04/12/2025
Africa Through Local Eyes v Africa Through Tourist Eyes
If you want to know a place, ask someone who did not pay to be there.
There is a Zambia that locals know.
And there is a Zambia that tourists consume.
The two overlap, but they are not the same country.
Foreign visitors arrive in Livingstone with bucket lists. Bungee jump. White water raft. Sunset cruise. Helicopter flight. Safari. Selfies at the Falls. Then fly out again, convinced they have “done” Zambia.
Most Zambians have never done a single one of those things.
This is not criticism. It is reality.
Tourism here is largely designed and priced for foreigners. Bungee jumping is not a rite of passage for the average Zambian family. White water rafting is not a weekend hobby. A helicopter ride costing hundreds of dollars is not something a household earning local wages can justify. Even many middle class Zambians, whose numbers are rising and who increasingly travel for leisure, do not seek these curated, adrenaline soaked experiences. Their idea of a holiday is grounded in culture, family, relaxation and history, not bucket list bragging rights.
Meanwhile foreign tourists sip cocktails at foreign owned lodges built along the river, in bubbles that feel more like Europe relocated to Africa than Africa itself. They call it “authentic” because an elephant wandered past the restaurant or because the staff wear chitenge uniforms. But the version of Zambia they experience is carefully filtered, curated, sanitised and rarely touched by the rhythms of real Zambian life.
The irony is that Zambia’s tourism industry would collapse overnight without Zambians.
It is Zambian hands steering the boats.
Zambian drivers leading the game drives.
Zambian chefs cooking the meals.
Zambian cleaners preparing the rooms.
Zambian guards keeping the lodges safe.
Zambian artists performing for guests.
Zambian guides telling the stories.
The jobs are not high paying by Western standards, but, within the local economy, they are competitive and often transformational for families. Tourism keeps thousands of Zambians employed. Yet most of the high end lodges, backpackers, overland companies and adventure operators are owned by foreigners who extract the profit and leave locals with the crumbs.
Locals see Zambia differently.
They know the dusty streets, the market chatter, the smell of charcoal, the joy of a family braai, the pride of a church choir, the humour that carries people through load shedding and heatwaves, the neighbourliness that Europe has long forgotten.
They know Zambia not as an experience but as a life.
A tourist may stand at the edge of the Falls for ten minutes.
A Zambian may stand behind a shop counter for ten hours to afford school fees.
A tourist may post a sunset photo.
A Zambian knows that same sunset marks the start of preparing the evening meal for extended family.
A tourist may take photos of a village.
A Zambian calls that village home.
This is not to shame travellers. Travel can be beautiful, inspiring and meaningful.
But travelling through Africa is not the same as living in Africa.
And if you want to understand a place, really understand it, you cannot rely on hotels, guidebooks or curated excursions.
You need to step out of the tourist bubble.
Talk to people.
Listen to stories.
Sit in a local bar.
Visit a real neighbourhood.
Find the Zambia that does not exist in brochures.
Because the Zambia that tourists come for is dramatic.
But the Zambia that locals live is profound.
One is a spectacle.
The other is a soul.
