No picture in a book or piece of film on TV can prepare you for the sheer power and fearsome enormity of a bull elephant up close. It certainly scared the hell out of our son that first morning in Zambia. From a distance, the bull and its mate and their baby had made a cute-looking nuclear family, traipsing across the plain towards some tasty foliage. As we drew alongside, the bull turned, reared its head and snorted.

Our own “baby”, Mackenzie, shrank back in his seat in terror and buried his head in his mother’s lap. Great. We’d just travelled 5,000 miles, after many weeks of organising and inoculating our four children: Sitira, 13, Kitty, 11, Orealla, 9, and Mackenzie, 6. By the time we left, they had become frantic with excitement at the prospect of a trip to Africa.

We had believed it could be a golden moment of their childhood. But all the time there were murmurs of anxiety in the back of our parental minds: were they old enough to cope?

Well, here we finally were and now we knew. Mackenzie was scared of the animals. He was famously stubborn; slower than an oil tanker to change direction. While his mother whispered softly in his ear, I panicked and wondered how we would get through the next 10 days.

Then Mackenzie raised his head and returned his gaze to the elephants. Less than 10ft away the baby elephant was feeding on the lower leaves of a bush, using its trunk as a swizzle stick. I could see Mackenzie watching, still clinging anxiously to his mother, but curious too. I knew then that we would be okay. And we were. And then some.

Arriving in Lusaka, the Zambian capital, after an overnight flight from Heathrow, I was glad we had taken the soft option of spending two nights at Chaminuka, a privately owned hotel and conference centre set in its own 10,000-acre animal reserve just half an hour from the airport.

Not only was Chaminuka elegantly arranged around a series of open meeting rooms known as insakas, it was also beautifully decorated with the owners’ lifetime collection of African art and furniture. There was also a pool and Jacuzzi where we could relax and become reacquainted with our children after busy months at home.

We were not staying anywhere for very long, hoping to keep one step ahead of the boredom factor. So, it was soon time to leave Lusaka and fly into Mfuwe, the starting point for one of Zambia’s biggest attractions, the South Luangwa National Park, which was teeming with animals and a constant source of excitement to all of us during our six days there.

We spent the first two nights on the edge of the park, in the ultra-luxurious Kapani lodge, with a suite boasting a four-poster bed and walk-in bath. We could sit on the veranda and be joined by monkeys and baboons while watching the animal activity in the lagoon.

Not so long ago the lagoon would have been a twist in the Luangwa river, which runs into the Zambezi. The Luangwa was fast-flowing during the rainy season and shifted and carried vast deposits of silt that first created horseshoes and then cut them off to form oxbow lakes, where animals gathered to drink and graze.

Hippos and elephants were especially abundant in the park, so much so that they had become a nuisance to the nearby villages. One evening we watched with wonder as a herd of 70 or more elephants stumbled down the bank of the river right in front of us, marched across the dry bed in single file, then clambered up the far side.

They were off to pillage the villagers’ mango trees, the villagers powerless to prevent them, except by smothering greased rags and string with chilli powder. Elephants, apparently, do not like chilli. No doubt it gets up their noses.

There were occasional fatalities as the elephants blundered over occupied dwellings in search of food. To us, the procession was a dazzling spectacle, but for the locals it was a depressing daily occurrence.

One night we nearly ran over an entire pride of around 15 lions stalking across the path in front of us, trying to shake down a herd of buffalo. We watched and listened as the lions repeatedly rushed and were repelled by the buffalo, who drew themselves in a circle and snorted and charged. Our guide, Levi, was disgusted with the lions when they gave up. He obviously felt they needed to visit The Wizard of Oz.

We spent two nights with Levi at a small camp, Mchenja, which was deep in the forest, by the side of another lagoon, in a glade of ebony trees. It was a beautiful, peaceful place to return to from our safari excursions, the children playing the games the camp provided – pick-up sticks, dominoes – with the kind staff, or cooling off in the plunge pool. It was a tented camp, but not exactly rough living.

We had a plumbed-in bath in our “tent” and a fully functioning en-suite shower and loo walled in by elephant grass but open to the stars. There were tree frogs in the loos, but somehow none of us minded. We were at ease with the unfamiliar environment. We shared Mchenja briefly with an elderly American couple who seemed to have spent most of their lives on safaris. Don was now 82 and there he was sitting next to our son, Mackenzie.

I hoped Mac would still be travelling in 76 years’ time. We had considered going to the beach before safari, but I could see now that would have been a grave mistake. We needed some rest and recreation, and left Zambia in a small charter plane, heading for the isolated resort of Nkwichi on the eastern shore of Lake Niassa (also known as Lake Malawi) in Mozambique.

A lakeside resort seemed an unlikely slice of paradise, but that was just how it turned out, Nkwichi being a local word for the sand on the beach, which was so fine it squeaked beneath your feet. Next morning we hit the beach at 7am and were still there for sundowners 10 hours later.

We ate many of our meals beneath the beach awning – the staff would set up tables anywhere we wanted – and then the adults lazed on wicker chaises longues while the children frolicked and played with body boards in the light surf. The lake was clean and entirely free of any nasty diseases.

The attitude was reflected in the half dozen chalets mainly built into the rock and constructed where possible out of local materials with bathrooms open to the stars. It was heaven for the children and a sensuous, magical place for the adults. We left vowing to return one day, despite the epic journey it required.

For us, as a mixed-race family, a visit to Africa had special meaning. But I defy anyone not to be touched by the warmth of the people and the magnificence of its many and varied landscapes.

How to get there

David James Smith’s family safari was arranged by Cazenove + Loyd; 020 7384 2332; www.cazenoveandloyd.com . They can arrange an 11-night holiday to Zambia and Mozambique for £3,495 per person, based on two sharing. The price includes British Airways flights from London to Lusaka, returning from Johannesburg to London, South African Airways flights from Lilongwe to Johannesburg and all meals, transfers and game activities. The price per child is £3,039

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