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Photo of the week: An injured female giraffe meets her maker - via a pride of 10 lions

Highlight of the week: We see an orphaned elephant. One week old.

Lowlight of the week: A one week old elephant is orphaned.

Maximum temperature: 28 degrees Celsius

Rainfall: A contentious 5-minute shower at night

Home is where the heart is. We have two. Our hearts break to leave either home.

Kapani is home again. Kwetu, Yorkshire, is past and future. We live in the moment. Mindful, so to speak.

Reactions from friends and family about our Zambian sojourns vary. Many anxious about our safety. But the trend after 2 successful tours of duty is towards lower levels of anxiety. Often assuaged by our weekly blogs. Occasionally stoked.

Some folk are envious. Those who have holidayed in South Luangwa know more of its fruits. But any safari goer can relate. Others who have not travelled to Africa are more questioning. Surely it’s too hot? Yes. Surely the animals are dangerous. Occasionally. What do you eat? Pretty healthy food mainly – plenty of fresh fruit and veg. Where do you live? In a house. But it’s hard to sum up what makes this Zambian dwelling home for us. A whole blog might just do it justice.

Our home in Zambia is within an old safari camp. A motley collection of buildings, which used to house Kapani – a tourist lodge on the south banks of the Luangwa River. Outside the park. But right next to it. Many animals choose to cross the river. And an oxbow lake that is now dry. We are within spitting distance of the river. There is no fence. No wall. Elephants and predators tip -toe or prowl. In fact, as I write this blog, Keith has just spotted a leopard from our window. It’s wild out here.

We have a semi-detached bungalow. Our immediate neighbours are members of the Time and Tide staff. Time and Tide took over Kapani lodge and now use it as their camp headquarters. The house is constructed from breeze blocks. Covered in render and painted. A version of terracotta. It blends in with the bush. The floors are polished concrete – a look that has made a resurgence in modern houses. But there is extra character - gaps where termites get to work; holes for scorpions to get in; places for spiders to hang out. We have a veranda of sorts. Exposed to nature and the vagaries of bush life. A favourite place for baboons and vervet monkeys to hang out. They often leave us gifts. Excrement left on the table or on the floor. Smelly and offensive. We choose not to reciprocate. Perhaps we are making a territorial error?

Our windows are made of glass with metal surrounds. They are mostly shut. We also have insect screens. Some windows are barred. Others permit access to determined or forceful primates. Leave the windows open, for fresh air, and the baboons and vervet monkeys break in. Close the windows, and stifle when the air-con fails. This year the power is rationed, as is our comfort. Keen to keep insects and the baboons out, to stay safe we wilt. Snakes squeeze between any gaps. Scorpions limbo beneath the doors. Or come up the plug holes. We share our home with a multitude of house guests. Some invited. Most unwelcome. And yet it is our haven.

We have a soft spot for some of our house guests. Particularly the geckos. Cute little creatures with sticky feet. They scamper around the rooms. Mostly at night. Shy. Gobbling up mosquitos. But also part of the food chain. Snakes love them too. We might have snakes in the house. Possibly in the roof. We have seen them on our veranda. Other valley docs have had them drop from the tree, that grows through our veranda. As yet, the snakes have not penetrated our sanctuary.

Flying guests are never welcome. Bats. Mosquitoes. No-see-ums.

When we built Kwetu, we had to pay a lot of money to have a bat survey. Over £1000. 5 people came dressed as batmen. To our great relief, they found no bats. A bat mitigation licence would have racked up more fees. I gather that if you find bats, you also have to build bat roosts. There was no red tape when Kapani was built. Bats outnumber the other mammals in Kapani ten to one. Each new house offers rich pickings for the bats. Ceilings and niches. Our Kwetu batmen would have had a field day here. Their mitigation licence hoops would have had Kapani floundering at the foundations.

And that brings me back to snakes. In Mexico, some snakes have adapted their behaviour. They live in the nooks and crannies of large bat-caves. As the bats wake up for their night activities, so the snakes stir too. They hang down from the rooves of the caves. As the bats fly by, they are snatched from the air. A bat snack will satisfy a snake for 3 days. I doubt that our snakes have changed their behaviour as yet. But should we worry? Bats can spread rabies. And other viruses. Like Ebola and Marburg. Coronavirus. And a multitude of fungal infections. There have been outbreaks of Ebola in West Africa and Uganda driven by bats. Studying for my Diploma in Tropical Medicine and Hygiene was like watching a horror film. These cute fluffy flying animals have become satanic. The more I have learnt, the more frightened I am. I would sorely like to train our snakes to eat bats. That would nudge the food chain. In a positive direction. But then our chain would need another apex predator to reap the snakes. Gid’s adorable band of mongooses would fit the bill. The cycle of life continues….

Back to the house. Two bedrooms. Each with its own ensuite. Running water. Safe to drink. We shower without risk of bilharzia. Hot water on demand. A necessity for 3 months of the year. A luxury for 9. Two flushing toilets. The waste is not my concern. Septic tank or an African mains sewer. It’s not my bag. Nothing smells.

Much of our time is spent on the veranda in the shade. Or in our open plan kitchen-diner-living space. Not as grand as is sounds. A largish room. Some cooking equipment. A dining table. A sofa.

Modest, and rather shabby, but it’s home. The walls are cracked and the floor worn - Alan opines that the bush is hell bent on reclaiming the doc house. The roof of our veranda, consumed by termites, was replaced by Time and Tide last month.

In truth we squat here for now. Consigned to the spare room whilst Karen and Alan carry the Valley doctor mantle. Our bed a generous single. The luxury accommodation of neighbouring safari lodges is in stark contrast to our shabby chic digs. And yet we feel secure here. Welcome.

And in 3 weeks’ time we get to truly call this home again. Our generous hosts jump ship, down the river to Croc Valley. Doctor Karen morphs into Doctor Keith. The next incarnation of the Valley doctor. For there can be only one.

Keith meets our orphaned elephant

Open plan living

HIIT class on the verandah