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National Geographic
23-07-2025
- Lifestyle
- National Geographic
A celebration of color
Jaipur—the capital of India's Rajasthan state—is as famous for its kaleidoscope of colors as it is for its rich and storied history with gem craftsmanship. From the indigo blues of the City Palace's Chhavi Niwas to the glowing pink of tourmalines, Jaipur is a city synonymous with color. Video by National Geographic CreativeWorks By National Geographic CreativeWorks Now known as 'The Pink City,' this vibrant dusty-pink and terracotta-hued walled town was founded in 1727. It was India's first planned city, laid out in a grid inspired by Vastu Shastra—an ancient Hindu architectural science. It was a revolutionary step in urban planning compared to other, more organic and complex city layouts across India. Just 150 years after its founding, Jaipur was painted its iconic pink shade to welcome visiting members of the British royal family—pink being the traditional color of welcome and hospitality. A year later, the Queen of Jaipur so loved the pink-hued city that a law was passed that any future buildings in the city should be painted the same shade. Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Bvlgari Global Brand Ambassador and Lucia Silvestri, Bvlgari's Jewelry Creative and Gem Buyer Director, in the Diwan-e-Khas at Jaipur's City Palace. Meaning 'Hall of Private Audience,' this beautifully decorated meeting place is used for royal festivals and celebrations. Photograph by Celeste Sloman One such building, found in the heart of Jaipur, is City Palace. This beautiful living heritage site was built blending traditional Rajput, Mughal, and European influences, combining intricately painted frescos and ceilings, marble courtyards, and ornately decorated gateways. Still partially a royal residence, visitors can explore a number of beautifully colored rooms here, some public, some private. At its heart, you'll find the Diwan-e-Khas or 'Hall of Private Audience.' Decorated in the warm pink of Jaipur, its tall ceilings and delicate marble columns once welcomed courtiers and emissaries as they met with the maharajas of the palace. Priyanka Chopra-Jonas looks out across the city of Jaipur from Chhavi Niwas—a serene blue pavilion designed to provide respite from the heat. Photograph by Celeste Sloman After navigating a maze of rooms and hallways, one climbs to the top of the palace and discovers Chhavi Niwas. This room immediately envelopes you in a rich indigo blue—a shade synonymous in Rajasthani architecture with the divine and the infinite. Richly decorated with white floral motifs, the room served more of a purpose than simply decoration. Part of the zenana, or women's quarters of the palace, the maharani (the wife of a maharaja) would gather here for private audiences, artistic pursuits, and most importantly, to keep cool. The room is carefully designed with open windows and doorways to allow cool air to flow through it and keep its occupants comfortable as they take in views of the surrounding hills and temples. From bowls of freshly cut flowers, to billowing, richly dyed fabrics, and bags of spices, the streets of Jaipur are alive with color. Photograph by Celeste Sloman Step out of the City Palace complex and into neighboring streets, and you'll see that color here is not just for maharajas and visiting royalty. Jaipur's streets and bazaars are a sensory overload of rich red spices in copper pots and strings of rich yellow marigolds adorning green-tiled city gates. Behind these pink walls, you will find one of the trades that has given Jaipur its other claim to fame. Centuries of craftsmanship and vibrant trade networks have cemented the city's reputation as one of the gemstone capitals of the world. In the 18th century, skilled jewelers and stonecutters settled in the newly founded city, bringing with them years of ancient techniques from across Rajasthan and beyond. A master gemsmith inspects bright pink tourmaline for flaws before sending the stone for cutting and polishing. Jaipur's rich heritage with jewelry has made it one of the gemstone capitals of the world. Photograph by Celeste Sloman This rich history of color and passion for exquisite gems has made Jaipur one of the main sources of exceptional stones for the Roman High Jeweler, Bvlgari. The Maison, founded in 1884 in Rome, quickly