Before the stories are gone
She has stories they've never heard. Vozara is how they'll hear them — in her voice, in her words, translated, preserved.
Carmen arrived in Melbourne in 1968 with two children under five and a photograph of her mother she still keeps on her bedside table. She has six grandchildren. None of them have heard the full story of how she got here.
Her granddaughter Sofia set up Vozara one Saturday morning. Carmen was suspicious at first — she had never liked talking about herself. By the fourth question, she was describing the bus journey from Oaxaca City in 1967, the one that changed everything.
Vozara conducted the interview in Spanish — Carmen's language, her pace, her words. Her children read the translation in English for the first time.
Original audio is always preserved. The translation sits alongside it — a bridge, never a replacement. More languages are being added based on the communities who need them most.
Vozara builds a living record across generations — Carmen's arrival, her daughter Ana's two worlds, her grandchildren who are only now learning where they came from. Eduardo passed away in 2018, but two recordings from 1991 are preserved in his profile. His grandchildren can now hear his voice.
Ana found a cassette from 1991 — her father Eduardo, recorded at a family gathering by a cousin who has since passed. She had it digitised. Vozara transcribed it, translated it, and attached it to Eduardo's profile.
Old voicemails. Recorded phone calls. Home videos. Vozara accepts anything. Whatever you already have — it finds its place here.
Your stories. Your people. Your language. Vozara can begin with a single conversation — no setup, no account needed, no technical skill required. Just a voice and the time to listen.
Begin my family's story →No account needed. Your recordings belong to you, always.