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.
Every story begins with a breath, a pause, a listening. The Ngarra project didn’t arise from a plan or a clever idea. It emerged, like water from a spring, called to the surface by land itself, from symbols in the sand sung to ancient songs, drawn by hands with the knowledge of ages. This is how right story moves – through people, through places, through time. And when you’re quiet enough, when you’ve shed the noise of your own thoughts, you can hear the land speak.
We were in Cape York, in far north Queensland on the continent currently known as Australia. In that wild, ancient place where the land hums with memory, and sings in story. Every rock, every tree, every shadow has a tale etched into it. I was travelling the top end, and on this day, I was taking photos in a small community far out on the west coast. Photos of homes made from left over corregated iron sheets, held up with ropes or old pieces of wood, anything that could be found. I had a little friend, a young boy, no more than 8, who followed me around like a barnacle. I was taking photo of this one house, and by all accounts it was a good photograph – the light cascading down, leading lines to the focal point, the composition was nice – but that’s what it was, a good photo. I’m not sure why, but I handed my camera to my little mate and walked away. He stood, lifted the camera to his eye, looked through the lens, and froze. At that moment, with my back turned, his grandmother came out of the house, pulled a silly face her grandson.
When I saw that frame something shifted. It wasn’t just a photograph. It was a piece of his world, captured in a way only he could see it. A photograph I could never take. It elevated a good photograph to an irreplaceable, irrepeatable moment.
The moment it all came together, the start official start of what would become the Ngarra project, was when I sat in ceremony with my mentor, Dig. He wasn’t one to fill the air with words; he let silence do most of the talking. That was his way: no lectures, no monologues. Just small symbols scratched into the red dirt and long stretches of quiet in between stories and lore set to the soft backdrop of a crackling fire, and the whisper of spirit through the trees, the river, the stars.
‘We each hold a fragment of the pattern of creation,’ he said, drawing symbols in the sand. ‘What we have to do is bring those fragments back together.’
It’s not about taking stories or claiming them as your own; it’s about stepping into a lineage of wisdom that’s been carried by the land and its people since time beyond counting. ‘If we bring all the stories back together, around one fire, everyone telling their own part of the greater story, we can again find our way back to our role as custodians of creation.’
That was the moment when everything shifted – when I realized my work wasn’t about building something new, but about remembering something ancient and shared. Dig’s words didn’t just open my eyes; they exposed my spirit to a responsibility, a calling, a request: to walk softly, to listen deeply, and to help bring those fragments back into a whole for all of us. That was where the foundation of Ngarra began to formulate. ‘You do not need to tell their story, you need to help them tell their own, that’s your role. Bring those pieces back together. Bring them all around that one fire.’
So that’s what I did.
In the end, this whole project started with something so simple that it almost got lost in the noise – a camera, handed to a child. One small gesture, one quiet moment. And in that moment, I glimpsed a window into something bigger. It made me wonder, what could happen if young people in remote communities could stand in their own light, tell their own truths, and preserve the threads of culture that have guided their families for generations, and generate funds to implement real change in their communities? So I experimented. I took that window frame with me to the rough edges of the world – slums in Mumbai, deep jungles in Guatemala, the bustling streets of Egypt – places where, from the outside, life and land pressed on people, and hope looked like too steep a hill to climb, to heavy to carry. And yet, in every frame those kids took, I found the same unbreakable light: love, family, connection, community – ngarra.
When I sat with Dig around that fire under that vast, star-filled sky, he drew what would become the Ngarra projects in the sand with me. It wasn’t just a word. It was a way of seeing, a way of being. An invitation to remember that everything – people, animals, the land itself – belongs in one circle. One fire. One story. Ngarra is about coming home to that connection, honoring it, and letting it guide us in how we walk, hand in hand, together.
What began with a child and a camera has become something greater than I could have ever imagined – a global movement of togetherness, of reclaiming and sharing culture and story, of realigning ourselves with the web of life, not separate from it or each other but as a part of the whole. It’s a call for everyone to come sit around the same fire, to listen, to share, and to realize that we’re part of a much grander story than we can ever tell apart. Because in those moments of gathering, we remember our shared responsibility – to each other, to the land, to spirit, and to all beings that call this place Home.
Stories, at their heart, hold the threads that link our past, our present, and our future, so they are happen at once in a turnaround event of creation. They carry the ancient codes of how to walk gently on the earth, how to hold each other in care, and how to live in true relation. So it starts with a simple gesture – handing the lens over so others can share their view – but it grows into a collective remembering that can guide us all back to our roles as custodians of creation.