forged a reputation for exquisite craftsmanship and magnificent creations. For years, Bvlgari's creations mixed the traditions of high jewelry with classical Greco-Roman and even Byzantine motifs, cherished by its Greek-born founder, Sotirio Bulgari, a skilled and passionate silversmith. But it was in the early 1950s that the Maison eschewed the traditional French jewelry norms of monochromatic subtlety and diamond-focused creations, and started to become synonymous with color. It was a revolution in jewelry design. Thanks to its flair with innovative chromatic combinations of gemstones, masterfully selected and shaped in distinctive designs, Bvlgari became synonymous with Italian exuberance and the glamour of La Dolce Vita. Revering its cultural legacy, Bvlgari rewrote the rules of jewelry and launched bold new trends that have gone on to become icons of contemporary design. One of its most iconic—the domed cabochon cut—has become a hallmark of the brand's mission to glorify the vivid shades of gems. A selection of cut and polished gems, in a range of cuts from cabochon to teardrop, await selection under the masterful eye of Lucia Silvestri—Bvlgari's Jewelry Creative and Gem Buyer Director. Photograph by Celeste Sloman It was this passion for color and flair that first drew Audrey Hepburn, Sophia Loren, and other world-famous icons to the Maison. Stories and anecdotes abound, but one has become legendary. In the early 1960s, when Richard Burton fell in love with Elizabeth Taylor in Rome during the filming of Cleopatra, the couple would escape to the famed Bvlgari store on Via dei Condotti. It was here where Burton purchased for her the first of an ever-growing parure (a matching set of jewelry)—a 23.46-carat Colombian emerald brooch. So began Taylor's lifelong love of emeralds and diamonds—and multiple future visits to the iconic Roman store. She later wore her beloved jewels when she accepted her Best Actress Oscar for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? in 1967, and was frequently seen wearing them for the rest of her life. She said it best when she said, 'I adore wearing gems, but not because they are mine. You can't possess radiance, you can only admire it.' 'Just like people, every stone has flaws. We need to embrace them!'— Lucia tells Priyanka on their adventure to select stones for Bvlgari's next High Jewelry collection. Photograph by Celeste Sloman Fast forward to today, as Bvlgari's Jewelry Creative and Gem Buyer Director Lucia Silvestri visits Jaipur on a trip to select a new wave of stones for Bvlgari's next collection. Lucia started her career as a young student in Bvlgari's gemstone department, supported by exceptional mentors: the Bulgari brothers themselves. Now, having visited Jaipur more than 40 times over the years to select stones for the brand, Lucia has become something of an expert on the city. She knows the best place to get a delicious cooling lassi and, most importantly, where to find the very best the world has to offer in gemstones, from high-end showrooms to smaller, family-run workshops, where gem cutters use age-old skills handed down from generation to generation. On this occasion, Lucia has brought a special guest to accompany her—Bvlgari Global Brand Ambassador Priyanka Chopra Jonas. Though she was born in India, the Hollywood and Bollywood star has visited Jaipur only a couple of times before, so she jumped at the chance to join Lucia as she visited a few of the city's famous colorful landmarks. From City Palace to Jaipur's most popular tourist destination, the Hawa Mahal, the pair explored the city for two days for inspiration, before Priyanka got the chance to lean back in wonder and watch Lucia's process as she selected stones for Bvlgari's newest High Jewelry creations. 'It goes beyond just beauty. It's the real marriage between Italian and Indian craftsmanship,' says Priyanka as she and Lucia sit at a table laden with gems. Tourmalines, sapphires, emeralds, and rubellites are all hand-selected under Lucia's expert gaze and brought together in dazzling and unexpected combinations. 'I'm starting to dream,' says Lucia with a sparkle in her eye as she explains to Priyanka that for her, all these facets of Jaipur's rich heritage, and these gifts from nature, come together to create pieces that are destined to become emblematic celebrations of the colors that inspired them.
