Human connection and foraged honey are at the heart of a ‘slow safari’ in Tanzania’s Rift Valley
Photographs by Mark Johanson
I heard the honey harvesters before I saw them. I was making my way through the bush, defensive plants pricking and scratching my legs as I pushed past them, accompanied by Nkangala, my bush guide. Someone whistled, Nkangala whistled back and so it went, the distant group of honey harvesters and Nkangala updating each other on their whereabouts as part of a hunting strategy that does not alert predators- bees included, presumably – to their presence.
The honey harvesters appeared a few minutes later holding bows and arrows, wearing elaborate beadwork, and smelling of olives. “It’s from the black ironwood leaves we rub over our bodies to hide the human scent,” Nkangala explained. He and the honey harvesters belong to the Hadza tribe of hunter gatherers who have lived in the Great Rift Valley for over 30,000 years.
Fifty Hadzabe people maintain a nomadic life here in the Mwiba Wildlife Reserve in northern Tanzania. I was here to experience a different way of doing a safari in Africa, one that offers cultural excursions as well as game drives and other wildlife encounters. This morning I was joining locals on what was for them the routine task of extracting honey, which makes up about a third of Hadzabe people’s subsistence diet, along with meat and seasonal produce, including berries and the fruit of the baobab tree.
Once the honey harvesters had caught up with us, we walked together through the bush. Low, tabled hills of the Rift Valley escarpments rose along the eastern horizon and candelabra and thorn trees popped like green umbrellas above the khaki plains. I had prepared myself for a long walk, but we only had to stroll for a kilometre or so before we stopped at what I was told was the perfect honey hole in a wizened acacia tree.
The Hadzabe men prepared a fire and then used it to smoke the frazzled bees out of their deep hive. Afterwards, they took turns digging with bare arms to extract oozing honeycombs, enduring blistering stings as they did so. I watched in silent awe, relieved that I hadn’t complained about my legs being prickled on the way here. There was no water nearby, so the men massaged the honey off their arms with sand before celebrating the find in song and dance.
Tourists on safari rarely interact like this with people beyond their camps. Mwiba Lodge, a private concession near Lake Eyasi, a shallow salt lake immediately south of the vast Serengeti plain, aims for the opposite: total cultural immersion.
At first, I feared these interactions might feel staged for the well-heeled visitor. But during my week-long safari I spent as much time with wild animals as the people who often live in their midst. I left with a greater appreciation of Tanzania’s diverse cultures, as well as what it is to sleep in a luxurious villa. Sandwiched between boulders and overlooking the Arugusinyai River, Mwabi Lodge even has an infinity pool that overlooks three springs. It’s quite the spot to watch the wildlife sauntering by.
Cultural interactions that are not extractive or exploitative (as manufactured photo sessions can be) add economic value to local communities, while helping them preserve longstanding traditions. Conservation that centres around community empowerment has become a growing trend in the safari industry, which has been slowly abandoning its colonial trappings. For tourists, the idea is to have a more holistic experience that places mutually beneficial exchanges on the same level as wowing wildlife encounters.
On my trip, I travelled with Legendary Expeditions (owner of Mwiba Lodge) and Chem Chem Safaris, which collaborate on safari circuits and conserve about 600,000 acres of wilderness – roughly the size of Luxembourg. They’ve also pioneered a gentler style of safari that keeps game drives to a minimum and uses conservation as a catalyst for community development. Fabia Bausch, co-founder of Chem Chem, calls it the “slow safari.”
“When I first went on safari in the late 1990s, I was surprised by how rigid the experience was,” she explained. “There was absolutely no freedom. There was no time to immerse in nature.” When you slow down, she added, you’re not rushing from one game drive to the next, ticking animals off of a long list. “Slow, to me, is about feeling where you are and being present in the moment.”
I certainly felt that when I spent the afternoon with the Datoga community on the edge of the Mwiba Wildlife Reserve, and watched expert blacksmiths pound scrap metal into intricate bracelets. Better still, the next moring I met staff member Raposh John, a Maasai man from a clan of semi-nomadic cattle rustlers. He was taking me on a silent walk, our destination the shore of Lake Manyara, a murky-brown wetland where hippos lie in wait.
