The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
‘As the elephant came over, tears welled up’
When Sue Watt took her newly widowed mother on a safari in Zambia, both were filled with a renewed sense of wonder
My words were instinctive, popping out unexpectedly and surprising me almost as much as they did my mother. We’d been walking Twix, the family springer, on the beach in my Welsh hometown of Aberdyfi, both of us still trying to navigate the stormy seas of bereavement after losing my amazing dad, Alfie, to motor neurone disease. It was the week after his funeral, which had been standing room only in the village church, and I suddenly heard myself asking Mum: “Would you like to come with me on a trip to Afri…”
Before I could finish the sentence, she’d replied: “Yes. Of course. When are we going?”
As a travel writer specialising in wildlife and conservation, I often travel to Sub-Saharan Africa, but this would be the first time for my mum,
Jean. Those steps in the sand marked the start of our journey to Zambia, a journey that long pre-dated the current coronavirus predicament.
It wasn’t just the trip, it was the anticipation, the planning, the explaining, and the shopping for that perfect safari wardrobe. More importantly, it was the something-tolook-forward-to that gave us a purpose and made those first few months without Dad a tiny bit easier to bear.
Six months on, we finally checked in at Heathrow for our flight to Lusaka. If Mum felt nervous about travelling to Africa for the first time in her mid-70s, she never let on. Neither did I, although my nerves were more to do with her expectations and not wanting to let her down. My parents spent many an evening glued to David Attenborough documentaries and the National Geographic channel – years of filming crammed into a riveting hour-long programme – and I worried that Mum might expect a similar level of instant gratification, which isn’t always forthcoming in real life.
But just minutes into our first game drive in South Luangwa National Park, she had her dream sighting. She spotted a young elephant amid the thorny acacia scrub, even before our guide had. We parked up and Mum stared in disbelief as the elephant ambled towards us until he was just a few paces away. “He’s called Stumpy because he lost his tail, maybe in a fight with a crocodile,” our guide, Keyala, explained quietly. Mum shuffled closer towards me on the seat and clutched my hand. “I can’t believe we’re so close to a wild elephant,” she whispered, as her tears welled up.
South Luangwa is one of my favourite parks. I knew that, if this was Mum’s only trip to Africa, then South Luangwa, with its tradition of walking safaris and night drives, would allow her to truly experience the bush; to hear it, see it, smell it, and touch it in a way that game drives alone can’t deliver. Maybe a part of me wanted her to understand my passion (some might say obsession) for it too, to really see what it’s about, and to love these wild places and wildlife as much as I do.
On that first game drive, once we finally tore ourselves away from Stumpy, it seemed South Luangwa’s wildlife had put on a show to welcome us. Two graceful Thornicroft’s giraffes curved their necks into a perfect heart, and carmine bee-eaters the colour of rosé wine flew past. Three elephants drank from the river, all in a row, curling their trunks in perfect synchrony. A lion gave us a lesson in bovine anatomy as he dissected a young buffalo, licking the hide until he broke through to its organs then pulling them out one by one. Mum looked on with childlike wonder, laced with horrified fascination.
“I hadn’t expected to see so much in one day!” she told me as I breathed a silent sigh of relief and introduced her to the joys of a safari classic: sundowner G&Ts by the river.
Our first camp was Nkwali, across the Luangwa River from the park’s Mfuwe area. Mum was amazed when she saw our luxury en suite chalet built of bamboo, stone and thatch, with open views to the river and a small swimming pool. We shared some drives with Nkwali’s other guests, including a couple from New Zealand, who took Mum under their wings and gave her a newfound strength and confidence in this unfamiliar world. Seeing them chatting and laughing together, with Mum shining in their company, was as much a thrill for me as watching her watch Stumpy.
The wildlife highlights came thick and fast. On walking safaris from our second camp, Nsefu, we wandered past giraffe, eland, zebra and impala, avoided a sleeping hippo, tracked elephant on foot, and crouched down to watch a leopard in a tree with its kill, an unlucky puku. On Mum’s face, a look of utter astonishment, as if she couldn’t quite believe we were here, a leopard was just over there, and there was nowhere to shelter, no vehicle or hide, between us.
There was the time we were trapped in the bar – conveniently – for a whole afternoon, unable to return to our room because elephants were wandering around camp. Mesmerised, with wine in hand, we watched them reaching for pods high up in the acacia trees. And there were the night drives, when we’d gasp at the beauty of leopards stalking under the stars or hungry lions out on a hunt. This was all new to Mum, and seeing it through her fresh eyes,
Sue and Jean travelled with Expert Africa (020 3405 6666; expertafrica.com) which offers a seven-night Zambia safari from £4,296pp seeing her wonder at things I’d almost taken for granted, made it all seem new to me, too.
In between discovering the wilds of South Luangwa, we’d reminisce about Dad and our family, the focus of Mum’s life – she’s mother to four, grandmother to six and great-grandmother to one.
Our most treasured memories are those of Tafika, our final camp, on the banks of the Luangwa. Its owners, John and Carol Coppinger, have lived there for 25 years, and it feels genuinely warm and homely.
Our room was made of reeds and thatch and “windows” open to the elements, built around a sausage tree in full bloom, its flowers like crimson hibiscus petals scattered on the floor. We laughed till our tummies hurt as I tried to catch a tiny white frog that was perfectly camouflaged on Mum’s mosquito net – she’d insisted she wouldn’t be able to sleep, thinking it might hop into bed with her. After jumping around the room following