Thinking about the impact of your choices before, during and after your journey
There is a difference between travelling somewhere and actually thinking about what it means to travel there. Most of us begin a journey with excitement. We think about where we are going to stay, what we are going to see, what we are going to eat and the experiences we have been looking forward to for months. We look at photographs, make plans, book flights and build an itinerary that gradually becomes a real journey in our minds long before we ever arrive. There is nothing wrong with that excitement. In fact, it is one of the wonderful things about travel. But somewhere within all of that anticipation, I think it is worth taking a moment to consider something else: what impact will I have on the place I am about to visit?
Travelling consciously isn’t about travelling perfectly, and I don’t think anyone should approach a holiday with the expectation that they are going to make every possible ethical choice every minute of the day. Travel is complicated. There are choices we make because of cost, availability, safety, time or simply because we don’t know something until we arrive. What matters is becoming more aware of the connection between our choices and the places we visit, and then making better choices where we realistically can.
For me, that is what responsible travel is really about. It isn’t a checklist that allows us to congratulate ourselves at the end of a holiday. It is a way of thinking about travel that asks us to look beyond our own experience and remember that we are entering somewhere that already has its own people, communities, wildlife, environment, history and way of life.
Africa makes this particularly apparent because the experiences many travellers go there to have are connected so closely to the people and places that make them possible. We don’t simply arrive at a safari and encounter wildlife in isolation. We are entering an ecosystem. We are travelling through communities. We are relying on guides who have knowledge of the landscape. We are staying in places that employ people and use local resources. We are visiting countries with their own economies, cultures and challenges. The holiday may belong to us in our memories, but the place itself does not belong to us.
That is why I think conscious travel begins long before you board the plane.
The choices we make before travelling can have a significant influence on the experience we eventually have and on the people and places that benefit from our visit. It is easy to book the cheapest option or choose a company because its website looks impressive, but a little research can tell us much more about the businesses we are supporting. Who owns the lodge? Who operates the safari? Are local guides employed? Does the business have genuine relationships with surrounding communities? Are its conservation claims supported by meaningful action? Is it contributing something to the place in which it operates, or is it simply extracting value from the destination?
We don’t always have access to every answer, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ask the questions.
I think this is one of the most important changes a traveller can make. Instead of assuming that every tourism business operates in the same way, become curious about the people behind it. Read beyond the marketing language. Look at what the company actually does. If they talk about supporting conservation, find out what that means. If they say they support local communities, look for evidence of how that support works. If they describe themselves as sustainable, don’t be afraid to ask what they mean by the word.
The word sustainable has become so common in tourism that sometimes it can lose its meaning. A beautiful lodge surrounded by untouched wilderness can look environmentally responsible in a photograph, but what happens behind the scenes matters just as much. Where does the water come from? Where does the waste go? How are supplies transported? Who works there? Where does the money generated by tourism ultimately go?
You don’t need to become an expert in sustainable tourism before booking a holiday. You simply need to care enough to look a little deeper.
The same applies to choosing experiences. If you are travelling to Africa because you want to see wildlife, think about what kind of wildlife experiences you are supporting. There is a significant difference between watching an animal behaving naturally in its environment and participating in an experience designed primarily around human interaction with that animal. An experience may be marketed as educational or conservation-focused, but those words alone don’t tell you whether the animal is genuinely benefiting.
Ask questions before you book. What happens to the animals when tourists aren’t there? Are they being bred for tourism? Are visitors allowed to touch them? Are animals being encouraged to behave in ways that aren’t natural? Is the organisation transparent about where its money goes? Sometimes the answers will reassure you, and sometimes they will make you realise that an experience isn’t something you want to support.
Being conscious doesn’t mean assuming the worst. It means being willing to find out.
It also means thinking about your own health and safety before travelling, particularly when your itinerary takes you into remote areas. Africa offers some extraordinary wilderness experiences, but the remoteness that makes them so special can also mean that medical assistance is not immediately available. A traveller may be only a few hours away from the nearest hospital, and that hospital may not have the specialist facilities or medication required for a particular emergency.
