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Photo:  Shereefdeen Ahmad.
“Today you do not play as rivals, but as brothers,” a match organizer tells the men from Nigeria and Benin.

One of the worst things about colonialism is the way it arbitrarily separates ethnic groups and plunks families down in different countries. Today we see how a sport is bringing relatives back together.

Shereefdeen Ahmad writes for the Christian Science Monitor, “It’s game day at the village soccer field, and spectators bunch along the sidelines with banners and drums to support their teams.

“They watch as the captains of the two squads walk to the center of the field for a coin flip to determine who kicks off first. …

“This match is part of a festival celebrating the culture of the Borgu, an ethnic group that straddles the border between Benin and its eastern neighbor, Nigeria. The teams and fans gathered here today have come from both countries, part of an effort to use soccer to bridge the divide imposed by colonial powers more than a century ago.

“ ‘I believe that football can reconnect us beyond those lines,’ says organizer Adam Kabirou, who regularly hosts cross-border matches.

“Mr. Kabirou grew up hearing stories about the Borgu kingdom, a civilization tracing its roots to the late 15th century. He also learned how colonial powers carved up his people’s lands in the late 19th century, splitting the Borgu between present-day Benin and Nigeria.

“Today, the majority of Borgu, approximately 1.4 million, reside in Benin, with a smaller population in Nigeria.

“As a child, Mr. Kabirou saw firsthand how that border created a rift between his community and the Borgu people living just 15 miles away on the other side. For one thing, the two groups often literally didn’t have the words to speak to one another.

Borgu in Nigeria learned English, the colonial language there, while Borgu in Benin spoke French, the language of their former rulers.

“These languages mingled with Batonu, the Borgu language, changing the way it was spoken on each side of the border.

“Meanwhile, Western-style schooling in both countries had pushed the Borgu people away from their shared customs and traditions, says Lafia Hussaini, a Borgu ethnographer and adjunct lecturer at the Centre for Cultural Studies and Creative Arts at the University of Ilorin in Nigeria. [Simultaneously] the border created an administrative division that made close ties practically difficult. …

“Sometimes the division even cut through a single community. For instance, half of the village of Chikanda sits in Benin, the other half in Nigeria. The difference is most clear at night. Electric lights illuminate the houses on the Beninese side of the border, while the Nigerian side, which doesn’t have an electricity connection, is dark.

“Over the years, Mr. Kabirou, a farmer, occasionally attended cross-border soccer matches, and saw how the game shrank the distances between the two communities. So in 2022, he decided to organize a tournament.

“In its most recent edition, in 2024, the Tournoi Brassage Culturel – the Cultural Blend Tournament – drew five teams from Nigeria and 15 from Benin. Mr. Kabirou estimates that more than 4,000 fans attended the final match between Gwanara, Nigeria, and Tchatchou, Benin.

“For the players who participate in these matches, the importance stretches beyond soccer.

“Bashiru Adamu, a Nigerian player, says he barely knew his paternal family in Benin before crossing the border to play a match here in 2023. Now, whenever he comes to play a game, he pays them a visit as well. …

“Today, there are three separate tournaments bringing together Borgu teams from Nigeria and Benin. … They have been important not only for the players, but for spectators as well.

“Watching these matches ‘has really brought us together,’ says Souaibou Seko, a resident of Nikki, Benin. In addition to the soccer itself, he says, he appreciates the cultural performances from Borgu artists that often take place before matches or at halftime.

“These performances ‘stress our newfound cultural unity,’ says Sanni Sika Gounoun, chairman of the organizing committee for the Solidarity Tournament. ‘This camaraderie is growing organically.’ “

This article is published in collaboration with Egab,” which focuses on stories from lesser known areas.

More at the Monitor, here.

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Photo: Ogar Monday.
Two students sit outside an experimental Nigerian school’s computer lab, donated by the Irish Embassy.

Today’s article is about an educational experiment in Africa that makes it possible for the “poorest of the poor” to get an education. The experiment is focused on keeping payments low and teaching kids to become “problem solvers.”

Ogar Monday writes at the Christian Science Monitor, “Groups of students, deep in discussion, are huddled under a large schoolyard canopy on a sweltering morning. Flanked by two teachers, Kingsley Bangwell strolls among the students. He stops beside one group and asks, What problem are you solving?’

“Two students rise. Faridat Bakare, a girl with paper in hand, responds. ‘Our work is on the lack of proper business strategy among female-owned small businesses in Kuje,’ she says.

“She explains that many women in that Nigerian city unintentionally limit the growth of businesses they start by overlooking the four P’s of marketing: product, price, place, and promotion. The students’ solution is to start a mentorship cycle connecting established businesswomen with local budding entrepreneurs. Mr. Bangwell nods his approval and moves on to another group.

“Mr. Bangwell is a co-founder of the Knowledge, Solutions, Skills, and Kreativity (Knosk) school in Kuje, on the outskirts of Nigeria’s capital, Abuja. For 100 naira (6 cents) a day, the school provides six years of learning for students who would otherwise be unable to afford it.

“The exercise that Mr. Bangwell is observing is part of a solutions ‘hackathon.’ Over four days, students engage with small-business owners in their communities to identify real-world challenges and develop solutions.

“ ‘The goal is to help them think critically and work collaboratively,’ Mr. Bangwell says. Winning teams receive prizes, but the biggest takeaway, he insists, is that the students realize ‘they, too, can provide answers to questions around them.’

“In 2018, while she was at a hospital in Abuja, Irene Bangwell overheard a cleaner talking about her teenage daughter, who had dropped out of school to work alongside her. The cleaner explained that she couldn’t afford the $19-per-term school fees for the girl. She believed that it was better for her daughter to work and save money than to attend an underfunded public school with little promise of quality education.

“Mrs. Bangwell, who had spent years working with young people, understood the mother’s concerns. Although public schools in Nigeria are mostly free, they are chronically underfunded, which has led to crumbling infrastructure, teacher shortages, and frequent strikes. Private schools provide better alternatives, but with nearly 39% of Nigerians living below the poverty line, many families find such schools out of their reach.

“Mrs. Bangwell shared the cleaner’s story with her husband, who has a background in youth development. They started Knosk in September 2019 after reaching out to community leaders, churches, mosques, and public primary schools, asking them to refer students who couldn’t afford secondary education. …

“Parents contribute $4 per term.

“ ‘We cater to the poorest of the poor,’ Mrs. Bangwell says. ‘If we don’t take the child in, they have no other chance at an education.’

“The school provides a curriculum that integrates computer and vocational skills, daily lunch, menstrual supplies for female students, and a boarding facility for a few students. …

“Victoria Simon, one of Knosk’s pioneer students, was 6 months old when she lost her father. By age 9, she had also lost her mother, leaving her in the care of her older sister. After Victoria completed primary school in 2018, her family had no means to send her for further education.

“ ‘We were ready to give up when my sister heard about Knosk,’ Victoria recalls.

“The school sounded too good to be true. But two weeks later, Victoria took Knosk’s entrance exam and wrote a 300-word essay about her aspirations. ‘I wrote about creating a free six-month training program for women and giving them tools to start their businesses,’ she says. …

“For some families, even the small fees that Knosk charges are a struggle. And according to Mrs. Bangwell, those fees are not enough to sustain the school. ‘Between paying teachers, uniforms, feeding the kids, and providing learning materials, we need more support,’ she says. Yet no child is ever turned away for unpaid fees.

“The school, which started with 30 students and now has 170, relies heavily on what it calls ‘education angels.’ These are individuals and organizations that sponsor students, for $156 per year.

“Knosk’s impact hasn’t gone unnoticed. ‘The quality of teaching and learning there is comparable to any private school in this area,’ says Daudu Shedrach, an education inspector with the Federal Capital Development Authority. …

“At Knosk, every student is called ‘solver,’ a title that reflects expectations. ‘A solver sees problems and takes action,’ Mrs. Bangwell explains. ‘We build their capacity to see beyond their challenges and to think like contributors to society, not victims.’

“For solvers like Mustapha Ibrahim, who joined Knosk in 2019 after losing his father two years earlier, the title has become a compass for how he approaches life. ‘There is no problem that I cannot solve,’ he says. ‘I just have to think hard about it.’

“Mustapha recalls how he once struggled with self-doubt and anger, believing that his life had ended when his father died. … Today, Mustapha dreams of becoming an aeronautical engineer. ‘I’m always fascinated by how airplanes stay in the sky despite their weight,’ he says.

“He also hopes to give back to the school that changed his life.

