Quinkan
NGARRA’s Uganda Village project is a community-based initiative aimed at empowering youth in a remote village in Uganda through the transformative power of photography and storytelling.
Our approach, what we talk about as a ‘coming to relation,’ is more than a method—it is a deeply ingrained philosophy that shapes every aspect of our work. We do not simply enter communities with a camera and start capturing images. Instead, we engage in a respectful and collaborative process that honors both the people and the land as our teachers. This means sitting in ceremony, learning their language, and understanding their protocols and traditions. Our approach is dynamic and adaptive, continually evolving to respect and integrate the unique context of each community. By nurturing these relationships, we ensure our work remains respectful, relevant, and profoundly meaningful. We are developing a framework for intercultural engagement that can serve as a guide for others looking to build genuine connections across cultures. This lead to the development of a methodology, a protocol inspired by ways coming from first nations Australia, a way of coming to relation to build embassy, and to use this as a way for anyone who wants to truly connect with a culture different than their own.
When we think of “community work,” it’s easy to get caught up in the usual flow—parachuting in, launching a project, and leaving before the roots can take hold. But this approach, which treats communities as problems to be solved, misses the deeper, more essential aspect of connection. The process of coming into relation with a community isn’t something that can be rushed. It’s not transactional. It’s ceremonial.
In Indigenous ways of knowing, entering a community is an act of respect, reciprocity, and responsibility. It’s about understanding that the land you walk on and the people who live on it are not separate from you—they’re part of an interconnected web that shapes your actions and intentions. This is the heart of the framework we’ve developed for community engagement, a way of working inspired by protocol coming from Australia, and conversations coming from Dig, and the teachings of those we have been working with all over the world.
We call it Coming Into Relation, and it’s more than a methodology. It’s a worldview, a system of being, drawn from the wisdom of ancestors, grounded in connection to place, and built on a foundation of deep, reciprocal relationships.
To do this, we have to come to relation. Dig described this with a series of symbols he drew in the hot sand next to the campfire; the intricate dance of connection, a web of relationships that mirrors the interconnectedness of all things. “Connectedness protocols,” he said, “are not just isolated pairs but a vast network of interactions. Picture it as networks of pairs, each one linking with others, creating an ever-expanding web. These networks must interact with others, forming a dynamic system that thrives on mutual exchange and collaboration.”
Respect, going slowly, connection to others and the land.
In the old stories, we are reminded that all things are connected—not just through a metaphorical lens but through the very fabric of existence. Dig once described it by drawing a series of circles in the sand. Each circle represented a person, a place, a moment in time. As the circles overlapped, they formed patterns—complex, intricate, and beautiful. “That’s what we are,” he said. “We’re patterns in the sand.”
When you come into relation with a community, you’re stepping into that web of connection. You are not an outsider observing from a distance; you are part of the circle, part of the pattern. To enter a community, then, is to forge genuine connections—connections that go beyond words or agreements. It’s about understanding the land as teacher, the people as guides, and yourself as someone who has been invited into that dance.
To truly connect means to be present. You listen, you observe, you honor the traditions and protocols of the people whose land you’re on. You begin by learning the rhythms of the place, not imposing your own. In this way, the connection is not just something you make—it’s something that is made with you.
To come to relation is to forge genuine connections with the people and places we engage with. It requires us to deeply listen, immerse ourselves in their cultures, and build trust from the ground up. This process is about more than just crossing paths; it’s about forging bonds that transcend borders and unite diverse backgrounds. Through authentic connection, we discover shared values, stories, and dreams, creating a foundation that enriches our collaborative efforts.
to see and understand deeply, reflection.
In the rush to “do good,” we often forget the importance of stillness. But reflection is a vital part of the process. It is the space where we sit with what we’ve learned, digest it, and allow it to transform us. In Indigenous ways of knowing, reflection is often where the real work happens. The old ones tell us that you can’t just hear a story and move on—you need to sit with it, to let it work on you, to reflect on how it changes the way you see the world.
