Five countries. One safari… Are cross-border trips the future of wildlife tourism in Africa?

It was an unconventional theater: A few plastic chairs facing a patch of flattened grass alongside the sewage lagoons. A tang lingered in the air—the hippos, submerged up to their nostrils, seemed not to mind. Murmurs rose from the ‘dressing room’, a makeshift screen of meal sacks and sticks, and the percussionists readied their shakers. Finally, as the sun sank below the treeline, the Dambwa Warriors began their show.

“Every dance has meaning,” explained community chairman Mr Manongo as the young dancers and players jerked, stamped and shoulder-rolled their way through rootsy drumbeats and ululations. “These traditions have been abandoned in towns, but we’re bringing them back.” A costume change, another thumping display. “We’re working on a dance that will symbolize human-animal conflict,” Mr Manongo added. “Dance is a good way to express that message.”

The Dambwa Warriors are a troupe of boys and girls who live in Dambwa South in Zambia. The township is on the southern edge of Livingstone, just north of thunderous Mosi-oa-Tunya (‘The smoke that thunders’), better known as Victoria Falls, and east of Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park—and bang on an elephant migration corridor. Human/animal conflict isn’t just a dance here; it’s a daily reality.

The Warriors initiative was created by non-profit CATS (Conservation and Tourism Society) to engage and educate local kids—with nothing better to do, they’d taunt passing elephants, blind to the dangers the animals can pose; I was told 12 people were killed by elephants in Livingstone in 2024. CATS also operates a 24/7 Elephant Response Team hotline to help move animals away when they crash through town. “We get calls most nights, sometimes 40 a night,” explained volunteer Mukumbuta Akayombokwa. But money is tight, and the team has only one vehicle.

The society’s Living With Elephants tours, which include meeting the community, watching the Dambwa Warriors, and birdwatching at the sewage lagoons—a surprising wildlife hotspot—are vital for raising funds, and offer a different Mosi-oa-Tunya experience.

“Traveling overland and spreading visits across different parts of the region not only reduces emissions but also relieves pressure on high-traffic areas and increases economic benefits to lesser-visited communities.”

- Jillian Blackbeard, CEO, Africa’s Eden

CATS is community-rooted and small-scale. But in many ways, it’s emblematic of the far bigger entity in which it sits: The Kavango Zambezi Transfrontier Conservation Area (TFCA). Sprawling across 520,000 square kilometers of Angola, Botswana, Namibia, Zambia and Zimbabwe, this is the largest land-based protected zone in the world.

Within its boundaries lie A-list attractions—the Okavango Delta, Chobe, Mosi-oa-Tunya—plus lesser-known national parks such as Okavango-like Nkasa Rupara in Namibia and the remote floodplains of Zambia’s Sioma Ngwezi. In all, it encompasses 19 national parks (and contiguous corridors of protected land) plus over 3,000 types of plants and 197 animal species, including 227,900 elephants—over half Africa’s savannah elephant population—and 24 percent of the continent’s wild dogs.

It’s also home to around three million people, which is why, when the zone was officially launched in 2012, its aim was not only transboundary conservation but also safeguarding human culture and creating socio-economic benefits. So far that’s included securing wildlife corridors, supporting research (on everything from ungulate migrations to fish populations) and marketing the area as a tourism destination, most recently under the new brand ‘Rivers of Life’, nodding to the waterways that connect it all. It doesn’t necessarily get involved with every individual project; it’s about the bigger picture: Five governments working together, to protect and raise awareness of the whole region.

While the Kavango Zambezi initiative has significant importance, it wasn’t specifically designed to have high visibility among the mass population. I spoke to Jillian Blackbeard, CEO of Africa’s Eden, a non-profit tourism association working across the region, who believes the TFCA’s real benefits are in promoting lesser-known destinations and encouraging tour operators to include them in multi-country itineraries: “Kavango Zambezi represents a unique collaboration where five countries are working together for shared environmental and cultural heritage,” she explained. “It can help distribute tourism benefits more widely while offering visitors more authentic and varied experiences.”

There’s huge potential to develop more sustainable travel patterns, Jillian added. “Traveling overland and spreading visits across different parts of the region not only reduces emissions but also relieves pressure on high-traffic areas and increases economic benefits to lesser-visited communities.”

I’d wager that few of the Dambwa Warriors are aware they live in the world’s biggest conservation zone. When I name-dropped the TFCA to people I met on my own four-country overland Kavango Zambezi trip, many gave blank looks in return.

