Absolutely
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caviar, yet the spacious tents themselves were luxurious in every possible way – from fluffy towels and dressing gowns to hot running water and a flushing toilet. Our mobile camp even had its own electricity. There was also a whistle next to our bed in case we suddenly imagined a lion had come to snuggle up next to us in the night, but as Julius assured us soon after arrival, ‘No one has ever had use of it.’ In any event, a guard stood watch over my tent every night from dawn to dusk, so there was really nothing to fear. Of course, we were all there for the riding, not to snuggle up with lions. The horse I was allocated was called Katavi, so named after the country’s third largest national park, located along the rift escarpment in west Tanzania. A proud 17- hand ex-eventer bought from a dealer in Johannesburg, Katavi had come via a spell in Zimbabwe to join his other Swahili-named stable mates. 61
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