Reflection is not just about understanding the challenges a community faces, but about honoring their strengths, their wisdom. It’s about recognizing that you are not there to “help” or “fix,” but to learn, to grow, and to co-create. Reflection is where we begin to see the layers of stories—each one holding meaning, each one revealin
Reflection is an integral part of our journey. It is the space where we pause to absorb and process the experiences, wisdom, and insights gathered during our connection. This moment of contemplation allows us to deeply understand the unique challenges and strengths of the communities we engage with. Reflection grounds our approach in rigor and depth, ensuring that our work is thoughtful and impactful.
Working together, sharing knowledge and responsibility.
With connection and reflection as our cornerstones, we enter the realm of collaboration. This is where our collective ideas take shape, solutions are co-created, and new initiatives come to life. Collaboration involves working closely with the communities we serve, as well as with partners and supporters who share our vision. It is through this collaborative spirit that we bring our shared goals to fruition, weaving together diverse perspectives to drive meaningful change.
In Western thinking, collaboration often means dividing tasks, assigning roles, and getting to work. But in Indigenous ways of being, collaboration is something much deeper. It is a co-creation, a weaving together of stories, ideas, and actions. It is a process that requires humility and a deep respect for the knowledge that already exists within the community.
When we collaborate with a community, we are not bringing “solutions” to their “problems.” We are entering into a relationship of reciprocity, where the community’s knowledge is the foundation of everything we do. This is not just about partnership—it’s about co-creation. It’s about working together, side by side, to find solutions that are rooted in the land, the stories, and the culture.
In this space, we are not the experts. The community is. And it is through collaboration that we come to understand the unique ways in which the land and its people have survived, thrived, and adapted over millennia. By working together, we can weave our ideas into their stories, creating something that is not only sustainable but transformative.
Doing, acting with purpose and respect.
Action is never taken lightly. Every step is intentional, every move considered. This is what makes action powerful—it is the culmination of connection, reflection, and collaboration. It is the moment where the stories we’ve shared, the lessons we’ve learned, and the relationships we’ve built come to life.
Action, in this framework, is not about imposing a solution—it’s about bringing something to life that is already within the community. It’s about creating opportunities for the youth, empowering them to tell their stories, and allowing them to shape the future. It is through this process that we create meaningful, lasting change.
But action must always be taken with intention. Every project, every initiative must be rooted in the knowledge that has been shared with us. It must be done in a way that honors the community’s values, respects their autonomy, and supports their vision for the future.
Action is the culmination of connection, reflection, and collaboration. It is the phase where our insights and plans are translated into tangible outcomes. By taking deliberate and informed steps, we bring our ideas to life and implement solutions that address the needs and aspirations of the communities we work with. Action is not just about doing—it’s about doing with intention, ensuring that every effort contributes to lasting, positive change.
This is our framework. It is not a checklist or a set of steps—it is a way of being. It is about coming into relation with the land, the people, and the stories that shape our world. It is about understanding that every action we take ripples through the web of life, affecting not only the community we work with but the wider world.
The old ones taught us that connectedness is not just about individual relationships but about networks of interaction that span across time and space. Dig’s symbols in the sand remind us that every connection we make is part of a larger whole. Every relationship, every story, every act of reflection and collaboration creates new patterns, new possibilities.
This framework can be used by anyone who wants to work with communities in a respectful, meaningful way. It is a guide for those who wish to honor the wisdom of the land, to come into relation with the people they work with, and to co-create a future where all beings—human and non-human—can thrive together.
So, let us sit by the fire and listen. Let us reflect on the stories that have come before us. Let us collaborate with the communities we are fortunate to engage with. And when the time comes for action, let us move with intention, knowing that every step we take is part of a much larger dance.
Indigenous knowledge systems are not static; they are living, breathing entities that evolve with time, reflecting the ever-changing nature of the world. We understand that to truly come into relation with a community, we must first understand the land they inhabit and the stories they hold sacred. This means approaching every new community not with a predetermined plan, but with open minds, open hearts, and open spirits, ready to listen and learn.
