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About twenty years ago I wrote some guidance for community people who were conducting life narrative interviews. Looking back, I realise that much of it still holds true, but I would say some things slightly differently today. Below I revisit and revise my advice. Please share your advice about being a good listener in the comments. Kindest, Fiona Cram, Co-Chair, EvalIndigenous Titiro ki ō taringa; whakarongo ki ō whatu — Look with your ears; listen with your eyesThis whakataukī (Maori proverb) reminds us that listening involves more than hearing words. It asks us to pay attention to what is being said, how it is being said, and to the silences, emotions, and relationships that surround the story. One of the most important skills an evaluator can have is the ability to listen. This might sound simple. But listening—real listening—is not always easy. It requires patience, humility, and a willingness to set aside our own assumptions about what matters, what success looks like, and what questions should be asked. As Alice Kawakami and colleagues (2007, p. 332) write, "insights...can be found through humble and quiet observation and listening." For many Indigenous evaluators and communities, listening is not just a professional skill. It is a relational practice. Across Indigenous contexts, evaluation is grounded in relationships—relationships with people, with communities, with ancestors, with the Land, and with future generations. Evaluation therefore begins not with methods or indicators, but with listening to the people whose lives and knowledge shape the work. After protocols have been observed, and a project has been explained and people invited to participate, I often just ask people where they would like to start their story.
When evaluators listen carefully—to community leaders, to elders, to youth, to frontline workers, and to those whose voices are often least heard—webegin to see programmes and outcomes through different lenses. We hear stories that statistics alone cannot capture. We learn about relationships, cultural responsibilities, and community priorities that may never appear in a standard evaluation framework. Listening also reminds us that communities are not passive participants in evaluation. They are knowledge holders and decision-makers. Indigenous evaluation approaches increasingly recognise this by supporting communities to shape evaluation questions, define indicators of success, interpret findings, and decide how knowledge will be used. In these contexts, evaluators are not simply technical experts—they are partners in a process of collective learning.
Let silence do its work. Silence can feel uncomfortable, and a pause of only a few seconds can seem much longer when you're worried about keeping a conversation going. But silence often means someone is thinking, remembering or deciding how to tell their story. Interrupting can disrupt this process of reflection. Often the best response is to simply wait rather than fill the silence. Sometimes people appear to go “off topic'. It can be hard to know whether to intervene. Occasionally what seems like a tangent will eventually circle back to something deeply relevant. At other times, the conversation may drift further and further away from the topic. Part of interviewing is learning to sense the difference, and when you may need to offer a gentle prompt or reflection about what's been shared to reconnect the conversation back to the topic. Listening to difficult stories Sometimes people will tell stories that are upsetting or hard to hear. Even if your inquiry is not about a potentially 'sensitive' topic, sometimes the time is right for someone to share about a heavy experience or memory. I received advice from an elder that has stayed with me. They said that when people share difficult experiences, they need the opportunity to retell their story, not relive it. That distinction matters. When someone is retelling a hard experience, my role is not to step into the story with them or to try to connect through my own emotions. Often the most honest response I can offer is simply to acknowledge the weight of what they have shared, perhaps saying, "I can't imagine what that was like for you." Stories like these can also stay with us. For that reason, it's important that we have opportunities to talk and debrief when needed, with an Elder and/or with a trusted colleague. Listening well requires openness and care for others—but it also requires care for ourselves.
