Iten

We have moved into our own home in Iten, down a dusty dirt track, past a little wooden roadside stall selling sweets and mobile phone credit, opposite one of the few two-story buildings in Iten. Behind big black corrugated iron gates lies a large lawn, covered in sheep poo and spiky grass.

The house sits in the middle of the plot, the big sitting room facing the gates, the tiny kitchen, shower and loo facing a magnificent view of distant hills dropping down into the Rift Valley. It's a long building, two rooms deep, but we're only occupying half of it. The other, larger half, is empty, save for one room with a pile of broken, dirty furniture in the corner, and Flora's bedroom. Out by the kitchen the door opens onto a vegetable patch, filled entirely with passion fruit plants.

The day we moved in we were met by our landlady, Mrs Keegan, the wife of a local politician, with big handshakes for Adharanand and I and hugs for the children. The house had the air of a building site, with the smell of paint overwhelming the rooms, the furniture and floors covered in dust, the newly laid lino curling at the corners, and rubble on the floor in the shower and loo. Out in the garden, Zachariah, Mrs Keegan's handyman, was still laying paving stones in front of the sitting room door. The goats and wild dog, that had been tethered to posts the day we looked round, had gone.

Mrs Keegan helped to make the beds and sweep the floor while we unloaded the car went to buy food and kitchen utensils in Eldoret. We kitted ourselves out with tin plates, bowls and mugs, a large tin basin to wash Ossian in and a bright yellow storm lantern in case of power cuts. The biggest excitement for Lila and Uma was a bunk bed of their own, and they diplomatically decided to take it in turns to sleep on the top bunk, one week each, change over day on Saturdays.

Naiberi River Overland Campsite and Resort

We've been here since Monday, a mini holiday while we wait for our house to be ready, and have fallen into a very comfortable routine.

Ossian wakes us all early with his singing and calling out our names. We have breakfast bought to us by the friendly staff in their green uniforms: fruit, cereals, pancakes, toast, and hot chocolate. We eat it out on the veranda on the sofa and armchairs, while Ossian eats his at his little travel highchair borrowed from Lali. Then Uma sets up shop on the steps of the veranda, and Ossian and I go shopping for dolls and coloured pencils.

We gather our kit for a day at the pool, and head off down the pathways under the palm and banana trees to the large turquoise pool. The sun loungers are all empty, with a couple of staff sweeping the leaves from the poolside using a bundles of branches taped together. We spread out our towels and unpack the bags, laying out sketch books, pencils, crayons and Lila's Peter and Jane books.

As the sun swings up into the sky the loungers heat up, until they are too hot to touch. Ossian falls asleep curled up under a kikoy, lulled asleep by the sound of the waterfall, and we order lunch from the bar staff. We dip our toes into the cold water of the pool. Slowly we move further into the pool, shivering with delight and cold at the water. I swim a few lengths while Uma floats about in her armbands, and Lila hops up and down on tip toes.

Ossian wakes just as lunch arrives, and we sit at a table by the pool, drying off as we eat. Ossian wanders off to the bar and starts to dance to the music, casting coy glances at the two men sitting in there. He hears the geese coming down the path and runs off to chase them. Lila and Uma set up doctors' surgeries on the sun loungers, calling in their patients one at a time to be cleaned with wet wipes and cured with sun cream, before being bandaged up in a sarong.

At four we put on our clothes and pack our bags and walk up the winding pathway to the swingseat overlooking the pool. Uma calls out for passengers on her fairground ride, and Ossian, Lila and I climb on board and lift our feet up off the ground. She starts to swing us, singing to us as we ride through the air, Ossian laughing and holding my hand.

It's time to go back to our room, shower off and change into something warm for the evening. Adharanand gets back from visiting training camps, and we walk over to the restaurant, Uma carrying Ossian's high chair seat, and Ossian carrying the tray. All the women who work here try to pick him up and cuddle him, which makes him very cross. Some of them have children of their own, but they all live at the camp, only seeing their families once a week, if that.

We order our supper and Uma and Lila head over to the pool table to watch the players. Sometimes they have a go, but the table is too big and the cue's are too long, and they get frustrated, and I end up playing Adharanand. Eventually our food comes, and we sit at the same table every evening and eat a feast of Indian food, spaghetti, avocado and toast, with Mango for pudding.

Sometimes we sit round the enormous fireplace, with it's huge chimney rising straight up through the roof, talking to the Overlanders who are passing through. Or we go back to the room, the children quickly falling asleep, and we sit out on the veranda with a fire lit, and drink wine with the couple in the next door room. It has been fun here, but it's time to go. Tomorrow we move into our own home in Iten.

Leilan Overland Campsite

This is our third night here, it's very basic, the kind of place I would have stayed in backpacking on my gap year, but it's quiet - we have the place to ourselves. The owner's two young sons were here when we arrived, and Lila and Uma were soon running around with them, collecting the bottle tops that are scattered all over the ground, sorting them into colours and arranging them into patterns.