“ ‘I want to make it,’ he says, ‘and then come back to help other kids like me. Because I honestly don’t know who I would have become without this place.’ ”

More at the Monitor, here. No firewall. Subscriptions are reasonable.

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Photo: Nathaniel Bivan.
Ahmed Haruna speaks during a storytelling session in Nigeria.

I know I pick sides when I read about wars. It’s pretty clear that Russia invaded an independent neighbor when it launched attacks on Ukraine, for example. I have to remind myself that civilians on all sides suffer. And then for years after — sometimes generations after — bitterness festers. Not a good thing.

So I was interested to read how some Nigerians are working to ease longlasting enmity. Whatever works, I’d say.

Nathaniel Bivan writes at the Christian Science Monitor, “Seven years ago, when Dalyop Timothy Toma was 15, an angry mob came in the night to torch his family’s home in Kyeng village. Everyone but his grandfather fled outside into the bushes to safety. 

“ ‘He couldn’t run because he was disabled,’ recalls Mr. Toma, his face contorting in grief at the memory of his grandfather’s killing. Then he adds matter-of-factly, ‘We were planning revenge.’

“Mr. Toma and his family, who are Christians from the Berom ethnic group, blamed Muslims, mainly from the Fulani group, for the attack. Sectarian tensions run high in Kyeng and other communities in Nigeria’s Plateau state. Disputes often involve politics or land and sometimes erupt into violence.

“But in 2022, a youth leader from Kyeng invited Mr. Toma to do something extraordinary: Recount his painful story aloud to a large room full of people from different ethnic groups that he distrusted. That gathering, organized by a nongovernmental organization called Youth Initiative Against Violence and Human Rights Abuse (Yiavha), changed Mr. Toma’s attitude toward those he thought were his enemies.

‘Telling my story helped me heal gradually,’ says Mr. Toma, explaining that he no longer thirsts for vengeance.

“Yiavha has made him a peace ambassador, tasked with spreading his story of grace and forgiveness at intergenerational storytelling sessions in his community and in others.

“Plateau state, in central Nigeria, is home to some 4 million people. Jacob Choji Pwakim, a longtime peace-building activist in Jos, the state’s capital, founded Yiavha to change the narrative in communities that have been riven by ethno-religious attacks.

“The origins of the violence in Plateau state can be traced to a tumultuous week in Jos in early September 2001. More than 1,000 people were killed and tens of thousands displaced amid a long-running struggle for political and economic power among the area’s different ethnic groups. Disputes also flared between settlers and people indigenous to Jos. 

“Yiavha has held at least 66 storytelling sessions across the state. Elders have given accounts of bygone times when residents from various ethnic groups lived in harmony, even sharing gifts during religious celebrations for Eid and Christmas. Meanwhile, young people have recounted why they destroyed farms or livestock belonging to members of a different faith or tribe.

” ‘This was what inspired me to set up Yiavha in 2014, with the objective of creating a platform where young people across the divide can talk about their experiences without judgment,’ Mr. Pwakim says. 

“So far, Yiavha has worked with up to 3,300 young people, including more than 300 who have been trained as peace ambassadors who might eventually organize storytelling sessions in their communities. Other young people become agents of change after attending the sessions, organizing interfaith meals, youth soccer competitions, and trash cleanups. …

“One sunny afternoon in February, a group of young people is assembled at a soccer viewing center in Kambel, a community in the Anglo-Jos settlement within Jos. Ahmed Haruna is at the front of the room telling stories to the rapt audience, which includes residents of both Kambel and Channel Seven, another community in Anglo-Jos.

“ ‘Growing up, we didn’t even know the difference, who was Muslim or Christian among us,’ Mr. Haruna says. Over the years, residents have lived in segregated areas, with Christians mainly in Kambel and Muslims mainly in Channel Seven. But the storytelling sessions are gradually bringing them together to interact once again. 

“After Mr. Haruna finishes sharing stories about the settlements’ tranquil past, peace ambassador Joshua Tsok opens the floor for questions. …

“Training for peace ambassadors is extensive. In 2023, for example, peace ambassadors gathered in Barkin Ladi, another community in Plateau state known for violent sectarian conflict. A training facilitator, Hussaini Umaru, who is an associate professor in the department of theater and film arts at the University of Jos, says he divided the young people into groups and asked them to narrate and dramatize personal experiences of conflict, and then discuss the episodes. 

“It is not easy for ambassadors to trust their trainers. Umar Farouk Musa, a development consultant who facilitated a training session last August, explains that this is typically the first hurdle. ‘Some thought we were there to introduce an agenda or to spy. But we built their confidence,’ he says. 

“The government’s Plateau Peace Building Agency is a key partner with Yiavha. Kenneth Dakop, a team lead for the agency, says that Yiavha’s initiatives have helped transform young people who previously were drivers of violence in their communities. ‘Most of them are either unemployed or into substance and drug abuse,’ he says. 

“Yiavha’s ambassadors have seen transformations in themselves. ‘I want to become a professional teacher,’ Mr. Toma says. 

“This year, Yiavha paired Mr. Toma with a Fulani boy and assigned each of them to plant a pear tree in the other’s village to signify a commitment to peace.”

More at the Monitor, here.

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Photo: North Carolina office of state archaeology.
A rice gate, seen here in 1986. At Eagles Island, North Carolina, in the late 1700s, the enslaved Gullah Geechee people began creating ingenious rice fields. 

If the people described in this archaeological report used brilliant rice-growing techniques while enslaved, imagine what they might have done if they had been free! But, alas, slavery destroys lives of the enslaved and their descendants for generations, as Pat Conroy documented in The Water is Wide, his memoir about teaching.

In an in-depth article at the Guardian, Adria R Walker writes about recent archaeological discoveries concerning the Gullah Geechee people of the American South.

“As a former deputy state underwater archaeologist, Mark Wilde-Ramsing can’t help but look down. While rowing around North Carolina’s Eagles Island, at the tip of the Gullah Geechee corridor, he noticed signs of human-made structures, visible at low tide. Though he’d retired, he was still active in the field and knew his former agency hadn’t recorded the structures – which meant he had come across something previously undocumented. …

“Wilde-Ramsing knew the area had once been full of rice fields. His neighbor, Joni ‘Osku’ Backstrom, was an assistant professor in the department of environmental sciences at the University of North Carolina-Wilmington whose specialty was shallow-water sonar, and he had the skills and technology to explore the area. Using a sonar device, the duo detected 45 wooden structures in the river, and the remote sensing tool allowed Backstrom and Wilde-Ramsing to acoustically map the canal beds. …

“Spanning 2,000 acres (809 hectares) of the northern end of Eagles Island, the 45 irrigation devices were developed by enslaved people, who would later come to be known as the Gullah Geechee. The devices were used to control water flow for the rice fields in conjunction with earthen dams and levees, Wilde-Ramsing said.

Their existence provides further evidence of the engineering and technological skills that Gullah Geechee people used for rice cultivation, beginning in the late 1700s at the latest.

“Backstrom and Wilde-Ramsing documented their findings in a study published earlier [in 2024]. ‘The use of the island for this endeavor prior to the Civil War, in large part rested on the shoulders of transplanted and enslaved Africans and their descendant Gullah Geechee tradition,’ the study reads.

“The team’s discoveries, which came after two years of research in and around Eagles Island, have helped further shed light on the ingenious, skilled work of the Gullah Geechee people. Though Gullah Geechee people have been studied for centuries, Backstrom and Wilde-Ramsing’s research is the first to focus on their irrigation systems. The research couldn’t come soon enough: Eagles Island is environmentally vulnerable, both because of climate change and ongoing development. The duo registered their sites with the state, making development more difficult as a means to ensure the protection of cultural artifacts.

“ ‘The whole area was originally swamp. It was cleared mostly in the post-colonial, early 1800s period for tidal rice cultivation because that area was freshwater,’ Wilde-Ramsing said. ‘They were able to actually use, regulate, introduce the water and drain it with the tides.’ …

“The work the Gullah Geechee people did would have been exhaustive. Wilde-Ramsing says it required removing the cypress forests, then building dams and levees. Growing rice necessitated the use of water, so they created long wooden boxes, or ‘trunks,’ with gates on either side, that allowed them to let the water in by opening the gates. …

“The enslaved populations throughout the Gullah Geechee corridor – which spans the coasts of North Carolina to upper Florida – were isolated in such a way that they developed and maintained a culture different from that of most plantations.

