Our Story

When I stayed at another lodge in Monkey Bay, chatting with the staff late into the night, I felt the weight of their needs, not just in their words, but in the quiet pauses, the weary eyes that looked past me toward something distant, something out of reach. Their stories weren’t dramatic; they were everyday, bone-deep aches that stuck with me long after the fireflies went dark. That’s when I knew—there was a void here, a real need, and somehow, God or luck or whatever you call it, I could actually step in and fill it. Alfred and I did start this, yes, hand in hand, but let’s be clear—he’s the one that turned our dream into something real, brick by brick, deal by deal, sweat by sweat. While I handled what money could touch, he handled the rest: the favors, the favors on top of favors, the endless footwork that locals only trust with one of their own. Monkey Bay now hosts the Zebra Lodge, our quiet symbol—black and white stripes reminding everyone it’s not about color, but about coming together, owning what’s yours without apology.

 

That’s why the Zebra Lodge runs on thin margins, profit whispering more than shouting. Every booking, every guest who laughs by our fireside—most of that cash loops straight back to the kids in the village, buying crisp uniforms, fresh notebooks, sharp pencils, maybe even a soccer ball or two for their dusty games. It’s not charity; it’s the whole point. Alfred and I built this so these little ones get a shot at what we had—education, a future that doesn’t end in the same tired loops their parents faced. If we break even with smiles on their faces, that’s victory enough.

-Alfred & Margo