What brings me back to Africa? It seems like a straightforward question. Over the last 35 years, I’ve been addicted to the place, ticking off a wish list that’s included everything from Cape Town to Kilimanjaro, mountain gorillas to the Great Migration. I’d return at the drop of a hat to witness any one of them again. But I’m sure I am not alone among Travel Africa readers in feeling something deeper — more instinctive — that draws me back to Africa again and again than simply to see its great iconic sights. It’s almost as if Africa has become embedded in my psyche; entwined with my senses.
When I’m at home in the UK, it only takes the cooing of a humble collared dove to instantly transport me to a Zambezi dawn, sunlight flickering through the mopane scrub; Cape turtle doves purring into the stillness. Brush against some thyme in my garden on a hot, sunny day and I’m back in South Africa: the herby, pepper-sweet tang of the bushveld accompanied by a scratchy percussion of crickets. And when the stars shine brightly over my home in the Cotswolds, I count my blessings that we’ve been spared street lights, but can’t help thinking
