From Mosi-oa-Tunya to Batoka Africa: How Vimbai Masiyiwa redefines what's possible

Originally published in Manila Bulletin

I recently had the honor of being introduced by my counsellor, Vimbai Masiyiwa – and I’m still processing what that moment meant for me, not just as a young leader, but as an indigenous person trying to find my place in global conversations.

Before I met her, I knew the public headlines: CEO and chief creative officer of Batoka Africa, Forbes Africa 30 Under 30, Zimbabwe CEO Network’s Outstanding Young CEO, a style icon on Tatler’s Best Dressed List. But none of that prepared me for the woman who stood in front of us: grounded, warm, deeply intentional – and fiercely committed to re-imagining what African, and more specifically indigenous, leadership can look like.

Batoka Africa, the eco-tourism company she co-founded with her mother, Tsitsi Masiyiwa, is more than a safari brand. Hearing her speak, it became clear that Batoka is a statement. Its lodges along the Zambezi, near Victoria Falls – Mosi-oa-Tunya, “the smoke that thunders” – are designed not only to showcase nature’s grandeur, but to place African voices, communities, and creativity at the center of the story.

As she spoke about tracking lions, facing down a young bull elephant, and building Zambezi Sands as a conduit for life-changing experiences, I could feel the room shift. This wasn’t a glossy tourism pitch. It was a reclaiming. A reminder that for so long, our lands and cultures have been photographed, packaged, and sold – often without us. Batoka is her answer to that: a Black, female-owned safari lodge group that insists Africa will no longer just be the backdrop, but the author.

For me, as an indigenous person, meeting her was deeply personal. It is rare to see someone who looks like you and shares parts of your story standing so confidently in global spaces, not apologizing for her roots, but building from them. She didn’t just talk about success; she talked about responsibility – the responsibility to hire locally, to invest in communities, to bring young people into decision-making, and to show the next generation that they belong in boardrooms, on panels, and in power.

What struck me most was how present she was. Here is someone running major projects, building lodges that stretch across gorges, managing timelines and teams – and yet she takes the time to be in rooms like ours, in conversations that matter, listening to young voices.

She didn’t speak at us; she spoke with us. She asked questions, made space for reflection, and reminded us that leadership isn’t about distance, but proximity.

She also spoke honestly about fear and growth – about throwing yourself into the deep end, even when a project feels bigger than anything you’ve done before. Hearing that from someone of her calibre made my own doubts feel a little less heavy. If she can stand at the edge of something intimidating and still move forward, then maybe I can, too.

What stayed with me long after was this: she doesn’t treat being young, female, and indigenous as obstacles to overcome. She treats them as assets – as lenses that allow her to build differently, care more deeply, and design experiences that honor both people and place.

In a world that often tells people like us to “wait our turn,” she is a walking refusal of that script.

Meeting Vimbai, and learning more about Batoka Africa, reminded me that our stories don’t have to be small or hidden. They can be bold, visible, and beautifully disruptive. And as she continues to build spaces that honor the land and uplift communities, she quietly extends an invitation to the rest of us: to step up, to take risks, and to believe that we, too, can do it.

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