WELCOME TO MY AFRICA

A woman standing outside a small adobe-style house surrounded by lush greenery and trees, waving.

There are places we visit. And then there are places that quietly become part of us. Kenya has always been that place for me.

Not simply because of her wildlife. Or her landscapes.

But because of her people.

Their generosity. Their resilience. Their laughter. Their extraordinary way of making a stranger feel like they have come home.

Safi African Adventures was born from one simple hope:

That I might introduce you to the Kenya that has shaped my life.

Not through a checklist of places. But through the people, stories, landscapes and moments that have taught me what it truly means to belong.

Hello, My name is Nthenya Schroeder and I am your Mwenyeji.

In Swahili, Mwenyeji means host. Not someone who simply arranges a journey.

But someone who receives you with warmth, opens doors you could never open alone, and delights in making you feel at home.

That is the role I hope to play in your journey through Kenya.

I was born into a family that believed safari was never simply about wildlife.

Some of my earliest memories are of the Kenyan bush alongside my mother, Anna, whose pioneering work in Kenyan aviation and tourism introduced me to a world where conservation, hospitality and respect for people were inseparable.

Long before I understood the word hospitality, I watched it being lived. I watched conversations linger around dinner tables. I watched guides share stories with quiet reverence. I watched strangers become friends.

Those moments shaped me far more than I realized at the time.

My mother taught me something that has remained with me my entire life. That the greatest privilege of living in Kenya wasn’t simply seeing her beauty.

It is having the opportunity to share her with others.

Why I created Safi African Adventures

Somewhere along the way I realized that people weren't remembering the places we'd visited most vividly.

They were remembering the people who welcomed them. The guide who noticed they loved birds. The grandmother who poured another cup of tea before they even asked. The child who insisted on teaching them a game. The musician whose song became forever tied to an African sunset.

That's when I understood that my work was never simply designing journeys.

It was creating the conditions where strangers might become friends.

I often get asked what makes a Safi journey different.

The answer isn't found in a particular lodge. Or a private vehicle. Or an exclusive experience. Those things matter, and we choose them with great care. But they are not the heart of Safi.

The heart of Safi is the belief that travel has the power to remind us of our common humanity.

That somewhere around a shared table...

A campfire... A conversation… Or beneath the shade of an acacia tree...

We stop feeling like strangers.

My hope is that when your journey ends, you won't simply say you visited Kenya.

My hope is that you'll feel Kenya was glad you came. And it would be my honour to welcome you here.

Karibu Nyumbani.

— Nthenya

A woman and a young girl standing indoors in front of a brick wall, both dressed in white dresses with colorful accents.
Woman with an afro hairstyle feeding a rhino with a bottle outdoors.

I came for the safari…

A man with red hair and glasses taking a photograph with a Canon DSLR camera in a grassy savannah setting during daytime.

By Brian Schroeder

In 2014, I thought I was coming to Kenya for a safari…

Growing up, I thought I knew Africa. Like so many people, I had spent years turning the pages of National Geographic and watching Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. I imagined endless savannahs, safari vehicles, and extraordinary wildlife. Then I came to Kenya.

Within minutes of landing on a small dirt airstrip—our little plane weaving around three giraffes standing calmly on the runway—I realized I knew almost nothing.

Over the following days I saw everything I had dreamed of seeing. Lions. Elephants. Rhinos. Cheetahs. Even a leopard. It was extraordinary.

But strangely...

When I think back on that first journey, those aren't the memories that stay with me most vividly. The memories that return most often are much quieter.

The conversations. The laughter. The warmth of people who welcomed me as though we had known one another for years.

The feeling that somewhere along the way, Kenya stopped feeling like a destination and started feeling like home.

I didn't expect that.

No wildlife documentary had ever prepared me for that part.

When I first met Nthenya, she often spoke about her dream. She didn't dream about creating another safari company. She dreamed about introducing people to the Kenya she loved.

At the time...

I don't think I fully understood what she meant.

Then we travelled together. As our plane lifted off to leave Kenya, I remember looking out of the window and realizing that she hadn't simply shown me a country.

She had introduced me to a place that had quietly changed me. Only then did I understand her dream.

Today, I have the privilege of watching that same story unfold for other families.

Again and again.

Even now, after countless journeys back to Kenya, I still find myself surprised. Not only by the wildlife. But by the people. The unexpected conversations. The quiet generosity.

The moments that can't be planned, but somehow become the ones you remember most. If there's one thing I've learned from Kenya, it's this:

The greatest journeys don't end when you fly home. They continue shaping the way you see the world.

It would be a privilege to welcome you and help you discover the Kenya that changed my life.

— Brian