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It all started with one particularly clumsy baby elephant. Then, before she knew it, safari skeptic Tayari Jones found herself a convert. Chalk it up to Zambia's extraordinary parks and lodges and the warmth of the people who run them.

- Tayari Jones

AS A BLACK AMERICAN, I've always been fascinated by the continent of Africa. I sometimes gaze at a map or a globe, studying the imposing landmass with its broad shoulders and tapered tip, wondering which country my ancestors came from. Perhaps this is why my interest in Africa has always been more about people, rather than animals. How, then, did I find myself exploring the national parks of Zambia outfitted in khaki, binoculars and camera in hand, reveling in the majesty of its flora and fauna?

Well, after two years of pandemic confinement, the outdoors beckoned like never before. Being out in the wild promised an experience antithetical to my urban American existence, where the only animals I encounter are the brazen chipmunks that plunder my tiny Atlanta garden. If there was one thing the past few years gave me, it was a renewed desire to join the world, and to see it all.

And yet, I wasn't sure what to expect of Zambia. Magazine articles, Hollywood movies, and even the Instagram posts of fancy friends tended to focus on the sumptuousness of resorts in Kenya and South Africa, and honestly, they didn't appeal to me. I'm the sort of traveler who appreciates comfort-but I'm not into fussiness, and I don't like being fawned over.