Travelling in the time of COVID

Departure day has finally arrived. We expected stress. We got it. Firstly, our flights were cancelled in late May. We rebooked, almost immediately, again with Emirates.

A week later, the jungle telegraph told us that Emirates were no longer taking passengers out of Zambia. An anxious call to Emirates confirmed this, but they reassured us that we could still disembark in Lusaka. But there would be no escape. What goes into Zambia, stays in Zambia.

Our COVID PCR tests were rather a damp squib in terms of stress. Both Keith and I failed our first tests in donkey’s years. I say that we failed. We both got a negative result. Win win. The odds had always been in our favour: Gill from Boots, in York, was a consummate professional. She assured us that only 2 out of 3000 clients had failed their tests. The double negative results were with us first thing the following morning.

We then checked in for our flight to Lusaka via Dubai. Fingers crossed we will not see dear old Blighty for 6 months.

Travelling to the airport brought to the surface a few emotions. Retirement felt massive, but this is bigger. I feel daunted by my lack of experience in tropical medicine, but confident in my paediatric knowledge. At least Keith knows how to spell the names of lots of parasites. We are hoping that our skills will complement each other. Keith is angling to prevent disease, or at least to intervene early whenever possible and I will get excited by people being sick.

Some friends have wished us well for our holiday! To be honest it does feel like we are just going away for a 2 week vacation. But our baggage weight of 89 kg is a bit excessive for 2 weeks on a beach. Clearing up the house and preparing it for Sue and Andy took more time than we expected. Our house now looks like a show home. Immaculate. Note to self – try to keep it this way when we come home.

Our airport taxi was early. The roads were almost deserted. We spent the first stage of the journey waxing lyrical about the verdant beauty of Yorkshire. July is such a lovely time to be in England, particularly when Wimbledon is in full flow and the Euros are at a crescendo. The last time we were living in Africa, TV had only just arrived. We trust that we can find a flickering box of light on Sunday to join in the ecstasy, or misery, that sport can bring. Casting our minds back 26 years: we still have vivid memories of searching for a TV in Zanzibar to watch the rugby world cup final in 1995. No minor task. We paid the un-African price of £10 per person for an all you can eat and drink deal, with the rugby thrown in gratis. South Africa were about to miraculously beat New Zealand. Some say that the New Zealand team were spiked. Dodgy microbiomes may have played a part in the South Africa victory. Here’s hoping for a fair contest on Sunday.

As we sit in the departure lounge an email pings into our phones. We already have an invite to our welcome party for this Saturday night. We will meet at Kalwani Pan. An idyllic spot by the Luangwa river. This sounds perfect. Dr Caroline will leave in six days time. Then we will be the Valley doctors.

Seven hours later…. It appears that fortune favours the brave. As I post this edition at 2am on Friday in Dubai we have a realistic prospect of some sleep tonight. We have secured two beds in the Emirates lounge. Night night.