Conditions observed on safari.
A running list. No known cure.
One new condition every Sunday, observed in the field and written up with the seriousness it deserves.
Check your symptoms.
Seven statements. Be honest.
I have eaten breakfast slowly on the last morning in the hope the transfer would forget me.
I have whispered “she’s moving” to a person sitting next to me.
I have announced an early night during the third course.
I have pointed at a rock with total conviction.
I own more than one garment in a colour described as “stone.”
I have said I am not really into birds. I own the app.
I have found my phone face down in a drawer and felt nothing.
Nothing is stored. The diagnosis is permanent.
Signal Surrender
A condition in which a device of previously vital importance is found, on day three, face down in a drawer. Symptoms include calm, and knowing what the moon is doing.
Observed in the field:
- Airport arrival: signal checked eleven times before the luggage carousel.
- Day two: phone carried on the drive, photographs only.
- Day three: “Has anyone seen my phone?” asked without urgency.
Known complications:
- Knowing what time sunset is without consulting anything.
- 214 WhatsApp messages, read in one sitting, no regret.
- Describing the week as “quiet”, to people who can see the photographs.
None sought. This one resolves on its own, then relapses at home.
Not a Birder
A condition defined by its own denial. The patient states, clearly and often, that they are not really into birds. By day four they own the app.
Observed in the field:
- Day one: “We’re here for the big stuff, really.”
- Day two: a pause at a lilac-breasted roller, described as “just stretching my legs.”
- Day three: “Sorry, stop the vehicle. What was that?”
Known complications:
- The Roberts app, purchased at full price, at 5:15am.
- A list. There is now a list.
- Correcting a spouse on the difference between a bateleur and a fish eagle, unprompted.
Admitting it. The binoculars were a clue.
Khaki Creep
The slow colonisation of a wardrobe by safari-neutral tones. Begins with one pair of sensible trousers. Ends in olive, stone and strong opinions about pocket placement. The trousers were only the beginning.
Observed in the field:
- A safari shirt worn to the supermarket, four thousand miles from the nearest impala.
- The wide-brim hat now attending beach holidays and the school run.
- A jacket described as “a good layer for the morning drive.”
- A daypack carried to a restaurant, contents undisclosed.
Known complications:
- Refusal to buy any garment with fewer than six pockets.
- Describing colours as “impala”, “winter grass” and “Kalahari at dusk.”
- Zip-off legs where jeans used to be.
- Grief when a beloved shirt retires, followed by three identical replacements.
Returning the trousers to their natural habitat.
Rock Leopard Syndrome
A condition affecting the eyes, characterised by confidently identifying a leopard that is a rock, a lion that is a log, and, where the actual leopard is, nothing at all.
Observed in the field:
- “There! In the tree!” There is no tree.
- Pointing with such conviction that the whole vehicle sees the rock too.
- Sitting directly beneath a leopard while photographing a distant impala.
Known complications:
- A guide saying “yes, lovely” in a tone you will think about for weeks.
- The rock has been a lion for three drives in a row.
- Two honey badgers, one misty morning, mentioned in every conversation since.
A tracker who saw it ten minutes ago.
Gate Time Optimism
A sincere conviction, formed each evening at dinner, that tomorrow you will be ready and waiting at 5:30am.
Observed in the field:
- Setting one alarm, confidently.
- An “early night tonight” announced during the third course.
- Laying out tomorrow’s outfit as though that was ever the problem.
Known complications:
- Negotiating with a person holding a coffee flask.
- Applying sunscreen in a moving vehicle.
- A deep personal relationship with “two minutes.”
A lodge where the coffee finds you first.
Leopard Voice
A condition affecting the voice within seconds of a leopard sighting, characterised by whispering to a person seated thirty centimetres away.
Observed in the field:
- Narrating “she’s moving” to seven people who can all see she is moving.
- Thanking the guide at a volume normally reserved for church.
- Whispering the word “wow” for eleven consecutive minutes.
Known complications:
- Still whispering at the sundowner stop, a full hour later.
- Shushing your own camera shutter.
- Arriving home and whispering at the dog.
Earning something worth whispering about.
Checkout Denial
A condition beginning on the final morning of safari, characterised by eating breakfast very, very slowly.
Observed in the field:
- Asking the guide what the afternoon drive “would have been.”
- Googling flight change fees from the game viewer.
- Referring to your suite as “home” in front of staff.
Known complications:
- Hostility towards your own luggage.
- Claiming you heard a leopard and really should stay to confirm.
- Deep, sudden grief at the words “your transfer has arrived.”
Booking the return before you’ve left.
Report a condition.
The Dictionary is compiled from the field, and the field includes you.
- Something you have watched a person do on safari.
- Where you saw it helps.
- New conditions are published selectively, and credited by first name.
Opens an email. Or write to
There is no known cure.
Only known treatment: booking the next safari before the symptoms set in.
We arrange the treatmentNew entries every Sunday on Instagram.
