Harnas

In August 2021, I embarked on my first trip to Africa and spent three weeks volunteering at Harnas Wildlife Sanctuary in Namibia. Nestled in a vast, wild landscape, Harnas serves as a refuge for a variety of animals—many of which have been rescued from difficult or unnatural circumstances. The experience was both enriching and eye-opening, blending moments of awe with deeper reflection.

Caring for the animals, preparing food, cleaning enclosures, and engaging in conservation tasks brought me close to Africa's iconic wildlife. Watching lions emerge at sunrise or walking with cheetahs in the savannah were unforgettable experiences. The raw beauty of the Namibian landscape, combined with the close contact with wildlife, felt dreamlike. But as time passed, a more complex reality began to surface.

The sanctuary's mission—to rescue and protect animals—is admirable on paper. However, I found myself increasingly questioning what I was witnessing. Many of the animals are kept in enclosures for extended periods, some perhaps indefinitely. While some cannot be rewilded for safety reasons, the line between sanctuary work and wildlife tourism seemed blurred at times. Were all the practices truly in the best interest of the animals? Or were some choices shaped more by the need to fund operations through volunteer fees and donor engagement?

These ethical grey zones made me think critically about the broader world of wildlife sanctuaries and rehabilitation programs. The experience opened my eyes—not just to the animals’ realities, but also to the complexities of so-called conservation work. Volunteering in such a context can easily feel fulfilling, but it also raises the risk of unintentionally supporting systems that commodify wildlife under the banner of rescue.

Despite these concerns, I don’t regret my time at Harnas. It offered me a powerful introduction to the African continent and sparked a deep appreciation for its landscapes and creatures. But it also challenged my assumptions and made me far more cautious about the intersection of conservation, tourism, and ethics.

Looking back, I wouldn't do it again—not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because I now see too many grey lines. For anyone considering such an experience, I’d strongly recommend taking the time to research the organization thoroughly, ask tough questions, and ensure its values align with your own. Africa will always be special to me—but not all wildlife sanctuaries are as straightforward as they seem.

To learn more about Harnas and its work, you can visit their website here.