"Yarning positions the evaluator as a listener and learner in the data collection process and respects Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people as the authority of their knowledges. It involves reciprocal relationships and is a two‑way process of learning and knowledge exchange." At EvalIndigenous, we see listening as central to the Indigenisation of evaluation. As Indigenous evaluators and allies continue to develop culturally grounded evaluation practices, listening will remain one of the most powerful tools we have. It is through listening that we learn what matters to communities, how change is happening, and how evaluation can better support Indigenous aspirations. If you have the privilege to learn from Indigenous knowledge keepers about traditional listening practices, what you really hear may help you sharpen your own listening skills. In the end, good evaluation begins the same way good relationships do. By listening first. Bibliography
Kawakami, A. J., Aton, K., Cram, F., Lai, M. K., & Porima, L. (2007). Improving the practice of evaluation through Indigenous values and methods: Decolonizing evaluation practice—Returning the gaze from Hawai‘i and Aotearoa. Hülili: Multidisciplinary Research on Hawaiian Well-Being, 4(1), 319-248. Find it here. Productivity Commission. (2020). A guide to evaluation under the Indigenous Evaluation Strategy. Australian Government Productivity Commission. Find it here
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The session brought together leaders from EvalPartners, IOCE, APEA, UN agencies, youth networks, and evaluation associations across Asia and beyond. We were invited to respond to key questions: What are the focus areas of GEA 2.0? Why do they matter now? Who are the actors? What pathways and synergies are needed? and What challenges lie ahead? As Co-Chair of EvalIndigenous, my contribution focused on what GEA 2.0 means for Indigenous evaluation — and what Indigenous evaluation offers to GEA 2.0. This post talks about the GEA 2.0. What is the GEA 2.0The Global Evaluation Agenda 2.0 (GEA 2.0), launched in 2025, is a shared global framework designed to make evaluation “future-fit” in a time of polycrisis — climate change, widening inequality, conflict, democratic fragility, and accelerating technological change. It builds on GEA 1.0 but moves further: from strengthening evaluation systems to transforming evaluation so it can contribute meaningfully to: People - Planet - Prosperity - Peace GEA 2.0 is structured around four mutually reinforcing dimensions:
Why GEA 2.0 Matters for Indigenous Evaluation
1. Enabling Environment
2. Institutional and Organizational Capacities
3. Individual CapabilitiesGEA 2.0 calls for evaluators who are culturally responsive, ethically grounded, and systems-aware. Indigenous evaluation extends this further. Individual capability includes:
ConclusionTaken together, these four dimensions show that Indigenous evaluation is not peripheral to GEA 2.0, but deeply aligned with its transformative intent. For Indigenous peoples, evaluation has always been about sustaining relationships — with People and our non-human relations, with Mother Earth, and across generations — so that collective Prosperity is shared and Peace is grounded in justice and decolonisation. Seeking to indigenise the evaluation system does not mean replacing one framework with another; it means embedding reciprocity, relational accountability, knowledge sovereignty, and intergenerational responsibility at the heart of evaluation practice. When these values shape enabling environments, institutions, individual capabilities, and catalytic action, evaluation becomes a force for restoring balance and guiding systems transformation. What works for Indigenous peoples—relational, rights-based, and regenerative evaluation—ultimately strengthens evaluation for all peoples and for the planet we share.
As described by the Indigenous Food Systems Network, food sovereignty rests on four interconnected principles:
Why It Matters to Evaluators For evaluators, Indigenous food sovereignty offers a living model of systems change. It challenges us to measure success not by yield or income, but by reciprocity, collective wellbeing, and ecological renewal. Evaluating Indigenous food systems means valuing relational accountability—how communities sustain balance, respect, and interconnection. The International Federation of Social Workers highlights this in its call to recognise food sovereignty as a pathway to climate justice and Indigenous self-determination. Evaluators have a key role in documenting how these practices strengthen resilience, restore knowledge, and uphold rights. Walking Alongside, Not Ahead Indigenous food sovereignty invites evaluators to stand in solidarity with communities—not as inspectors, but as witnesses and learners. In doing so, we help ensure that evaluation contributes to life-affirming futures where food, culture, and land are inseparable, and where equity, dignity, and self-determination are the ultimate measures of success.  Also see the Indigenous Food Sovereignty section in our July-September 2025 newsletter. Other Reading Jernigan, V. B. B., Demientieff, L. X., & Maunakea, A. K. (2023). Food sovereignty as a path to health equity for Indigenous communities: Introduction to the focus issue. Health Promotion Practice, 24(6), 1066–1069. https://doi.org/10.1177/15248399231190355
For generations, the Ogiek people have lived as caretakers and custodians of Kenya’s forests, especially the Mau Forest. We belong to the forest We protect the forest We are the forest There are no arrows on a map showing where the Ogiek came from — because we did not migrate here. We are the original roots of these lands. The Ogiek community has lived in harmony with the forest since time immemorial, deeply relying on it for food, shelter, and traditional medicine. The forest provided honey, wild fruits, and meat from animals like the gazelle nourishment that sustained generations.
