Carmina at the Our Time Is Now exhibition opening at Roasberg, her photography visible on the gallery walls behind her.

Portfolio — 2018–2026

I curate the story before
I tell it.

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00 — About

For the past eight years, I've worked at the intersection of storytelling, photography, events, and creative production, bringing together the people, ideas, and moving pieces that turn a story into something worth sharing.

My work has taken many forms: producing shoots, coordinating events, interviewing people, shaping narratives, and working behind the scenes to make sure an idea is carried through from concept to execution. I'm comfortable moving between the creative and the practical, asking the questions that uncover a compelling story, building trust with the person telling it, and creating the conditions for a team to capture it well.

At the heart of that work is something I care deeply about: telling stories from and about Africa in all of its complexity. I'm invested in sharing stories that show the world just how multifaceted our people, places, cultures, ambitions, and experiences are, whether those stories come directly from the continent or from Africans building lives and shaping communities across the diaspora. There is no single African story, and I'm drawn to work that makes space for the range of voices and perspectives that exist across our communities.

I've never been particularly attached to being the person behind the camera. I care much more about getting the story right; understanding what makes someone interesting, finding the perspective that feels honest, and making sure the final piece reflects the person and the world they come from.

Over the years, one project has naturally led into the next, and somewhere along the way I realized that this intersection is where I do my best work: people, stories, production, and the details that bring all three together.

Based

Zanzibar, Tanzania

Focus

Production & coordination · Creative direction

Currently

Building Provenance, a storytelling platform with Cliff Kareem, launching in Zanzibar

Open to

Producing storytelling projects

01 — Selected Work

The Work

Event & Creative Direction

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Commonwealth Marketplace

Carmina welcoming guests to the dining experience.

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We're Setting the Table

Photography

Woman in a red patterned dress holding a basketball overhead, smiling.

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Strong Arms

A woman lying against blue fabric, cabbage leaves set on a chain across her chest.

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From Where We Feast

A woman with white paint partially applied across her face.

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Silenced Identity

Photojournalism & Writing

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Stories of Exodus

The Nile near Luxor, boats moored along a green riverbank under a clear sky.

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Stories That Live on the Nile

Content & Brand Storytelling

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Provenance

09 — Published & Featured Work

Recognized by others

A Red Cross volunteer in a mask holds a megaphone while speaking to residents.

Published Writing — 23 Feb 2021

From the Frontlines: The Battle Against COVID-19 Misinformation

Written by Carmina for UNICEF Rwanda — following Red Cross volunteers as they counter COVID-19 misinformation door to door ahead of the country's vaccine rollout.

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Landscape photograph of hills in Rwanda, credited to Jenni Carmina Ndahiro for AFD.

Photography Credit

AFD — Supporting BRD's Strategic Transformation and Sustainable Growth

Photography featured by AFD (Agence Française de Développement) on their Rwanda Development Bank financing project. Credited as Jenni Carmina Ndahiro.

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Solo Exhibition

Roasberg, Finland

Featured "Silenced Identity" and "Strong Arms" in the group exhibition "Our Time Is Now."

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06 — Travel Writing

Stories That Live on the Nile — 2026

Personal NarrativeTravel WritingInterviews

A personal travel story, told in two parts, following a journey along the Nile from Luxor to Aswan — and the unplanned encounters along the way that turned into something closer to reporting than tourism.

Role: Writer, photographer & interviewer — solo travel narrative

Part One — Luxor to Esna & Edfu

First Sunset in Luxor

Move! Where? Follow! What?
land. Water. Wisdom. Spirit.

A dream never seen.
The magic I couldn't imagine.

I cried the tears of salt in my mouth.

And in the morning I wake to the breath of chance.

There is change in the stream, invisible and still yet so fluid.

Like the sails on the riverboats, not manipulating, not forcing, only shifting to where the wind goes.

Sailboats on the Nile at sunset, viewed through the rigging of a felucca, mountains in the distance.

Sunrise Over the West Bank

A hot air balloon drifting over the desert at sunrise near Luxor's West Bank.

A caretaker leaning against the sandstone wall of a mortuary temple on Luxor's West Bank.

A hot air balloon ride at sunrise over the Valley of the Kings, followed by a morning among the mortuary temples of the West Bank.

