At dawn, I watch a pride of lions basking in the first warmth of the day. The lioness releases a low growl to the male and drops into an unmistakable crouch. She’s ready, but he’s seemingly disinterested. He ambles down to the river for an unhurried drink instead. In the distance, their two young males linger, nuzzling heads. I’m in Selinda Reserve, a far-flung, private concession in northern Botswana, and this scene is all mine to soak in—no vehicles and shutterbugs in sight.
The hush around me feels precious, especially as my Instagram algorithm has been serving up videos of tourists and 4x4s blocking the Great Migration path in Kenya’s Masai Mara. Botswana has a different kind of allure, with grasslands that still feel wild and untouched compared to several other parts of Africa. Long considered one of the continent’s most expensive and exclusive game-viewing destinations, it’s prized by seasoned safari-goers seeking seclusion.
Several safari operators have established camps in Botswana’s remote concessions with an eye toward sustainability. These parcels of land, leased from local communities, are tightly regulated, with strict environmental standards and limits on visitor numbers. Selinda Reserve, which sits on the spillway that connects the Linyanti River to the Okavango Delta, is home to abundant wildlife and the Big Four. The reserve is managed by Great Plains Conservation (GPC), the African safari and conservation outfit that prides itself on setting up “low-impact” luxury camps in private concessions of Kenya, Zimbabwe, and Botswana, protecting the terrain and empowering locals in the process. In Selinda, GPC runs four camps across 1,30,000 hectares, each with just three to six tents, making game drives as intimate as the stays themselves.
Privacy is serious business at Selinda. When other vehicles show up during game drives, guides are trained to make way for each other. After about 30 minutes of watching the lion play hard to get, our guide, Botsang Moenga, who goes by the nickname Surprise, gently asks if we are ready for the next sighting. “No more than three vehicles will ever surround an animal in this reserve, and we’d love to give others a chance. When you respect the wildlife and their habitat, they tend to respect you.”
My safari experience began soon after we landed on the Selinda airstrip. On the 40-minute drive to my stay at Zarafa Camp—one of four hotels operated here by GPC—we were greeted by a herd of 300 elephants making their way to Zibadianja Lagoon to quench their thirst. Zarafa overlooks this lagoon and is also the first hotel in Botswana to join the Relais & Châteaux collection. Entirely powered by solar energy, the camp has been built from wood and recycled materials salvaged after a tsunami destroyed parts of East Africa in 2004. Owners Dereck Joubert and Beverly Joubert’s wildlife photography add life to the interiors, decorated with Zanzibari doors, Chesterfield sofas, Persian rugs, and giraffe skulls.
For a camp this deep in the wild, the indulgence in the five suites is disarming: private plunge pools, outdoor showers (where I bathed to the distant rumble of elephants), free-standing copper bathtubs and fireplaces, and safari-style desks. The Dhow Suite, a private two-bedroom villa within Zarafa, comes with its own dining and lounging area, private deck with a fire pit, and a personal butler and chef, perfect for families or a group of friends seeking seclusion. Meals are an extension of the ethos, championing plant-based ingredients with a smattering of meat—think the freshest salads, pea and apple soup, a DIY pizza bar, and a wine cellar stocked with bottles from South Africa. There’s also a gym overlooking the lagoon, with what may be the wildest workout views I’ve seen.
Out on the savannah, Surprise, who has been guiding for nearly five years and for a year at Zarafa, doesn’t just keep his eyes peeled for big-cat tracks. He draws our attention to the smaller details: dung beetles rolling across the tracks, steenboks flicking their ears in the grass, and kori bustards, Botswana’s national bird, plucking worms from the earth.
One drive, he decides to let go of lion sightings and it pays off. As we move south of the Selinda National Park boundary, we stumble upon a rare pack of African wild dogs in pursuit of their meal for the day. Keeping up with their speed is no mean feat, but Surprise keeps at it, navigating thorny shrubs, and ensuring no stray branches graze us in the process. We watch zebras try to drive the dogs away. A hyena shadows the pack in hopes of stealing a kill, and an intense clash erupts between the two. The dogs and hyena leap in the air, teeth baring as they let out piercing cries—a moment we capture on the DSLR lent to us.
On certain drives, Surprise shares tips with guides, and on others, they return the favour. “We don’t compete against each other. We are a community and we all help each other with sightings,” he says. One morning, a female guide radios in about a shy leopard hiding in the thickets in the north of the park. As we near the area, we spot a female tsessebe pacing in tight circles, scanning the distance for her calf. “The leopard probably got it,” Surprise says hushly, reading the scene in an instant. He soon veers off the road and into the bushes, determined to track the predator before it slips away. The bush is dense, branches claw at the side of the vehicle, but Surprise presses on. After nearly 30 minutes of searching, we catch her sight. Her rosettes flickering through the trees as she grips the tsessebe calf by the neck.
Women are at the heart of conservation efforts in Botswana. The Great Plains Foundation employs female biodiversity monitors, training them to patrol against illegal wildlife activity and gather vital data about the ecosystem. In a male-dominated industry, these rangers drive 4x4 Land Cruisers through the Kalahari sands and deep floodwaters, protecting animals on the frontlines. Boipelo Bowie Samayaha, a ranger from the village of Beetsha, about three hours away, tells me about rescuing a zebra that had been trapped in wire near Mababe. “Before I joined Great Plains, I was a homemaker with a young child. But I’ve always loved nature. It’s a privilege to be at the frontlines now and protect it.”
At sunset, Surprise drives us out onto an open savannah, claps a few times to ensure it’s safe to hop out, and then unfurls a picnic cloth on the bonnet of the jeep, laying out olives, breadsticks, and poached apricots spiced with cardamom and star anise. He mixes a negroni, and as he hands it over, we watch the sun paint the sky in the colours of the cocktail in our glasses.