This is something I think travellers can easily underestimate when they are excited about going on safari. If you have an existing medical condition or specific health requirements, don’t assume that because you have access to medical care at home, the same level of care will be available in a remote safari environment. Talk to your doctor before travelling, understand what you might realistically encounter and discuss your itinerary with your tour operator so that you know how emergencies are handled.
The same principle applies to other risks that are particular to the environment you are visiting. When I interviewed herpetologist Donald Schultz of SnakePharm ZA for I HEART AFRICA PROJECT, he raised an issue that many travellers probably wouldn’t think to ask about before going on safari: what is the operator’s policy for snake bites?
That is a very different question from asking whether the lodge has a first-aid kit.
In some parts of Africa, travellers can be several hours from a hospital, and the availability of appropriate treatment cannot simply be assumed. Donald’s advice was to ask the tour operator what their emergency procedures are and what preparation they have for snakebite incidents, including whether they carry appropriate snakebite equipment and have a clear plan for getting a patient to medical care. For anyone travelling into remote areas, that kind of question isn’t being unnecessarily anxious; it is being prepared.
The point isn’t to make people frightened of travelling to Africa. Quite the opposite. It is to recognise that responsible travel includes understanding the environment you are entering rather than assuming that everything will operate exactly as it does at home.
Once you arrive, conscious travel becomes much more about observation.
You begin to notice things.
You notice where you are spending your money. You notice whether the person guiding you is local. You notice whether the restaurant is locally owned. You notice whether the community you are visiting is being treated with respect. You notice how wildlife is being approached. You notice whether other tourists are behaving appropriately.
And you begin to understand that you have choices.
You can choose to buy from the local artisan rather than the imported souvenir shop. You can choose to hire a local guide. You can choose to eat at a locally owned restaurant. You can choose accommodation that employs people from the surrounding community. You can choose to support a conservation organisation whose work you have researched. You can choose not to participate in an experience that makes you uncomfortable.
None of these decisions needs to make your holiday less enjoyable.
In many cases, they make it considerably more meaningful.
One of the things I have learned through I HEART AFRICA PROJECT is that the people we encounter can completely change the way we understand a place. A guide isn’t simply somebody who drives a vehicle and finds animals. They can introduce you to an ecosystem you would otherwise barely notice. An artisan isn’t simply somebody selling you a souvenir. They may be carrying generations of knowledge through their work. A conservationist isn’t simply somebody talking about endangered species. They may have spent their entire career trying to protect a landscape that visitors experience for only a few days.
When you take the time to listen to those people, your understanding of Africa becomes deeper.
And that is where conscious travel becomes something more than simply making ethical purchasing decisions.
It becomes about relationships.
Respecting people is another fundamental part of travelling consciously. When you are somewhere unfamiliar, it can be tempting to photograph everything that catches your attention, particularly when you are travelling through communities where the people, clothing, architecture and everyday life may be very different from what you are used to seeing. But unfamiliarity doesn’t automatically give you permission to photograph someone.
Ask.
If someone doesn’t want to be photographed, respect that.
If you are visiting a community, don’t assume that you are entitled to wander into every part of it simply because you have paid for a tour. Listen to your guide and follow local expectations. Don’t treat people as part of the scenery.
The same principle applies to wildlife.
Africa’s wildlife is not performing for tourists. An elephant doesn’t understand that you have travelled halfway around the world to see it. A lion doesn’t know that you have only one opportunity to photograph it. A herd of buffalo doesn’t care whether you need to get back to the lodge for dinner.
They are simply living their lives.
Our responsibility is to allow them to continue doing that.
If an animal is moving away, give it space. If your guide tells you to remain quiet, listen. Don’t ask a driver to move closer because another vehicle has a better position. Don’t encourage an animal to approach because it will make a better photograph. Don’t feed wildlife or interfere with natural behaviour.
The privilege of seeing wildlife in its natural environment should come with the responsibility of allowing that environment to remain natural.