“ ‘[They were] from coastal regions of west Africa, an area that had similar environs to those along the southern Atlantic seaboard centering on Georgia and the Carolinas, where rice agriculture was a mainstay of the economy,’ the study reads. …

” ‘I didn’t quite realize the role that rice played. It rivaled cotton during the 1840s and 50s,’ Backstrom said. ‘It was all over Europe and the US and it was all run by African Americans. A lot of it was developed based on their skills. I’m just happy that it’s coming to light and they’re getting their – I won’t say new – but recognition that this was an amazing thing, amazing work.’

“Even though Wilde-Ramsing and Backstrom’s discovery likely won’t permanently stop either development or climate change, not least because the island is owned by multiple private entities, the existence of historic, cultural artifacts can ensure that the Gullah Geechee structures are at least documented instead of simply being razed and forgotten.

“The researchers have been in communication with East Carolina University’s maritime program, and the school plans to send a contingent to the site to study some of the characteristic types. People from the school will be able to work on noting the various structures, trying to figure out how they operated and taking samples. Backstrom said that they’ve also been in contact with researchers at George Mason University in Fairfax county, Virginia, including a professor who had ancestors [from the area].

“In terms of further discovery, a mix of approaches best suits the complicated terrain. ‘We’re thinking about using drone imagery,’ Backstrom said. ‘We have some preliminary drone footage, which gives us access to these areas at dead low tide, areas that we had a lot of difficulty with, even with a very small vessel.’ The area is remote, full of tight nooks and crannies. It’s ‘particularly challenging because of the tides and the timing,’ he said. The different combinations of drone imagery and sonar mean the researchers aren’t limited by turbidity in the water.

“Backstrom hopes to go to west Africa, specifically to Senegal or the Senegambia region, where many Gullah Geechee people were from, to learn about the history of rice farming, including the roles women and children played. Children, for instance, tasted the water to ensure too much saltwater wasn’t being let in, and women helped in the actual cultivation of the rice, using skills from their home countries that were passed down throughout generations.”

More at the Guardian, here. No firewall. Donations help save reliable news.

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Photo: Candace Dane Chambers for the New York Times.
Arianne King Comer, an artist, wearing hand-made textiles in her home studio on Wadmalaw Island, S.C. She first learned batiking at Howard University.

I was drawn to this story about about dyeing textiles on the South Carolina mainland and islands after reading Pat Conroy’s amazing memoir The Water Is Wide. That book recounts his 1960s teaching experience among impoverished black children on one of the islands — a sad and moving tale.

I am happy to learn something more upbeat about the islands.

The New York Times says reporter Patricia Leigh Brown “followed South Carolina’s indigo trail from Charleston to Johns Island to St. Helena Island” for this story.

“On a spring morning nearly a decade ago, Leigh Magar was out walking rural Johns Island, off Charleston, S.C., with her ‘snake stick,’ a wooden cane with a jangling Greek goat be. … As she tells it — and she swears this story is true — a beautiful blue dragonfly alighted on her stick and then encircled her, before fluttering toward the woods. She followed it into a thicket of pines, where she discovered a patch of wild blue indigo hidden among the trees.

Magar, a textile artist and dressmaker partial to indigo-dyed jumpers and indigo-stained silk ribbons tucked into her hair, is at the artful forefront of the ‘seed to stitch’ movement — the growing, harvesting and processing of Indigo suffruticosa, a robust plant that flourishes in the tropics and produces a deep, cherished ocean-blue color, one of humankind’s oldest dyes.

“This benign-looking bush is used in designing garments and batiks. It was a major export in 18th-century South Carolina. Like rice and cotton, the lucrative indigo crop was dependent on the skills and labor of enslaved Africans, who tended the plantation fields and extracted the dye in preparation for shipment to England for its burgeoning textile industry.

“Today, the revival of indigo by a diverse group of artists, designers and farmers is hardly confined to South Carolina. … In the United States, the passion for indigo dovetails with a growing appreciation for nontoxic plant-based dyes, including turmeric and marigolds, and the renewed focus on Africa’s role in contemporary fashion, spotlighted by recent museum exhibitions like ‘African Fashion‘ at the Brooklyn Museum and the Portland Art Museum, and by ‘Blue Gold: The Art and Science of Indigo,’ which opened at the Mingei International Museum in San Diego on Sept. 14 [until March 16, 2025]. …

“Fashion designers like Awa Meité van Til, who is based in Bamako, Mali, draw inspiration from her ancestors. In Africa, her grandmother re-dipped her clothes in what the older woman called ‘the blue of life’ when they aged, van Til recalled by email. In Lagos and other major cities, adire, a woven indigo-dyed cloth historically made by the Yoruba, is a fashion staple. …

“Magar was drawn to indigo after a career designing hand-stitched hats and fedoras for Barneys New York from her shabby chic cottage in Charleston. In 2015, she and husband, Johnny Tucker, an architect and artist, moved to a house on Johns Island. …

“Madame Magar, as she is known professionally, became infatuated with the idea of creating art from Mother Nature and began reading histories about Johns Island indigo. At the time, indigo seeds were hard to come by. Then a local botanist told her about a ‘hermit monk’ deep in the woods who not only had seeds but a thriving indigo garden. …

“The ‘hermit’ turned out to be an affable Eastern Orthodox monk named Father John, who lives down a rutted sand road. In his black cassock, he had a slightly bohemian air, with a bountiful silver beard and hair pulled back in a tight bun. …

“Father John is adept at ‘resist techniques,’ in which certain areas of a textile are blocked from receiving the dye, most often by applying molten wax (the process is often called batik). He prefers making a golden paste out of rice bran which he then applies through intricately hand-cut stencils to create patterns on fabric, in a centuries old Japanese technique known as katazome.

“He pulled out a small plastic bag full of tiny brown curlicues — they were indigo seed pods (you could hear them rattling). He demonstrated their alchemy in the yard, in tubs — one dye steeped with dried leaves, and a deeper color, from concentrate, its bubbling iridescent surface resembling a liquid stained-glass window.

“When Father John immersed his stenciled textile into the brew, it turned a distressing pickle green. But as he fished it out and exposed it to the air, it transformed into a breathtaking blue, enhanced by intricate white patterns where the rice paste had been. …

” ‘Every country that does indigo honors ancestors through this magical blue,’ said Arianne King Comer, an artist who first learned batiking at Howard University and has an indigo plant tattoo above her ankle.

“ ‘It aligned me,’ she said of her indigo education, which began in 1992, when she made her first trip to Nigeria on a grant to study with Nike Davies-Okundaye, a celebrated textile artist who has built centers for young people to learn traditional arts and crafts. …

“King Comer’s indigo-dyed tunics and silk scarves, sold on her website, practically spill out of her trailer, many employing shibori, a Japanese technique in which cloth is twisted or folded to create different patterns. … She will stay in her DIY outpost until she is able to build a center honoring historical and cultural crafts techniques, through her nonprofit, IBILE. Her work is part of the permanent collection of the Acres of Ancestry/Black Agrarian Fund, a cooperative that supports efforts to secure and protect Black farmlands.”

More at the Times, here.

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Photo: Popi Sibiya.
Blogger Popi Sibiya didn’t see herself in any travel writing about Africa and decided to write from a female traveler’s point of view. Here she is in Matadi, Congo.

We all know that a lot of things in our world have historically been male-oriented. Medical research, for example. As women step up to correct imbalances, that sort of bias is being corrected. Today we learn about online travel influencers who are providing a fuller picture of where and how to travel. Safety is one thing that might be more of an issue for women.

Ayen Deng Bior reports from Senegal for the Christian Science Monitor, “Last year, South African travel blogger Popi Sibiya found herself cruising the canals of Ganvié, a village on stilts in the middle of a lake in Benin. As she sat in the back of a wooden canoe, she pulled out her smartphone and began broadcasting the experience to her 40,000 Instagram followers. …

“Ms. Sibiya is a former kindergarten teacher who has spent much of the last two years crisscrossing the African continent on public transportation – and now has over 100,000 followers. She is part of an emerging group of young African women travel bloggers who are using their social media platforms to redefine what adventure travel looks like in Africa – and who gets to experience it. They are pushing back on the stereotype that travel on the continent is the exclusive domain of khaki-clad Europeans on safari or sunburned Americans sipping cocktails on Zanzibari beaches – and inviting their mostly African audiences to do the same. 

“African travelers ‘are starting to prioritize fun and adventure’ on their own continent, says Ms. Sibiya, whose followers are mostly well-off South Africans used to traveling to Europe, the Middle East, and Asia for their vacations. On her account, ‘they see that we also have beautiful beaches; we don’t have to go to Thailand,’ she says.