National Geographic
22-07-2025
- National Geographic
Finding tradition and modernity in the desert
A National Geographic Explorer eats through the culinary past, present, and future of Abu Dhabi. National Geographic Explorer Jenny Dorsey follows a nomadic journey across the desert, seeing how traditional food culture still influences Abu Dhabi today. Video by National Geographic CreativeWorks "A nation without a past is a country without a present or a future."—the late Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan. I saw this quote on wall after wall in Abu Dhabi. It's an apt statement that captures the beauty and tension of a city navigating what it means to evolve, but perhaps not to reinvent itself entirely. This was my first time in the UAE, and it showed—especially when I was hungry. Besides knowing certain things, such as the now-viral Dubai chocolate, or dishes like kunafa (which has taken Singapore by storm), I was furiously tapping away on my phone with the screen image of every restaurant menu. Machboos, haleem… these were all new words to me. Their preparations, too. What felt familiar, however, was seeing how evocative a single dish could be across so many contexts of a changing city. Whether it's hot chicken, dim sum, or—as I'd recently eaten in Singapore—varying presentations of Peranakan ayam buah keluak, each interpretation of a dish revealed something about the time, place, and character of its culture. The UAE's rapid transformation from fishing villages to a global metropolis has created a particular relationship with food—a combination of active construction alongside preservation. With so much having been built in the past few decades, the kinds of experiences and traditions deemed worthy of maintaining from past times are potentially contentious. When it comes to familiar foods, dishes, or ingredients, identifying what exactly within them serves for cultural continuity is no small order. From humble beginnings as fishing communities on the coast, Abu Dhabi has grown to become the mighty capital of the UAE. Despite its modernity, the metropolis still holds tradition dear, evident in the preservation of the heart and soul of its cuisine. Photograph by MATTHIEU PALEY This delicate dance of now and then, this question of how Abu Dhabi sees itself versus how it wants others to see it, was clear at the central fish market. Inside, the offerings ranged from luxurious—spiny lobsters, crabs chock-full of roe, tiger prawns the size of my hand—to more familiar ones, like farmed salmon and grouper. But even with a veritably international set of offerings, hammour is still the local favorite. A type of rock cod, it's a firm, white fish I've never eaten before. In the back of the market, I watch several dozen fishmongers deftly handle them (alongside lots of other seafood), all trimmed and cut to order on a bevy of stainless steel tables. Hungry patrons can also bring their cleaned cuts to one of the grill shops inside the market to be cooked on the spot. Mina Zayed fish souk fish market is Abu Dhabi's seafood hub, offering the very best of the day's catch, including local favorite, the deliciously dense white fish, hammour. Photograph by ADOBE STOCK My market guide points out an adjacent room where fishermen still bring in their daily catch to be examined and bid for by each fish stall. I find myself wondering: What are the touchpoints we use to measure a society's development? What does honoring tradition mean at a personal or a social level? What is the work of becoming something… new? The question isn't whether this new market constitutes "real" tradition, but instead how communities navigate the space between cultural practice and cultural presentation. As I sit down to eat chargrilled hammour at Al Shader restaurant, I learn that most of the cooks at seafood restaurants are Egyptian—especially Northern Egyptian—they know their fish, my guide tells me. But the flair of the fish's presentation was the restaurant's own. And flair it was: The whole fish came on a boat of aluminum foil, topped by a molded swan, in between two wells of flamed salt. While preparations in other countries encase the fish and set it on fire to cook its flesh, here it was adapted to be theatrical and visually striking—a memorable experience for diners. Later, at Erth restaurant, I see a different kind of adaptation. Meaning 'legacy' in Arabic, Erth is a peaceful, earth-toned space filled with natural textures. Executive Chef Arivukkarasan Ravikkumar tells me about the lengths he goes to in using traditional techniques and sourcing ingredients from the surrounding area, including Abu Dhabi and Al Ain, while his food presentation reflects contemporary fine dining. Doing so requires a certain type of cultural bilingualism: Speaking both to internal traditions and external expectations, ever changing, ever present. This balance came to the fore amid a sandstorm in the Arabian Desert. As we attempted to set up camp and dig a pit to roast our whole lamb, following in the footsteps of the Bedouin tribes before us, the shifting ground beneath us struggled back. Us travelers were eager to learn the secrets of the sand and taste its succulent rewards, but some things simply cannot be rushed. Nomadic people like the Bedouin made an arduous journey from what is now Abu Dhabi to Al Ain—necessitating specific methods of cooking and eating in the starkness of the desert. Photograph by ADOBE STOCK Acquiring the kind of knowledge necessary to survive in such an extreme environment—reading weather patterns, finding water sources, and understanding animal behavior—took our guide, Ali, decades. Some materials may have modernized, but techniques remains the same. Wrapping the lamb in aluminum foil before covering it with sand felt like a meditation on what changes and what endures. Hours later, we ate hungrily as a team, spiced oils dripping through our fingers and softening our pita bread. It felt like an ode to the spirit of zarb (the ancient Bedouin cooking technique) and a testament to the level of camaraderie that only comes with a long, hot, and sandy day. We officially crossed the desert in the wee hours of the morning. On the other side was Al Ain Oasis. Surrounded by almost 150,000 date palms, I wondered if the oasis might've looked like a mirage to early explorers. After traversing such barren wilderness—the last part of the desert crossing is known as the 'Empty Quarter'—to hear the melody of water flowing down the mountainsides must've been revelatory. The irrigation system that makes this possible, the falaj, represents a distinctly different philosophy of progress. For 3,000 years, these underground channels have moved water from mountain aquifers to desert gardens. The technology is unconcerned with novelty and invisible unless you know where to look for it. Even after so much time and innovation, it remains what quietly powers this 'Living Oasis' agricultural miracle. I eat one last meal at Al Fanar restaurant, sharing mutton machboos with the camera crew. The dish is distinct in its caramelized tomato flavor, a feature I learned is sometimes included at the chef's preference. It's a fitting conclusion to my time here, an ode to the creative work underpinning cultural connections across time. Sheikh Zayed's words echo again: Perhaps it's not about having traditions preserved "correctly," but having them evolve in ways that reflect the diversity of people. I began my journey in Abu Dhabi with questions about what it means to achieve modernity in a place steeped in history. Having been privileged to enjoy such a full itinerary, I observed how each person has found unique ways to maintain their connections with the past, make meaning of the ongoing change in the present, and adapt without losing their core identity. Seeing that it's humans who make the nation, perhaps that's indicative of what this era of change represents for the UAE as well: Not so much idolizing "authentic" experiences, but celebrating the complexity and creativity within the everyday work of cultural adaptation. Discover more of Abu Dhabi here.