When illness struck, our people turned to the forest not to hospitals or clinics, but to the rich biodiversity around them. They searched for medicinal plants known to our elders, and within days, healing came through nature’s pharmacy. Our elders passed down this knowledge, and even today we trust in the healing power of medicinal plants. Nearly every Indigenous forest is a living pharmacy, holding remedies for health, wellbeing, and long life. Even today, the Ogiek and many other Indigenous communities still believe in the healing power of medicinal plants. These natural remedies not only cure ailments but are believed to promote long life and a deeper connection to the environment. When you walk through the forest with Indigenous people, they will show you many medicinal plants you may have never seen before. It’s a powerful experience of learning and connection.
For us, the honey bag is also more than a vessel; it is one of the most significant cultural items of the Ogiek community, symbolizing both livelihood and tradition. For generations, the Ogiek people of the Mau forest have depended on honey not only as food but also as a source of medicine, trade, and cultural identity. The specially crafted bag, often made from natural materials such as animal hides and plant fibers, is designed to store and transport honey safely from the forest to the homestead. Its unique craftsmanship reflects the Ogiek’s deep knowledge of their environment, as well as their sustainable practices in harvesting honey without destroying the delicate ecosystem that sustains them.
Ogiek women play a very important role in our forest-based community. They are deeply connected to nature and help support their families through traditional knowledge and daily work in the forest. One of their main roles is collecting firewood, which is needed for cooking and warmth. They also know how to find and collect medicinal plants from the forest. This knowledge helps the community stay healthy using natural medicine. Ogiek women also take part in beekeeping. They carry beehives into the forest, where men hang them high in the trees. But not just any tree is used the dobea tree is one of the special indigenous trees chosen for this purpose. Through their work, Ogiek women protect our culture, take care of the environment, and pass on valuable knowledge to future generations For the Indigenous Peoples, this land is more than just a place to live it is a heritage, a source of culture, and a reminder of the responsibility to safeguard it for future generations. Preserving its beauty means preserving traditions, knowledge, and livelihoods that continue to inspire and sustain the community. Walking deep into the forest, the songs of birds fill the air, hives hum with life, and every stream tells a story. This is where we find peace, connection, and identity. Let us honour these sacred spaces and the knowledge that sustains them. Let us continue to protect our forests not just as a source of heritage, but as a living pharmacy for generations to come.
Voices from the Land: Indigenous Evaluation and the Global Movement for Relational Accountability8/13/2025 At the recent International Janjatiya Gaurav (Tribal Pride) Seminar, Dr Fiona Cram, Director of Katoa Ltd. in Aotearoa New Zealand and Co-Chair of EvalIndigenous, shared a vision for Indigenous evaluation grounded in sovereignty, culture, and relationships. Speaking from a Kaupapa Māori inquiry paradigm—that is, research and evaluation by Māori, for Māori, and with Māori—Dr Cram described how Indigenous evaluation resists external definitions of success. Instead, it centres mātauranga Māori (Māori knowledge), tikanga (cultural protocols), and self-determination, ensuring cultural vitality, sustainability, and even the return of land. She challenged dominant evaluation models that overlook or distort Indigenous perspectives, impose outside measures, and too often operate without accountability to communities. Introducing EvalIndigenous, a global network of Indigenous evaluators and allies, Dr Cram outlined its “seeding, germinating, growing, blossoming” theory of change. Across regions, from Aotearoa and the Pacific to Africa, Asia, Turtle Island and Latin America, EvalIndigenous supports Indigenous-led evaluation that is culturally grounded and community-driven. Central to this movement is the Wolastoq Declaration on Indigenous Evaluation, created in 2024 by Indigenous evaluation leaders and allies. The Declaration asserts the right of Indigenous Peoples to define, conduct, and benefit from evaluation, and calls for honouring Indigenous rights, protecting knowledge sovereignty, and mobilising traditional paradigms. Dr Cram emphasised relational accountability as the connecting thread — being answerable to people, lands, ancestors, and future generations; upholding reciprocity and respect; and sustaining connections across contexts. She highlighted Asia–Pacific projects in Fiji, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Bhutan, Mongolia, and the Philippines, including the APEA Toolkit for Indigenous Evaluation. Closing her talk, Dr Cram reminded participants that “evaluation is not just about measuring change — it is about creating it.” When Indigenous peoples define success, she said, “we define our own futures.” Her presentation with notes is available here. Health evaluation has long been framed by Western scientific methods and priorities. However, for Indigenous Peoples, evaluation is not new. It has always been part of how we live, make decisions, and sustain wellbeing. What’s needed now is not simply more evaluation, but better evaluation: work that reflects our knowledge systems, honours our protocols, and is done with, by, and for Indigenous communities. Indigenous evaluators are reclaiming the space of health evaluation and reasserting its rightful purpose: to support thriving Indigenous families, strengthen self-determination, and uphold collective wellbeing. This shift is grounded in protocols, bundles, and principles created by Indigenous communities, for Indigenous priorities.
