What a relief it is to be back among level-headed Kenyans

I stood under huge skies in the open country of our farm in northern Kenya and, after months of London lockdown, I remembered those Japanese tourists I had once seen, weeping with wonder at the sight of Africa’s savannah after their lives imprisoned in cities. I’ve been savouring every little detail of home since we returned the other day: the taste of water and mangoes, the joys of talking cattle with the stockmen, seeing my 95-year-old mother at last, birdsong and crickets, long treks with our dogs tearing off wildly after baboons and buck. I woke up before dawn when several lions noisily killed a zebra in front of our house. I lay in bed listening to them scrunch up the animal’s bones and felt that all was well in the world. On my rounds of the farm I discovered that during the time we had been away, our wonderful Kenyan team had kept the place well in hand. Our new bull had been randy; scores of calves were born; young trees had shot up, rains had filled the dams and pastures were sweet and green. Oh, what happiness.

It has been a relief to be back among Kenyans, who are much more level-headed about Covid-19 than hysterical Europeans. The pandemic has inflicted great economic hardship, but people here take life as it comes. Many Kenyans we know simply went home to the village and survived among relatives, adopting a fresh interest in farming. Our neighbours spent the pandemic enjoying their cattle and farms. One young couple I know wandered for months across the slopes of Mount Kenya, with its giant heather and trout-filled tarns. Several lived on the beach, surfing every day during a year of the best wave swells anybody can remember.