Uber Safari: A Step Forward for Access, or a Step Backward for Safaris?

Recently, Uber announced the launch of Uber Safari in Nairobi National Park. With the tap of an app, anyone can now book a three-hour wildlife experience in the only national park set against the skyline of a capital city. On the surface, this sounds like a celebration: greater accessibility, convenience for visitors, new income streams for drivers. But beneath the headlines lies a story we, as an industry, need to pay close attention to.

Let me be clear: I do not dispute that Uber has shaken up the transport industry worldwide. In many ways, they’ve driven innovation, convenience, and affordability. But when that model enters the safari world, something feels deeply wrong to me. Safari is not a taxi ride. It is not meant to be ordered, consumed, and dispatched within a few hours. It is sacred, and we risk losing its essence if we don’t pause to reflect.

Guiding quality and training

So far, assurances have been vague. We’re told Uber Safari will employ “licensed” and “certified” guides. But in practice, that could mean little more than a driver with a PSV licence and a basic accreditation. That is not the same as a professional guide.

Our industry has spent decades working to lift standards, pushing for greater skill, deeper knowledge, and higher levels of professionalism.

The best camps pour resources into training, mentoring, and developing guides so they are not just drivers, but teachers, storytellers, and conservation ambassadors. That investment matters. It shapes how guests see Africa, and it directly affects how wildlife is treated in the field. Will Uber commit to that? Will they fund guide training and personal development? Or will they simply make sure that, on paper, the minimum legal requirements are in place?

The corporatisation of safari

For decades, the safari industry has been powered by passionate individuals and families—people who poured their lives, savings, and hearts into protecting landscapes and wildlife. Safari has been Africa’s great competitive advantage, one of the few things the world cannot replicate elsewhere. Yet now, global giants are moving in: Marriott, Ritz-Carlton, and now Uber. Once again, the small fish risk being swallowed by the big.

I am not naïve. I know economics drives change. But I mourn what could be lost—the intimacy, the authenticity, the soul of safari. The industry needs to support those camps and people investing time, money, and knowledge back into conservation, not just corporations designed to scale up proven economics.

Accountability

When a guide misbehaves—drives too close to a leopard, blocks another vehicle, harasses wildlife—there is a system of accountability. Fellow guides take note, contact the camp or lodge, and the matter is addressed. That internal policing is what helps uphold ethical guiding. But who will you call now? Uber’s customer support line? Will they listen? Will they care? Accountability only works when there are clear, invested structures behind it.

The optics

And then there is the matter of how it looks. Uber Safari may well offer a neat product. But do we really want the image of a multinational tech giant inserting itself into the wild? Safari should be about reconnecting with nature, with each other, with ourselves—not about convenience, branding, or commodification.

Let’s be honest: this is not what guests travelling halfway across the world want to see. They come seeking authenticity, landscapes that still feel wild and untouched. If we dilute that, we risk eroding the very reason they travel here in the first place. And we must ask ourselves: will the world still consider Kenya a premier safari destination if shared sightings are dominated by branded Uber Safari vehicles?

We need to be vigilant. We need to support the camps, lodges, and organisations that invest in their people—those who train guides not just to drive, but to inspire. And we must stand behind the people and places putting real resources back into conservation. Safari is not a ride. It is not a commodity. It is a responsibility, a privilege, and—if we guard it well—a light for Africa and the world.

What next? Will we start selling the naming rights to our national parks, just like football stadiums? Spotify Amboseli, Meta Maasai Mara, Tesla Tsavo, Apple Samburu?

It sounds far-fetched, but then again, so once did “Uber Safari.”