Why I’m Returning to Southern Africa

I recently watched an interview with Lauren Hutton—an unforgettable face to those of us of a certain age. She said the thing that kept her working was the need to finance her trips to Africa.

I was oddly comforted by that.

William Holden felt the pull of Africa, too. His love for the continent eventually led him to turn his back on Hollywood and focus on conservation work long before wildlife conservation became a fashionable cause.

What is it about Africa that inspires that kind of devotion?

Does it enchant you? Mesmerize you? Captivate you?

There simply isn’t one word large enough to describe what Africa does to the human heart.

I only know what it has done to mine.

After visiting Southern Africa in 2025, I could hardly wait to return. I have traveled to many extraordinary places, but Africa doesn’t feel like somewhere I merely visited. It feels like somewhere that became part of me—and I have watched the same thing happen to the people I have taken there.

Sometimes it happens in a grand moment: your first glimpse of the vast Serengeti Plains, the thunder of the water at Victoria Falls, or the sight of a wild elephant family appearing along the Chobe riverbank.

For me, it may have happened on the Chobe River.

We allowed our pontoon boat to drift gently toward shore, where a mother elephant stood with her very young baby. We sat motionless and watched. The little one began nursing, loudly and enthusiastically, completely unaware that our family had fallen silent in its presence.

It was such an ordinary moment in the life of an elephant—and such an extraordinary privilege for us to witness.

Perhaps it was watching other elephants pull grass from the riverbed and carefully rinse it in the water before eating it. Or seeing their obvious delight as they swam across the river, their massive bodies nearly disappearing beneath the surface as their trunks rose like snorkels above the water.

The wild elephants of Chobe touched me in a way no other animal ever has. Their intelligence, tenderness, playfulness and strong family bonds are impossible to observe without feeling something shift inside you.

And then there was the lone giraffe.

We watched as it cautiously approached the river. It would take a few steps and stop. Listen. Look around. Wait. Then move forward again.

A giraffe must lower its head from treetop height all the way to the water to drink, placing itself in its most vulnerable position. We held our breath as it finally spread its legs, bent its long neck and took the drink it needed.

Nothing dramatic happened. There was no chase and no commotion. Yet it remains one of my most vivid memories—a wild creature carefully negotiating the simple business of survival.

Africa teaches you to pay attention.

It reminds you that wonder is not always loud.

Of course, sometimes it is very loud.

Victoria Falls is impossible to describe without resorting to words that feel too small. What no one tells you is that when the river is at its highest volume, you do not simply view the falls—you become part of them.

We walked along the pathway across from the falls covered from head to toe in heavy-duty rain gear. It did not matter. The water found us. Our socks, shoes and even our underclothing were soaked through. We were drenched, laughing and completely overwhelmed by the force of it.

It was magnificent.

Then there is Cape Town, where mountains meet the sea in scenery so dramatic it hardly looks real. Around every bend, another view takes your breath away. Beyond the city, vineyards sweep across valleys framed by rugged mountains, creating a landscape filled with beauty, history and a certain mystery that photographs never quite capture.

But Africa is more than its wildlife and landscapes. It is the warmth of its people, the stories shared over a meal, the laughter of a guide and the moments you never could have planned. It is the feeling of standing somewhere ancient and untamed and realizing how much larger the world is than your daily concerns.

That may be the true reason Africa stays with us.

It changes the way we see—not only the natural world, but ourselves. It makes us more observant, more grateful and more aware of the preciousness of life unfolding around us.

I am returning to Southern Africa because once was never going to be enough.

I want to hear the elephants rumble again. I want to float the river and wonder what might appear along its banks. I want to feel the spray of Victoria Falls, gaze across the vineyards of the Cape and share that first astonished silence with travelers seeing it all for themselves.

Lauren Hutton needed to keep working so she could keep returning to Africa.

I understand that now.

Africa does not simply give you memories. It leaves you with a longing—and sooner or later, you have to answer it.

Your Globetrotting Friend,
Joy