John had sandals crafted from recycled motorcycle tires, a giant spear in his hand and a scarlet shuka (traditional shawl) wrapped around his body. I, for the first time, had no camera, phone or binoculars. Together, we enjoyed the space and time to watch and reflect. I listened to the winds ruffling through palm fronds, the grunting of the wildebeests, the clip-clopping of zebra hooves, the bleating call of a lilac-breasted roller. The air, all the while, smelled of mojitos thanks to the mint-scented wild basil beneath our feet.
I did some traditional game drives, too – another unforgettable experience. At Legendary Expeditions’s Nyasi Tented Camp, which lies inside neighbouring Serengeti National Park, I watched as a leopard munched on an impala while dangling from a thorn tree. I saw dog-like hyenas, big-maned lions and vervet monkeys nibbling on tamarind pods.
One day at Chem Chem, I came face to trunk with an African bush elephant, the largest land mammal on Earth. Our open safari vehicle inched closer to view him from a respectable distance, but the pachyderm seemed as curious about us as we were him, lumbering over to inspect our khaki-clad crew.
As the elephant approached, I saw the brown mud on his huge, grey back, cooling it off from the piercing sun. I traced the deep wrinkles across his leathery skin. Suddenly, I could feel the humidity of his breath on my face as he swung his giant trunk into the air, theatrically sniffing me and my safari companions one by one, sussing each of us out.
The mere fact that this animal was here is a testament to the conservation work Chem Chem has done, alongside local communities, to revive the lands in its concession, which lies in the Kwakuchinja Corridor between Tarangire and Lake Manyara National Parks. The Tanzania Wildlife Research Institute declared this corridor “abandoned” due to human encroachment, poaching and overgrazing in 2009, a year after Chem Chem leased the lands.
By 2010, a herd of wildebeest returned, as did zebras and giraffes. Lions returned in 2016 and, by 2021, a herd of elephants used the corridor for the first time in four decades, signalling that there was good pasture, ample food and a renewed sense of security.
“The bold task was to reconnect these two national parks and re-establish the migratory route, while at the same time creating economic benefits for the populations living around the corridor,” said Clever Zulu, executive manager of Chem Chem Association, the company’s conservation arm. “The end goal is community-led conservation, and that has to be done through community empowerment.”
What this means is that in addition to employment (65% of the park’s staff comes from the neighbouring communities), Chem Chem has set up economic advancement programmes, village microfinance groups, and agricultural projects to market sunflowers and honey, which have already trained about 2,800 individuals.
Legendary Expeditions has similar programmes in microfinancing, employment training and educational assistance. And of course, the communities benefit from money earned from receiving tourists, as well.
Zulu, who was born in Zimbabwe, said his work was mostly about helping people see wildlife as an asset through which they can have an economic advantage. “When I first learned about the concept of conservation, I always thought it’s about wildlife,” he explained. “Now, I see that it’s actually about people, too.”
Going wild: more unique safaris in Africa
Laikipia, Kenya AndBeyond (andbeyond.com) offers unique camel safaris in northern Kenya where you meet with local Samburu herdsmen, overnight in a remote camel camp, and learn about the connection between people and animals forged over generations of nomadic life.
Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe African Bush Camps (africanbushcamps.com) incorporates visits to two communities near its camps in central Zimbabwe. You can meet local women’s groups who craft bags and clothing (the Thandanani Sewing Group) or recycled paper jewellery (the Vukani Group).
Babanango Game Reserve, South Africa The country’s newest Big 5 game reserve, Babanango (babanango.com) lies on the battlefields of the 1879 Anglo-Zulu War. Full-day historicals tell the stories of the Isandlwana and Rorke’s Drift battlefields, whose outcomes shaped South African history.
Related articles:
Editor’s note: our recommendations are chosen independently by our journalists. The Observer may earn a small commission if a reader clicks a link and purchases a recommended product. This revenue helps support Observer journalism.
Social links
Copyright © 2025 Tortoise Media
All Rights Reserved
This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.