On our drive back to camp in pitch darkness, he sweeps his torchlight across the bush, hoping for one last surprise. In the beam, ostriches march single file, followed by the glinting eyes of a genet and a civet slipping through the grass.
Throughout our drives, we notice how at ease the wildlife is around us, a testament to the health of the ecosystem and the camp’s commitment to protecting it for future generations. As for the lions from our morning sighting, we’ll never know whether they were too shy to mate—and we didn’t mind. Perhaps we’d hear from our fellow guests, swapping stories as we cradle nightcaps around the bonfire on the deck.
Botswana by Water
Botswana may be famed for its land-based safaris, but its story is incomplete without the Okavango Delta, a rare wetland where the wilderness is explored by water. Here, floodplains carved by hippo and elephant movement form one of the world’s most nutrient-rich ecosystems protected today as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
That a wetland exists deep in the Kalahari can only be explained as a geological miracle. Rainfall in Angola (Central Africa), hundreds of kilometres away, feeds the Okavango River, which empties into a tectonic basin with no outlet. The water spreads into a labyrinth of channels, lagoons, and islands before finally evaporating into the desert, transforming an otherwise arid landscape into a lush sanctuary for elephants, hippos, lions, and over 400 bird species.
This diverse landscape sets the backdrop for the second leg of our stay at Sitatunga Private Island, set deep within Okavango Delta. A 20-minute bushplane ride to Omdop Airstrip from Selinda carries us over scrub and thornveld that gradually soften into vast green floodplains, followed by a short helicopter hop to the island. Our safari begins in the sky itself, as we spot pods of hippos cooling in the channels and elephants drinking at the water’s edge.
Like Zarafa, Sitatunga is part of GPC’s ongoing efforts to protect this pristine wetland and support the communities around it. The property’s commitment to the place is woven into its details. Its three suites, including a two-bedroom family suite, are designed like oversized woven baskets, a nod to the Okavango’s fishing heritage. Supported by stilts and built from sleeper wood reclaimed from old railway lines, the solar-powered tents sit lightly on the land; not a single tree was felled in construction. Jackalberry trunks rise through the decks of the villas, where plunge pools, exercise bikes, and loungers make for perfect pads to watch birdlife go by.
Inside, the suites feel like a jetsetter’s hideaway. The Jouberts’ finds from around the world fill the space: armchairs carved in Indonesia, tables crafted in India, and Persian rugs. The rooms are spacious, with his-and-her wardrobes, Victorian-style bathtubs, and raw wood desks. The two-bedroom family suite features a living and dining room stocked with South African wines. A bird checklist sits on the desk: a useful companion for the boat safari that awaits.
Our bodies, still recovering from a string of 5 a.m. wake-up calls, welcomed the promise of a slower rhythm. We set out on a sunset cruise in a motorboat, armed with rain parkas, mosquito repellent, and a cool box stocked with drinks. As we drift across the waters toward the Okavango River, we snake through channels flanked by papyrus plumes brushing softly against our shoulders. Along the banks, crocodiles lie with their jaws agape, while the meaty heads of hippos surface and sink again. We had seen countless hippos half-submerged on our trip, but at one bend we found one waiting on the bank, water streaming from its muzzle, locking eyes with us in a stare that stopped us cold. “From the boat, our scent barely registers as a threat. The rule is to move swiftly, speak softly, and the wildlife will usually return the courtesy,” assures Mike Ngande, who has been guiding in Botswana over land and water for over two decades.
Sitatunga is a birdwatcher’s paradise, and within minutes of the ride we’re ticking species off our list: a malachite kingfisher balanced lightly on a papyrus stem, a pair of Egyptian geese patrolling the shallows, and yellow-billed storks stalking for fish.
The most intimate way to meet the delta’s wildlife is by mokoro, the traditional dugout canoe now crafted from fibreglass. Ngande leads us, rifle in hand for safety, poling the canoe through glassy channels reflecting the skies and threaded with water lilies. The delta moves at its own unhurried pace, its silence broken only by the swish of the paddle or the call of a distant heron. From this low vantage point, Ngande points to the delta’s smaller wonders: long reed frogs camouflaged among the grass blades, and the elusive sitatunga antelope after which the property is named. “Only the lucky ever see one,” says Ngande.
Unlike national parks, private concessions such as Sitatunga also allow one to explore on foot with guides like Ngande, who undergo rigorous rifle training to keep guests safe. On one outing, we set off on a walking safari about an hour from the property.
Feet wobbly, I ask, “What if we encounter an animal?” “There’s a 50 per cent chance you will,” Ngande says calmly. “Remember, this is their home. And if you do, don’t run. When an animal sees you running, it thinks you’re prey.” We move slowly and cautiously through the bush as Ngande points out details we’d miss unless we stepped off the boat: an elephant skull, the burrow of warthogs, and a shape in the distance that stops my heart for a moment, until we spot a shy, fleeing bushbuck.
Sundowner drinks are de rigueur at Sitatunga. Back from our walking excursion, we settle on a round deck overlooking the lagoon at the end of a pontoon. As a rim of orange slowly fractures the sky and spills across the water, we sip Great Plains’ in-house gin, infused with African sage, an earthy note that captures the thrillingly pure scent of the Okavango Delta, sealing it in our memories.
Tariffs for Zarafa Camp start from $2,070 (approx. 1,85,000) per person, per night on a twin-sharing basis. For Sitatunga Private Island, tariffs start from $1,660 (approx. 1,49,000) per person, per night on a twin-sharing basis.
