As part of our Women In Travel content series, our Roving Editor, Anastazia Uglow, spent time with a remarkable group of ladies called, The Black Mambas. Felicia Mogakane and her fierce colleagues are the world’s first and only all-female anti-poaching unit who work tirelessly to protect South Africa’s wild heart.
Felicia Mogakane still remembers the first time she felt the earth shake beneath her feet. The sound of trees cracking. The low rumble that came before the charge. It was an elephant, wild and unimpressed by the presence of humans. For most, it would have been a story of terror. But for Mogakane, it was the beginning of something else: courage.
“I told myself that day, I will never fear them again,” she says. “And now I love elephants the most.”
At 36, Felicia Mogakane is not just a mother of two and a field ranger — she’s a force of nature in her own right. One of South Africa’s pioneering all-female anti-poaching units, Mogakane has helped rewrite the narrative of conservation in a country where protecting wildlife has long been seen as a man’s job. With her boots planted firmly in the red soil of the bushveld, she has spent over a decade proving otherwise.
From bush walks to battlefield
Mogakane grew up in Welverdiend, a village on the edge of the Greater Kruger region. Her father was a field ranger in Kruger National Park. “We would go with him on school holidays,” she recalls. “He would take us on game drives. That’s where it started.” Her mother, a professional chef, balanced the household — but it was the father’s shadow Felicia followed.
After finishing high school, with her father gone and her mother unemployed, university was out of reach. When she heard about a job for “environmental monitors,” she applied — not knowing it would lead to one of the most physically and emotionally demanding careers in the conservation world.
The training was brutal: weeks without bathing, sleeping in the bush under makeshift shelters built from thorny branches. “They took our phones so we couldn’t quit,” she laughs. “We were the first women to do this kind of field ranger training. It was military style. Men had done it before — but never women. They didn’t think we would finish. We proved them wrong.”
The price of purpose
Being a ranger comes with sacrifices. Mogakane works 21 days straight inside the reserve, without seeing her sons, aged 13 and 9. “At first I used to cry every night,” she says. “They were staying with someone I didn’t know. I worried constantly — had they eaten, were they okay?”
When her mother lost her job during the pandemic and moved in to care for the boys, things improved. “Now I can call them and they’ll ask, ‘Mommy, did you see lions today?’ They love what I do.”
She speaks of her sons with warmth and fierce pride. “They’re growing up seeing their mom in a role no one expected her to be in. I hope it inspires them.”
The Black Mambas and breaking stereotypes
Mogakane is a senior member of the Black Mambas — South Africa’s first all-female anti-poaching unit. Formed in 2013, the Mambas were a radical experiment in community-driven conservation: unarmed women from local villages patrolling the fences, monitoring wildlife, deterring poachers.
The backlash was swift. “People said we wouldn’t survive. That women without guns couldn’t stand up to poachers. They teased us, laughed at us,” Mogakane recalls. “But we stood firm. We put on our boots and we proved them wrong.”
Today, the Black Mambas are globally recognised. Their model has been replicated elsewhere, but it is not the international attention that fuels Mogakane. It’s the quiet victories — spotting snares before they trap a leopard, chasing off would-be poachers, educating local children about conservation.
Support from responsible tourism companies has been crucial to sustaining the Mambas’ mission. One of their key partners is Intrepid Travel, which helps fund the Black Mambas through its not-for-profit arm, the Intrepid Foundation. This backing enables the unit to continue its vital work in anti-poaching, education, and environmental stewardship — and serves as a model for how the tourism industry can contribute meaningfully to conservation.
“It’s not just about protecting animals,” she says. “It’s about protecting the future — for our kids, for our communities, for the land.”
Facing fear
Elephants are her greatest teachers. “I used to be so scared,” she admits. “One night patrol, we came across a whole herd. We had to run. We left our lights, our gear. We were deep in the bush with no signal, lions nearby, and one of my colleagues hurt her ankle. We had to carry her until help came.”
But it was during eco-training, years later, that she faced the fear head-on. A huge bull elephant approached her vehicle. “It came so close I could hear its breathing. But I stayed still. I didn’t run. I felt something lift off me that day. I felt peace.”
Nature has become her refuge. “In the bush, I let go of everything. I concentrate. I heal. I feel strong again.”
Lessons in letting go
In 2022, Mogakane got divorced. It wasn’t easy, especially in a culture where, she says, “a black woman isn’t supposed to leave a man and start over.” But she did.
“If I could go back and tell my 12-year-old self something, I’d say — stay away from men, follow your dreams,” she laughs, though not without a hint of gravity. “Marriage held me back from travelling, from studying. But now I am free.”
That freedom is hard-won. Yet she never presents herself as a victim. Instead, she radiates a kind of practical optimism — the kind that’s been tempered by long days in the bush, close calls, and the responsibility of raising sons who see their mother as both protector and pioneer.
Changing the narrative
For all the risks, Mogakane says she wouldn’t trade her life in the bush. “The city is too noisy. Here I can hear the birds. I can smell the wind. Every crack in the branches tells a story.”
She talks about the intelligence of animals, the way elephants remember, how lions give warning signs before they attack. “We just have to listen.”
That could be the mantra for everything she stands for — listen. To the land. To the animals. To the women whose strength goes unrecognised. To the girls who, like her, once thought their future was already written.
Legacy and hope
Felicia Mogakane may have started with nothing but a love for animals and a desire to honour her late father. But she has carved out something lasting — not just for herself, but for the next generation of women.
“When you’re a Black woman in this job, you’re making a statement every day. That we are capable. That we are here. That we matter.”
Her story is one of survival, but more than that, it is a story of purpose.
As the sun sets over the acacia trees and the chatter of birds gives way to the stillness of night, Felicia Mogakane prepares for another patrol. Another walk into the unknown. She is unarmed, but not unprotected.
She carries something stronger.
Conviction.
Entries are now open for the 2025 Women in Travel Awards. Whether you’re putting your name forward or championing a colleague, don’t miss this chance to recognise the women in our industry.
➡️ Nominate/enter now and help elevate the voices that matter.
Thursday, 26 June 2025 – Entries open
Thursday, 2 October 2025 – On-time entries close
Thursday, 9 October 2025 – Late entries close
Wednesday, 5 November 2025 – Finalists announced
Wednesday, 3 December 2025 – Awards night
