Review: Molori Mashuma, Zimbabwe

Opening a new lodge and going balls to the wall with the most expensive option in the area is brave—the kind of brave that involves barefoot fly-kicking a table after your fifteenth pint and a string of unanswered texts to your ex. But that’s exactly what Molori Mashuma has done with its second property, and its first in Zimbabwe. They’ve plonked themselves right in Mana Pools, where Wilderness are the reigning kings, and decided to offer a completely different product to stand out. And they definitely do, but not always for the right reasons.

Getting there

I arrived from Tembo Plains, about a three-hour drive.  At some point halfway through, my drivers swapped like it was a hostage handover. If you’re flying in, the easier route is via Harare, followed by a 1.5-hour charter flight to the local airstrip. You can also come in from Victoria Falls, which takes about 2.5 hours by air. From the airstrip, it’s a 30-minute drive to camp, although ours took longer, as I was immediately thrown into the absolute joy of Mana Pools: constantly getting out and walking somewhere, as we found wild dogs tracks.

Setting

Molori is on a private concession with access to Mana Pools – the UNESCO World Heritage Site, famous for its open terrains that make it one of the best places in Africa for walking safaris. It’s not a huge concession, but it’s big enough that they can set up private dinners and do things properly without worrying some National Park fanatic is going to appear out of the bushes and taser you for being out a minute after dark.

The camp is found a few kilometres from the Zambezi River, on the Mashuma Pan, which is a fancy way of saying “there’s a patch of water in front of you.” It’s serene, until the jackalberry tree above starts launching fruit at your head like a sniper. Wildlife love it, and elephants in particular – they wander right into camp, trying to grab the fruit.

Facilities

You enter the camp and approach this big, open-plan monolith.  It’s positioned for you to take in the view of the water, particularly in hope of seeing the wildlife, which in their deference, constantly delivered. I’m not sure I’d give the same compliment to the structure and layout, though – it felt pretty sparse.  A mix of eclectic pieces and pops of bright colour, but overall it felt Liz Biden lite.  Like someone thought a splash of turquoise here and there would make up for what was otherwise a fairly empty, bare-bones layout.

It looks grand at first glance, thanks to the high ceilings and the fact that you can see the whole space from the moment you walk in. That does mean there’s nowhere particularly private to be, but seeing as I was the only guest, that wasn’t really an issue.  I’m not sure how that plays out with a full camp, but they only have six rooms, so maybe it won’t be an issue.  Scrap all that?  Dunno.  Maybe.  I think there’s a reason no one else has ever decided to go with this approach; it just feels too exposed.  It’s definitely unique though, it definitely feels different to other places, and it definitely does not feel like you’re in a traditional safari camp.

There are four separate seating areas: one right at the entrance with some comfy sofas and brightly coloured chairs near the bar; another that feels more like a living area under shade; one right by the pool (which is all of five metres from the shaded one); and another tucked at the furthest point near the water. There’s also an open kitchen area by the pool where the chef does his thing.  The only separate area is the boma, where I dined on my last night.

Due to the trees dropping all their shit everywhere (won’t someone be environmentally friendly and pick up after themselves?!) some areas were impossible to spend any time in.  Apparently, this is only during May.

As for a spa or gym, there’s nothing, you animal. Go for a walk with some lions (which may well turn into a run), then relax once the adrenaline wears off and you remember you’re still alive.

Room

There are six rooms: four one-bedrooms and two two-bedrooms. They’re incredibly spread out, with it being a right walk to my room, #3, but bizarrely, room #1 is practically sat on the lodge.  And they admit there’s sometimes noise issues, especially this time of year when the fruit is hammering the roof like a drum. Room #4 looks right into the main area, which means you might be able to see people, and they might be able to see you. So spread out, but not thought through.

