You may have seen a recent video of a so-called safari guide throwing stones to awaken a lion in the Nairobi National Park. And once again the guiding and conservation community is up in arms about the bad behaviour on show.

But, as we all know, this is not the first incident, and unless drastic measures leading to accountability, fining and banning of the perpetrators is put into place, this will not be the last.

I recently witnessed this type of behaviour when I travelled to the Mara on a group photography workshop. I am not a professional wildlife photographer. I only began taking photography seriously last year, and birding is the lens through which I primarily experience the natural world. So it is safe to say that I am new to this space.

What I am not new to, however, is safaris, game-drives and conservation.

I am Kenyan and safaris and game drives have shaped my understanding of wildlife since childhood, and I have grown up close to conservation work at the highest levels. My MSc dissertation was in ecotourism in Kenya, and I have served as a director of a conservation organisation.

We all know that the Mara is extraordinary. It is abundant, dramatic and generous. Wildlife sightings are almost guaranteed, and that reliability has made it one of the most sought-after safari destinations in the world. But with this abundance comes expectation, and expectation, when unmanaged, creates immense pressure.

What unsettled me on this trip was not just over-enthusiastic tourists. It was the behaviour of the photography mentor leading the workshop, and the driver-guide who enabled the behaviour.

On our first drive, we were sitting with a beautiful male lion. It was a moment that, traditionally, invites quiet, something I felt we should all be honouring. Instead, the mentor was speaking loudly, to all of us in the vehicle and also shouting across to the accompanying vehicle with other workshop attendees. When I suggested lowering our voices, she replied, “Why? He can’t hear me. And all the other people in other cars are making noise too!”

That response upset me and stayed with me.

Silence on safari is not just about whether a lion can hear you. It is about the culture inside the vehicle. And this culture is determined by how tourists behave, and of course how guides (and in this case the mentor too) leads them. I believe that how we behave when on a game-drive is about humility. It is about understanding that wild spaces are not film sets for one to exploit. Protected landscapes are not simply beautiful places to visit; they are fragile eco-systems that require discipline from those who move through them.

She was not wrong – there were guests in other vehicles making noise, speaking loudly, and in one instance a woman decided to sing to the lions. I began to despair. Why was the guide in that vehicle not saying anything to her? How are we letting this happen here in Kenya?

As the days unfolded, the behaviour and tone of our mentor was consistently poor. “Where’s the action?” was her standard phrase. We had seen lions resting; now we needed movement. We had photographed one lion pride; now we needed the next. Radios crackled loudly with updates – cheetahs in one direction, a leopard elsewhere – and we moved quickly to avoid missing out – always on the chase. At one point, close to sixty vehicles were gathered around a single tree in anticipation of a leopard climbing it. The words that came to me were “it’s a circus!”

The energy was urgent and the driving by the guide reflected that urgency. At one point I felt like I was in a rally car – the driving was fast and often dangerous. When rain fell, there was a rush to position for the dramatic shot of a lion shaking its mane. At sunset it was about getting the lion silhouetted just perfectly and when a cheetah was hunting it was about being in the prime position to photograph the moment she caught her prey. It was all about getting the shot and never about savouring the moment or respecting the wildlife.

Then there was the littering. At breakfast boiled eggs were served in the bush, and eggshells were casually discarded onto the ground both by the mentor and the guide. Needless to say, the other guests followed suit. I quickly intervened. The response I got by the mentor was “Well I have been coming to the Mara for four years now, and I’ve always thrown eggshells on the ground!” I began to seethe. Four years of visiting the Mara does not make her an expert – and perhaps it was time she did her research. Even though eggs are biodegradable, this does not mean that the shells are appropriate or natural to that ecosystem. We need to remember that protected ecosystems are not ours to alter, however small the act may seem.

Unfortunately some of the other guests (thankfully not all) followed the mentor’s lead – in tone, in pace, in behaviour. That is how influence and authority works – it sets a standard by which most people will follow.

Unfortunately I felt that the driver-guide enabled the bad behaviour. He was knowledgeable about animal behaviour and very perceptive to how an animal will move or behave. But when the most confident (and loudest) voice in the vehicle is pushing for speed and proximity, it becomes difficult to hold a slower, more restrained line. Guides operate within a commercial system whilst workshop leaders operate with reputational power.

But I do believe, that it is time to find a way to hold those people at the forefront accountable. The line should be very clear – uphold certain standards in the parks and reserves as a professional guide, or risk being fined and ultimately banned and risk losing your livelihood. I know this sound harsh, but unless drastic measures are put in place this bad behaviour will continue.

As for my trip to the Mara – well I left there not angry, but concerned and also rather sad. Concerned about how easily urgency becomes normalised; concerned about how quickly wildlife can become content; concerned that in our pursuit of dramatic imagery, we may be eroding the very integrity that draws people there in the first place. And sad that things have got this far here in Kenya. There needs to be a shift – and I believe this is where leadership matters.

We need a clarity of standards that guides understand, and thereafter tour companies, camps and lodges who unequivocally back their guides – empowering them to say no to paying guests. We need photography mentors who model ethical conduct as deliberately as they teach technique. And we need those of us who witness poor practice – especially when it comes from people in authority – to say plainly that it is not acceptable.

Because silence is endorsement. And I for one, refuse to be silent.

In the case of the Mara, it has become a victim of its own success, and now, more than ever, protecting it will require more than admiration. It will require restraint, courage and the willingness to challenge behaviour even when it comes wrapped in expertise.

Perhaps it will help us to remember that the animals remain long after we leave. The question is whether our presence strengthens or subtly diminishes the systems that sustain them.