MY WATCH glowed: 5.30am. Suddenly a dark shape loomed up out of the bushes to my left. A hippo trotted across the track in front of me and disappeared into the scrub, with a sniffy backwards glance at my truck. I switched off the engine and listened: it's inadvisable to come between a hippo and her baby. Hearing nothing, I manhandled the wobbly gearbox into first and set off again towards the hurricane lamp bobbing in the distance.

It was Shadreck, the nightwatchman. “Quiet night?” “Look, hyena tracks.” We examined the prints of a young male that had trotted past the kitchen while our guests were asleep. Then I jumped out of the truck and joined the waiters, Kent and Clifford, to prepare tea, toast and porridge for our guests' breakfast.

I first visited Robin Pope Safaris in 2006 to interview Jo Pope about her work supporting local schools and jobs in this impoverished part of eastern Zambia. Jo and her husband, Robin, run a lodge on the banks of the Luangwa River. The main camp, Nkwali, sleeps 12 in six chalets, while parties of eight can hire Luangwa House, half a mile away down a bumpy track. It's an enormous safari house built three years ago from ancient leadwood trees and stone, with a thatched roof.

On this visit I had returned as a caterer, overseeing the cleaning and cooking at Luangwa House for wealthy, potentially demanding guests. My reward: time off each day to enjoy game drives and bush life. For a travel writer, accustomed to staying at some of the world's best hotels, it was a major role reversal - as a host, could I meet the standards that I would expect as a guest?

There were a few days to prepare before the first guests arrived. Luangwa House is an open structure - the double-height living space has no front wall, and the four bedrooms open on to viewing platforms. The elephants might stop at the plunge pool, but other wildlife walk right in. So we had to knock paper wasps' nests off the banister rails, coax a black mamba down from the kitchen fan, nudge the frogs out of the living room and exterminate the termites. Whenever I paused to look, I would see herds of elephant or buffalo and journeys of giraffe grazing just yards from the deck.

My team of half a dozen local staff were hard-working, and seemingly relaxed about another bossy white woman directing operations. For while cooks and cleaners come from nearby villages, caterers tend to be well-travelled overseas staff who can chat to guests while ensuring the correct wine glasses are used and food is properly garnished, touches that understandably don't come naturally if you have only ever lived in rural Zambia. That said, many staff, such as the waiter Kent and chef Simon, had been with RPS for years and needed no guidance from me.

In fact, I was on a steep learning curve. I had to get to grips with driving my four-wheel-drive, often in the dark, with hippos or elephants crossing my path. Sometimes an elephant would mock-charge me if it felt I was invading its territory - I had to fight a natural instinct to flee and instead wait for it to move before cautiously driving on. I had to learn camp safety: staff bedrooms are near a spot in the river where hippos love to bathe, so I had to check the coast was clear whenever I visited the bathroom, as hippos are extremely dangerous if you get in their way.

And I had to get to grips with running Luangwa House, learning about the inventory, staffing and supplies. I made numerous trips to Nkwali's warehouse, collecting everything from bottles of gin to sacks of onions. I would also visit the kitchen garden for fresh herbs and vegetables, and chat to the gardeners.

One morning I found them fixing the fence: a lion had tried to break into the chicken coop the night before. After three days, the house was spotless, and a herd of elephants had picturesquely positioned themselves near the deck. My first group of mostly British guests arrived and we welcomed them with large G&Ts, and a supper of watermelon and feta salad, roast beef with all the trimmings and rich chocolate tart.

Soon we hit a rhythm. The guests had long morning and evening game drives, an afternoon siesta, and wonderful meals whipped up by Simon's team, with everything, including bread and cakes, freshly baked. I would organise menus, laundry, supplies and cleaning from 5.30am to midday, returning at 3pm and 7pm to ensure tea and dinner were properly served.

Fortunately, the guests were easy-going - there are only so many requests you can meet in the bush. One asked for an unusual brand of tea and we had to send someone to another camp down the valley to borrow some. Of course, the guest never knew. I remembered what I had learnt as a travel writer from top hoteliers: the guest is always right - even when they're wrong.

Back at Nkwali, off-duty staff were always up to something. Simon, the all-action Aussie in charge of the workshop, would commandeer a boat and a group of us would take a crate of beer and cruise the river at sunset, spotting hippos, crocs, and elephants.

Or Marko, the Serbian head chef, would play Chopin sonatas on Jo's old piano while we sat on the deck and watched passing giraffe and zebra. Perhaps the most fun was pulling off the “magic” that had the guests gasping. It wasn't just guiding them to the most elusive wildlife, though Luangwa House's guides, Joseph and Rocky, were hugely skilled at tracking animals and spotting birds.

One day they found eight wild dogs, some of Africa's rarest creatures. But for me, the highlight of each week was organising a surprise bush breakfast. After waving the guests off on a game drive at 6am, we'd throw camp tables and chairs, firewood, cooking pots and food into the truck. I would drive Kent, Simon and Boston, our scout - armed with a rifle - into the game park.

Simon would get the fire going while Kent prepared Bloody Marys and Bucks Fizz, and Boston kept watch. When Rocky and Joseph arrived with the guests soon after 10am, there were gasps of delight. Then bacon and eggs were hungrily polished off, as the guests admired the wildlife from our impromptu camp.

At the end of my stay, Jo was pleased with my work, but told me bluntly that as I looked so exhausted, I was clearly too old for catering. She's right: those early starts are a killer. But at sunset on the river, beer in hand after another day of unscripted bush life, I reckoned they were worth it.

NEED TO KNOW

Robin Pope Safaris (www.robinpopesafaris.net) has a week at Luangwa House from £15,630 for a party of eight, including all meals, drinks, park fees and airport transfers. Expert Africa (020-8232 9777, www.expertafrica.com) offers tailormade holidays. British Airways (0844 4930787, www.ba.com) has return flights from Heathrow to Lusaka from £748.

KEEPING THE TIPS

Lodges and camps across Africa take on British staff, aged 25 to 35, to oversee catering and help to look after the guests, usually with modest pay in US dollars. Full board is provided. For contact details for safari camps and lodges, see the African Travel and Tourism Association website: www.atta.co.uk

Distinguished gentlemen with excellent conversation and good ballroom dancing are in demand as dancing partners and dining companions aboard Crystal Cruises, where female passengers outnumber single men. Ambassador Hosts, aged 48-plus, join a ship for four weeks. Shared cabin, full board and the chance to join excursions are included. Details: www.crystalcruises.co.uk

Puebols Ingles offers a week's full board in Spain in exchange for 100 hours of English conversation with Spaniards eager to practise with a native speaker. Details: 00 34 902 103737, www.puebloingles.com)

Caroline Hendrie

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