National Geographic
14-07-2025
- Health
- National Geographic
The future of child health: Innovations expanding access to immunization
Child mortality has been halved in the last 25 years. Building on this progress, new innovations in immunization are working towards saving more lives. Vaccines are so effective they've halved child mortality in 25 years—new innovations are now improving access to them. Video by National Geographic CreativeWorks / Animated by Tayla De Beer Groundbreaking advances in medicine have made many of the world's worst diseases preventable. On May 14th, 1796, the English physician Edward Jenner carefully infected eight-year-old James Phipps with cowpox. The boy developed a fever, becoming cold and losing his appetite. But then he felt better. When James was then exposed to smallpox, the deadliest infectious disease of the time, the boy not only didn't get sick but didn't transmit the smallpox to those around him. Jenner had administered a vaccine that imitated the smallpox infection, safely teaching the boy's body how to defend itself. It was a significant step on humanity's journey to research and develop vaccines to protect against infectious diseases. Today, immunization programs are transforming our world, having eradicated smallpox and significantly reduced the impact of many other diseases like polio, measles, and meningitis. Vaccination prevents around five million deaths every year, and has helped to halve child mortality over the past 25 years. However, infectious diseases still kill millions and children are particularly vulnerable. Among children under five, pneumonia is one of the biggest killers, while measles remains among the deadliest diseases worldwide. And infectious diseases do not respect borders: this year, Texas, USA suffered an alarming outbreak of measles, mostly among children and almost entirely among the unvaccinated. Vaccination protects children and stops the spread of infectious diseases: The more people that are vaccinated, the safer the world becomes. Following the lead of national governments, organizations such as the WHO, UNICEF, and Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance support immunization programs reaching millions of children in some of the most hard to reach places. But recently, vaccination rates have stagnated: Coverage for the vaccine that protects against diphtheria, tetanus, and pertussis - the measure of basic childhood immunization- stalled at around 84 percent in 2023. The ideal is to make vaccines available to everyone, and especially to the most vulnerable children in regions where infectious diseases are most prevalent. And as Jenner's work drove forward the development of the first vaccines, pioneering new innovations are now driving ever more effective, efficient, and equitable access to vaccination. In the 200 years since vaccinations were developed, they have saved many millions of lives protecting people from infectious diseases including smallpox, measles, and meningitis. Photograph by Junior Diatezua Kannah © Gates Archive Remarkably, protection against some diseases can now begin before birth by vaccinating pregnant mothers— the vaccine stimulates an immune response in the pregnant mother, who passes protective antibodies to the baby, protecting them from the moment they are born. Such 'maternal vaccination' is widely used to protect newborn babies from tetanus and flu, and new developments have also made it possible for respiratory syncytial virus (RSV). Common among infants, RSV causes breathing difficulties and is the most common cause of pneumonia in infants younger than six months old. After decades of research, a new maternal vaccine for RSV has been developed and will be available to lower-income countries where it is most needed- helping to reduce the 3.6 million hospitalizations and 100,000 deaths in children under five caused by RSV. Thanks to pioneering scientific research, vaccines are now available for more than 30 life-threatening diseases and infections. To maximize the opportunity this brings, it is key to work with countries and partners to efficiently expand global access to these life-saving tools. The new hexavalent vaccine plays a crucial role in this. It combines protection against six deadly diseases in a single vaccine, protecting a child against diphtheria, tetanus, pertussis, Haemophilus influenzae B, hepatitis B, and polio. Reducing the number of injections makes it easier for children to get their full slate of immunizations and reduces burden on caregivers, healthcare workers, and overstretched healthcare systems. Immunization programmes reach people even in the most challenging places, saving millions of lives each year. Photograph by Dominique Catton © Gates Archive Another way researchers are working to expand access is by exploring a simpler way of administering vaccines using microneedle array patches (MAPs). About the size of a small bandage, a single-use MAP is applied to the skin where many microscopic needles deliver the vaccine into the body. It only takes minutes, and unlike traditional