I’ve loved leopards ever since I saw a BBC wildlife programme about them, and
I’ve had a poster of leopard cubs in my room since Year 4. I like it that
they’re so independent. The females are the boss, basically — they hunt
alone, and they’re stealthy and strong. The markings are beautiful. Also,
we’ve got a wild leopard near us, the “Rutland Panther”. Only mad people
seem to see it, though.
The South Luangwa Valley has one leopard for every kilometre, and you can do
night drives there, which adds to your chances of seeing them. I think the
fact they are nocturnal and hard to find makes it more exciting. Dad doesn’t
agree. He’s already fretting that we won’t see one, but that’s just my dad.
MFUWE INTERNATIONAL airport is the smallest I have ever seen. There is a tiny
shop selling postcards made of elephant dung and that’s it. A Jeep takes us
to Nkwali, rumbling past mud huts and groups of children wearing school
uniform or carrying farm tools — sometimes both. The young ones huddle
together with wide eyes: Kiki, our chief guide, says they’re like herds of
baby impala. He’s very nice, with a big laugh.
Finally, we’re at the camp — six thatched chalets and a bar built round an
ebony tree. Our chalet has outdoor bathrooms and lizard wallpaper — except
it’s not wallpaper, it’s just lizards.
I get to bang the drum to summon everyone to lunch, which is cool, and
afterwards, while everyone else takes a siesta, I stay on the deck by the
river and watch pods of hippos snorkelling about. I’m just starting to worry
about one of them climbing the bank and stamping on me when the drum goes
and it’s time for tea and chocolate cake. Hippos and cake. I could be very
happy here.
On the first game drive, we have Rocky for our guide and Champion as scout:
both very smiley, like everyone at the camp. I didn’t know people could be
so kind. Straightaway we’re driving across a plain full of impala and
baboons, all hanging out together for protection. Then we meet some zebras
grooming a foal, which mum and I ooh and aah over; and a hornbill, like Zazu
from The Lion King.
We stop for sundowners, then we’re off again, with just the headlamps and the
sounds of the bush.
Now comes the big moment of the first night. We hear something in the trees,
and suddenly we are right in the middle of a lion hunt. In the dark! We can
only see one lioness, lurking in the tall grass, so we turn off the
spotlight and listen. The baboons are going crazy with alarm calls, and when
Rocky switches on the lamp again, we see two more lionesses on either side,
and one tearing off after an impala.
After a struggle, they all run and she misses the kill. The four come together
again and stroll along the track, fluffy black tails bobbing; they even lie
down for a rest. I can’t believe how chilled out they seem — my heart is
thumping.
It definitely makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when they’re
right next to you.
“Good job they don’t know how to use a can-opener,” says dad. “We’d be
supper.”
NIGHTS AT Nkwali are noisy. I was sure I heard hippos right outside our chalet
— maybe that’s what the bars on our windows are for. At 5am,
I shine my torch into mum and dad’s faces, then we go down to the campfire for
toast and porridge. The morning game drive is with another family: Lauretta,
David and Georgie.
We spot baboons crossing the road, the babies clinging to their mums’ backs.
Suddenly, a trunk appears like a periscope from the bush and three elephants
parade across right in front of us, including a baby.
We watch as herd after herd passes by, and I just sit and stare and think:
“How awesome is this?” That’s how it is on the drives: a new creature every
time. We get giraffes, then a crocodile, then a buffalo having a mud bath.
My favourite morning is the walking safari. I’m only just old enough — you
have to be 12. We set off across the plain with an armed guard, in single
file, like Rocky tells us. He also tells us The Golden Rule: “Never run...
unless I say so. And if I say get up the tree, get up the tree.” Gulp.
On day four we take a long Jeep ride to Kawaza, a tribal village, where we’ll
sleep over and visit the school. It’s a funny experience, like being a
celebrity. We watch the end-of-term assembly, with chickens clucking around
us. Afterwards, the kids cluster round, giving us their addresses and asking
freaky questions like “What is your staple crop?” We get a tour, eat
gorgeous village chicken with peanuts and okra leaves (no cutlery) and visit
the faith healer. My new friend Meah braids my hair. Finally, we go to our
mud hut, hoping that this isn’t the night the leopards decide to show up at
Nkwali!