“Each year, African countries clock more than 80 million visitors, and the industry generates about 25 million jobs, according to the World Travel & Tourism Council, an industry advocacy group. 

“Still, African countries are rarely featured on global ‘where to visit’ lists – at least outside stock-standard international favorites like Morocco, Mauritius, South Africa, and Egypt. 

“Ordinary travelers with large social media followings are filling that void, says American travel journalist Rosalind Cummings-Yeates, who has traveled extensively in the region and often uses travel influencers to help plan her trip. 

“ ‘We don’t have to rely on traditional media [anymore],’ she says. Instead, would-be travelers can scroll the feeds of influencers like Ebaide Joy, Instagram alias @go_ebaide, a Nigerian adventure traveler currently riding her motorcycle from Nigeria to Kenya. Or like Ess Opiyo (@ess_opiyo), a Kenyan travel guide with a passion for offbeat destinations. …

“Margot Mendes has seen firsthand the power of social media to transform how people travel in the region. She lives in Dakar, Senegal, where she works in marketing. She puts the same skills to use on her Instagram account, @thedakardream, where she shares her life and travels with her 33,000 followers. 

“Her grid features scenes from bustling open-air markets, peach-colored sunsets overlooking cerulean hotel pools, and glimpses of local cuisine including baguette sandwiches and spiced rice dishes. 

“Ms. Mendes started the account five years ago, when she moved back to Dakar from Paris, where her Senegalese and Bissau-Guinean family had migrated when she was a child. Originally, the page was just to show her worried friends and family in Europe how much Dakar had transformed in the decades since they emigrated. 

“ ‘It was just me being curious about my culture and going to places to discover my own culture,’ she says. 

“But soon her page began to gain an audience beyond people she knew. She says her new followers – most of them African – told her they loved seeing their own continent branded as a glamorous travel destination for the first time. 

“Ms. Mendes’ account has the feel of a glossy travel magazine, but for many young African women documenting their travels, it is important not to shy away from the continent’s struggles – or the challenges that make travel there tricky to navigate. 

“Recently, for instance, Nigerian British travel blogger Pelumi Nubi completed a 10-week road trip from London to Lagos. … Ms. Nubi documented the journey for more than a quarter million people on her Instagram account, @pelumi.nubi. Her posts bounced between travel highs – like when Lumi the Peugeot’s wheels touched African soil for the first time in Morocco – and lows – a video of Lumi’s crumpled hood after she slammed into a parked car on a dark road in Ivory Coast. 

“ ‘You have the people who are trying to paint [Africa] as a war-torn place, a dangerous place, and then you have the people who are trying too hard to sell it as this paradise,’ says Ms. Sibiya, whose page cheerfully records her travels in rickety buses she describes as ‘hearses’ and doesn’t shy away from her brushes with poverty, bad roads, and chaotic border crossings. …

“Ms. Sibiya says her audience is mainly other South Africans, many of whom tell her they are experiencing the continent’s beaches, safaris, fancy hotels, and restaurants for the first time through her account. For many, the issue is partly cost. Counterintuitively, flights between African countries are often more expensive than flights from the continent to international travel hubs like Dubai in the United Arab Emirates or New York. And instead of high speed trains or rental cars, overland travelers often have to choose between taking rundown public transport or paying up for a private car and driver. 

“Ms. Sibiya funds her travels through paid subscriptions to her Instagram account, which cost 140 rand (about $7) a month and give access to more detailed and frequent travel updates than her public page. Currently, she has around 1,200 subscribers.”

More at the Monitor, here. No firewall. Subscriptions are reasonable.

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Photo: Nathaniel Bivan.
Wuni Bitrus (co-founder of the Deaf Technology Foundation) and some of his students sign “I love you” in Jos, Nigeria.

Things change so fast in our world that I can only hope a positive story I read in June is still true in August. It’s a worry. At the same time, we do know that people keep a good thing going — somehow — even with turmoil all around them.

I preface today’s story with that observation because I have been hearing about protests and riots in Nigeria that started with grievances about the economy and then went berserk as the government overreacted.

Nathaniel Bivan at Christian Science Monitor wrote in June about progress for the deaf community in Nigeria.

“In a one-room apartment in Jos, Nigeria, instructor Wuni Bitrus and almost a dozen students gather around a table cluttered with equipment – a toolbox, a 12-volt adapter, a coding panel, a set of jumper cables, a mix of colored wires. The students’ idea: to build the prototype for a ‘smart’ door that opens with the touch of a finger.

“The students chat back and forth in sign language, and Mr. Bitrus signs back. The group discusses using Arduino, an open-source electronics platform, and one student wonders how fingerprints can be stored. Mindful of Nigeria’s electricity problems, Mr. Bitrus genially advises the group to use a battery-powered keypad lock system first and incorporate a fingerprint feature later. 

“ ‘It works well, rather than waste time reinventing the wheel,’ Mr. Bitrus says. After nodding in agreement, the students excitedly start working.

“This is just another afternoon in a club run by the Deaf Technology Foundation, a nonprofit co-founded by Mr. Bitrus in 2017 that trains Nigerian children and young adults who are deaf in computer programming and robotics. The students also work to improve their reading skills, and receive career guidance and counseling to help them believe in themselves.

“Mr. Bitrus’ … desire to change the prospects of Nigeria’s deaf and hard-of-hearing community was sparked in 2014 by his encounter with a 13-year-old girl while he was teaching as part of the National Youth Service Corps in Zamfara state. Mr. Bitrus had noticed that the teen faced discrimination, and he became determined to learn sign language and teach her to use a computer. Three years later, he marshaled the resources, including funding from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, to form the Deaf Technology Foundation.

“One of the darkest memories that Mercy Samson Grimah, a foundation student, has about growing up is looking at the faces of people around her and recognizing insults and negative energy directed at her. 

“ ‘That hurt me so bad because I knew in my heart that I could do anything. They just see us as lesser human beings,’ she says. ‘I wanted to show them that deaf people can become whatever they want to be.’ … 

“Ms. Grimah says her private secondary school did not formally teach sign language to her, nor much of anything else. But there was one teacher who knew how to sign, and she taught Ms. Grimah. … She dropped out in her third year because her parents could not pay her school fees, but fortunately, she had already formed a bond with the Deaf Technology Foundation. …

“Five years ago, Ms. Grimah and several other students made a road trip from Jos to Nigeria’s capital, Abuja, to compete in MakeX, a robotics contest. … Although Ms. Grimah’s team was not chosen to go on to represent Nigeria in the international competition, it emerged fourth among about 15 teams.

“ ‘Our team was the only one made up of the deaf,’ says Ms. Grimah, her eyes lighting up.

“Her father, Grimah Samson, adds, ‘What they are doing changed her.’ …

“Joy Yusuf, another Deaf Technology Foundation student, had wanted to become a doctor. But she was moved to a new school where the principal and staff said there was no way that could happen, even though the school welcomed students with disabilities.  

“ ‘It was a blow for me,’ Ms. Yusuf says. ‘I cried. I had to call Mr. Bitrus and my father to beg them, but [the principal and staff] still refused. For me, Deaf Tech is the only way I can have anything close to [studying] medicine.’  Now, she, too, wants to become a web developer.” 

More at the Monitor, here. No paywall.

The part of Nigeria where this story takes places is Jos. Online I found something interesting about it: “The state has over forty ethno-linguistic groups. Some of the indigenous tribes in the state are the Berom, Afizere, Amo, Anaguta, Aten, Bogghom, Buji, Challa, Chip, Fier, Gashish, Goemai, Irigwe, Jarawa, Jukun, Kofyar (comprising Doemak, Kwalla, and Mernyang), Montol, Mushere, Mupun, Mwaghavul, Ngas, Piapung, Pyem, Ron-Kulere, Bache, Talet, Taroh (Tarok), Youm and Fulani/Kanuri in Wase.” Wow.

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Photo: Larkin Durey.
Aboudia’s work has been shown in exhibitions held in Abidjan, London, New York and Tel Aviv
. Hiscox Artist Top 100 says he sold more than even Banksy in one year.

The art world is becoming more international, and that’s a good thing. For too long, people have used their own world’s cultural references to judge the quality of art. And how can only one culture be the only worthy measure?

Wedaeli Chibelushi reports at the BBC about an African that is currently making a big splash internationally.