injections, administering a MAP may not require a highly trained health worker—it could be given by volunteers. Early trials in The Gambia have shown these patches can deliver the measles-rubella vaccines to adults, toddlers, and infants as safely and effectively as syringes. Key to ensuring a vaccine's efficacy is the cold chain, a network of refrigerators, freezers, and cold storage boxes that keep vaccines at the right temperature as they travel. With vaccines highly sensitive to temperature, the value of a little sticky label called a VVM cannot be overstated. VVMs, short for vaccine vial monitors, are heat-sensitive stickers that change color with cumulative exposure to heat. They enable health professionals to see at a glance when a vaccine should not be used. A microneedle contraceptive patch on display at an exhibition at the Gates Foundation in Seattle. Innovations including the use of microneedle patches are making vaccination easier and more accessible. Photograph by Brandon Hill © Gates Foundation A manager inspects vaccines held in a cold storage room in Somalia. The cold chain is a vital network of refrigerators, freezers, and cold boxes that keep heat-sensitive vaccines at the optimum temperature on their journey from pharmaceutical production to health worker in the field. Photograph by Ismail Taxta © Gates Archive But when a vaccine's end destination lacks reliable electricity for refrigeration, the Solar Direct-Drive (SDD) refrigerator is rising to the challenge. It not only harnesses solar energy to keep vaccines at the right temperature but also stores excess energy to keep running through sunless days. For many communities they can be transformational: in Kenya's Makueni County, the installation of an SDD refrigerator doubled the vaccination rate for children. In the garden of Edward Jenner's home, now a museum, is an eccentric-looking thatched summerhouse that he named his Temple of Vaccinia. Here, Jenner worked tirelessly to provide free vaccinations. It is fitting that the father of immunization never sought to profit from his efforts and was committed to equitable vaccination, because that's what it takes to prevent infectious diseases from spreading. Through the collaborative efforts of health workers, governments, and organizations, adequately funding critical immunization programs, and harnessing the power of science and innovation, progress is possible—bringing the world closer to ending preventable child deaths. Find more life-saving innovations here. More on vaccination innovations here.
National Geographic
02-07-2025
- National Geographic
The wild is a playground
At Bend Whitewater Park, locals and visitors gather to surf, paddle, and watch the action—turning this stretch of the Deschutes into a shared space for outdoor community and connection. Photograph by Jody Macdonald Story and photographs by Jody MacDonald There's a misconception that play is frivolous. That it's something you grow out of when you get older and life gets more serious. But in the wild, play is essential. It's how we learn, how we adapt, how we connect with something far greater than ourselves. And for me, the wilderness has always been my playground not in the sense of ease or safety, but in the freedom it gives me to move, to test my limits, and to create without constraint. That's exactly what brought me to the wilderness around Bend, Oregon. This place sits at the crossroads of landscapes: desert, forest, river, and alpine. One moment, you're walking across lava rock shaped by ancient eruptions; the next you're paddling a glassy alpine lake with snow-dusted peaks towering above you. It's rare to find this much geographic variety so tightly packed into a single region. For someone like me who's constantly chasing light, stories, and moments in motion, it's one of my favorite playgrounds. As an adventure photographer, I've spent the better part of my life chasing wild, remote places. I've come to learn that wilderness isn't just where we escape, it's where we return to something essential. And in Bend, that essence isn't only about discovery, challenge and to disconnect but is also about play. Still from National Geographic CreativeWorks I came here to spend a week reconnecting with the land, with myself and with that instinct to play. I loaded up my Toyota 4Runner just before first light. Kayak strapped to the roof. Camera gear stowed in the back. A cup of coffee riding shotgun. I had a loose plan and a sharpened sense of curiosity, two things that have always served me better than a fixed itinerary. The first stop was Crane Prairie Lake. It's one of those quiet places that catches you off guard. There's something about paddling across still water before the wind picks up, before the day gets loud, that resets your internal pace. Mist hovered low across the surface, and the glassy water caught the first strokes of morning light. I paddled slowly, letting rhythm find me. My camera was tucked in a dry bag just in case the light turned dramatic. Calm mornings on Crane Prairie Lake offer the perfect contrast to high-adrenaline