This begins with understanding the language and ceremonies that are the keys to these knowledge systems. Language is not just a means of communication; it’s a vessel for carrying the traditions, values, and wisdom of a people. By learning the language and immersing ourselves in their cultural framework, we begin to see the world through their eyes. This process is our initiation—a step into a world where respect for the spirit of the land and the spirit of the people is paramount.
Our approach to community engagement is dynamic, constantly evolving to meet the needs of the people we work with. We start by practicing Wanjau, a traditional method of collective sense-making. This process involves deep listening, storytelling, and consensus-building. Where we bring all our stories together around the fire, and find the truth in the aggregate. It’s not just about hearing what one person has to say, and that narrative coming out on top; it’s about truly understanding their perspectives and valuing their contributions. Wanjau ensures that every voice in the community is heard, and that the decisions we make are informed by the collective wisdom of the group. Everything happens together, everything happens in ngarra.
For us, every project begins with involving the local native people from the land. Their stories, their needs, and their relationship with the land shape what we do. We sit with elders, hear what they say their community needs, and create in partnership with the community, ensuring that their wisdom is honored and their stories are told in a way that is both respectful and powerful. Once we know that, we have that relation, we begin work with the students.
This is the core of the NGARRA project: we don’t simply hand over cameras—we open pathways for young people to reconnect with their culture, their land, and their voice. The tools we provide are not just instruments for capturing images; they are a means for these young storytellers to see their world in new ways and share their perspectives with a broader audience. Through these lenses, they document their lives, their land, and the strength embedded in their traditions. But the NGARRA project is about so much more than just photography.
At its heart, NGARRA is about coming into relation. It’s about inspiring these young people to see the intricate connections they are a part of—the relationships between their ancestors, their families, the land, and themselves. When we provide them with a camera, it’s not about technology; it’s about agency. It’s an invitation to see the beauty, resilience, and wisdom in their own culture and to share that with the world. The process of taking a photograph becomes a ceremony of reflection and expression—a way of engaging with their heritage and telling the stories that have been passed down through generations.
This act of storytelling is a powerful form of self-determination. It empowers these young artists to reclaim their narratives, to recognize the beauty in their everyday lives, and to see the strength in their traditions. It enables them to share their vision with others—people who may have never understood the depth of their culture or the richness of their environment. And it reminds them that their stories are just as valuable, just as important, as any others being told.
But the impact doesn’t stop with the individual. The stories they tell ripple outward—to their families, to their communities, and to everyone who steps into a Ngarra exhibition and sees these images. The photographs serve as windows into the worlds of these young storytellers—raw, honest, and full of life. Each image is a moment of cultural expression, a piece of heritage brought to life, and a connection that links the past with the future.
This is why coming into relation is so important to the NGARRA project. It’s not just about teaching someone to use a camera; it’s about entering a deeper understanding of their place within the web of life. It’s about helping them realize that they are part of a lineage, a culture, a landscape that carries wisdom and stories worth sharing.
For their communities, it’s a moment of pride. These young artists become the keepers of tradition, the ones who tell the stories, who document their world and ensure that their culture is visible and valued in a world that often overlooks it. And for anyone who stands in front of these photographs—whether at a gallery, a community hall, or an international exhibition—it’s a reminder that these stories, these cultures, and these lands are vital, full of meaning and history.
In the end, NGARRA is about empowering communities to see themselves. It’s about showing them that their stories are worth telling, that their perspectives are invaluable, and that the strength of their culture has the power to inspire others. Through the art of photography, these young people come into relation not just with their own world, but with the wider world. And in doing so, they remind all of us of the beauty, strength, and power of Indigenous knowledge, culture, and story.
This is the legacy of NGARRA—one that transcends borders, languages, and generations. It’s a legacy that says, “We see you. We hear you. Your stories matter.”
NGARRA’s Uganda Village project is a community-based initiative aimed at empowering youth in a remote village in Uganda through the transformative power of photography and storytelling.