The upscale safari camp seeking to move beyond its colonial history

Cottar’s 1920s Camp attracts guests eager to relive the 'Out of Africa' experience – minus the malaria, lion encounters, and airplane mishaps.

As the oldest and most renowned lodge in Kenya’s Masai Mara, this century-old gem boasts Edwardian-style tents, a mahogany bar with sweeping views of the bush, and outdoor canvas baths that evoke images of Robert Redford serenely washing your hair.

A century after its inception, the camp remains a favorite among celebrities, royalty, and dignitaries – one of Calvin Cottar's many after-dinner tales includes a queen who had to dash back to her jeep after being interrupted mid-relief by an angry lioness.

However, with the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement, younger Kenyans are increasingly questioning whether lodges owned by white foreigners should still use the legacy of British colonialism as a marketing tool – a topic that has gained traction on Twitter and was explored in a recent exhibit at the Nairobi National Museum.

Surprisingly, despite his business still capitalizing on its luxury nostalgic appeal, Cottar acknowledges that there is some truth to their argument.

Cottar’s family has deep roots in Kenya’s history: his great-grandfather Charles, an American hunter, was renowned for surviving leopard attacks and forming bonds with local tribes.

His son continued the legacy by opening a lodge of his own, but tragically met his end when he was fatally gored by a rhino. Calvin Cottar himself fears no danger in the wild, often wandering alone for hours without a weapon.

The camp is the latest chapter in a family tradition that has seen Cottar men host royalty for hunting expeditions for generations – though it is Calvin who revived the concept of these opulent safaris, now focused on capturing images instead of hunting animals.

Wildlife and antique sofas

The lodge exudes a deep connection to colonial-era Kenya, with ornate writing desks, four-poster beds in each room, waiters bringing silver trays of gin and tonic to the pool before lunch, and long mahogany tables set for dinner, where guests are encouraged to dress elegantly and socialize.

The newly renovated mess tent is the epitome of luxury, featuring crystal whisky tumblers, oil paintings, vintage mirrors, and antique teak dressers.

Despite all the grandeur, the wilderness constantly encroaches. At night, guests gather around the fire with local Masai guides – and more often than not, a massive eland antelope with deadly tusks will stroll up to Cottar, sipping red wine from his glass. He’ll usually chuckle, take another sip, and casually warn everyone not to get too close, as 'they’re actually quite dangerous.'

One morning, amidst the vintage Chesterfield sofas, brass gramophones, and antique chandeliers, the lifeless body of a waterbuck antelope was discovered.

It resembled a scene from an Agatha Christie novel, if she had ventured into surrealism. The animal lay in a pool of its own blood, surrounded by first-edition books and leather armchairs.

“Fighting for breeding rights,” Cottar explained with a nod, then instructed his team to drag the carcass to the watering hole to see what would feast on it. (Answer: hyenas, who cackled their haunting laugh and left little more than bones.)

It all carries the unmistakable aura of a long-gone era, and Cottar openly admits that he too feels uneasy about how much colonialism still drives the business.

“White Africans, in particular, need to evolve,” he remarks, somewhat ironically, over tea in the library one afternoon.

“The 1920s décor is a bit of a challenge, though, because there’s still a strong demand for it. The staff don’t mind – it’s just a show for them – but urban Kenyans are staunchly opposed to anything colonial in nature, and I completely understand.”

Interestingly, despite his awareness of the issues that arise from capitalizing on this past, Cottar has no intention of changing the aesthetic. He believes the much larger issue in Kenya is land ownership, and by attracting wealthy guests who seek these Edwardian touches, he hopes to create a shift in how high-end tourism and local tribes interact.

A battle with the beasts

At times, it seems as though he’s calling for a departure from the people like himself. Former colonials still own a surprising amount of land here – take Hugh Cholmondeley, a British lord, who controls 48,000 acres of fertile land north of Lake Naivasha, using it for conservation and cattle breeding. Meanwhile, foreign corporations and hotel chains have acquired vast swaths of land surrounding the nation’s national parks, turning them into wildlife conservancies.

Cottar opposes this trend, arguing that purchasing the land traditionally inhabited by the Masai forces them into subsistence farming elsewhere, where they must contend with wildlife that destroys their crops and kills their livestock.

Wildlife populations are declining because fences – basic structures of wood and wire – now stretch across massive areas of the Masai Mara. These fences block vital migration paths, contributing to the sharp decline of lion and elephant numbers, even as poaching rates decrease each year.

The solution, according to Calvin, is biodiversity easements. Though it sounds complex, it simply means leasing the land from the Masai instead of owning it. This provides them with a stable monthly income, freeing them from relying on farming for survival. It also gives them a vested interest in preserving wildlife, as a dead elephant or lion reduces their rental income.

As a result, despite coming from a family with significant land holdings, Cottar himself owns very little land now, having donated much of it. He believes others should do the same.

Whether this will earn him favor with the White community – those whose families, like his, have been in Kenya since the colonial era – is not something that worries him. “Oh, they all think I’m completely insane when I suggest they start paying rent on their own land,” he says.

His commitment to fostering a more equitable Kenya is evident throughout the camp. The entire staff is Kenyan, from the camp manager to the renowned chef. The guides, all local Masai, include some who now own the land they work on.

Progressive approach?

Every day, they take their wealthy and celebrity guests on excursions through the stunning conservancy that envelops the camp. It’s like stepping into a scene from an Attenborough documentary, where wildlife roams undisturbed – lion prides with battle scars from buffalo encounters, young cheetahs basking in the sun, sleek and full of life.

Elephants appear at every turn, striking poses as effortlessly as any influencer in front of mountain vistas. Often, jeeps are surrounded by breeding herds, with the older, more experienced matriarchs leading the way while curious younger elephants rush up to the vehicle for a closer look.

The family’s strong ties with local tribes have led to impressive community projects; guests embark on activities such as foraging for medicinal herbs in the wild (accompanied by a hunter-gatherer tribesman whose life story has racked up 9.2 million views on YouTube), tracking endangered pangolins, and assisting with vulture conservation efforts.

Toward the end of the trip, guides often encourage guests to step out of the jeep’s safety confines and experience the Masai way of life – understanding that the entire ecosystem, rather than any one species, is what truly needs protection.

Walking through the bush on foot, standing at eye level with the animals, listening for their movements or distant alarm calls, feeling the damp leaves and crushing mint and grass beneath your feet – it’s an extraordinary experience that leaves guests unsure whether they are the predator or the prey.

And whether they are experiencing Kenya’s most progressive camp or embarking on a mind-bending journey back to Britain’s colonial past.