Bahraini Banker Eman Sharif Is Building a Campfire for Women

The torchlight cuts a wobbly arc through the absolute blackness, illuminating walls that glitter with a million microscopic salt crystals. The air is thick, silent, and heavy. In the beam of the headlamp, Eman Sharif is a study in focused exertion, her hands finding purchase on the rough, salty formations of Iran’s Hormuz Island, her smile a flash of pure, unadulterated joy in the eerie gloom. This is not a curated travel-influencer moment. This is a woman deep inside the earth’s belly, chasing a mystery known as the Cave of Hair—and she is, unmistakably, in her element.

“I’m drawn to stories with soul. Places where people are rebuilding, resisting, or radiating resilience,” Sharif says, “I don’t go for the views, I go for the truth.”

Sharif, a Bahraini banker turned explorer, content creator, and founder, has built her life around that belief. Known for her wide smile and boundless energy, she is a rare kind of traveller: one who ventures beyond the curated comfort of resorts and itineraries into places that test her physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Her Instagram is a window into that world, not polished luxury, but salt-streaked hair and dirt-smudged boots. She climbs through caves with a torch strapped to her head, leaps into ice-cold rivers, clings to cliff faces, and bends herself through narrow tunnels underground, always grinning as if to say: this is exactly where I want to be. One scroll takes you from the side of a mountain on one of the world’s most dangerous roads along the Pakistan–China border, to solo nights in an Azerbaijani forest, to moments spent handing out traditional Bahraini halwa to children in Uganda and Nepal—a sweet, sticky piece of home offered as a bridge.

She is, on paper, a Bahraini banker, but that title feels like a single thread in a much richer tapestry. Eman Sharif is also the founder of two groundbreaking ventures: Campfire Adventures, Bahrain’s first women’s community for volunteering and adventure, and Bahraini Deal, a line of games reviving traditional Bahraini play.

“At my core, I’m just a Bahraini girl who believes in doing bold things with a kind heart,” she says. “I’m a seeker of purpose, connection, and growth.”

This seeking spirit is what propelled her beyond the confines of a conventional life. The idea for Campfire Adventures was kindled on a volunteer trip in Nepal. “I asked myself: ‘Why aren’t there more women like me here?’I knew so many back home who wanted to do this, but they didn’t have the community or access.” That question became a mission. Together with her partner Neven Ashraf, she built Campfire: a travel company that plans trips which function as a safe space for Arab women to discover their strength, serve others, and grow.

Today, Campfire Adventures organises trips that blend exploration with service— rebuilding villages in Sri Lanka, hiking treacherous trails in Ethiopia, navigating volcanic caves in Hormuz Island. The adventures are physically and mentally demanding, designed to push boundaries. But the ethos is one of collective support. “Community means showing up for each other without judgment,” Sharif explains. “I want to spark a culture where Arab women lead, build, and redefine what adventure looks like.”

This redefinition is palpable. A participant once hugged her and said, ‘I never knew I was capable of this until this trip.’ “In that moment,” Sharif recalls, her tone softening, “We’re not just exploring new places; we’re uncovering new versions of ourselves.”

Her other venture, Bahraini Deal, was “born from nostalgia and a desire to reconnect people through play.” Created with her partner Alaa Hashim, it’s a clever, tangible way to preserve culture. “It’s the first local game created in true Bahraini wording,” she says with evident pride. “It’s a fun way to bring generations and communities together.”

Balancing these roles requires a specific kind of bravery, one she defines not just by summits reached, but by daily choices. “Bravery is asking for help. Saying no. Starting over. It’s in the quiet decisions we make when no one’s watching.”

This resilience is tested in the field. She recounts a trip to Lapland that was meticulously planned for a winter wonderland, only to arrive at the Arctic Circle to find the only snowless winter in memory. “We had to pivot fast,” she says. The dog-sledding and snowshoeing were scrapped. Instead, they immersed themselves in the culture of the Sami people and invented team-building games in the forest. “It reminded me that adventure isn’t in the plan. It’s in the mindset.”

For Sharif, the ultimate measure of success is impact—or أثر (athar)—a trace left on the heart. She sees it in the Senad Village project in Sri Lanka, perhaps her most profound legacy. “Years ago, it was just empty land. Today, it’s classrooms echoing with dreams, mosques filled with prayers, and homes alive with joy,” she says, “We promised them we would come back. And we came back with a whole village.”

This is the throughline of Eman Sharif’s story: a relentless pursuit of purpose through connection. Whether she’s descending into a salt cave, teaching a new game, or building a village from the ground up, she is weaving a narrative that challenges stereotypes about Arab women, travel, and the very nature of discovery.

She carries Bahrain with her, a packet of halwa always in her bag, a love for her identity that distance has only deepened. “Always Bahraini and proud, no matter where I go,” she states. “Travelling made me even more intentional about representing my country.”

On her Instagram bio, Sharif writes: “Every adventure tells a story of bravery and inspiration.” But her own story is still unfolding. When asked what advice she would give her younger self, the woman who was just beginning to carve this singular path, her answer is characteristically assured: “Trust your gut. Don’t shrink for comfort. And remember, some paths are meant to be carved, not followed.”

And with a torch on her head and a smile on her face, Eman Sharif is still carving, leaving a path—and an athar—for countless women to follow.