There’s this moment that happens on every trip.
We’re somewhere remote โ maybe Lone Tree in Botswana, maybe one of the bush camps โ and it’s the first night someone has to take a shower. An outdoor shower under the stars with elephants wandering somewhere nearby.
And there’s always this pause. This hesitation.
Then someone goes first. And within minutes, you hear it: giggles. Pure, unguarded laughter echoing across the camp.
By the third night, women are queuing up for the outdoor shower, fighting over who gets the sunset slot. They’re out there singing, laughing, having full conversations between their little canvas cubicles.
It’s such a small thing. But it’s everything.
Because here’s what I’ve learned after doing this for over a decade: transformation doesn’t happen in the big planned moments. It happens when a 58-year-old woman who hasn’t felt joy in years is standing naked under African stars, giggling because an elephant just trumpeted nearby.
It happens when you stop performing and stop managing. Stop being who everyone needs you to be.
It happens in the showers. Around the campfire. Sitting on your tent porch watching elephants for hours. In the quiet spaces between the scheduled things.
That’s what I want for the women who come on my journeys with purpose…
Not just to see Africa. But to find those moments โ the silly ones, the sacred ones, the ones where you remember who you are underneath all the roles you play.
P.S. The showers have hot water. I’m wild, but I’m not that wild.
If you want to follow your curiosity and find out more about my upcoming trips, head back to our Expeditions page.