“Back in September, global art experts were taken aback by the name topping a fresh list of the world’s best-selling artists.

“Aboudia, a graffiti-inspired artist from Ivory Coast, had beaten well-known names, like Damien Hirst and Banksy, to sell the most pieces at auction the previous year.

“According to the Hiscox Artist Top 100, Aboudia, real name Abdoulaye Diarrassouba, had flogged 75 lots. One of these canvasses had gone for £504,000 ($640,000).

“Leading online marketplace Artsy called Aboudia’s triumph ‘striking,’ while The Guardian said market experts were ‘blindsided by the ranking.

“Months later, sitting in a London gallery plastered with his paintings, Aboudia tells me the survey results were no surprise to him. ‘Because if you work hard, the success is going to come,’ he says. …

“Aboudia’s mellow disposition clashes with the art surrounding him – his vividly colored, heavily layered canvases feature a cast of cartoon-like figures plucked from the streets of Abidjan, Ivory Coast’s largest city. Through a blend of oil sticks, acrylic paints and recycled materials like newspapers, Aboudia depicts the hardships of life in downtown Abidjan.

He particularly focuses on the children who live and work on the city’s streets.

“His eyewitness portrayals of Ivory Coast’s 2011 civil war are equally arresting. Figures gaze at the viewer with vacant eyes, while armed soldiers and skulls crank up the intensity. …

“Aboudia was born in 1983, in Abengourou, a small town around [124 miles] from Abidjan. In a 2012 essay, the artist said he was kicked out of his home aged 15 after telling his father he wanted to paint for a living.

“After being cast out, the young Aboudia pressed on and enrolled in art school. Due to a lack of financial support, he slept in his classroom after the other students went home for the day. These uncomfortable nights paid off — after graduating in 2003 the soon-to-be-star was accepted into Ivory Coast’s leading art school, École des Beaux-Arts.

“Abidjan’s École des Beaux-Arts would expose Aboudia to the Ivorian art icons whose influence can be found in his current work. For instance, Aboudia’s focus on his direct surroundings and his use of recycled materials can be traced back to Vohou Vohou, a modernist collective established in the 1970s by artists like Youssouf Bath, Yacouba Touré and Kra N’Guessan.

“Aboudia began to veer away from traditional styles of art, instead using untamed brushstrokes and earthy colors to recreate graffiti produced by Abidjan’s underprivileged children. In Aboudia’s words, these young, de facto street artists ‘draw their dreams on the world.’

“The children are his main influence, he says. …

“After establishing his core style, Aboudia would lug his paintings around the galleries of central Abidjan, hoping for a way in.

” ‘It was very hard. … They’d say: “Are you crazy? What is this work? You better go to London, to United States or Paris, because this work … here it doesn’t make sense,” ‘ Aboudia recalls.

“The adversity did not end there. In 2010, Laurent Gbagbo, the then president of Ivory Coast, refused to step down after losing an election to rival Alassane Ouattara. A civil war broke out, killing 3,000 people and forcing another 500,000 from their homes.

“Throughout the four-month conflict, Aboudia sought refuge in his basement studio, documenting the horrors he saw when venturing above ground.

“The war ended with Mr Gbagbo’s dramatic capture by UN and French-backed troops — and Aboudia emerged from his haven with 21 disconcerting paintings.

“Art-lovers and journalists from Ivory Coast and beyond lauded his work and Aboudia’s ascent to global success began. He was championed by renowned art collectors Charles Saatchi and Jean Pigozzi — and went on to exhibit his work at prestigious venues like Christie’s New York and the Venice Biennale.

“Aboudia’s first solo exhibition was at the setting for this interview, London’s Larkin Durey (then named the Jack Bell gallery). Owner Oliver Durey, who has now known Aboudia for over a decade, tells the BBC: ‘There is something we can all relate to in his paintings; hiding amidst the uncertainty and horror there are balanced moments of strength and beauty.’

“African art expert Henrika Amoafo [notes] reasons for his success … like his ‘authenticity, the really raw emotional power that he’s able to convey, the way that he speaks to urban life, the way that he speaks about conflict and its impact on children.’ …

“Aboudia’s rise also coincides with that of the African art market. In 2021, art analysis firm ArtTactic reported that the auction sales value of contemporary and modern African art surged by 44% to a record high of $72.4m. …

“Aboudia’s rise has led to him splitting his time between his country of birth and New York. When he is back in Ivory Coast, he pours his efforts into the Aboudia Foundation, an organization he launched to support the country’s children and young artists.

“This is yet another example of the star’s drive — but when I ask him if he has any plans lined up for his career, he … says he takes things one day at a time.”

More at the BBC, here. No paywall.

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Photo: British Museum.
Benin bronzes.

Around the world, looted national treasures are beginning to return home. Among the most famous are the bronze plaques made in Benin, Africa. Now that country is building museums to protect its returning bronzes — and all its art.

Chinma Johnson-Nwosu writes at the Arts Newspaper, “The Republic of Benin, which is making its debut appearance at the Venice Biennale this year, is turning to culture as part of a strategy to spur economic growth. Its government is building four new museums in a range of locations and a cultural quarter in the largest city, Cotonou, in addition to boosting investment in arts education.

“A museum in the coastal city of Ouidah, from where the last recorded shipment of slaves to the US departed in 1860, will explore the history of slavery. It is scheduled to be completed at the end of this year, the first of the four new museums slated to open over the next five years in Benin. Maison de la Mémoire et de l’Esclavage aims to tell the history of slavery from African, American and Caribbean and European perspectives, says Alain Godonou, the director of museums for the national agency of heritage and tourism.

“Between 2016 and 2026, the Benin government plans to invest €250m [more than $5 million], with the goal of making culture the economy’s second pillar after agriculture. In addition to building museums, the government’s focus is on preserving non-material heritage, increasing cultural tourism and offering financial incentives to private investors.

“Promoting the arts goes beyond fostering a sense of national identity, says Babalola Jean-Michel Abimbola, the country’s minister of culture. ‘It’s a fight against poverty, allowing us to create jobs and build a better economy.’

“Construction began last year on a new cultural quarter in the centre of Cotonou [Le Quartier Culturel et Créatif] which is to host a contemporary art museum, a sculpture garden, a Franco-Beninese cultural institute, a concert arena, commercial galleries and a crafts village showing local crafts and heritage. …

“Further plans include the Musée des Rois et des Amazones du Danhomè in Abomey, where visitors will in future be able to explore the 300-year history of the kingdom of Dahomey. Musée International du Vodun, located in the capital, Porto-Novo, aims to rehabilitate the image of a much-maligned and globally poorly understood Indigenous religion, also known as Voodoo.

“The government hopes that the new museums will build on the success of a 2022 exhibition, where 26 recently repatriated royal artefacts went on display in the presidential office. These were shown alongside the contemporary exhibition, Art of Benin From Yesterday and Today: From Restitution to Revelation.

“The show drew more than 230,000 visitors in the three months it ran, 90% of whom were citizens of Benin, Godonou says. … While he concedes it may be too ambitious to expect to replicate the 2022 success annually, he believes a target of 100,000 would be sustainable.

“Last year, the government launched an Agency for the Development of Art and Culture. The ministries of tourism and finance are also seeking to introduce tax relief policies for the cultural industries.

“The kind of publicly funded, government-led major museum projects Benin is undertaking have little precedent in Africa. … The Benin government’s plan does, however, envisage involving the private sector. By showing entrepreneurs that people in the country are interested in art, Abimbola hopes to spark business interest. In some parts of Cotonou that is already happening. Septième Gallery, which already had a space in Paris, launched in Cotonou in 2022. …

“Investment in arts education and professional training is also increasing. Sèmè City, a government-backed development project, has revealed plans for a new Africa Design School campus located in Ouidah. The school launched in Cotonou in 2019 in partnership with L’École de Design Nantes Atlantique and has since added a masters programme and an exchange programme, in which 11 French students participated in 2023. …

“Last year, the École du Patrimoine Africain, which trains heritage professionals, celebrated its 25th anniversary. When it began, only 5% of the people working in Beninese museums were trained in heritage preservation. Now the figure is 80%.”

More at the Art Newspaper, here. Can you guess what country was the colonizer? Consider the names of the museums.

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Photo: Ayen Deng Bior.
“Assistant director Pape Samba Tine (second from right) yells, ‘Action!’ on the set of a new Senegalese documentary about women’s lives,” the Christian Science Monitor reports.

For generations, films about Africa were written by non-Africans — in effect by the descendants of the colonizers. But over time, Africans have begun to tell their own stories in their own way.

