Ilse came on one of my trips from the Netherlands.
Maternity nurse. Dreamer. The kind of woman people called “impractical” her whole life because she wanted things that seemed impossible.
She’d worked extra jobs just to afford the trip. Raised the required R10,000 for conservation. Then, because she got so caught up in the work of the Endangered Wildlife Trust, she raised another €1,500, just because she wanted to.
It was a surprise. She didn’t tell me she was doing it.
On the Sunday evening, we were with the EWT team, and Ilse handed them the extra money. They were stunned and emotional.
The next day, we got the call.
There’d been a vulture poisoning in Kruger Park and dozens of vultures were dead. It was devastating.
The EWT team was heartbroken. And then they realised: Ilse’s money could go straight to the emergency response. Right then. Right when it was most needed.
I watched her face when she understood what had happened. Not just that she’d contributed, but that the timing was… I don’t know, it felt like it was meant to be.
She later said:
“That’s what your trips do. You see how passionate these people are. You come back with renewed hope because if you just read articles about Africa, you’d think everything is terrible. But you would never see all these passionate people working so hard.”
Here’s the thing most safari companies won’t tell you:
Tourism can be extractive. Take your photos, check your boxes, move on.
Or it can matter.
On a Journey With Purpose, you step beyond the safari vehicle and into the real work of conservation. One expedition might place you alongside vulture rehabilitation teams. Another may take you into the field to witness wild dog monitoring, elephant collaring or the complex logistics behind rhino dehorning.
You meet the scientists, rangers and field teams whose days are rarely glamorous and often urgent. You see the data sheets, the tracking collars, the rehabilitation enclosures and the quiet determination that keeps endangered species alive.
No two journeys look the same. What remains constant is this: you are not just observing conservation from a distance. You are standing inside it.
Your R10,000 contribution isn’t a donation you forget about. It’s tangible. You’ll see where it goes. You’ll meet the people it supports.
And you’ll come home with something most travellers never get: hope.
Hope that there are still people fighting for wild places. Hope that your money actually makes a difference. Hope that you were part of something that mattered.
If this story speaks to you – if you want your travel to mean something beyond pretty photos – this is your trip.