The Spice Shop

We sat in his shop as his nephew, no older than 14, moved between the jars, opening each one for us to smell. Every time he came close he smiled. He spoke no English, yet there was an understanding in him — an intelligence of communication that existed beyond spoken language.

As the conversation deepened, I mentioned my chronic back pain. Without hesitation he moved to the back of the counter and returned with an unlabeled transparent bottle — something he'd made himself at home, a remedy. He told me about a book he kept, five hundred pages of natural medicine. Of course I asked to see it. He laughed. "I always keep that book at home."

Shelves of spice jars in a market shop in Luxor.

Aboard the Boat

The dahabiya's shaded deck lounge at sunset, overlooking the Nile.

A guest at the boat's onboard bar, a star-shaped lantern hanging above.

Slow afternoons on deck and evenings at the boat's small bar, somewhere between Esna and Edfu.

Tea on the Riverbank

Three friends sitting together on the riverbank, preparing tea, one making a peace sign.

While the boat parked between Esna and Edfu, friends sit together and prepare some tea.

A boy standing on a small blue boat at the river's edge, sandy bank and palm trees behind.

Veda 4, the dahabiya, docked at the riverbank at dusk, vendors seated on the sand nearby.

Veda 4, parked between Esna and Edfu.

Part Two — Aswan, The Land of Gold

Arrival in the Nubian Village

Three years ago, during my first visit to Zanzibar, I grew tired of explaining where I was from. It's something I think many mixed people will understand. Eventually I started telling people I was Nubian, but that only opened more questions, more confusion, and a surprising realization of how many people had never heard of Nubia at all.

Nubians are an indigenous ethno-linguistic group originating from the central Nile Valley, in a region stretching from southern Egypt to northern Sudan. Descendants of early Nile Valley civilisations that formed powerful independent states — among them Kerma and Kush — who at their height conquered and ruled Egypt itself. A people and a history that the world has largely forgotten.

I had seen photographs of the Nubian Village years before of the colorful buildings and painted walls. I couldn't believe that I was now going to walk through it. Isn't it incredible how a single photograph glimpsed years ago can be a quiet sign pointing toward where you're going?

A white wall painted with blue stars beside a teal doorway in the Nubian Village at night.

A green building with painted archways, a crocodile, palm trees, and a camel mural, in the Nubian Village.

Blue-painted stairs and terrace in the Nubian Village at night.

The Celebration

As we docked to drop off the other passengers, sound hit first, loud and celebratory. Our taxi captain asked if we wanted to join. It felt strange at first. But everyone seemed genuinely welcoming, so we stepped in.

A few flights of stairs led to a large terrace overlooking the Nile. And just like that, the dark water and the weaving papyrus islands were behind us. We had arrived somewhere else entirely.

There was so much movement. Dancing. Fire. A DJ performing live, with tracks I wished I could Shazam. I danced too. And somewhere in the middle of it, I understood something; how rich spontaneity truly is when you stop resisting it. How much life is waiting on the other side of a moment I almost didn't say yes to or ran away from.

A boy holding up a red flare in a crowd at a nighttime celebration, smoke glowing pink.

Meeting Mr. Esam

While trying to find our way back, we passed a small shop where Mr. Esam sat out front. He looked up and said "hello, Nubian sister." It caught me off guard. Though many people had said I looked like I could be Nubian, hearing it said so simply landed differently.

I wanted to stop and sit with him, to ask all the questions I had collected about Nubians. But we were in a hurry, so I told him I would come back tomorrow. He smiled. He had probably heard that before.

Portrait of Mr. Esam at his textile shop in the Nubian Village.

The Weaver's Craft

As charming as the Nubian Village is at night, I wanted to see it under the sun, to see what the colors looked like in the light. So the first stop the next day was Mr. Esam.

He offered tea. We sat on soft cushions on the floor and talked. His shop was filled with tapestries, scarves, and pillowcases, every piece handmade by him and his family.

At some point he mentioned a photograph of his father working at the hand loom that was displayed at the airport. The way he spoke about it, you could feel the pride. Not just in the image, but in what it represented. A craft carried through generations that remains alive with him and his family.

A painted portrait of a girl on a blue building, beside a mural of a sailboat.

A collage of handmade Nubian textiles and tapestries.

A man in white robes standing at the edge of a boat, looking up at the sky, coiled blue rope beside him.

Next project

Silenced Identity

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I curate the story before
I tell it.