Conscious travel also means thinking about what happens after we leave.
This is something that can easily disappear from our minds once the holiday is over. We return home with photographs, memories and perhaps a suitcase full of souvenirs, and Africa becomes part of the story we tell about where we have been.
But the choices we make after returning home can still have an impact.
We can choose how we talk about the places we visited. We can share photographs that represent people and communities with dignity rather than reducing them to stereotypes. We can tell others about responsible businesses we supported. We can recommend ethical wildlife experiences. We can continue supporting conservation organisations if we believe in their work.
And perhaps most importantly, we can keep learning.
A journey doesn’t have to end simply because the flight home has landed.
Sometimes the most important part of travel happens afterwards, when you begin to understand what you saw with a little more distance. You read something you didn’t know before. You learn about a conservation issue. You discover that the community you visited has been facing a challenge you weren’t aware of. You realise that something you photographed had a much deeper story behind it.
That is when travel can become something more than tourism.
It can change the way you see the world.
I think this is particularly true when we stop expecting Africa to conform to the version of it we have created in our minds before we arrive. Africa is often presented to travellers through a very particular collection of images: elephants against sunsets, lions on open plains, colourful markets, spectacular landscapes and luxury safari lodges.
All of those things can be real.
But they are only part of the story.
Africa is also ordinary mornings, busy roads, people going to work, children going to school, families sitting together, businesses opening for the day, farmers working their land and communities dealing with challenges that existed long before tourists arrived.
When we allow ourselves to see more than the postcard, we begin to understand the place differently.
And I think that is one of the greatest gifts of conscious travel.
It asks us to look.
Really look.
Not just at what we came to see, but at what is actually there.
It asks us to question our assumptions, listen to people whose experiences are different from our own and recognise that the places we visit are not simply products created for our enjoyment.
They are someone’s home.
They are someone’s workplace.
They are someone’s heritage.
They are ecosystems supporting thousands of species.
They are landscapes with histories that reach back long before our arrival.
We are simply passing through.
That doesn’t mean we have to feel guilty about travelling. I don’t believe responsible travel should be built around guilt. Travel can create employment, support businesses, fund conservation and bring people from different parts of the world together. It can create genuine understanding and encourage people to care about places they might otherwise never have encountered.
But tourism works best when the relationship isn’t one-sided.
We receive something from the place, and our choices should, wherever possible, contribute something positive in return.
Perhaps that contribution is choosing a local guide rather than an international operator. Perhaps it is buying something directly from an artisan. Perhaps it is supporting a conservation project. Perhaps it is staying somewhere that employs people from the surrounding community. Perhaps it is simply refusing to participate in an unethical wildlife experience.
And sometimes, perhaps, it is just being respectful.
Not every contribution needs to be dramatic.
You don’t have to become a conservationist. You don’t have to volunteer for three weeks. You don’t have to donate thousands of dollars. You don’t have to transform your holiday into a charitable project.
You can simply become more conscious of your choices.
Think before you book.
Think while you travel.
Think about what you leave behind.
That is really what I mean when I talk about travelling consciously.
It is not about being the perfect traveller, because I don’t believe there is such a thing. It is about recognising that every journey has an impact and deciding that, wherever you can, you want yours to be a positive one.
Because when you travel through Africa, you are not simply collecting experiences.
You are entering other people’s stories.
You are moving through living landscapes.
You are sharing space with wildlife.
You are spending money within communities.
And for a short time, you become part of a place that existed long before you arrived and will continue to exist after you leave.
The question is what kind of visitor you want to be.
I want to be the kind who listens before assuming, looks before judging, asks before taking and thinks before spending. I want to travel with curiosity rather than expectation, to meet people rather than simply pass through communities, and to experience Africa without forgetting that the privilege of being there comes with a responsibility to respect what I find.
Because ultimately, travelling consciously isn’t about travelling perfectly.
It is simply about caring enough to think about the impact of our journey.
And if more of us did that, perhaps the places we love would benefit long after we have gone home.