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Every day, NGOs, charities and other on-the-ground organisations are working to make the world a better place. From environmental protection to economic development to disaster response, NGOs are at the forefront of assisting others in their time of need and helping them become self-sufficient in their own communities. PHOTOJOURNALISM NGOs Global Every day, NGOs, charities and other on-the-ground organisations are working to make the world a better place. From environmental protection to economic development to disaster response, NGOs are at the forefront of assisting others in their time of need and helping them become self-sufficient in their own communities.

If you'd like to know what it's really like living with an ancient tribe in the equatorial rainforest check out my latest article in the New Zealand Herald to find out about coping with leeches, rotting wood, poison arrows and medicine men. < Back Living with the Mentawai 24 Oct 2017 If you'd like to know what it's really like living with an ancient tribe in the equatorial rainforest check out my latest article in the New Zealand Herald to find out about coping with leeches, rotting wood, poison arrows and medicine men. < Previous Next >

Guy Needham's latest article about voluntourism in Ethiopia is the cover story of the New Zealand Herald's travel section. < Back Here to Help 19 Jan 2016 Guy Needham's latest article about voluntourism in Ethiopia is the cover story of the New Zealand Herald's travel section. Covering his adventures working with Big Beyond, an NGO working out of the Lower Valley of the Omo, the article follows his time with the Hamar tribe. < Previous Next >

PROJECTS Nature Global A collection of images off animals in the wild - from the plains of the Serengeti to the falls of Iguacu. Previous Next

Guy Needham and a number of photographers worldwide have joined together to raise funds for UNICEF Ukraine via Portugal's Incubator Gallery. < Back Photographers for Ukraine 9 Mar 2023 Guy Needham and a number of photographers worldwide have joined together to raise funds for UNICEF Ukraine via Portugal's Incubator Gallery. Sales from the images donated , like this one of a Hadzabe leader, will go towards life-saving support for children and their families who are suffering as a result of the Russian invasion. Images will be on show in Lisbon for all of March plus available online to purchase at < Previous Next >

Today's Sunday Star-Times features my latest travel article, this one on Asia's youngest country. From fish on a stick to preparing to the Pope, read about what makes this country between Indonesia and Australia so special. < Back More in Timor-Leste 3 Aug 2024 Today's Sunday Star-Times features my latest travel article, this one on Asia's youngest country. From fish on a stick to preparing to the Pope, read about what makes this country between Indonesia and Australia so special. While the suffering of the past is never far from the country’s collective memory, these days Timor-Leste is on friendly terms with its neighbours, is eager to prosper, and keen to show the world what it has to offer. You can read the article here or pick up a copy today. < Previous Next >

Hadzabe Girl has been included in the just-released 2020 New Zealand Camera Book. < Back New Zealand Camera 2020 20 Aug 2020 Hadzabe Girl has been included in the just-released 2020 New Zealand Camera Book. Put together by the New Zealand Photographic Society, the book i s a hard cover, full colour, coffee-table collectible with images portraying all genres of photographs taken by New Zealand artists. You'll be able to purchase your own copy from here soon. < Previous Next >

Although thousands of years old, the Dani were unknown to the rest of the world until 1938. Today they they still hunt with bows and arrows in the Papua region of Indonesia, and dress traditionally for celebrations, including wearing a horim or penis gourd. TRIBES The Dani Papua Province, Indonesia Although thousands of years old, the Dani were unknown to the rest of the world until 1938. Today they they still hunt with bows and arrows in the Papua region of Indonesia, and dress traditionally for celebrations, including wearing a horim or penis gourd. < Previous Next >

Deep in the equatorial jungle off the coast of Sumatra, live the indigenous Mentawai people. Considered one of the planet's most ancient tribes, among anthropologists the Mentawai are most notable for their body art and tendency to sharpen their teeth. TRIBES The Mentawai Siberut, Mentawai Islands, Indonesia Deep in the equatorial jungle off the coast of Sumatra, live the indigenous Mentawai people. Considered one of the planet's most ancient tribes, among anthropologists the Mentawai are most notable for their body art and tendency to sharpen their teeth. < Previous Next >

Like their ancestors before them, the Hamar of the Lower Valley of the Omo are agro-pastoralists and subsistence farmers. The fields of sorghum that they live off are not far from their ornay (huts) and the bocas where the elders sit and chat. TRIBES The Hamar Lower Valley of the Omo, Ethiopia Like their ancestors before them, the Hamar of the Lower Valley of the Omo are agro-pastoralists and subsistence farmers. The fields of sorghum that they live off are not far from their ornay (huts) and the bocas where the elders sit and chat. < Previous Next >

