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.

Throwing stones

At Sirikoi camp they have a young cheetah, found abandoned as a baby. We took the children over to see her, and she seemed to instantly recognise them as other young playmates. She leapt at Uma, who managed to jump out of the way, understandably terrified. Evie let her gnaw at her ankle, laughing at how ticklish it felt.

There is also a zebra, known as Zoe, who has decided she prefers to hang around the camp than to be with the other zebras in their herds. Ossian and I were sitting in the mess tent this morning when we saw Zoe sticking her head through the tent flap where Lila and Uma were sleeping. Zoe can be quite aggressive, particularly with children, so Adharanand chased her away by throwing stones at her, as we'd seen other people doing whenever Zoe came near. He eventually managed to chase her out of the camp, though she took some persuading.

Ossian, true to Steiner's belief that children learn thorough imitation, has now taken to throwing stones at the chickens and the dogs in the camp, with an accuracy that's surprising in a one and a half year old.

Lewa

We're staying with Jophie and Al at their home, a tented camp on the Lewa wildlife conservancy. As you turn off the main track you are greeted by a pirate flag, flying high over the corrugated metal walls of the kitchen. Beyond this are three large canvas safari tents, from left to right the guest tent, the mess tent, and their sleeping tent. On the far right of the line of tents is the rickety bathroom, with it's thatched sides and corrugated roof.

There is no fence around the camp, and all around lies the bush, teaming with wildlife. We have been acclimatising gradually to life in the camp, learning to use our torches at night to scan the bush for eyes before crossing from one tent to another. Once darkness falls it feels like a long walk from the bathroom tent to the guest tent, and we usually make the journey together, scurrying through the darkness, hoping we don't tread on a snake.

Yesterday Al drove us out into the bush, following the animal trails through the grass. He was just saying that the lions would be resting at that time of day, sleeping under the cover of a bush or tree, when Lila spotted a lioness asleep under the bush we'd just passed. The noise of a Land Cruiser filled with five young children disturbed her, and she got up with some annoyance to look for a more peaceful spot for her afternoon doze. She walked within a few feet of us, much to Ossian's delight. He made little lion roars all the way back to camp, and Lila was renamed Lila the Lion Spotter.

That night our walk back to our tent was more nerve wracking than usual, as we could hear the sound of lions marking their territories close by the camp even before we'd finished brushing our teeth. The noise is more like a deep, rhythmical grunting than a roar, and by the time we got to our tent we were running, throwing ourselves inside and zipping up behind us. Al had assured us that a lion cannot distinguish between a tent and a rock, and will not try and get in, but Lila was not so sure, and insisted Adharanand sleep with her. The noise of the lions vibrated in the air around us as we lay in bed, like listening to thunder cracking right overhead, terrifying and awesome at the same time.

Christmas

Jophie had arranged for a taxi to collect us on the morning of the 23rd December, and to take us up past Nanyuki to the home of Alastairs' sister and brother-in-law. The driver arrived in large Land Cruiser which the children were delighted about, especially as there were no children's car seats to sit in.

They spent most of the three-hour journey climbing in and out of the front seat, using their binoculars to examine the bicycles and donkeys we passed on the road, and waving madly at the overcrowded matatus (minibuses) that heaved their way over the pot holes and debris on the road. The last half an hour of the journey was on a dirt track so eroded by the rains that large sections of it had fallen away, leaving small craters and ravines. Without a 4-wheel-drive the house is inaccessible.

We spent Christmas with 20 of us in all, with many others coming and going over the the days we were there, and a small village of staff working to accommodate us all. The house had been built by Alastair with a large open veranda and a hammock overlooking two watering holes. The sitting room was cleared of furniture to make room for Scottish reels on the first night, Lila joining in right till the end.

We woke on Christmas morning to the sound of Masai children singing outside the house, quickly silenced by the gift of sweets. They divided their spoils between them and ran off down the dusty track. After breakfast we drove out into the bush, stopping to walk up to Pride Rock, where we sat with some other families to sing Christmas carols, the words getting lost in the vastness of the bush that lay beneath us. We feasted at every meal, all prepared, served and cleared away by the staff. This luxurious existence left me feeling slightly uncomfortable, like having hotel service in your own home.