Ayen Deng Bior, reporting from Senegal for the Christian Science Monitor, writes, “On a dusty Monday afternoon, the hallways of the Kourtrajmé film school buzz with nervous chatter and excitement. It is pitch day, and soon everyone files into a classroom to listen to the students present their screenplay ideas.

“The topics cover a wide sweep of Senegalese life, from the story of a 19th-century slave insurrection to a supernatural drama about a woman who can read people’s thoughts.

“When Leida Ndiaye’s turn comes, she is sweating. … But soon, she finds her rhythm, describing her idea for a rom-com about a woman in her early 30s who uses her job in human resources to ‘interview’ prospective dates to her birthday party. Ms. Ndiaye explains that she wants to provoke new conversations about dating and marriage.

“ ‘A lot of financially independent women are living the same situation here in Senegal,’ she says. ‘The tension between her professional life and her chaotic emotional life leads her to a deep introspection on her true desires and the nature of love.’

“Ms. Ndiaye and her classmates at Kourtrajmé are part of a new generation of Senegalese filmmakers who are setting out to tell their own stories on their own terms. With a film about Senegalese migrants, Io Capitano, up for best foreign film at the Oscars [2024], they know the world is eager to hear about their lives. 

“But Io Capitano’s success also highlights the challenges they face. The movie was made by Italian filmmakers, igniting conversation about what types of stories get told about Africa and by whom. 

“ ‘The Italian film is amazing, but it’s another story about migration,’ says Emma Sangaré, an American producer and screenwriter, and Kourtrajmé’s co-founder. For her students, she adds, there is so much more to say.

“Kourtrajmé’s popularity is a testament to hunger of young Africans to showcase a different kind of story. The school, which opened in 2022, gets hundreds of applications from all over the continent for about two dozen spots in its screenwriting and directing courses. Both six-month programs are fully funded.  

“The Dakar school is the third branch of Kourtrajmé, which French director Ladj Ly started in 2018 in a disadvantaged suburb of Paris in order to bring new and different voices into the film industry. Senegal’s Kourtrajmé was founded by Mr. Ly, Ms. Sangaré, and her husband, French Malian director Toumani Sangaré. …

“Last year, Banel & Adama, a magical realist romantic drama by French Senegalese director Ramata-Toulaye Sy, premiered to positive reviews at the Cannes film festival. But for many Senegalese filmmakers, a lack of resources and connections still makes the global film circuit hard to break into.

Io Capitano, for instance, had budget of more than $8 million. … But getting funding like that often means turning to American or European producers. In these situations, Ms. Sangaré says the power dynamic makes it hard for young Senegalese filmmakers to assert their authority about the kinds of stories they want to tell. …

“Mariama Niang is in director mode, supervising her team as it prepares to shoot an interview for her documentary, Elle, on a recent afternoon. …

“For Ms. Niang, an alumnus of Kourtrajmé who has wanted to be a filmmaker since she was a child, this moment has been a long time coming.

“ ‘Cinema is the world,’ she says. ‘In cinema, you can see everything. You can see one movie, and you see all your life in that movie.’

Elle, whose title means ‘she,’ follows five Senegalese women who have made names for themselves in their respective industries – from photography to financial consulting – while challenging the common narrative here that women are ‘just’ homemakers and childbearers. It’s a contentious topic that Ms. Niang has wanted to tackle for years, but she couldn’t figure out how to pay for it.

“Kourtrajmé changed that. The film school funded half the production, and Ms. Niang used the pitch skills she honed there to convince a private investor to pay for the rest.

“Back at Kourtrajmé, Ms. Ndiaye [says] ‘It’s better to tell our own story because if you don’t do it, people won’t know what exactly African people are living. … Westerners are doing it; they share their history; they share their culture. Why not us?’ ”

More at the Monitor, here. No paywall.

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Photo: Melanie Stetson Freeman/CSM.
Ebson Mbunguha (right) and Sebulon Hoeb track endangered black rhinos in the Torra Conservancy near Palmwag, Namibia.

On Facebook and Instagram this past week, I’ve been following the adventures of an intrepid high school classmate who is in Africa for up-close and personal encounters with lions and elephants. I’m impressed at what a good traveler she is at our age, when I would be stressing over the time change, Covid exposure, what foods I can digest — every little thing. But, oh, the wonders she is seeing in Tanzania!

Today’s article is about one African wonder, the threatened black rhino. The people of Namibia truly love their rhinos and are doing all they can to protect them.

Sara Miller Llana writes at the Christian Science Monitor, “The rhino trackers trek a mile into the open desert plains of northwest Namibia. They stop 300 feet from a desert-adapted black rhinoceros grazing on the rocky hillside.

“Rhinos have poor eyesight, so the windy day works in the trackers’ favor, making it harder for the animals to locate them by sound or smell. Sebulon Hoeb, the principal field officer of Save the Rhino Trust Namibia, wants to get closer, but his partner today, Ebson Mbunguha, has his binoculars trained at the distance. He tells the group to back away. He has identified this rhino: Matty 2. She is 4 years old, which means her mother probably has a new baby and could appear on the open plain at any moment. There are no trees to climb if the crew is suddenly surrounded by creatures that can weigh as much as 3,000 pounds. Plus, they’ve identified her. Their job is now done. 

“Every day and every night, trackers from Save the Rhino Trust, alongside rangers from the local community, patrol 25,000 square kilometers (just under 10,000 square miles) in Namibia’s northwest, the only place in the world where this desert-adapted subspecies of the black rhino is still truly wild. Even if these animals are spotted from a distance, the trackers know them so well that they can identify them from their behaviors, roaming patterns, and physical features like birthmarks. It’s all documented on small pieces of paper that pile up back at Save the Rhino Trust headquarters in the pinprick of a town, Palmwag.

“The trackers are not just building a living database of conservation or scientific study; patrolling is the best tool they have against rhino poaching. And the work is paying off. 

“Rhino conservationists discourage publishing the price of horns on the black market, in order to deter criminal activity, but rhino horns are in high demand, especially in China and Vietnam. After years of successfully clamping down, Namibia saw rhino poaching increase by 93% last year over the year before, according to the Ministry of Environment, Forestry and Tourism. But here the community hasn’t logged a rhino poaching in three years. That’s because, within the structures of Namibia’s community conservation model, safeguarding the animals is more lucrative than selling them on the illegal market. …

“The desert-adapted rhino, one of the oldest mammals on Earth, has roamed this arid, red-earth region that glows at sunrise and sundown for millennia. Its presence is depicted in the ancient cave art found in nearby Twyfelfontein, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. But in the 20th century, European hunting all but eradicated its numbers. Between 1960 and 1995, black rhino numbers dropped by 98% to fewer than 2,500. 

“Save the Rhino Trust was established in 1982, when only 50 black rhinos roamed this area. Forty years later, Namibia hosts almost 35% of the world’s remaining black rhino population, although the exact number is tightly guarded. ‘That’s a state secret,’ says Simson Uri-Khob, the CEO who has dedicated his career to saving the rhino. 

“When Namibia gained its independence in 1990, it became the first country in Africa to protect the environment in its constitution. It also created community conservancies – lands with defined borders and governances outside the national park structure, where the communities themselves benefit from the resources, including animals, on their homelands. Today the government counts 86 communal conservancies covering more than 20% of the country’s territory. Many of these conservancies thrive by running lodges that draw tourists to see wildlife, in turn fueling local economies.

“Steve Galloway, chairman of the Community Conservation Fund of Namibia, says community conservation represents the best of both worlds. It puts large tracts of land under environmental protection – but not at the expense of people. ‘You bring in tourists, and you grow vegetables for those tourists and curios for those tourists. You do hiking trails, and you create a whole ecosystem,’ he says. …

“The rhino rangers start the day under a starry southern sky in the Namibian desert. … It’s no easy job. A 24/7 operation demands that the rangers live in tents for three weeks at a time, doing most of their tracking on foot. They get a bonus for how many kilometers they walk and how many sightings they log. It can be dangerous. ‘I’ve had to run for my life many times,’ says Mr. Hoeb.”

More at the Monitor, here. Good pictures. No firewall, but are subscriptions encouraged.

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Photo: Jack Thompson.
From the Christian Science Monitor: “Farmers in Ndiob, Senegal, are experimenting with ‘zaï’ planting pits, an ancient practice to conserve moisture even during acute droughts.

With climate change and drought in Africa affecting crop yields, some farmers are adopting ancient techniques for conserving water.