IT ISN’T — and they don’t put in an appearance the next night, either. We do
find the lion pride again, but this time they are mating. I personally think
we should leave them to get on with it, but everyone wants a peek.
The next morning, though, we hear that two other guests have seen a leopard
and her cub crossing the track. They even show us pictures on their digital
camera. The cub is so sweet, mewling for its mother. I’m really mad, because
there probably won’t be another sighting for ages, and tonight is our last
night here.
This time, we’re out with Zebron, but after just a few minutes, our Jeep gets
stuck on a muddy trail. It takes ages to dig us out, and my heart is
sinking. Then the thunder starts. “Oh no,” sighs dad, “we’re going to get
wet.” And he’s right — we put on ponchos and sit in the dark and the rain.
And then, suddenly, two impala hurtle from the bushes and right into our
spotlight.
“They look like they’re being chased by something,” dad says, but we don’t
stop to check. Then she springs out behind us. Zebron spots her and we turn
back — and there she is, prowling down the track ahead of us. Her cub must
be with a baby-sitter tonight. We all sit absolutely silent, breathlessly
watching.
It’s over in a flash. Has she disappeared? Zebron knows better. He drives up
to the bridge ahead of us, saying: “Leopards don’t like water. She’ll cross
the river here when she can.” We wait and, sure enough, she slinks out
again, strolling down to the bridge. Leopards are much stronger than lions,
and she looks incredibly powerful. After giving us a long show, she darts
back into the bush. Awesome.
We’re soaked through, but I don’t care. Mum and I sing and dance all the way
back to camp: “We saw a leopard, we got a picture...”
()
SPOTTING THE leopard was the perfect ending to a brilliant week. I’d never
expected to see so much, up so close — it really was like being in The Lion
King. Maybe you wouldn’t think it, but I’d say this is a great holiday for
families: okay, the walking safari might be too hot for some kids, but
everything else is perfect, especially all that cake.
But that’s just me. What did dad think? I wanted to write this like a proper
journalist, so I interviewed him.
“Trust you to fall for an animal that’s so hard to see,” was his first
comment. Charming. “I was relieved we spotted a leopard, but actually it
wouldn’t have mattered either way. Nkwali is so welcoming to families, and
the guides are absolute stars.
“I was amazed at the number of animals we saw, though I hadn’t thought about
the fact that most of them would be mating, mauling or murdering each other.
I’d hoped it might be an education for you, but I think you learnt more than
I’d bargained for.”
Don’t mind him. Parents can be so squeamish, can’t they?
The details: Audley Travel (01869 276250,
www.audleytravel.com) can tailor-make safari holidays throughout Zambia. A
nine-night tour, with eight nights at Nkwali Camp
(www.robinpopesafaris.net), starts at £2,225pp (£1,749 per child aged 12-16,
£1,343 for ages 7-11). Also at the camp and ideal for families is the
secluded two-bedroom Robin’s House, where a family of four sharing would pay
£1,970pp (£1,830 for under-12s), including a personal chef and childcare.
All prices include flights from Heathrow to Mfuwe via Lusaka, transfers, all
meals and game drives.
A visit to Kawaza village, where you’ll meet the chief and villagers, help
cook lunch and stay the night, costs £90pp. As well as providing employment
for the local community, the visits earned the village almost £3,000 last
year, enough to sponsor 80 orphans at Kawaza school and pay for the care of
20 disabled villagers.
Other companies to try are Aardvark Safaris (01980 849160,
www.aardvarksafaris.com), J&C Voyageurs (01373 832111,
www.jandcvoyageurs.co.uk) and Okavango Tours & Safaris (020 8343 3283,
www.okavango.com).
- The Crump family travelled as guests of Audley Travel
