

A few hundred metres away, we get a second hint that something is either dead or dying. There are vultures in the air, circling something hidden in the bushes.

The excitement builds and we’re overwhelmed when we see a fully grown male lion, hovering over a dead carcass. I can’t recognise the torn mess of flesh and bones, but our driver says it’s a dead hippo. We’re told that the lion will have been pushed out from its pride and that it’s struggling to survive on its own. It’s unlikely that it killed the hippo and there are moments when the lion turns and I can see how skinny he is. He isn’t the only one with a free meal through – every inch of the carcass is absolutely covered with flies.

I’m mesmerised and whilst watching, the lion’s head suddenly lifts; its eyes focusing far beyond the hippo. I follow its gaze and see that it has already noticed a jeep about 300m away, whose driver has momentarily left the vehicle. It dawns upon me how real this is and that there is nothing preventing the lion from approaching us, just a few metres away.

A short while later, the lion steps away from its meal and into some thick grass. Its head is only just visible and it’s unbelievable how camouflaged he is. He lowers his head and disappears. He is just a few metres away and yet you’d never know it. Just one step out of the jeep and he’d be on you before you noticed he was even there.

This makes the next stop quite amusing. A few in the jeep need a toilet break and unlike the men who can stand behind the jeep, the ladies require a little more privacy. We stop at some bushes and the driver says it’s safe; no lions there! They must be quite desperate to go; without a second thought, the ladies start to climb from the jeep. The next moment was a blur: A hyena jumped from the bushes and the women were shrieking themselves back into the jeeps! We all erupt in laughter and the hysterics continue when we approach a second set of bushes and a couple more hyenas step out into the open! Disbelief and adrenalin must have been the only reason why the ladies approved the third set of bushes and they were still laughing when they returned to the jeep with their newly-found tribal name: ‘Pissing With Hyenas’!

Next on the agenda is a visit to a local Masai village. Unlike some, this village hasn’t been (completely) commercialised and we can actually walk around and talk to the locals without feeling like it’s just an outdoor museum.

We’re first treated to a dance by the village’s women which has a haunting but catchy chant. However, it’s the village’s children that make this so surreal.

The village is a circle of homes, inside which is the grazing area for the livestock during the night. It’s therefore thick with mud and faeces, but most shocking of all is the lack of toilets, so it’s not just in the cattle’s excrement that we’re walking.

The children are huddled together, eagerly awaiting the gifts of pens, pads of paper and tennis balls and for the first time in my life I’m testing my portrait photography. I’ve seen countless images of third world country poverty and I’m well and truly immersed in it. I want to capture every single memory.

There’s one child who isn’t allowed any gifts. He cried earlier in the day, which is a Masai sign of weakness and he is now being punished. Separated from the group, he now watches from the other side of the village.

Unbeknownst to me, the others are getting a tour of one of the Masai homes, so I catch up and my father and I are lucky enough to get our own interview with Philip, one of the guides who grew up in such a village. The facts are shocking: Each woman has their own home which has one room for the cattle, and one open-plan room with two beds, separated by a fire-place. My ‘open-plan’ description makes it sound like a studio apartment. The reality is that the house is made of cow manure and mud, compressed together to form the walls and roof. There’s a tiny hole which allows a little light in and the smoke from the fire out. The beds too are made of manure, with a plastic sheet over the top. One bed is for the woman and the other for the husband, who usually has more than one wife. Depending on with which wife the husband chooses to sleep that night, the children will sleep in their father’s unused bed.

As I sit inside this ‘hut’, listening to Philip tell us how the days are passed, I can’t help wonder how this can still exist. It’s not like they don’t know about modern technology. It’s definitely not because they don’t have the ability to ‘evolve’. They simply choose to live this way.

I exit the home that’s barely tall enough to stand in and as I’m swamped with flies, a local boy starts talking to me. He speaks well but I find it hard to communicate. I feel embarrassed that this is his life.

I ask him about some of the objects they use as tools. One, he tells me, is a drinking container. They fill it with cow blood and milk. Other jewellery items are made from cow’s bone. I’m trying to learn and understand more about the Maasai, but all that’s racing through my mind is whether there’s anything they can’t make without a cow!

I ask about a weapon which is shaped like a thigh bone, heavy and rounded at one end. He says it’s for killing lions in self defence. I’m shocked. One hit around the lion’s head and he tells me that would kill it. I pause whilst I build up the courage to ask, ‘What if you miss!?’

He looks at me blankly and I’m not sure whether he didn’t understand my question or whether he couldn’t fathom the idea of missing!

We say our goodbyes and head back to the lodge; the Maasais have put on a tribal dance for us all, which is the stereotypical image I had in my mind of Maasais before I came to Africa. It’s the last night with them, so I’m intrigued to find out more. Speaking with one of the Maasais, he tells me that most children could spear an animal from 40m by the time they are teenagers. The Maasai then explodes with laughter when he learns that my father has one wife and just two children.

‘I have two wife! I have twelve children!’ He shouts with pride.

I return to my room; it’s another early start tomorrow and I’ve much to contemplate in my last night in this lodge.

8th February 2007 – Masai Mara, Nairobi

The day starts like every day should: I get a 30 minute body massage from a Masai Warrior!

I’m revived and anxious to be out again. There’s a slight delay as one of the jeeps is stuck again. We’re kept entertained by one of the Masais who chases the ever-playful Sarikoki (the tame eland who resides at the lodges) away with a branch. We’re returning to the airstrip and once again I’m captivated all the way. It’s not very often you enjoy a two-hour drive to an airport! Then again, it’s not very often that you’re halfway to an airport and you get a radio call saying to turn back a mile as there’s a herd of 28 giraffes to see!

