Imagine a world where the breathtaking tales of Africa's wild landscapes and majestic creatures are finally woven by the very people who live amidst them—ushering in a powerful shift from distant observers to authentic voices on the ground. This isn't just a feel-good story; it's a revolution in conservation storytelling that's reshaping how we see and protect our planet. But here's where it gets controversial: Is this truly empowering local narratives, or just another layer of external influence masking as inclusion? Stick with me, and you'll uncover the layers behind this initiative, including why some argue it might not go far enough in challenging global power dynamics. And this is the part most people miss—the subtle ways storytelling can ignite real-world change, far beyond the screen.
Back in 2017, two pioneering South African explorers and filmmakers from National Geographic, Noel Kok and Pragna Parsotam-Kok, launched the Nature, Environment and Wildlife Filmmakers (NEWF). This groundbreaking organization is dedicated to equipping Africa's emerging generation of storytellers with the skills to champion conservation through the art of film. As Noel Kok passionately explains, NEWF is essentially forging a vibrant community of youthful, motivated creatives—producers, directors, cinematographers, composers, and writers—spread across the continent, all honing their craft in environmental and wildlife narratives.
What drives this vision? Kok emphasizes a simple yet profound goal: to integrate these talented individuals into production teams, ensuring Africa's stories emerge from an authentically African viewpoint. 'We want our fellows to become part of the crews, so the stories of Africa are told from the perspective of Africans,' he shares, highlighting a commitment to cultural ownership and relevance.
To broaden their reach, NEWF teamed up with the National Geographic Society in 2022 for Africa Refocused, a comprehensive five-year initiative. This program builds on NEWF's foundational efforts, nurturing budding African storytellers to take charge of narratives about safeguarding the continent's precious natural environments and wildlife. For beginners diving into conservation, think of it as a mentorship pipeline: it provides hands-on training, resources, and opportunities, much like how a young musician learns from masters before composing their own symphony.
During the yearly NEWF Congress held in Durban, South Africa, I sat down with Rachael Stretcher, National Geographic's Vice President of Storytelling, to explore how Africans are increasingly crafting their own tales of nature and wildlife. The Western world has historically dominated these narratives—think classic documentaries that often frame Africa through an outsider's lens. How is Nat Geo pivoting to make these stories truly African-led and attuned to local needs?
Stretcher breaks it down from multiple angles, starting with the importance of visible role models. 'It starts at many levels,' she notes. 'And one of them is ensuring African role models are in this space.' She points to inspiring figures like Paula Kahumbu, the Kenyan wildlife conservationist, as prime examples. The idea? To empower a young girl in rural Kenya to envision herself in those roles—whether as a scientist, conservationist, or filmmaker—seeing someone who mirrors her background and experiences. This foundational step fosters representation and dreams, making complex fields like conservation feel accessible and attainable.
Africa Refocused, their partnership with NEWF, goes further by investing in on-the-continent storytelling. It scouts fresh talent and supports creators nationwide, creating a ripple effect that Stretcher describes as exciting. 'We're pleased to partner with this organisation in this way,' she adds. But it's not just about talent; it's about crafting relatable content and ensuring it's distributed where it matters most—so young Africans can discover works that evoke awe for the natural world and resonate deeply with their lives.
Access to tools is another hurdle, one that Stretcher addresses head-on. Conservation work is costly, and storytelling? Even more so, historically exclusive to the privileged. For instance, becoming a wildlife photographer requires specialized gear—entry-level kits can cost tens of thousands of dollars—far beyond basic cameras used for everyday shots. To bridge this gap, they support programs like NEWF, offering essential education and equipment. Yet, the journey doesn't end there. When grant recipients advance, Nat Geo doesn't just hand over funds and wish them luck. Instead, they provide structured mentorship in a field that's notoriously complex and intimidating.
Take the Second Assistant program: It pairs emerging photographers from varied backgrounds with seasoned pros on real-world assignments. Mentees get paid while gaining invaluable, practical experience—think shadowing a veteran on a safari shoot, learning the ropes of lighting, composition, and ethical wildlife capture. Then there's the Field-Ready Programme, a collaboration with Disney, transforming novices into production assistants through intensive master classes led by renowned directors. Participants aren't just lectured; they're embedded in actual shoots, applying what they've learned in dynamic, hands-on settings.
These initiatives, Stretcher explains, target representation gaps, especially among women and in Africa. 'We're not there yet,' she admits, 'but we are always trying and keep developing these programmes.' For those wondering, this means actively countering biases that have sidelined diverse voices, though critics might argue the pace of change is too slow in an industry still dominated by traditional power structures.
For aspiring African storytellers eyeing Nat Geo pitches, what key elements boost your chances? Stretcher outlines three pillars. First, convincingly demonstrate why you're the ideal storyteller—perhaps through a deep, personal tie to the community or a portfolio showcasing proven skill and expertise. They seek experienced professionals; even for beginner projects, applicants typically need several years in the field, ruling out college students who might not be prepared.
Second, the project must captivate. It should be thoroughly researched, thrilling, and urgent—something fresh that stands out in a sea of applications. Stretcher reviews hundreds post-filtering, so proposals need to spark excitement and relevance.
Third, alignment with Nat Geo's core focuses: human history, culture, ingenuity, wildlife, land, and oceans. To make it shine, ground stories in local communities, offering fresh perspectives unlike the repetitive tropes we've seen. But here's the intriguing twist—decisions involve global reviewers, including NEWF founder Noel Kok, debating nuances like whether the tale avoids exploitation or adds authentic depth. This raises questions: Is this review process truly equitable, or does it still favor Western sensibilities? And this is the part most people miss—how subtle biases in storytelling can perpetuate old narratives, even with diverse panels.
On distribution, Nat Geo prioritizes local access to amplify impact. Funded work often premieres in National Geographic Magazine, a career milestone, but applicants must outline broader plans—not just YouTube uploads. Stretcher stresses that community-level sharing drives real change: A local newspaper or TV spot can prompt businesses to curb pollution or influence policy more effectively than global headlines. Funded projects rarely lack local homes, as the Nat Geo stamp lends credibility and polish.
Measuring success? It's challenging, requiring long-term tracking—sometimes five to ten years—for policy shifts. As an example, a 2017 project by photographer Steven Winter exposed illegal U.S. backyard zoos, culminating in a national ban last December. Patience pays off, but for beginners, this illustrates how storytelling plants seeds that grow into tangible reforms.
Finally, how has storytelling evolved, even at Nat Geo? Stretcher notes a shift from doom-and-gloom narratives to ones sparking curiosity and wonder. Research shows positive emotions better drive behavior change, aligning with Nat Geo's ethos of exploration. At its heart, great storytelling poses questions, not answers—inviting audiences to ponder, rather than preach. This approach fosters open minds and real dialogue.
So, what do you think? Does empowering African voices truly democratize conservation narratives, or is it just window dressing in a system still rigged toward global influences? Do you agree that wonder trumps tragedy in storytelling, or should we stick to hard-hitting exposés? Share your thoughts in the comments—I'm curious to hear your take!
