Being responsible travelers, we checked with health care professionals before our departure and learned that Zambia is in a malarial zone. We duly obtained prescriptions for the most kick-ass anti-malarials in existence (Malarone), and took our pills religiously. In Livingstone, Zambia, we carefully tucked ourselves into bed under the mosquito nets, making sure not to expose even the smallest bits of skin to the ubiquitous disease vectors waiting for a chance to kill us.
Once we figured out it was dry season, and there wasn’t a mosquito in sight, we ate our maize-meal-based dinners alfresco. I didn’t get a single bite, much less a blood-borne illness.