But CATS certainly qualifies as a lesser-visited community that needs the economic benefits this project seeks to bring. Exploring Namibia, Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe—for now, Angola remains more of a challenge to include—I wanted to see if the Kavango Zambezi concept might help safari-goers think differently about where and how they go on safari.

I was thinking differently from the get-go. I visited in March, the end of the wet season. Sure, rain is still a threat and temperatures high, but there are far fewer travelers and lodge rates are lower. You also know your money is being pumped in at a leaner time of year. And although it’s ‘off-season’, it’s the best time for birds, swooping in abundance and wearing their breeding finery.

This year, the TFCA launched the Great Kavango Zambezi Birding Route to tempt visitors in these quieter months—the type who typically stay longer and venture to more remote areas. I’m not a birder, but you hardly need to be to appreciate the eye-catching menagerie of 650 species from show-stopping carmine bee-eaters  to enormous kori bustards. Plus, zebra, giraffe, lion and cheetah are all still around; they’re just more widely dispersed..

Many such projects exist at Africa’s lodges, but few can match Sijwa’s scale and creativity … New ideas are tried all the time—the ladies in the sewing workshop started with simple bags, and now create everything from reusable sanitary towels to designer dresses.

I landed at Victoria Falls airport in Zimbabwe, but first stop was Namibia, reached entirely on smooth roads, via Botswana. Traveling in March 2025 as a Brit, I only required a visa for Zimbabwe but, in April, Namibia instigated new entry requirements for many foreign nationals, highlighting a key barrier to seamless transboundary travel: Lack of a unified visa approach. Currently, each country operates its own rules; so far only Zambia and Zimbabwe have collaborated to create a KAZA (Kavango Zambezi) Univisa.

It’s the sort of bureaucratic impediment that the region really doesn’t need, particularly Namibia’s Zambezi Region, formerly known as the Caprivi Strip. Poking like a guitar neck into its neighbors, this is the country’s most deprived region.

Here, on the banks of a backwater lake, flush from recent rains, Zane and Zina Swanepol run Caprivi Mutoya. My simple room opened to the water, boat trips puttered amid the lilies, and wholesome meals—I tucked into a chicken and butternut curry with a spread of sambal relishes—were served at the main lodge, where a huge huckleberry tree grew through the deck. “This region needs to develop,” Zane stated over dinner. “There are lodges here, a few shops, but that’s about it. What else do people do?”

Tourism has so much potential here. Case in point: Local man Vincent Walubita who I met the next morning, after a peaceful paddle on lake. He came to Caprivi Mutoya one day, looking for a job. Showing an interest in birds, Zane gave him a book and binoculars, and when the Kavango Zambezi ran free bird guide training as part of the Great Birding Route initiative last year, Vincent took part. “I’ve always liked birds,” he told me, brandishing his certificate. “They’re integrated in my culture.” He talked of the woodland kingfisher: “When they call, it means rain is coming, life is coming in.”

My next stop was Nambwa Tented Lodge, two hours’ west by road and boat, in Namibia’s Bwabwata National Park. Overlooking the Kwando floodplain, Nambwa is a fairytale spot, built on stilts so animals can roam freely below its luxe tents and treetop walkways. I could bird-watch from my deck, though the late-afternoon game drive through rain-verdant bushveld revealed more: Francolins posing on termite mounds, oxpeckers de-bugging giraffes, fish eagles diving by wading elephants.

Staff are all from the surrounding Mayuni Conservancy, which also receives 12 percent of the lodge’s revenue. The borderless Kavango Zambezi project doesn’t mean much to them, says lodge owner Tinolla Rodgers: “The information isn’t getting through at ground level.” They are more impacted by Nambwa’s Sijwa Project, set up by Tinolla and her late husband Dusty in an attempt to up-skill and employ members of the community while repurposing recyclable waste.

Many such projects exist at Africa’s lodges, but few can match Sijwa’s scale and creativity. Allen Makutela showed me the ovens where bottles are melted then fashioned into glass beads for classy jewelry; the foundry where tin cans become butter dishes; the press in which burnable chilli bricks are made, which help deter elephants (they can’t stand the pungent smoke); the mushroom-growing huts; the classroom where adults take computing and beekeeping courses. New ideas are tried all the time—the ladies in the sewing workshop started with simple bags, and now create everything from reusable sanitary towels to designer dresses.