The rooms here follow the same design as the main area: bright colours, but the layout feels a bit slapped together, like they ran out of ideas halfway through.  But let’s ignore that for now, as the first thing I noticed was not how the colours made me wonder what kinda drugs I’d taken.  And then I saw the air con, and I nearly wept with relief. There’s also a fan and these little mini fans beside the bed to cool you down even more. No pool, though, although you could jump into the water if those drugs gave you a jolt of bravery.

The front of the room is all glass, overlooking the water—ok, more of a large pond than a river, but still. The layout’s open-plan but feels uninspired: a bath stuck right next to the bed. High ceilings, but pitched because of the tented canvas structure, though it’s done well enough. The bathroom setup is equally odd: double vanity but only one mirror, and then another mirror stuck by the wardrobes. Like being quirky for quirky sake.  There’s a separate shower area, plus the obligatory outdoor shower.  At least the bed, with its huge mosquito netting around it at night, was damn comfortable.

Outside, you get a dining table, two loungers with shade, and a big deck by the water, which elephants wandered past one afternoon.

The whole place feels like it’s aiming for a look I usually love, but with a finish that feels cheap. It actually made me appreciate the effort that went into Tembo Plains, even though that’s not my style at all. I’d pick Tembo any day—if it had air con. But it didn’t, so screw it.

Service

I was immediately added to a WhatsApp group to communicate with the team.  I can’t remember the last time a safari lodge bothered with WhatsApp—maybe we’re finally moving into the 21st century. But you can really feel that everyone here is still learning the ropes. Even the guy pouring water on my hands when I arrived looked like he’d never done it before—like he’d just discovered water.

The rest of the team weren’t covering themselves in glory either.  Like seeing glass in the minibar having fingerprints all over it.  It’s the kind of place where you really pause before sending anything to the laundry, wondering how it’s going to come back—if it’s going to come back at all.

Mike, the manager, is ex-Singita, but he only recently joined, and this is not a quick fix kinda place. I had a genuinely lovely chat at the end with him about all the issues, but my main point was to hire a consultant to come in and sort it out. I have never had that conversation with anyone before, but there is so much promise here, yet it feels like the owners planted something, considered it mission accomplished and job done.

When it was time to leave, we waited at the airstrip for over an hour, only for the plane not to show up.  At that time, my guide could either not get hold of anyone from the lodge, or we were too far away for the signal to reach.  All the same, it was another sign of the amateur operation that we were left clueless as to what was unfolding.  It was the perfect summary for this place. Sure, it’s not their fault the Wilderness plane was 90 minutes late, but I’m going to blame them anyway.

Food

I was introduced to the chef as I arrived, mentioned my preferences, including my absolute hatred of olives, so guess what showed up on my first meal? Lunch was a no-choice family-style sharing platter, which they laid out all at once—two desserts included—right as the flies decided to move in, so most of it went to waste. The beef balls were nice, but the salad was so plain I could’ve done better myself. Presentation was basic, and it all just felt like something was missing—same with the sundowners, which were more of a box-ticking exercise than any real moment of thoughtfulness.

The smell of dinner being cooked as I sat in the living area was a highlight, though, and dinner itself was excellent: a proper spread of meats, sauces, salads, and carbs (potatoes, naturally). Stopping by the Zambezi with chairs out and a few snacks for breakfast worked well, but the bush breakfast itself was just okay.  Afternoon tea had some lovely canapés and pastries, but quality was all over the place.  Dinners were great both nights, but everything else was just okay or forgettable. The grill area by the pool is a nice idea and cool concept, and I appreciated that they can do a bush dinner on their own concession, where you come be back at camp at 10pm, if you so wish.

Activities

As I was dropped off by Great Plains and picked up by Molori, I could immediately feel the downgrade in the quality, straight from looking at the vehicle – like I’d left business class for economy. Not that I know anything about that.

My guide, Liberty, was young but in the best way: still passionate, still excited about every track and sighting, not yet worn down by years of small talk. We quickly tried to track wild dogs on foot on the way in. No luck, but at least we found some footprints and a few of their stools—like tracking treasure, only it’s shit.

