Sarah Chen, a traveller from Singapore, described her three-day wellness retreat in the Nyanga mountains of eastern Zimbabwe. “It was like earth medicine.”
Guided by a local ‘n’anga’ (traditional healer), she lay on river rocks while birdsong echoed through the forest, according to a memoir she shared on LinkedIn.
Steam from crushed ‘mufandichimuka’ leaves (from a medicinal tree) opened her lungs. There were no spa robes or ambient playlists—just the rhythms of nature and rituals passed down for generations.
“You don’t have to experience wellness on a massage table,” she wrote. “It’s how you inhabit your body. For example, my Fitbit recorded the lowest stress levels in years.”
Chen’s experience in Zimbabwe reflects the broader reality of travel in Africa: across the continent, hotels, lodges, and tourism operators offer encounters rooted in local tradition, natural environments, and community life.
From forest bathing to gorilla trekking and stargazing, practices seen as trendy and innovative globally have long been staples of African travel.
A new report by the African Travel and Tourism Association (ATTA) now shows how key trends like wellness, sustainability, authenticity, and slow travel are deeply embedded in African tourism.
Based on insights from lodge operators, hotel managers, and tour organisers, the report argues that these values aren’t just additions—they’re the bedrock of Africa’s tourism experience.
Wellness tourism is projected to hit US$1.3 trillion globally by 2025, up from about US$800 billion in 2022, according to the Global Wellness Institute.
But as the ATTA report notes, in Africa, the pillars of wellness—rest, rhythm, nature, and reflection—are not innovations. These aspects of eco-living have been integral to African life for centuries.
At Singita safari lodges, which operate in South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Tanzania, wellness isn’t sold as a service—it’s cultivated as a way of life.
“It’s a state of being,” says Renée Rosettenstein, the group’s Wholeness Coordinator.
Singita’s approach involves elements sourced from the earth and rituals rooted in African tradition.
“Our African tools used in massages are simple elements from the earth,” she says. “We make space for guests to meditate in quiet places to reflect on the day.”
Guests are invited to rise with the sun, reflect by firepits, and engage in storytelling, rather than follow set itineraries or spa schedules.
“The kind of traveller we’re seeing now,” says Singita strategist Lindy Rousseau, “yearns for transformation through nature, for connection, and for meaning through community-rooted experiences.”
Sustainable tourism is another key element that is deeply rooted in Africa, according to the report.
Rather than focusing on certifications or compliance metrics, many African tourism operators embed sustainability in the belief that ecological health and community well-being are inseparable.
“In the African context, tourism is conservation,” says Natalie Lyall-Grant, a positive impact manager at Jacada Travel. “It’s helping restore ecosystems and protect wildlife.”
Jacada, headquartered in London, works across South Africa, Kenya, Tanzania, Namibia, Botswana, Uganda, Rwanda, and Mozambique.
Green Safaris, operating in Zambia and Malawi, takes a similarly grounded approach. Founder Vincent Kouwenhoven is sceptical of global certification schemes that can mask environmental damage.
“It’s pretty easy to get a certificate,” he says. “But if you look at the actual footprint of a massive concrete hotel with that certification, it’s an eye-opener.”
Instead, he chose direct action: “For US$20,000, I can plant another 20,000 trees. Everyone is welcome to come look at my trees and count them.”
Green Safaris lodges are built with locally sourced materials like sandbags and run social programs, including a business academy for young single mothers in Malawi.
These efforts reflect a model of sustainability grounded in mutual reliance between people and ecosystems.
What the global industry now markets as “slow travel”—immersive, unhurried journeys—is often how travel works in Africa.
African travel typically follows the pace of geography, community, and infrastructure, not a checklist.
“Slow travel might be a modern trend globally,” says Peter Allison of Natural Selection Travel, which operates in Botswana, Namibia, South Africa, and Angola. “But it’s an ancient art form in Africa.”
Even the term “safari” means “to journey”—not rush through attractions.
African Bush Camps, with operations in Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, and South Africa, has designed its guest experience around this ethos.
“We help guests shift their mindset from trying to fit everything in to slowing down and connecting with the experience,” says Natasha Dixon, the company’s communications manager.
Also, while global travellers increasingly seek “authentic” experiences, the ATTA report argues African tourism doesn’t have to perform authenticity—it lives it.
“Our safaris don’t offer staged performances or tourist traps,” says James Haigh, head of sales and marketing at Lemala Camps & Lodges in Tanzania and Uganda.
Instead, guests are encouraged to engage with communities, with guides, and with living cultures.
Visitors might spend time with Hadzabe hunter-gatherers or Barabaig pastoralists. Guides come from over 120 tribes in Tanzania alone and are trained in ecology, heritage, and storytelling.
“Kiswahili is our shared language,” Haigh says, “but each guide brings their own stories, traditions, and cultural wisdom.”
Authenticity, in this model, isn’t frozen in time. It’s alive, evolving, and participatory.
Benjamin Mzalendo, a tutor at Kenya Utalii College, a hospitality and tourism training school in Nairobi, explained that the ATTA report offers a way forward for African tourism.
“Africa already lives out many of the values the global industry is now adopting,” he said in a call. “The opportunity lies in refining and telling the world about what we already have.”
Enhanced documentation, tourism site upgrades, and focused marketing will boost Africa’s unique travel appeal, according to Mzalendo.
“We don’t need to import models,” he adds. “We just need to believe in ours—and share them with the world.”