More than 30 people are employed here, each one likely supporting 10 or so family members. At the moment, the lodge supports Sijwa, but Tinolla wants it to become self-sufficient. For now, it’s vital that guests come to what she called the country’s “forgotten” corner. Being part of the Kavango Zambezi brand can potentially help that.

From forgotten to big-hitter, I headed east from Nambwa to re-enter Botswana and Chobe National Park, famed for its elephant herds which gather in abundance during the dry season. Although I was ‘out of season’, I encountered plenty, some close enough to touch (of course, we didn’t…). I also felt a sense that, in Botswana—more economically sound than its neighbors—the TFCA vision has gained less traction. Quizzing the faultless staff at the Pangolin Chobe Hotel, some hadn’t heard of it at all.

Zambezi National Park rubs right up against the town. It’s convenient for safaris—I spent a fine afternoon game-driving amid zebra and dust-bathing elephants—but not for those living on its edges. This is something the Victoria Falls Wildlife Trust knows all too well.

Onward, from Botswana’s big-hitter and into Zambia via the Quadripoint, the only place in the world where four countries meet. In Livingstone, I ventured off-beat to CATS but, like any visitor here, couldn’t bypass Mosi-oa-Tunya—particularly in March, when the torrent is rain-swollen and furious. I was dazzled by its rainbows, soaked by its spray.

To my mind, waterfalls tend to add to a scene rather than steal it. Not this one. It was monstrous, less viewing experience, more damp punch. It filled my field of vision, roared in my ears, soaked me with its spray, dazzled me with its rainbows. But almost as astounding was the surrounding jungle, an ecosystem created by the wet breath of the Falls itself, with tree frogs and butterflies hanging out amid the rampant greenery.

I stayed outside town, at Waterberry Lodge, its Edenic gardens sloping to the river’s edge. The sunset cruise here is signature Zambezi: Chortling hippos, iced G&Ts, skies on fire, primordial stillness. But, if you ask, the lodge will also take you to Tukongate, the school it’s been supporting since 2009.

It first sponsored one teacher and now Tukongate is a huge operation with 25 teachers, 250 students, an adult education center and 10,000 square meters of organic gardens and tilapia ponds that provide nutritious meals.

“The children are given breakfast and lunch, which motivates them to come,” headteacher Bridget Ikabongo explained as we walked into the open kitchen, where fresh eggplants were being sliced. “Last year, 20 out of 23 final year students passed the high school entrance exam—the other three are trying again,” she beamed. “But we also teach skills useful to those who struggle academically.”

The Kavango Zambezi doesn’t directly contribute to Tukongate. But the hope is students learning hygiene and cookery will find jobs in lodges catering to tourists. “The Kavango Zambezi makes a lot of sense,” said Waterberry MD Michael Voack as we returned to the lodge. “It has potential.”

One final border crossing, over the elegant iron span of the 120-year-old Victoria Falls Bridge, and I was back in Zimbabwe, in the town of Victoria Falls. Just as in Livingstone, human/wildlife conflict is a problem, particularly with elephants and lions crop- and livestock-raiding, and injuring, even killing, local people. Zambezi National Park rubs right up against the town. It’s convenient for safaris—I spent a fine afternoon game-driving amid zebra and dust-bathing elephants—but not for those living on its edges. This is something the Victoria Falls Wildlife Trust knows all too well. Focused on wildlife rescue, conservation education, conflict mitigation and even countering crime, it’s partnered with the Kavango Zambezi to train rangers and researchers to improve wildlife crime scene investigations.

I joined a tour of its HQ, just outside town, where scientists were staring down microscopes in the lab; testing ivory to locate poaching hotspots, tracking poisonings via toxicology analysis, and using DNA to inform animal translocations—for instance, examining genetics of rhino in different populations to see which animals could be moved to increase genetic variability. They also analyze meat samples seized from poachers—different species incur different penalties. It’s the only lab in the Kavango Zambezi that deals with wildlife forensics too; like the TFCA, the Trust too works beyond borders.

And seamless borders is what this is about. Traveling around this region, I sometimes felt the Kavango Zambezi might almost be too vast for its own good. Almost. It’s imperfect and, at ground-level, often unknown; international cooperation is complex; there’s much to do. But then, don’t we need to think big to save the world?

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For more information on the Kavango Zambezi Transfrontier Conservation Area (TFCA), see uncoverkaza.com.

Tour operators such as African Pride and Cedarberg Travel can organize multi-country Kavango Zambezi trips.

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