adventures—inviting a slower kind of play in Central Oregon's natural playground. A lone osprey circled overhead. The only sounds were my paddle cutting through water, the distant calls of geese, and the creak of the boat. Out here, I have the freedom to move at the pace of my curiosity. To observe. To respond. To wonder. Later in the morning, I pull my gear back into the 4Runner and hit the road again, switching out of lake mode and following a hunch back toward town. Bend isn't just surrounded by wilderness, it's woven into it. By noon, I was parking next to the Bend Whitewater Park, camera slung over my shoulder and board under my arm. Going from paddling across silence at sunrise to surfing a standing wave by lunch feels a bit surreal, but that's what makes this place so compelling. The river runs straight through town, and locals have carved out a kind of aquatic skatepark, engineered waves where people come to play, wipe out, and try again. At Bend Whitewater Park, the Deschutes River becomes a playground for surfers and kayakers alike—offering manmade waves and natural flow right in the heart of town. I watched for a while from the bank, kids, river rats, weekend warriors, all taking their turns. Laughing, crashing, cheering each other on when someone caught a wave. Then I got in. The water was colder than expected. Fast. Forceful. It knocked me down more times than I can count but that's the point. That's the joy of it. The freedom to experiment. The freedom to get it wrong. In between rides, I grabbed my camera and shot from the riverbank, spray in the air, sunlight bouncing off the water, laughter and expressions caught in that split-second balance between chaos and control. By late afternoon, I was back in the 4Runner, soaked, scraped up, grinning. I took a detour down a forest road and found a quiet pull-off overlooking the Cascades. The dust kicked up behind me and settled slowly as I unpacked gear and dinner, tailgate down, camera batteries charging off the built-in inverter. Still from National Geographic CreativeWorks That night, I pulled a sleeping bag and stretched out under the stars. South Sister glowed in the distance. The hum of a river echoed faintly below. And I just lay there, thinking about how rare it is to be in a place that lets you move like this, from silence to adrenaline, solitude to community, paddle to board, all in one day. That's what a true playground is. A space that invites unstructured, instinctive, joyful interaction with the world around you. No fixed rules. Just open-ended possibilities. The wild around Bend, Oregon, is that kind of space. And for me, play is everything. It's how I connect with the land. It's how I see. It's how I create. Whether I'm climbing, paddling, hiking or chasing light with my camera, the wilderness responds to my curiosity. It challenges me, surprises me and teaches me to adapt.
National Geographic
20-06-2025
- Entertainment
- National Geographic
Okavango in focus
Despite being one of the most photographed natural spaces in the world, stories of the Okavango Delta are rarely told by local talent. A Motswana wildlife photographer is seeking to change that. A Motswana photographer trains the next generation of storytellers around the Okavango Delta. Video by National Geographic CreativeWorks The first edition of National Geographic magazine contained no pictures. It wasn't until nearly 20 years later that the editors took a risk in including a picture essay, prompting at least two board members to resign in protest. They perceived a lack of scientific merit in the publication becoming a 'picture book'—an attribute that very quickly went on to define the magazine's identity as a source of truth. Over a century later, it's now more or less universally agreed that photographs hold an incredible power in storytelling, as do the people who take them. Visual storytelling in and around the Okavango Delta, one of the world's most biodiverse natural spaces, is a popular subject, with around 200,000 visitors coming each year, and rarely without a camera in hand. Those stories are hardly, if ever, told by those local to the Delta. 'In the world of nature photographers [in Botswana], there's still such a small proportion [of local voices],' says Karabo LeBronpeter Moilwa, a Motswana wildlife photographer who broke into the creative landscape and wants to see others follow in his footsteps. 'Every time I look at my camera, I'm like, 'I need to inspire someone to be like me',' he elaborates. 'I got a job in the safari industry where I noticed a disparity—among the sea of tourists I would take out into the Delta [to teach wildlife photography], I'm usually the only black photographer there.' For Karabo, this observation triggered a wider realization that, in terms of visual media, Botswana creatives are underrepresented on their home turf. 'We need more of us out there, because there's a whole lot of stuff that needs to be told, photographed, and filmed by people like us,' he explains. 