The Indigenous Evaluation 101 Guidebook from Minnesota extends this further by offering practical strategies to funders and evaluators, from building good relations agreements and securing Tribal IRB approval, to adopting culturally grounded logic models and community-led methods such as talking circles. Crucially, it insists that Indigenous values shape the evaluation from start to finish, not just as a token add-on. These approaches are not merely aspirational, they are already being used successfully in Indigenous health initiative evaluations. For example, the Aloha Framework, developed in Hawaiʻi, integrates Indigenous values of aloha, kuleana, and pono to centre cultural integrity and community wellbeing in health evaluation design. Likewise, Indigenous wellness indicator projects with First Nations communities emphasize cultural identity, intergenerational strength, and land-based wellness over narrow metrics like hospital readmission rates What do these examples have in common? They are driven by Indigenous people. They reflect a commitment to sovereignty over data, stories, and outcomes. They challenge the field to move beyond cultural adaptation toward Indigenous self-determination in evaluation.
For funders and commissioners, this means rethinking what counts as credible evidence, resourcing Indigenous evaluators, and ceding control to Indigenous governance processes. It also means understanding that good evaluation is not just a technical task: it is a relational, ethical, and political act. If you’re funding an evaluation of an Indigenous health initiative, inquire about the outcomes but also ask “whose knowledge guides the evaluation and who does it serve?”
By Dr. Fiona Cram | CREA VIII Conference Keynote Reflection | April 2025In April 2025, I had the honour of delivering a keynote at the CREA VIII Conference in Chicago, themed Relational Responsibilities in Culturally Responsive Evaluation and Assessment. I stood before an audience of global evaluators, researchers, and community advocates to speak not only about Indigenous evaluation—but from it. My keynote, “Standing Firm to Move Forward,” was a weaving together of our histories, our grief, our resilience, and our responsibilities. At its heart, Indigenous evaluation is about relationships. It begins not with methods or indicators, but with identity and place—where we stand, who we stand with, and why we do this work. For Māori, this is our whakapapa (genealogy), our whenua (Land), and our kaupapa (agenda). Across Turtle Island, Latin America, Africa, the Pacific and beyond, Indigenous evaluators hold similar truths: that evaluation must emerge from our values, our languages, and our collective aspirations.  Grounding in Place and HistoryI opened by inviting everyone to introduce themselves to a neighbour and share where they felt most at home on the land. This was an act of whanaungatanga—establishing relationships, grounding ourselves in our own stories of place and belonging. Evaluation, when rooted in Indigenous worldviews, is inseparable from our connections to land, history, and people. Place is not simply geography. It is kin. The land carries scars of colonisation and resistance, just as we do. In his work Towards Scarring, Cash Ahenakew reminds us that the land remembers, that scars are not just signs of pain but of survival. In this way, land teaches us how to stand firm, how to heal, and how to move forward with dignity and purpose.
Navigating the Currents of Global GriefThis brings us to our first key evaluation question: Why is this initiative needed? Not just from a funder's perspective, but from the perspectives of those most affected. Whose pain are we addressing? Whose healing are we honouring? We are living in a time of deep, visible global grief. From Gaza to West Papua, from the Sahel to Standing Rock, Indigenous and oppressed communities are experiencing the compounding forces of colonisation, war, ecological collapse, and displacement. These are not isolated crises. They are braided together—roots sunk deep into the violence of empire. As evaluators, we cannot look away. Ibrahim Kamara’s short film “How philanthropists are destroying African farms” (The Guardian, 2024) reminds us: We are not drowning. We are being flooded. Flooded by histories that have been dammed and diverted. As Ahenakew puts it, sacred pain is our refusal to look away. Evaluation must also refuse detachment. It must bear witness, recognise grief, and seek justice—not just outcomes.