Photographer, filmmaker, writer and storyteller. Andrew’s work in preservation and conservation documenting peoples, cultures, and countries has taken him across 127 countries and 7 continents. His mission, as given to him by his mentor Dig, is a task that has redefined Andrew’s life, refocusing everything he does to sharing right story, and to retrieve forward ancient ways of knowing and being to bring people back under the lore of the land, and back into their role as custodians of creation.
Every story carries a rhythm, a pulse that moves through the land, the people, and the spirit of place. It’s not just seen or heard; it’s felt – in the way the light touches the earth, in the patterns of shadows stretching across the ground, in the way the wind whispers through the trees. For me, storytelling, being an artist, a photographer, a writer, is more than a profession – its a calling, something I’ve been asked to do. It’s a way of holding the threads of connection that bind us all together, braiding them into something that honors the past, illuminates the present, and creates pathways for the future. Everything I do is for the next generations, for all those who come after, and with the short time I have left on this earth I realized, I was shown, the only thing that will last and will always be relevant is Good Story.
My journey as a photographer and storyteller took a profound turn when I met my mentor, Dig. He changed everything when he taught me how to listen, how to see, how to be in relation – to the land, to the people, and to the stories that exist in the spaces between. Sitting by the fire under skycamp, Dig drew symbols in the sand – a map of connection, a blueprint for what would become my way forward, my purpose as I walk what’s left of my time on this earth. Dig spoke of relation, of reciprocity, and of the deep responsibility we all share to amplify the voices of those who need to be heard. To carry the fire forward. That’s all that matters.
My work, my images, my stories, are rooted in this philosophy of connection, of relation, and grounded in indigenous ways of knowing – not in the things, but in the processes, the ways of being that Dig showed me. Through Ngarra, and my other projects; The VA Network, the Earth Legacy social good creative studio, the ITA Foundation, I am creating digital campfire space where stories are shared, knowledge is exchanged, and people come into relation with one another from their native lands all over the globe. What was drawn up in the sands that night redirected my life – now everything is centered around this task, this ask, this thing I have to do with the limited time I have left here. It’s a way to honor the wisdom of those who came before and create pathways for those who will come after. It’s not just about the photography – it’s about the connections it fosters, the conversations it sparks, and the change it inspires.
I do not like to say that I’m founder, or a CEO, a photographer, mingari, storyteller; for me, I view myself as just tending to fire Dig left me, a custodian of a small part of the pattern of creation – a human, with a few stories and a couple of yarns to share before I join my ancestors in skycamp. Ngarra is one of the ways of inviting the world to sit by the fire, to listen, to see, and to remember that we are all part of one shared story. One people. One fire.
Meeting Dig wasn’t just an encounter; it was a crossing written in the pattern, a coming back into relation to all I had forgotten and held within me. Stepping into that world he showed me wasn’t easy. It stretched me, pulled at the threads of everything I thought I understood, and rewove them into a pattern I didn’t yet have the language to describe. Dig didn’t just teach me to see the stories, the symbols and metaphors of spirit; he handed me the weight of them – the responsibility that comes with carrying something so alive, and sharing it.
It was a momumental shift, like walking from deep shadows of a forest into a brightly lit clearing. Suddenly, everything I thought was solid – a story, a photograph, a purpose – became something else entirely. The land wasn’t just a backdrop anymore, it was a character, a being alive with memory and intent and stories to share. The people not subjects but were guides, mirrors, and kin, active in creating and sharing the stories that need to be told, need to be heard. Dig would draw symbols in the sand, his hands moving with the rhythm of the land, and then look up with those eyes that seemed to see everything. ‘See? Do you see?’ It was never about knowing the answer. It was about knowing yourself in the process of looking, knowing the pattern of creation, and our role in it. Not his, or mine, but everyones.
From then on, my life wasn’t about taking photographs or crafting narratives. It was about walking the story Dig showed me – one etched into the earth, carried by the wind, and whispered by the fire. It was a story about reciprocity, about connection, and about stepping into relation with the world in a way that gives back more than it takes. Every photo, every project, every conversation became another thread in the weave, not just of my own story, but of something much larger.
This path isn’t mine. It never was. I am a custodian for a time, entrusted to carry this fragment of the story until it’s time to hand it on. That’s the thing about stories like these – they don’t belong to any one person. They belong to the land, to the people who walk it, to the ancestors who dreamed it into being, and to those yet to come who will continue its unfolding.
My role is to keep the fire burning, to hold it steady until the next hands reach out to take it. To ensure that the threads don’t fray, and that the pattern remains strong so that others can find their place in it. This isn’t my work; it’s our work. The work of staying in relation. The work of remembering how to live – not as individuals, but as part of a vast, beautiful, interconnected dance. And as long as the fire burns, the story will continue.
