Have you seen them? The beached whales? Upturned, pink and bloated? Not actually on the beach, though it be a sensational example. Sparkling sand and pristine ocean whisper gently a mere stones throw away, but these whales do not hear the call. Instead, they slough on fluffy white-towelled deck chairs, nurtured by dubious cocktails in the safety of the resort swimming pool.

Hordes of them. They come in droves. A puffy, lily-white migration from distant lives, ordered and certain. Is a mysterious, unseen force at work here? Does primitive instinct drive them? An ancient, transitory ritual, somehow necessary on a genetic level?

For some, appearing worldly and well travelled to the folks at home seems incentive enough…

“ Africa ? Oh, yes darling! Wonderful place. Wild, you know!”

What these cocktail adventurers fail to mention, is that they never actually left the hotel. Well, apart from the mandatory ‘Safari', of course. A chance to get acquainted with ‘The Real Africa' (whatever the writer of the tourist brochure perceives this to be). If it's battalions of white vans, bristling with merciless cameras, surrounding a pair of love-struck lion, who are somehow amorous despite the intrusion, then leave me out!

Legions of these ‘air-conditioned armadas' charge about the once great African plains in dust-clouded convoy, relentlessly pursuing anything that moves. Having interrupted and forever altered the hunting patterns of the entire animal kingdom, whilst making significant contribution to the erosion of its habitat, it's back to the airconditioned lodge for a stiff ‘post safari' drink. Then, after wiping the sweat off, it's on to town in the airconditioned bus to the equally airconditioned hotel on the beach, with a choice of two swimming pools, seven bars, four restaurants, night club and hot and cold running everything. All pasteurised, homogenised and sanitised for optimum tourist consumption.

But, let's not forget the package tourist's stimulating interaction with the locals. This usually consists of ordering drinks and meals from the hotel staff, who are of course, ‘natives'. It could be argued that tourism brings much needed money into the country and provides employment. In part, this is true. The money however, leaves Africa in large lumps, if it ever came in the first place, or, it goes toward the establishment of bigger, more grandiose structures, of similar design and purpose. These require ever increasing tracts of land, thereby contributing further to the now rapid demise of the very thing which they claim to be promoting and supporting – Nature.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the euphoria of ignorant bliss, the package tourists fill designer label suitcases with hotel bought curios and feeling rather like little Livingstone's, return triumphantly home to bore the unsuspecting world with their fanciful safari stories from ‘deepest, darkest Africa'.

They could have stayed at home, turned up the heater a notch or two and sent out for a wildlife video and pizza.

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