Indigenous Evaluation as an Act of CareThe second key question--How is this initiative being implemented?—often sounds procedural. But in Indigenous evaluation, it is profoundly relational. Implementation does not begin with a contract. It begins with whakapapa, with history, with place, and with aroha—love for our people. Evaluation, in our hands, is not extractive. It is not just observation. It is ceremony. It is care. When I reflect on Māori concepts like manaakitanga (hospitality), whanaungatanga (kinship), and tikanga (cultural protocols), I see a different pathway forward—one in which evaluation becomes an extension of our responsibilities to one another, not a technical imposition. One powerful example of this was Te Oho Ake, a youth wānanga at Ruataniwha Marae in Wairoa. Over five days, rangatahi became evaluators—not of a programme, but of their own transformation. They climbed their ancestral mountain, shared stories, built trust. Evaluation was not a separate task. It was lived. It was relational. It was whānau (family)-held. This is what evaluation can be when it is led by those it seeks to serve.
Whose Outcomes? Whose Impact?The third evaluation question--What are the outcomes and impacts?—requires us to go deeper. Whose wellbeing are we measuring? What version of a “good life” are we using? As the late Manuka Henare taught, true wellbeing is grounded in mana, whakapapa, and collective flourishing—not material wealth. Inspired by his work and Amartya Sen’s capabilities approach, we ask: Did this initiative uplift mana (prestige)? Did it strengthen our relationships with Land, spirit, and each other? This is what I call ontological justice—not just equity in services or access, but the right to define and pursue wellbeing on our own terms. In this way, evaluation becomes a tool of self-determination, not surveillance. It affirms who we are, not just what we do.  He Awa Whiria – Braided Rivers, Braided WorldsTo walk between Indigenous and Western paradigms, I turn to He Awa Whiria—the braided rivers model. Just like the alluvial rivers of Aotearoa New Zealand, knowledge systems can run side by side: distinct, but interconnected. Our HPV self-testing project with Māori women demonstrated how relational, community-led research can inform large-scale scientific innovation. Our braided river began with elders, researchers, whānau, and community experts. Together, we designed a study, analysed findings, and translated them into action—culminating in a nationwide health policy shift. The river metaphor reminds us that evaluation is a journey. It requires trust. It requires pausing. It requires humility. From whanaungatanga (relationships), to kaupapa (planning), to mahi (doing)—we evaluate as we live: together, on purpose.
The Wolastoq Declaration and the Future of Indigenous EvaluationIn 2024, EvalIndigenous helped convene a global gathering in Fredericton, on the Lands of the Wolastoqiyik people. What emerged was not just a declaration—it was a collective affirmation of our sacred responsibilities as Indigenous evaluators. The Wolastoq Declaration asserts three principles:
Conclusion: Stand Firm, Paddle ForwardI closed my talk with a waiata (song):
Mā wai rā e taurima / Te marae i waho nei? / Mā te tika, mā te pono / Me te aroha e. Who will tend to the marae here? / Truth, honesty, and love will. In these times of turbulence, evaluation can be an anchor—or it can be a rudder. When grounded in truth, in love, and in our obligations to place and people, it becomes both. To my fellow evaluators: stand firm in your place. Paddle together. And always, always let the land show you how to move forward.  Photo 1: The EvalIndigenous Representatives and the Ogiek Council of Elders addressing the Press in Mariashoni On 23 May 2025, the EvalIndigenous Global Network, hosted an advocacy workshop with the Ogiek Council of Elders, community elders and representatives in the wake of the new Government of Kenya intention to redraw the Mau Forest cutline. A court ruling on September 30, 2024, upheld the legality of the 2001 cutline. And now the government has started implementing the long-awaited process of redrawing and beaconing the boundaries to separate forests and settlements of the six schemes created following the 2001 decision. The right to Indigenous territoryA major issue raised is the lack of consultation with the Ogiek community in ongoing government plans, particularly the fencing of the Mau Forest. The fear of the Ogiek community is that this is a political process supervised by political leaders from other communities, while they don’t have a voice. This has raised concerns that they are likely to be evicted once again, given that there is no one to talk on their behalf. It is in this context that the EvalIndigenous Global Network has come in to stand in solidarity with not only the Ogiek community, but as a voice for all the other Indigenous Communities in Kenya facing similar challenges. Read the Advocacy Letter addressed to The Principal