My guide turned to me. “I’m lonely,” he said. Oh OK, this is going to be an interesting trip. “No, no, that is my name. My Bantu name is Uliwa which means Lonely. I have no idea why my mother called me that, I have seven brothers and sisters!” And so began a weeklong friendship of Angolan stories and Afropop beats in the cabin of a Hilux. < Back Opening up Angola The Post 15 Jun 2025 My guide turned to me. “I’m lonely,” he said. Oh OK, this is going to be an interesting trip. “No, no, that is my name. My Bantu name is Uliwa which means Lonely. I have no idea why my mother called me that, I have seven brothers and sisters!” And so began a weeklong friendship of Angolan stories and Afropop beats in the cabin of a Hilux. One of the least visited countries in the world, Angola is a former Portuguese colony on the Atlantic coast of south-west Africa. More associated with danger than tourism, the country is now on a mission to change that perception, introducing visa-free entry to 90+ nations (including New Zealand) and opening a second international airport in the capital Luanda. As one wit put it, it doesn’t help having a machete on your flag. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect as the reviews weren’t exactly enticing: “The most expensive, obstructionist, bureaucratic, and most difficult place for travel in Africa.” Part of that is explained by Angola’s recent history. The country has endured massive crop failures, yellow fever outbreaks, failed coups, and a brutal 27-year civil war that became a Cold War proxy: thousands of Cubans and Russians on one side, with the United States and the apartheid-South Africa backing the other. World attention was drawn to Angola in 1997 when Princess Diana wore body armour walking through one of Angola’s minefields. Today, there are still millions of unexploded devices throughout the countryside slowly being de-mined by NGOs. Despite Uliwa being personally affected by the war – he left the country as a child refugee and lost family in the fighting – he was positive about the future of Angola and eager to show it off. “We’re nearly there!” he unconvincingly tried to tell me as we were into our fifth hour of rutty off-roading and dry riverbeds. ‘There’ was the municipality of Oncocua, a village in the remote south western province of Cunene and our home for the next week. We were here to spend time with the indigenous Vatwa, one of the lesser-known tribes who imitate the dress and language of another tribe: the Himba. Upon arrival the chief, Mutjila, invited us to join him under a mupane tree, a shady respite from the punishing 35 degree heat. “The Vatwa”, Mutjila explained in Herero, “were the original inhabitants of this area thousands of years ago. No one really knows where we came from.” Sipping a drink that one of his two wives brought over to him, he continued. “We have crops over there, we have these goats, we live off the land.” A few years ago the Government built houses for them in the village but they soon reverted back to their traditional huts and semi-nomic lifestyle. The most striking thing about the Vatwa are the women, covered in a red paste of ochre clay, animal fats and lotion that makes their skin shine in the unrelenting sun. Young, newly married women wear a three-pronged ekori goatskin on top of their platted dreadlocks. I asked about the beads, shells, anklets and leathers worn by the women. “Oh that’s just personal style,” replied Mutija, as I purchased one of the necklaces from a woman feeding her baby. On the morning of our last day we were farewelled with traditional singing and dancing (‘ Also try to take milk from the goats ’ was a favourite) before tackling the uneven road back to the nearest city, Lubango. A clean, modern, metropolitan centre of one million people, Lubango is considered the most beautiful city in Angola. With its Rio-inspired version of Christo Rei looking down from the hill above it, and a nearby large Hollywood-type sign proclaiming the town’s name, there is no shortage of civic pride. Like much of Angola, the informal market economy is hard at work here: roadside touts offer everything from windscreen wiper blades to sim cards to grilled fish heads; women balance sacks of wheat and loaves of bread on their heads; and children try to poke bananas through any open car windows for a quick sale. A few Kwanza, the local currency, can go a long way; while accommodation can be expensive, generally food and transport is very affordable. “I need to show you something,” Uliwa announced. Not far from Lubango was one of Angola’s natural wonders, Fenda da Tundavala, a stunning gorge between two steep-walled cliffs with a 1km drop straight down to the valley below. “My pastor came here,” Uliwa said. “He came with everyone and they closed their eyes to pray. When they opened their eyes he was gone. Just gone. Do not get too close to the edge.” He did not have to tell me twice. Once back in Angola’s capital, I decided to explore the city and its surrounds. In contrast to the sparse countryside, skyscrapers tower over Luanda Bay and G-class Mercedes rule the road – a nod to the vast wealth generated by Angola’s oil, gas, diamonds and gold. Not far from the Luanda’s rich centre lies a more sober reminder of the country’s past, the National Museum of Slavery. During the 400 years of Portuguese rule, over 5.6 million people were taken as slaves from Angola, most heading to another Portuguese outpost, Brazil. Located in a former church where the captives would be baptised, the modest museum houses chains, shackles, and whips next to tally boards listing the ports slaves were traded to. Rather than being a depressing reminder of humankind’s cruelty, it is an authentic collection that aims to educate and preserve a major part of Angola’s history. “Boa tarde!” the guard cheerfully waved as I exited the museum, taking the steps down to Benfica craft market strategically located below. There sat men chiselling away at wood carvings, traditional masks and hand-made bowls, each inviting a closer inspection of their handiwork. I settled on a wooden carving, small and portable, something to go with the necklace I was purchased in the village, so it wouldn’t be lonely for the long trip home. Original publication: The Post < Previous Next >