While Dig is no longer walking Country beside us, his presence is felt in every step of this journey. This project, as you see it today, is a testament to his vision – a campfire that calls to all who are ready to sit, listen, and share. It is a space to honor the past, celebrate the present, and envision a future where humanity remembers its place in the great pattern of creation. Guided not just by the wisdom of Indigenous cultures, but by the deep, ancient processes they embody. This campfire invites us to step into relation, to see ourselves in the pattern of relation, and bring all our stories along side each other – for each of us carries a fragment of this pattern, a fractal of the whole. One of the most powerful ways to bring the world back into harmony is through the eyes of its children. Because they see a truth we have been trained out of seeing. When we let the youth tell their stories – when we hand them the tools to share their vision of the world – we’re not just sharing pictures or moments. We’re sharing processes. We’re not asking What is this? but How is this? Not What do you see? but How do you see?
This project goes beyond documenting life – it’s about reclaiming a way of being, a way of human-being. It’s about moving in the world with respect for the land, honoring the threads of connection that bind all life, and ensuring that every voice has a place in the circle of creation. Through the lens of a child’s camera, the global community is invited to rediscover the processes that sustain life – the reciprocity, the interconnectedness, the stories that hold us all.
We are the ancestors of the future, holding the past in our hands and protecting what lies ahead. This is our responsibility, our mission, our obligation to the generations that will come after us. It is a task I have been asked to do, and I will spend every day of what is left of my life to taking a few steps forward, knowing that those who come after me will carry it so much further.
And it is a mission I invite you to join.
Come, sit by this fire. Bring your stories, your ways of seeing, and your ways of knowing. Let’s share what we’ve learned from the lands we call home, braiding together the threads of all cultures and all places in respect and reverence. Together, we can create a world that is just, regenerative, and interconnected – a world where every action is a step toward healing the land, the people, and the spirits that call this place Home. The way forward is there, we just have to remember.
The strength of our work lies in the circle we create around the fire. Each person who sits with us – whether a child in a village, a team member in our crew, a sponsor, partner, or a creative collaborator – each bring their own unique web of relations and stories to the fire. Their unique skills, perspectives, and experiences form a collective that ensures every story we share carries depth, truth, and authenticity.
Just as every voice around the fire matters, every member of our circle plays a vital role in shaping what we create. Photographers, writers, designers, storytellers, moms, dads, aunties, uncles, grandparents, children – all have their part to play. Every voice adds richness to the work, making it more than the sum of its parts. Together, we honor the traditions of the past while carving a path toward a future rooted in respect, understanding, and the kind of empowerment that grows from shared commitment.
Sitting by the fire, we don’t just tell stories – we weave connection, nurture community, and hold space for what has been, what is, and what’s still to come.
“When we were approached to build the Ngarra website, it was clear from the start that this was more than just another project. Ngarra’s mission to amplify Indigenous voices and preserve cultural heritage resonated deeply with our core values at Earth Legacy Social Good Creative Studio. We saw the opportunity not just to create a platform, but to build a digital campfire—a place where stories could be shared, and cultures could connect. As a social good studio, our purpose is to support initiatives that drive meaningful change, and partnering with Ngarra allowed us to do just that. We are honored to play a part in this journey and contribute to a future where every story is heard and every culture is celebrated.”
“At the VA Network, our mission is to elevate Indigenous voices and provide a platform where stories can be shared with the world. When we learned about Ngarra and their work in empowering youth through photography and storytelling, we knew this was a partnership we had to pursue. Ngarra’s vision of creating lasting change in communities aligns perfectly with our own goals of fostering cross-cultural understanding and building a global community. By featuring Ngarra’s projects on our streaming service, we are able to bring these powerful stories to a wider audience, creating a ripple effect that inspires and educates. Joining forces with Ngarra means that together, we can make a greater impact and ensure that Indigenous voices are not just heard, but celebrated on a global stage.”
“Partnering with Ngarra was a natural choice for the ITA Foundation, as our mission is to provide free support and resources to creatives and entrepreneurs who are making a difference in their communities. Ngarra’s commitment to empowering youth, preserving cultural heritage, and fostering community development through storytelling perfectly aligns with our own objectives. We believe that by supporting Ngarra, we are not only helping to build a sustainable future for these communities but also contributing to a broader movement of cultural preservation and social good. It’s inspiring to see the impact that Ngarra is having, and we are proud to be a part of this incredible journey. Together, we are empowering the next generation of storytellers and change-makers.”
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.