The sightings have never been better, the photos never sharper, the lodges never more luxurious. And yet… something feels missing. This is a reflection I’ve carried for years – now finally put into words.
If you’ve ever felt it too, read on.
Where did we go wrong?
I’ve wanted to put this into words for a long time now. But I’ve held back – maybe out of fear of sounding too nostalgic or, worse, offending someone. After all, I work in this industry. I love it. I believe in it. But I also believe we need to talk about what’s changing – and what we risk losing.
Because something has shifted. And not always for the better.
The Golden Age: Romance and reverence
Once, a safari was an expedition. Think Hemingway, Denys Finch Hatton and Karen Blixen. It wasn’t about luxury; it was about the luxury of time – days on foot or horseback, watching, listening, learning. There was an inherent respect for nature and the unknown. Guests were participants, not just spectators. The bush was silent, wild and sacred. Tents were simple. Nights were lit by firelight and stars. No radio chatter. No signal. Just the pulse of the land.
The guides: From storytellers to spotters
I’ve guided for years. And I remember when a guide wasn’t just someone who pointed out animals – they were interpreters of the wild. Teachers. Philosophers. You didn’t just see nature; you were drawn into it.
Today, many guides are still incredible – deeply skilled, passionate and dedicated. But there’s also a growing trend: guiding as a performance. As pressure mounts to deliver sightings and five-star reviews, some guides stop tracking and start chasing. Stop teaching and start entertaining.
Too often, the radio leads the way, not the spoor on the ground. And the heart of the job – the stillness, the wonder, the storytelling – gets left behind.
The guests: Safari or zoo?
More and more, we see guests arrive with expectations built by Netflix documentaries and Instagram reels. They want the Big Five – fast. A kill, if possible. A photo to prove it. And when nature doesn’t play along, disappointment creeps in.
But the wild isn’t a zoo. It doesn’t owe you a moment. It offers itself on its own terms – and that’s the whole point. The best guests understand this. They slow down. They watch the impala. They ask about the soil, the tracks, the trees. They fall in love with the small moments.
Those are the guests who go home changed.
Modern safaris: The good, the glossy and the lost
Luxury lodges now offer WiFi, infinity pools, spas and wine cellars. Game drives are scheduled and sightings are broadcast by radio. Five vehicles crowd around a single lion. Efficiency has replaced unpredictability. We’ve made safaris more accessible, more comfortable – but, in the process, sometimes less soulful.
We’ve traded:
- Connection for collection
- Curiosity for convenience
- Wonder for WiFi
And maybe, without realising it, we’ve created a version of safari that’s more about checking boxes than about being changed.
Yearning for the old Africa
There are days I deeply miss the older rhythm.
When tracking a leopard for three hours and not finding it was still the best part of the day.
When guests came for the whole story – the plants, the insects, the silence.
I miss sitting around a fire and hearing people reflect, not scroll.
But here’s the good news – not all of it is gone.
There are still places like this in Africa
You just have to look for them.
There are still camps that walk, not drive.
That sit in silence, not chase on radio.
That serve the soul of safari, not just the luxury of it.
These are the places where the old Africa still lives.
These are the places where safari-goers can reconnect – with nature, with guides, with themselves.
If you’re planning a safari, seek them out. Choose meaning over marketing. Choose immersion over itinerary. Choose the places where silence speaks louder than sighting checklists.
Final thoughts
A modern safari can still be beautiful. The animals are still wild. The land is still vast. And the magic is still there – if you go with the right mindset.
But maybe it’s time we asked ourselves: Are we connecting with the wild – or just visiting it?
Because the best safaris aren’t about what you saw. They’re about how the wilderness made you feel.