The weather is fantastic today so we get a cracking view of the giraffes and it’s only our pending plane journey that pulls us away from nature.

At the airstrip, the sun in unforgiving and we shelter in the departure ‘hut’ lounge. I start talking to a local and it turns out he works in the ‘duty free’ shop and his gentle sales technique convinces me to look around. I decide to buy some gifts for my girlfriend and we start to haggle over price. He’s refusing to budge on price but then takes a fancy to my Nike baseball cap.; He offers me loads of free gifts in exchange for the cap and it’s only when I tell him it’s my girlfriend’s cap that he understands why I can’t exchange it! After all, I don’t think the following would go down too well: ‘I got you a present! I swapped your cap for it!’

We finally agree on a price and he wins a happy customer.

I then notice one Maasai using a mobile phone. It’s a surreal moment for me and it makes for one of my favourite photos of the trip.

After a slight delay (the lack of electricity and communications means we never really know if or when the plane was coming!) we set off back to Nairobi. For a short while we’re flying low across the African plains and the view is simply outstanding.

Strangely, during the drive from the airport back to our starting point, Nairobi doesn’t seem as dirty and chaotic as a few days ago.

After a short break at the hotel, we take a wander around the local market. Being practically the only tourists there, the stall workers fight for our attention. Some play games and enjoy the hustle, but others are clearly working hard to make a living and don’t take too kindly to our playful attitudes. I have an idea of speaking just in Italian only to be completely shocked when the hard sell continues in Italian! It works out best just shaking your head to everyone.

However, I do have my eye on one item and following a lengthy negotiation, I finally get it at the price I want. Unfortunately, once the other stalls see that you do have money to spend, the hassling becomes relentless. Out of pure curiosity, I ask for the price of a photo album and after laughing at his original quote (in the region of around £150!) his final price suddenly drops to just £5! It’s an absolute joke and I leave the market. However, the salesman isn’t defeated – he follows me for about 50m along the road, often blocking my route. What started as entertaining has suddenly become quite threatening. I finally convince him that I’m not changing my mind and all I’m left wondering is how many tourists would have just paid him to leave them alone.

We’ve a special treat in the evening, as we are driven to the other side of Nairobi, to a game restaurant. Walking to our table, I pass the ‘kitchen‘, which can only be described as a vegetarian’s worst nightmare!

The waiter explains that food will continue to arrive at the table until we lower our flag (we’re actually given a mini flag!) to accept that we’re beaten!

There’s no question whether I’ll try some of every animal on the menu (rump steak, lamb chops, leg of lamb, beef sausages, lemon & herb chicken, pork sausages, leg of pork, chicken livers, turkey, chicken wings, chicken gizzards, pork spare ribs, crocodile and ostrich meat balls!) although I’m surprised how much I dislike the crocodile. It’s really unpleasant so I ensure I make up for it with an extra helping of ostrich!

We’re all absolutely stuffed and despite the extra weight, the journey back doesn’t seem half as long and we all retire to our rooms.

9th February 2007 – Nairobi

And so it is the beginning of the end. It’s the last day on this eventful trip and I’m back where I started in the Westlands, Nairobi.

Despite the forthcoming eight hour flight back home, there’s one more surprise in store and it’s another one which practically keeps my finger permanently held on the shutter release button.

The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust (www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org) is more commonly known as the elephant orphanage made famous by Daphne Sheldrick on the BBC’s ‘Elephant Diaries’. It’s only open to visitors for a short period of time each day and subsequently it’s absolutely packed full of tourists, eagerly trying to get on the front row to watch the playful elephants.

First on parade are the youngest of the elephants. Just a few months old, they are learning like sponges, touching and playing with everything they see. It’s wonderful to watch and even better when they come up close and inspect you, allowing you to stroke their hard and dusty skin.

There are also some waterhogs, but the main attraction is the elephants and I can’t take my eyes off them. The weather is exactly as I expected it to be before arriving in Africa: The sun is strong, bright and making the colours brighter than they have been all holiday.

Suddenly, a huge group of local children arrive, smartly dressed in their school uniforms. It’s incredible to see their reactions. They clearly have never interacted with animals such as these before and there’s a nervous curiosity amongst the group. Earlier in the holiday, we were told that African children are often taken on such tours, to try and teach them about wildlife so that when they grow up they too can continue the excellent conservational work.

The baby elephants are then taken away and they are replaced by the stampeding teenagers: The ambience changes completely and it’s as if the older elephants are celebrating their free time to the tune of Alice Cooper’s ‘School’s Out’!

They splash around in the water and mud, throwing dust all over themselves and the rangers. They become more and more rowdy and start falling onto each other as if helplessly rolling around in hysterics.

The children also enjoy the theatrics, but it’s even funnier when the elephants approach and fear grips the children as they huddle together for safety! One child in particular, is crouching on the ground, with his head held firmly between his arms! It’s a wonderful sight and typically it’s when my memory card is full. I scramble for a spare memory card but the moment has gone, although the children are suddenly intrigued by my camera equipment. Some smile for photos and others just look completely confused by the whole experience!

Our stay at the orphanage ends and on our way out there’s a chance to speak to some of the rangers, including Daphne’s own daughter, who also works there. However, she refuses to be filmed and shakes her head in a miserable manner, stating ‘I don’t do filming’…

Nonetheless, it doesn’t spoil the visit and my final memories of Kenya are of the beautiful elephants and the comical reactions from the local African children.

Final thought: I wish to thank those on the trip who made this possible. The group with whom I travelled were fantastic and the knowledge and history that I learned from those in the group who used to live in Kenya, made the holiday unique. A special thanks to Brenda for her enthusiasm, organisation and relentless effort to ensure we all had the best possible time. Thank you!