A car’s side mirror on a plinth. Next to it, a mounted set of papier mache breasts. Between them, a hanging axe. I was standing in front of one of the world’s strangest – and strangely inviting – exhibitions. < Back An Eye on Hvar Horizons Dominion Post 17 Jan 2013 A car’s side mirror on a plinth. Next to it, a mounted set of papier mache breasts. Between them, a hanging axe. I was standing in front of one of the world’s strangest – and strangely inviting – exhibitions. Zagreb’s Museum of Broken Relationships wasn’t quite the Croatia I was expecting when I set out to discover how the country had fared since the Balkans wars. It had been 20 years since the former Yugoslavia imploded and I was keen to understand the changes to Croatia’s people, culture and outlook from that tumultuous time. Although the country didn’t suffer the destruction wrought on Bosnia it still bore signs of conflict, including where we began our journey, Dubrovnik. “The jewel of the Adriatic” is indeed a picture perfect city. Dubrovnik, with its whitewashed walls, melt-between-the-toes sand and boats bobbing on a crystal harbour, is a camera-magnet. The UNESCO-protected city was shelled indiscriminately during The Homeland War (as it’s known in Croatia) for no real strategic reason; today it’s the shiploads of tourists who pose the most danger. Far from being overwhelmed, the locals handle it well, catering to the masses with a gelato bar on every corner and postcards for sale within arm’s reach. Determined to be in central Dubrovnik we rented an apartment just off the main Stradun. It wasn’t hard to live like locals: drying washing on the pull-line above the narrow street and ducking out to grab a bottle of Grk when supplies got low. Nights were spent eating whole fish; days exploring the city’s galleries. Walking the old town walls was a must-do (hint: go in the morning before the masses arrive), and looking down from Mt Srd at sunset gave me a new appreciation of renaissance architecture. For my friend who preferred liquid meals, the Buza bars on the walled cliffs were the highlight. For me it was the War Photo Limited exhibition put on by a New Zealander, Wade Goddard – a moving record of what Croatia went through between 1991-1995. Dubrovnik is the gateway to Croatia’s hundreds of islands, the most legendary party one being Hvar. Little touched (or troubled it seems) by past history, Hvar is one of the few places in the world where you can order breakfast cocktails and then not move until midnight. The town’s buzz was nearly palpable with a cacophony of calls from the marketplace. “You English, You English” beckoned the smiling mouth with the gold teeth, her hands dangling a lace creation. After the customary exchange, it was Hvala (thanks) then off to her next customer. Moving on ourselves, we started the climb to Hvar’s Citadel and were rewarded with a fantastic view of the harbour. The castle itself built in the 1500s is a permanent reminder that peace has never been easy for this part of the world. Hvar is one of the few places in the world where you can order breakfast cocktails and then not move until midnight. If there was one city that reflects how many times Croatia has been invaded, conquered, pillaged and annexed, it would be Split. Spalato (as the Italians called it when it was theirs) was built on resilience. With the ruins of Roman Emperor Diocletian’s palace forming the centre of the town, Split’s slower pace is the counterbalance to Dubrovnik’s franticness. We found the people more welcoming, less harried and, dare I say it, prouder of their city and its history. Not that they dwell on the past; the locals were quick to point out that Split is now known for its gourmet food. In this town where al fresco on the Riva is a rite of passage, roasted mushrooms dripping with balsamic atop a seabed of rice seemed only right. For all of Split’s epicural delights though, it was natural beauty that beckoned us. A few hours north of Split are Plitvice Lakes, a world heritage park of impossibly-coloured lakes criss-crossed by wooden boardwalks. Fed by hundreds of falls and scattered with autumn leaves, the lakes presented a surreal Monet-esque vista. We spent four hours exploring the park – which is so large it has its own ferries and tourist trains – and that wasn’t long enough. Protected by man for the enjoyment of others, Plitvice was a literally a breath of fresh air on our journey to the capital, Zagreb. Far from Tito’s socialist dream Zagreb today is a vibrant, cosmopolitan city. If food rules in Split, then coffee is king in Zagreb. Black, strong, pure and not for the fainthearted. Only a town drip-fed on caffeine could have a Monday night like this one: the pedestrianised Tkalciceva street throbbing as bands competed with DJs to capture the fickle crowd. As we watched teenagers pile off the urbanised tram system in the city’s main square I realised many of them hadn’t lived through what we’d seen on the TV news every night. Zagreb too was touched by war and yet there was little sign that it had ever happened. If anything, the independence that followed gave them permission to celebrate their unique past. New galleries, statues, theatres and museums have all sprung up in the last two decades … including the novel Museum of Broken Relationships. Originally a travelling exhibition, the collection now includes the weird, the wonderful, the sad and the funny. In a way it is a metaphor for leaving the past behind them. So, has the country moved on since the war? Absolutely. Croatia’s islands are once again attracting the hordes; the country is going out of its way to protect its natural beauty; and its people are amongst the most welcoming in the Balkans. It is telling though, that you still can’t exchange Croatian Kunes for neighbouring Serbian Dinars. Sometimes 20 years just isn’t long enough, even after a broken relationship. Original publication: Dominion Post < Previous Next >