We drove to Eldoret today, passing shacks made of corrugated metal sheets and old bits of wood, dogs lying on piles of muddy rubbish, donkeys hitched up to roughly made wooden carts, and barefoot children in torn clothes staring from the doorways. Pretty much everywhere we go people stare, calling out "mzungu" (white person).

The children are unsettled. Lila and Uma have been fighting and fighting, every time they are together it ends up in a fight. I spent a huge part of the day trying to get them to be kind to each other, but Lila does not want to have anything to do with Uma at the moment, and Uma tries to wind Lila up at every opportunity. Uma has also regressed, demanding to sit on my lap and pretending to breastfeed, making Ossian scream with jealousy. Ossian is breastfeeding a lot, mainly I think for reassurance.

When we got back tonight we were all covered in dust from the road, the children's clothes and hands, faces and feet were so dirty with food and mud that I had to scrub them all from head to toe in a bucket of warm water to get them clean. It felt intense today, being here, with our children, with no home of our own, and I'm sure that's why they are all behaving like they are. We began to question whether we had done the right thing, bringing everyone out here.

We've decided to take a house in Iten that belongs to a local politician, which is supposed to be in a safe part of town, although it all looks the same to me. It's either that or live in Eldoret in a secure development, but we want to be in Iten, so we're going to give it a go there first. I'm sure that once we're in our own home, and the children have settled into some kind of routine, we'll all start feeling much happier about being here.

Thompson Falls

Today feels like we're heading off into unknown territory. We left Lewa, packed into an MPV with Flora and a mound of luggage. After waving goodbye to the last of the grevy's zebra and the bumpy dirt tracks, we started our tarmacked journey to Iten. We only travelled three and a half of the 10 hour journey today, winding our way up to Nyahururu.

The children snacked on flapjacks and orange juice, drew Flora pictures of English style houses and had a few minor scuffles in the back seat. Flora ended up wedged between the luggage and the window, with Lila and Uma fighting on her lap. Uma also had time to ponder over things a little… "If mosquitoes only come out at night, what do they eat for breakfast and lunch?"

We're staying the night at the Thompson's Falls Lodge, a hotel that has seen better days (back in the 70's judging from the decor), with holes in the mosquito nets and jugs with broken handles. We spent most of the afternoon in the garden, the girls using the picnic tables as shops and cafes, while Ossian pulled me along behind him as he explored the pathways.

After an initial standoff, the children befriended a little girl who'd come for drinks with her parents, and they were soon playing hide and seek and What's The Time Mr Wolf, and chasing each other round the garden, with big hugs when she left. We ate our supper in the dark after the whole town had a power cut, and then went back to our room, lit the fire in the fireplace, and were all soon fast asleep.

Staff

Even here, in this wild camp, there are staff. Jophie and Al employ three people to cook, clean, do the laundry and look after the children while they are at work. It takes some getting used to. I go back into my tent after breakfast to make my bed, and it's already been done. Any clothes that have been left lying around have been taken off to be washed. Sometimes this feels a little excessive.

All the meals are prepared for us, even breakfast. It feels uncomfortable to go into the kitchen and start cooking, even though all the staff working here are very friendly. It's like I am trying to do someone else's job for them, and getting in the way of their well ordered routine.

Jophie has found somebody to work for us when we move into our own home. Her name is Flora and she is the daughter of Evie and Lali's nanny, Rosie. Flora is 21 and has spent the last few months training in the kitchen at Sirikoi.

Adharanand and I have been struggling with the idea of having a 'house girl', we've never even employed a cleaner before, but Flora has already got the job, and if nothing else, Jophie assures me that so many people out here need work, that giving somebody a job is a good thing.

On horseback

Every morning Evie and Lali go for a ride on the horses from Sirikoi, the luxury safari camp where Jophie and Al work. The riding instructor turns up at 9.30 with the horses and a few of his men to lead them. While we've been staying here, Uma and Lila have gone with them. They usually bring 3 horses, so two of the children have to share, and take it in turns to ride one behind the other.

This morning I rode out with them, Jophie following behind with her two dogs, Charlie and Dudu. From the back of a horse you get a great view of the bush, and it feels much safer than walking. We had just come out of a thicket of acacia trees when we saw a whole troop of baboons trailing across the bush, on their way to drink from the stream than runs along the edge of the thicket. There were over 50 of them, large males and females carrying their young, black against the sun bleached ground.

On horseback, I was hoping we'd be able to get quite close up. But Dudu took off, barking wildly and chasing after the large males in the troop. With all the barking, and the shouting at the dogs, the whole troop of baboons scattered. The dogs followed in pursuit, disappearing among the trees. The last we heard of them was a loud grunt followed by a yelp from Dudu, who'd presumably been hit by one of the baboons.