Jack Thompson writes at the Christian Science Monitor, “Rain is like alchemy for farmer Thialla Badiane in the Sahel region of Senegal. Suddenly, it transforms dusty dunes into rich verdure, barren plains into crop-laden fields. 

“But rain is increasingly scarce here on the edge of the Sahara desert. Temperatures are rising by 50% more than the global average and threatening Mr. Badiane’s most precious resource to feed himself and his seven children. 

“Annual rainfall could drop by 38% in Senegal in the coming decades, a threat to the way of life for the nation’s 8 million farmers. Already the growing climate emergency means rainfall has become more unpredictable, water scarcer, and droughts longer.

“So in Mr. Badiane’s hometown of Ndiob, hundreds of farmers seeking to combat those effects have revived an ancient farming technique – with a 21st-century twist. ,,,

“Mr. Badiane [drills] repeatedly into the thick crust of the earth with a giant motor-powered corkscrew, leaving a pattern of perfectly spaced holes. In one hectare, he will drill 10,000 holes for his millet seeds, a planting technique known as zaï

“Originally from neighboring Burkina Faso, zaï is the traditional technique of making small indentations in the ground that capture rainfall and increase the fertility of the soil. It’s painstaking work, but a lot easier than digging the holes by hand with a hoe.

“Millet has been making waves on the international stage … because the crop can grow on arid land, can survive extreme heat, and is high in protein and micronutrients.

“And with his modern take on an ancient practice, Mr. Badiane has increased his yield of millet by 50% – though research shows zaï can triple production. If it were to become widespread, this Indigenous technique could help farmers become more resilient to a changing climate. …

Zaï combats [water runoff] by creating pockets for the water, making sure it doesn’t run off and take nutrients and minerals with it. 

“This is the ambition of Ndiob’s Mayor Oumar Ba, renowned in Senegal for his commitment to agroecology, a form of sustainable farming based on millennia of Indigenous knowledge and innovation. …

“Across the continent, many officials, scientists, and ordinary citizens are already looking to adapt. Faced with increasingly unpredictable weather in Ndiob, Mr. Ba traveled to Burkina Faso, a landlocked nation that gets even less rain than Senegal, to search for ways to beat intensifying drought. Four years ago, he brought back zaï

“ ‘Before, it used to rain consistently for five months; it would start in June and end in November,’ says the mayor’s agricultural advisor, Mame Kor Faye. ‘Now, not one farmer can tell you when the season will start.’ …

“Drought is a vicious circle for farmers: As rainfall decreases, the soil compresses. When it finally does rain, the dehydrated, packed  land cannot absorb the water and the top layer of fertile topsoil washes away. … ‘Zaï is a solution to this scarcity of water and to restore the fertility of our soils,’ Mr. Faye says.

“For Mr. Badiane, the planting plots are a double win.  Under the burning November sun, he bends over each small pit and delicately places a handful of rich, dark fertilizer. It’s a far smaller amount than he used when he composted his entire field. 

“Prices of fertilizer have skyrocketed since Russia, the world’s top exporter, invaded Ukraine and supplies were squeezed. Since then, animal manure, an alternative to chemical fertilizer, has been in short supply.

“ ‘The reason zaï interested me is because I wanted to save on organic manure,’ Mr. Badiane says. ‘Before, you didn’t have to pay for manure – livestock herders would give it to you. Now it’s hard to find, and you have to pay.’ 

“ ‘When the rain falls on the manure, it retains the humidity that the plant needs,’ says Isidore Diouff, an agronomist from the Senegalese nongovernmental organization Enda Pronat and who has been leading the zaï experiments in Ndiob. He kneels down to inspect a newly planted seed in its pit. ‘You can go 20 days without rain, and the pit will still be damp.’ 

” ‘Four months later, Mr. Badiane admires his ready-to-be-harvested, fingerlike plants. Nurtured by the moist soil, their soaring leaves tower over the 6-foot-tall farmer. Assessing the plant’s density and weight, Mr. Badiane predicts a good yield.”

More at the Monitor, here. No firewall. Subscriptions encouraged.

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Photo: Vanessa Chisakula.
Vanessa Chisakula of Zambia wrote her first spoken word poem in her early 20s and “didn’t want to stop.”

It’s a universal human need: to have people listen to you, to be heard. How often do you find yourself talking to someone who is only waiting for you to pause so they can say their own thing? Well, that’s not being heard.

Recently in Africa, young people are finding that poetry events can be an outlet where other people are really trying to listen. It feels good.

Sarah Johns has written at the Guardian about poetry slams in Zambia.

“After giving birth, Vanessa Chisakula started writing poetry as a way of processing the changes and struggles she was experiencing as a new mother. ‘I was in my early 20s. I had just become a mum and didn’t understand it,’ she says. …

“Chisakula wanted to share her stories. She was inspired to do spoken-word poetry – a genre written to be read out loud and performed – when she heard I Will Wait For You by Janette…ikz, an American spoken-word poet.

“Now, she is spearheading efforts to expand the spoken-word scene in Zambia, where she is from. In 2017, she co-founded Word Smash Poetry, a movement for young creative activists across southern Africa. In her own award-winning work, she uses poetry as a tool for activism, focusing on issues including women’s rights, youth, African identity and mental health. …

” ‘Art is a form of protest that leaves no blood. It can be peacefully done but a strong message can be communicated artistically. … Poetry is just so beautiful,’ she says. ‘It can be a short but inspiring piece; it leaves you thinking and wanting more. I didn’t want to stop.’

“One of her first poems, ‘Her Place,’ was an examination of womanhood. She explains: ‘I wanted to tell my truth. What exactly is womanhood?’ … In 2020, Chisakula released a short collection of poems, Africana, written to embrace her identity as a black African.

“ ‘I always wanted to relocate to the US when I was young,’ she says. ‘I thought the American dream was the dream. There’s no African dream.’ She no longer believes this; now she wants to celebrate her home continent. …

“Over the past five years, Chisakula has seen the spoken-word scene grow in popularity in her home country. It is already well established across southern Africa, she says. From September to December there are poetry festivals ‘nonstop’ across countries including South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe and Zambia. In 2022, the winner of the World Poetry Slam, held in Brussels, was Xabiso Vili from South Africa.

“This year, the competition will be held in Togo. … ‘There’s a poet on every corner now,’ she says. ‘Back then, it was a bit uncommon; now people are doing it on a larger scale. I see poets at almost every event.’

“Male poets still outnumber female poets, however. Chisakula believes women struggle to get a foothold in the arts in Zambia. … Last month, the Word Smash Poetry movement hosted its second all-female national poetry slam in Lusaka, which took place during the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-based Violence, an annual international campaign that kicks off in late November.

“There were 12 performers in total; four had returned after performing last year and there were eight new faces, which was a huge achievement, according to Chisakula.”

More at the Guardian, here.

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Photo: Melanie Stetson Freeman/CSM Staff.
The Christian Science Monitor says, “Deon Shekuza is a peripatetic presence at climate summits as well as at the grassroots – like the class on green hydrogen he taught to young teens in an informal settlement in Windhoek, Namibia, last July.”

Climate activism is no longer mainly the purview of the industrialized Northern Hemisphere or those with enough income and time to worry about it. Now people on the front lines are leading the way. For them it’s a matter of survival.

Sara Miller Llana writes at the Christian Science Monitor about Deon Shekuza, a climate influencer in Namibia, who is “as comfortable proselytizing green energy to youth on the hardscrabble roads and villages of this former German colony as he is in Namibia’s government ministries and the halls of United Nations conferences.

“Paid with respect if not a salary, he’s part of a rising breed of young climate activists across the Global South whose work, suggests one climate expert, may well determine the temperature of your world.

“Africa, which has contributed least to climate warming, is the continent most threatened by the droughts, floods, and heat intensified by climate change. In that extremity, the relentlessly positive Mr. Shekuza sees great opportunity for progress for Namibia.

“In the dusty chaos of an informal settlement on the edge of this capital city one recent morning, he faces his biggest challenge: capturing the imaginations of young teens on a complex topic. The kids have gathered in a bright community center classroom, not for school credit and certainly not for fun on their Saturday off, but to hear Mr. Shekuza teach green hydrogen 101. Namibia has staked its future on this next big solution for a global clean energy transition. …

(The process, simply put, would use solar or wind power to extract hydrogen molecules from desalinated seawater, producing green ammonium that would be used for regional and global fuel markets to power transportation and electricity production.)