But this was just the teaser for what turned into the most insane wildlife experience of my life. After we got word later that evening that the wild dogs—my favourite animal—had been spotted near the airstrip, we headed straight there and quickly found them, lounging in the bush. It was just us. My guide turned to me and asked if I wanted to get out of the vehicle and sit down about 20 metres away. Obviously.  Sign me up.

We sat with them for just over an hour, completely undisturbed, until another plane landed. And, as is tradition on safari, I witnessed the human species’ total lack of patience. Off the plane came two groups: one stayed a few minutes and promptly left. The other arrived loaded with photography gear—serious kit—suggesting either hardcore hobbyists or professionals.  Me being me, I was instantly annoyed by their presence. Here I was, enjoying a quiet, private moment as the dogs started to stir and come closer—and then along came more humans, daring to exist near me. But, as it turns out, their presence ended up being a blessing. They were professionals and captured the whole thing a hundred times better than I ever could. All the photos are mine, but the video is theirs.

So, yes, I can be wrong.  Just this one time.  I thought they’d ruined it for me, only for them to capture some epic footage and actually make it even more memorable. Classic safari luck: it was my sixth day trying to find wild dogs, while the other group literally landed at the airstrip, flying in from Mexico, and saw them in the first ten minutes.

What unfolded was absolutely epic; an experience I will never forget.  A truly wild experience of a wild dog having a nibble on my shoe, which is closer than I’d probably want to get again.

What was most surprising was that there was never any crowding—no queues, no circus—despite being in the national park. The difference compared to Kruger, Mara or Serengeti is extreme. That same wild dog sighting in the Mara would have every vehicle ever registered in Kenya parked next to you. Plus some more, with new ones being manufactured on the spot, and a new human breeding programme, just to join the party.  Although Molori has its own private concession, we spent a lot of time inside Mana Pools National Park itself. And the entire time, we barely saw another vehicle.

The walking safaris here are brilliant. Unlike other places where you’d see an elephant and immediately retreat, in Mana Pools they practically encourage you to hop out and walk up for a closer look.  We had found some lion prints and got out of the vehicle to try and find them on foot, which is as crazy as it sounds, but I’m clearly on a one-man mission to do hoteliers a favour and end this website. Another morning we went and sat with another pack of wild dogs by their den, sitting metres away, as they just mooched around.

Overall, pure gold.

The Good

• Accommodation

The Bad

• An amateur operation in far too many places

The Luxurious

• Superb setting
• Incredible wildlife experiences

Conclusion 

Molori only opened last year, so this is their second season.  That has to be taken into consideration regarding some parts of this review.  But not all of it.

I have been to so many luxury hotels that I barely notice things anymore, but I certainly notice when they’re not there.  Here, the examples grew by the minute.  The touches of finesse are absent: they’re effortless because of how much effort went into them. Here their absence makes them all stand out more.  Like in the way sundowners is done – sure it’s some food, but it’s glaringly missing in the presentation department.

It’s the paper napkins during the bush breakfast. It’s how the vehicle is so sparse and looks put together in a rush.  Like how the platters for afternoon tea are labelled Woolworths Home.  Like how we agreed afternoon tea was 3 pm and no one shows until nearly 10 past.  Like how the lady working there looked like she’d lost her uniform.  Like how they didn’t even have a card machine to give a tip at the end.  Like how there’s only one guide working here.  It all just looks a bit amateur at times.  There’s just something about this place that feels like they keep serving me a cup of Bad Mood.  It’s like the movie Us where it seems all is fine until you’re being tortured on a chair.

They’ve priced themselves too high compared to the competition and now can’t backtrack without it looking like a retreat. It’s not expensive by the standards of some of the places we sell, but for Zimbabwe, it’s pushing it.

But the location is absolutely incredible.  Totally magic.  So good, it makes me want to tell you all to come here now.  But I can’t.  Not until the owners put their hands in their pocket.  If they do, I hope in a year’s time you’re all going. Because my god, the setting deserves it.