Secretary, Ministry of Interior and National Administration, Government of Kenya. Emilly Kirui, one of the Ogiek Elders, highlighted the broader context which reflects ongoing challenges faced by indigenous communities in Kenya, including slow implementation of court rulings affirming their land rights and continued evictions under the guise of conservation efforts. Despite legal victories, such as the African Court’s recognition of Ogiek rights over the Mau Forest, government inaction and bureaucratic hurdles have left many families in uncertainty. The Ogiek and other Indigenous groups continue to call for the enforcement of legal protections, full implementation of court decisions, and the establishment of co-management frameworks for resource sharing and land governance. A key demand from the Ogiek is the urgent implementation of court rulings affirming their rights to ancestral lands, particularly following a 2022 African Court decision in their favour. Despite this legal victory, the community reports that enforcement remains stalled, leaving them vulnerable to forced evictions and continued encroachment. They are also advocating for the issuance of land titles to secure their homes and heritage, and for the integration of traditional governance systems into formal structures. The right to free, prior and informed consent
One of the Ogiek Human Rights Defenders, Alexander Kisioi Koech, highlights findings from a recent 2024–2025 study by EvalIndigenous Global Network, which demonstrate the critical necessity for policy reforms that align with both Kenya’s constitutional commitments and its international obligations. The current frameworks are seen as insufficient in protecting the rights and interests of indigenous peoples, underscoring the importance of immediate government action to address these gaps.
This absence of representation has left them marginalised in critical national conversations and policy decisions. EvalIndigenous and Ogiek Council of Elders representatives also urged the government to provide Indigenous communities with direct representation at the county and national levels, including the nomination of senators from these groups. Past experiences have shown that having nominated leaders enables Indigenous communities to effectively channel their issues to government authorities and advocate for their rights. The speakers implored the government to fill vacant nominated positions with qualified Indigenous representatives to ensure their concerns are addressed at the highest levels.
Reframing Global Health through Indigenous Eyes: Three Cornerstone Resources from the UNPFII5/22/2025
Together, the three studies form a dynamic, interconnected roadmap for advancing Indigenous health globally—not as a subset of minority or diversity policy, but as a self-determined, rights-based, and cosmologically distinct approach to collective wellbeing. For governments, NGOs, UN agencies, funders, and Indigenous leaders, this trilogy offers a new standard: one that prioritizes healing over harm, relational accountability over extractive metrics, and sovereignty over simplification. 1. A Foundational Framework: The 2023 Study on Indigenous Determinants of Health
This report also emphasizes that Indigenous Peoples are rights holders, not stakeholders, and that their representation must be central and enduring across the entire policy cycle.
Each item is grounded in specific determinants, with criteria for assessing policy implementation, cultural safety, data practices, Indigenous representation, and the protection of land and identity2025 IDHEvaluation Inst…. The tool offers not only a way to track institutional progress but also a process for community-led adaptation, piloting, and refinement. Implications for Indigenous EvaluationTogether, these three resources challenge the foundations of mainstream evaluation practice. They call for a paradigm shift away from deficit-based, Western-centric metrics toward an Indigenous-led evaluation movement that centres Indigenous values, worldviews, and priorities. These reports:
Shared Lessons for Evaluators and Evaluation CommissionersMr Njovu and Dr Ponge and his team, in different but complementary ways, offer a set of urgent and important lessons for those who commission or undertake evaluations of initiatives in Indigenous communities in Africa:
Global ImplicationsThough situated in Africa, these reports resonate globally. They offer pathways for evaluators to re-centre Indigenous ways of knowing, being and evaluating. More than that, they show how Africa can lead: not as a recipient of development knowledge, but as a generator of evaluation futures rooted in relationality, interdependence, and cultural continuity. As EvalIndigenous continues to nurture these blossoms, the work of Mr Njovu and Dr Ponge and his team reminds us of the fire we carry: that evaluation, when reclaimed by Indigenous communities, can be a force for renewal, healing, and sovereignty.
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