“No one here knows what green hydrogen is, let alone how it might be the route to social justice that Namibia’s leaders proclaim.  Grasping for something understandable, Mr. Shekuza gestures out the window at the ancient and humble street scene of women laden with bushels of branches gathered from the forest for heating and cooking fuel. ‘This is exactly what we do not want for our people, right? Some energy sources keep you in the past, and some energy sources move you into the future. This is why we are here talking about green hydrogen.’

“After 90 minutes, Mr. Shekuza is satisfied. These kids might not exactly understand Namibia’s renewable energy policy, but they understand green hydrogen potential: jobs for them in a new economy that could turn Africa’s perpetual sunlight into clean fuel for electricity and transportation here and for export. …

“For activists across Namibia – like the Inuit in the Arctic, or youth from small island nations – caring and conserving is the easy part. These youth grew up living sustainable lives well before it was trendy. Many were born on the land, in the bush, on the coast, with no playgrounds except the natural environment around them. They conserved not for environmentalism, but for survival. …

“Mr. Shekuza and young African activists like him across the continent who are part of the Climate Generation, as we’re calling it, see a chance – the kind Mr. Shekuza tells the children in the informal settlement to seize, the kind he has seized for himself. …

“Mr. Shekuza can barely afford to do the work he has cut out for himself. For all his social confidence, he hesitates at the doorstep of his home before inviting visitors in for the first time ever. Descending from sunny daylight down a step at the side of a large old house, he enters the tiny basement space he shares with his mother.

“With a revealing flourish of humility, he pulls the worn blue curtain separating his mother’s bed from his floor space: ‘This,’ he says, ‘is climate activism in Africa.’

“In his windowless corner lies his bed. … On the chipped yellow paint of a cement wall are dozens of badges from U.N. conferences. A single business suit hangs from the curtain rope.

“This is the headquarters of his nongovernmental organization. With just the grants and fees he cobbles together from government and U.N. funding, the 33-year-old college dropout educates himself, hatches ideas for mentoring youth, and speaks via Zoom to august groups, all on the floor here. For an online speech on climate justice for a British Museum conference, he had no option but to give his speech right there, cross-legged on his sleeping pad, dressed in a traditional African tunic, surrounded by clothes, caps, shoes, and [policy] documents. …

“The environment, he says, was always a part of his interest: Nature was his escape from the noise and dilapidation of poverty in his rural hometown of Grootfontein. … ‘We are people who never look at the environment like something that is separate, because you grew up looking at it as part of you,’ he says. …

“He co-founded the NGO Namibian Youth on Renewable Energy (NAYoRE); gave himself the title ‘youth advocate for sustainable development’; worked with other organizations and networks on biodiversity, farming, and climate change; and started crisscrossing the globe on invitations to attend and address government, U.N., and private conferences. …

” ‘[Young people] may see me with a fancy English up here, but my lifestyle is no different from that kid in the shack. So when I speak for the youth, I’m coming from experience and I’m speaking something solid.’

“He pulls out a binder on agriculture in Namibia and how to use regenerative practices in one of the most water-stressed nations on the planet. It’s the latest document he’s read, and he’s read all of it: ‘I have dedicated hours and hours and hours … like trying to upgrade and up-skill myself. And I did that in and out of school, but I found the most benefit came out of it.’ …

“On a late Friday afternoon, Mr. Shekuza meets at a cafe with Micky Kaapama, whom he has been tutoring to be a climate activist, or, as they put it, a ‘biodiversity enthusiast.’ The glamorous fashion model studied biology and, crucially, has 12,000 Instagram followers. …

“As if trying to convince her of what she has to gain, he pulls out his phone to show an invitation from the Namibian president’s office that he’s just received. Addressed to Deon Shekuza, ‘Youth Advocate for Sustainable Development,’ it’s for a luncheon with Hyphen, a German- and British-financed Namibian company that signed a deal last May with Namibia to build the largest green hydrogen project in the country. It’s an $11 billion agreement.

“But there’s a hitch in the impressive invite. He has no idea how he can even afford to get to the event five hours away in Keetmanshoop.”

Find out what happens at the Monitor, here. No firewall.

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Photo: chrisstockphoto/Alamy.
Traditional west African instrument, the balafon. 

Having fun today learning about unusual musical instruments, whose fans, though small in number, are nevertheless as devoted as those who love the sound of a French horn or steel drum.

Kevin LeGendre reports at the Guardian, “In the 2022 film Alice, the titular heroine – a slave living on a 19th-century-style plantation in Georgia – discovers that she is really living in the 1970s. The soundtrack reflects the latter period … with interludes that feature an instrument that was first heard in the days of plantations: the contrabass clarinet.

“The instrument is played by James Carter, a 54-year-old musician from Detroit who has been a significant figure in jazz since the early 90s. ‘I just loved the “muddy earth” sound it has,’ he says.

‘All that air flowing through it made you feel like you’re the lord of the underground. The contrabass clarinet has such expressive range; it reminds me of bullfrogs in the night, yet it is also a kind of wise old sage, it’s so commanding.’

“You can hear what he’s talking about on his 2003 album, ‘Gardenias for Lady Day,’ a tribute to the vocal great Billie Holiday. On Strange Fruit, Holiday’s anti-lynching anthem, Carter draws from the contrabass clarinet a series of primeval, haunting wails that entirely suit the subject matter. The low-end horn is like an engulfing darkness. …

“For those who play the sorts of instruments that are rarely seen in orchestras and jazz bands, there are practical hurdles to overcome, such as honing posture and technique to successfully negotiate the shape, size and structure of these uncommon inventions. Not to mention the cost and complexity of servicing and maintaining such devices. …

“First used in 19th-century classical orchestras and military bands, the contrabass clarinet is one of the more obscure members of the woodwind family. It has long held an appeal for jazz musicians intent on creating a wide tonal spectrum in their work. One of Carter’s major sources of inspiration, Anthony Braxton, an innovative Chicago-born composer-improviser, raised the profile of the instrument when he used it at prestigious international festivals in Montreux and Berlin back in the mid 70s.

“ ‘He was way ahead of his time,’ says Carter, whose arsenal of reed instruments also includes F-mezzo, soprano, tenor and baritone saxophones. ‘When he hits a low C, it takes you to another dimension. I wanted to experience the same thing when I played it myself.’

‘With its broad, upright frame, like a giant paperclip, the contrabass clarinet requires its players to have physical strength as well as technique. … Says Carter, “You have to make your lungs work a little bit harder with it, but that’s also the beauty. You feel everything you put into it.’

“As much as Carter, who has worked with jazz and rock stars such as Herbie Hancock and Ginger Baker, hails the wonders of the contrabass clarinet, he is keen to acknowledge the role that specialist woodwind makers such as Benedikt Eppelsheim have played in its evolution. The renowned German instrument maker, who died earlier this year, fitted it with trill keys – small levers that facilitate the shaking and warbling of notes – and additional octaves that ‘let the instrument sing more.’

“[Most] exciting are those custom-made devices that were never put into mass production. Such is the case of a one-off low-register beast played by Paul Rogers that straddles eras, genres and cultures. A hybrid of the baroque-period viola da gamba, double bass and Indian sitar, this unnamed instrument has seven rather than four playing strings, as well as 14 ‘sympathetic strings’ – non‑playing strings tucked under the playing strings to produce greater resonance.

“ ‘It’s a weird combination of many things,’ says Rogers. ‘I told a French luthier, Antoine Leducq, what I wanted and he took about a year and a half to make it. The shape of the instrument is like a small canoe. It’s like a medieval thing, really. But I listen to all sorts of music – medieval classical, Asian and African music – and with this instrument I can really find some of those sounds. …

“Yahael Camara Onono [loves] the balafon. It is one of many traditional west African instruments featured in Balimaya Project, the ensemble he leads that has built a sizeable audience in Britain in the past few years through its blend of Mandé rhythms, jazz, funk and spoken word. Similar in appearance to a xylophone, the balafon has keys made of strips of wood that resonate through small calabashes (gourds) tied underneath. The instrument must be handled with care.

“ ‘You have to be in the right atmospheric conditions because it’s quite fragile,’ says 31-year-old Onono, a percussionist and historian of west African instruments. ‘Heat and humidity affect every part of the instrument, so traveling from one continent to another is tricky.’ “

“When the Dust Settles by Balimaya Project is out now on New Soil/Jazz Re:Freshed.” If you are in London on the 17th of this month, check them out at the Barbican.

More at the Guardian, here. No paywall. Contributions encouraged.

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