'We no longer want to rely on foreign media or filmmakers.' The question then became how. For rural communities living on the outskirts of the Delta—places from which it is lengthy and arduous to travel, even in the mightiest vehicles—opportunities to learn these skills are virtually nonexistent. The answer was to start bringing these opportunities to in the form of Storytelling Clubs, which deliver in-the-field photography lessons and ongoing career mentorship. With support through Okavango Eternal—a partnership between National Geographic and De Beers that helps to empower people and create livelihood opportunities across the region—each session is completely free. Karabo brings cameras and other gear into villages, allowing him to give the full photography safari teaching experience to local communities. 'What do you see?' he asks a group of twentysomethings on the outskirts of Beetsha village. 'I want you all to explore and bring me back anything that speaks to you.' His creative instructions belie the soft skills that Karabo instills in his students—find a story then frame and compose its narrative—as well as the technical aspects of photography, such as exposure, editing and exporting. Karabo gives tuition to a group during the field element of Storytelling Clubs. Photograph by NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC CREATIVEWORKS Okavango Eternal has also supported the construction of the Nkashi Knowledge Center on Beetsha's outskirts, which Karabo is able to use as a base of operations when in the field. The center offers equipment and accommodation, as well as classroom space where students can put their images up on screens to critique as a group. It's also available as an exhibition space for students' work, which was on display at the center's opening in April 2025. Water buffalo in the thick African bush. Photograph by Monthusi Monkhanda, Nkashi Wild Storytelling cohort 'I am very happy because photography has taken me to places that I didn't know,' says Bonte Moyambo, a young woman who joined Storytelling Clubs in 2024. 'I was exposed to the various animals that we have, many of which I didn't know. Karabo was the one who taught me about all these animals, and so my knowledge of our surroundings grew.' In acclimatizing the next generation to wildlife in this way, Storytelling Clubs can inspire students to become stewards of photographic storytelling in this field. Through it, there's also hope that these images will help to change perceptions of animals in wider communities and ease conflict between humans and wildlife. There's been a reforging of generational and cultural ties within communities, too, as students' conversations with their parents and community elders offer up learnings about traditional practices. 'I have been able to learn about what brought my relatives to live in this area,' says Bonte. She belongs to the San community, whose cultural identity has somewhat diminished in the modern age. 'There are many things about my culture that I didn't know: About our ancestors and how they used to live their lives, and some of us found relatives here.' Village elder weaving traditional coiled baskets. Photograph by Gape Komane , Xhokwe Somseeko k'xei Storytelling cohort. So far, around 70 young people have joined Storytelling Clubs across multiple villages—stretching from Ngamiland at the north of the Delta to beyond the town of Maun in the south. Several of the first students are now training to become mentors themselves, and students from two collectives attended a 2024 National Geographic Photo Camp, which pairs them with National Geographic Explorers and photographers to further develop their skills and exhibit their work to millions of viewers around the world. Karabo and students critique images in the Nkashi Knowledge Center. Photograph by NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC CREATIVEWORKS Recognizing the role that photography can play in providing another avenue of expression, Karabo established the Visual Voices collective for deaf individuals. Visual Voices provides an outlet for its members to learn these same storytelling skills, while connecting with their peers. 'The importance is that we learn from each other,' says Nkamogelang Monnawapula, a student from the Visual Voices collective. 'I want people to know that there's a deaf boy who takes pictures—and does it professionally. People come, see the beautiful pictures, and start buying from me!' Children kicking around a football as dusk. Photograph by Kelebogile Shakoyi, Xhokwe Somseeko k'xei Storytelling cohort Whether local students go on to become prominent wildlife photographers, artists who preserve their cultural heritage, or move into commercial industries like marketing and production, Storytelling Clubs are about opening young minds to the possibilities of their future. 'There's more to the Delta, there are stories, young men and women with dreams, with hopes, with achievements,' reflects Karabo. 'I came here to tell those stories, but now it's their time. We're just helping them to achieve that. We want them to tell their own story, as it is, right now.' Find out how De Beers creates positive impacts here.
