The Illusion of Neutrality
I remember the first time I heard the term “carbon-neutral safari.” It was in a glossy brochure, nestled between images of lions and solar panels, promising guilt-free luxury. My heart leapt — really? But as I dug deeper, that hope flutter turned to frustration. Carbon neutrality, I realised, was being sold like a quick fix: offset a flight, switch to LED bulbs…. The truth? It’s not that simple.
The safari industry operates as an interconnected ecosystem of camps & lodges, supply chains, transportation networks, waste management, labor and many others. While pursuing carbon neutrality is a shared goal, achieving it fully requires acknowledging the practical challenges inherent in our operations. For instance, solar energy systems are a critical step toward sustainability, yet in remote regions prone to power instability, backup diesel generators sometimes it’s believe to be a necessary safeguard to ensure uninterrupted service for guests. Similarly, while lodges strive to source locally, certain premium products—like imported wines and champagnes—are still in demand by travelers and not yet produced at scale within many safari regions, creating a tension between guest expectations and sustainable sourcing. Waste management poses another layer of complexity: though camps and lodges work to minimize single-use plastics and all kinds of waste, recycling infrastructure in most of the safari areas is limited and transport of waste is necessary. Even innovations like electric safari vehicles, which reduce noise and on-site emissions, confront ethical dilemmas tied to battery production and real efficiency still being tested. These examples highlight not failures, but realities that demand industry-wide collaboration, innovation, and patience as we bridge the gap between today’s compromises and tomorrow’s solutions.
Yet here I am, writing this tempered of hope. Because while perfection is yet impossible, progress is not — and that’s where the real magic lies.
The 4 Cs: A Tapestry, Not a Checklist
For decades, safaris were measured by the “Big Five” — a colonial relic reducing ecosystems to a trophy checklist. Today, a new framework is emerging: the 4 Cs — Commerce, Conservation, Community and Culture. But this isn’t a box-ticking exercise. It’s a recognition that these pillars are threads in the same tapestry. Pull one, and the whole unravels.
- Commerce that doesn’t enrich local communities breeds resentment.
- Conservation without cultural reverence becomes paternalism.
- Culture stripped of economic agency is performance, not partnership.
- Community disconnected from conservation risks losing its lifeline.
This truth becomes even clearer when I sit with Maasai mothers under acacia trees, their hands shaping beads into necklaces while explaining how life is changing around them: “Now my daughters go to school instead of hauling jericans of water” . Young maasai once skeptical of “tourist land” track lion movements via GPS apps, blending ancestral knowledge with data to protect both livestock and predators. Medicinal plants once used as the only medicine for the community, has been replaced for modern medicine but still emerged as a shared project with some Camps preserving traditions. What once divided “community” and “conservation” now emerge as interdependence. The tourism options that thrive aren’t those who “include” the Maasai as a checkbox; they’re the ones who recognise that safeguarding wildlife begins with honouring the rhythms of the people who’ve lived alongside it for centuries. A land for elephants means nothing if mothers still thirst. A school grows fragile if the village’s youth see no future in it.
The 4 Cs, when woven into daily life, stop being acronyms and start becoming a shared language—one where safari vehicles don’t just pass through landscapes, but sustain them.
The Cracks Are Where the Light Gets In
Yes, the supply chain is still a bit broken. Yes, recycling systems are embryonic. Yes, sometimes “local sourcing” still means tomatoes from a city 300km away. But in those gaps, I’ve witnessed something radical: guests who care more about mending the gap than snapping the perfect photo; and camps & Lodges, together with other stakeholders, uniting to get solutions. This is how the real change can come.
Our guests are the ones fuelling our regeneration ideas: They decide to spend mornings planting acacia trees with school kids instead of ticking off lion sightings. They’re funding beehive fences that protect crops and elephants, then buying honey from the same farmers. These travellers aren’t just consumers — they’re collaborators. The safari experience is important, but is not enough. And with that, we have learnt that we need to get ready for more holistic experiences.
This is the paradox: The safari industry’s flaws have become its greatest catalyst for change. Because when you’re lying awake at 2 a.m., listening to hyenas whoop under a sky littered with stars, you can’t unseen the threads connecting your presence to the fragility around you.
That discomfort? That’s the starting point.
Generation Restoration: The Kids Rewriting the Rules
We haven’t built a school from plastic bricks… yet. But every Friday, 115 kids from neighboring villages become our “Generation Restoration” team. Their are the real ambassadors of their education model and they passion and growing interest for conservation and environment give us hope. All relies on a different education model:
- Clean-Up Crews: Collecting school waste, keeping all facilities clean and spearheading community clean ups. Becoming real ambassadors.
- Conservation Days and Wildlife clubs: to understand our models, the ecosystem, the wildlife..
- Cultural Mentors: Promoting Maa culture every time we have the opportunity to do so.
Are these children “offsetting” our carbon footprint? No. That can not be our model. They’re something better: architects of a model where tourism doesn’t just sustain, but replenishes.
The old safari asked, “Did you see the Big Five?”
The new one whispers, “What will you leave behind?”
It’s a question that can’t be answered with carbon credits alone. It demands reckoning with uncomfortable truths: that your dream vacation might require a diesel truck to reach a solar-powered lodge; that your ‘eco-friendly’ stay might protect a lion’s habitat while displacing ancestral grazing lands.
But here’s what I’ve learned in the dust and the doubt: We don’t need perfect safaris. We cannot offer carbon neutral safaris. We do honest ones. Ones that admit their contradictions, celebrate incremental wins, and center the people and places they impact. Because the moment we stop pretending neutrality is possible is the moment we start building something real.
So come. Sit by the fire. Let’s talk about the cracks, the compromises, the small, stubborn acts of repair. The lions will still be there at dawn — but the story we tell about them? That’s ours to rewrite.
By Marta Gras
Enkopiro Camp Co-Owner
