You are woken by the vervet monkeys scrabbling around on the roof, by the first glints of a pink-grapefruit sun gleaming through the mist coming off the Zambezi. A continent that can scarcely be mentioned these days without the backdrop of despondent and shaming statistics is, close up, irresistibly beautiful.

Perhaps it isn’t surprising that so many westerners come back from Africa with a soft-focus love for the place. The travel experience is geared towards the luxurious, allowing the rich rawness of Africa to be cushioned by old colonial four-posters, lace mosquito nets, and the hallowed tradition of sundowner cocktails. It is easy to appreciate its vivid glory when you are being leisurely rowed downstream with an iced cuba libre in your pampered palm.

Lately, though, there has been more recognition that visitors don’t want to have their sensibilities protected from the real Africa. Some would welcome the chance to witness the realities of daily existence in some of the world’s poorest countries, even if they can then slip between crisply laundered sheets at the end of the day.

For many African nations, the most practicable way of improving their economy is through tourism, enticing affluent western visitors and their hard currencies. There may be a point to yelling long and loud about improving aid to Africa, but an immediate and enlightening option is to go see for yourself.

The packages here certainly aren’t for the budget-conscious crowd, but your money will make a difference, and it’s difficult to think of a trip that offers more real value, in every sense.

Back to those monkeys. They are frolicking in the grounds of the Islands of Siankaba, a blissfully tranquil river lodge in the south of Zambia. Two forested islands in the middle of the Zambezi have been equipped with six elegant and comfortable chalets, all four-poster beds, river vistas and gilded bath fittings, joined by elevated walkways over foliage and streams.

Siankaba offers both a luxurious escape and the opportunity to remember you are in Africa, rather than a hermetically sealed paradise.

In the realm of statistics, Zambia might seem consigned to oblivion. The starker numbers tell us that life expectancy is 33 years, that half the population will die from Aids, that the government spends £250m a year on debt repayments, and half of that figure on education.

Up close, it seems less bleak. Tourism is already benefiting from the “Zimbabwe effect”, as Robert Mugabe’s reign of terror incites visitors to switch to a saner nation on the other side of the Zambezi.

That’s the broad picture, but the real hope is in the detail. At Siankaba, the infectiously upbeat proprietor, Simon Wilde, tells me that one of the most popular activities on offer is a visit to the neighbouring village. I can see why. It’s an eye-opening introduction to the domestic reality of African life, and to the practical improvements that a conscientious tourism project can make.

The headman in Siankaba laid down three provisos before he gave permission for the lodge to be built on his people’s land. The owners would have to provide a mill and a cattle dip for his village, and give preference to locals when recruiting staff. The requests show perspicacity, and a practical realisation that the villagers’ way of life will change with the regular employment provided by the camp.

My guide shows me the basic ingenuity of the mud huts. There is no power line here, but the huts have televisions that run off car batteries. The sanctimonious might sniff that this will alter the traditional way of life. The realistic (and the villagers) point out that the changes are inevitable.

Those of a historical frame of mind might suggest they have been inevitable since that moment, 150 years ago, when the dour Blantyre missionary David Livingstone looked with awe over the cataracts of the falls he named after his queen. What may be surprising to a visitor is the degree to which Livingstone is still celebrated in these parts. Even the main town retains his name when virtually every other African settlement ditched their colonial references after independence.

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