Africa Inspirational Quotes

Every mountain top is within reach if you just keep climbing.

I marveled at the beauty of all life and savored the power and possibilities of my imagination. In these rare moments, I prayed, I danced, and I analyzed. I saw that life was good and bad, beautiful and ugly. I understood that I had to dwell on the good and beautiful in order to keep my imagination, sensitivity, and gratitude intact. I knew it would not be easy to maintain this perspective. I knew I would often twist and turn, bend and crack a little, but I also knew that…I would never completely break.

I can’t cry so I have to laugh.

Life isn't about having, it's about being. You could surround yourself with all that money can buy, and you'd still be as miserable as a human can be. I know people with perfect bodies who don't have half the happiness I've found. On my journeys I've seen more joy in the slums of Mumbai and the orphanages of Africa than in wealthy gated communities and on sprawling estates worth millions. Why is that? You'll find contentment when your talents and passion are completely engaged, in full force. Recognise instant self-gratification for what it is. Resist the temptation to grab for material objects like the perfect house, the coolest clothes or the hottest car. The if I just had X, I would be happy syndrome is a mass delusion. When you look for happiness in mere objects, they are never enough. Look around. Look within.

Mary’s childhood was rough. She was frequently beaten and chastised by the nuns who served as her protectors and brutalized by the older girls in the orphanage. Oh how I wept those first few years of my life. My tears came like tropical storms. Every pore in my body wept. I heaved and shuddered and sighed. Everything around me seemed dark and terrifying.

I was alone. I had no one. No mother, no father, no brothers, no sisters, no grandmas, no grandpas, no uncles, no aunties, no cousins, and no tribe. I’d seen the children at the orphanage laugh or cry when they received news about a family member. I would never receive such news and no family would laugh or cry for me. That day I understood with sharp clarity that I didn’t have a mother who wanted me.

Whenever I felt like that, I would have a chat with my own Fat Mary. She was like the sweet fresh air after the rain. She brought me newness, clarity, and relief. She managed to get in touch with and resurrect the free spirit deep inside me. Being one with the spirit allowed me to soar above my everyday reality. I marveled at the beauty of all life and savored the power and possibilities of my imagination.

We are here because one odd group of fishes had a peculiar fin anatomy that could transform into legs for terrestrial creatures; because the earth never froze entirely during an ice age; because a small and tenuous species, arising in Africa a quarter of a million years ago, has managed, so far, to survive by hook and by crook. We may yearn for a ‘higher answer’– but none exists

What was wrong with these American students? Didn’t they know I was the teacher and they had to do as I said? I learned quickly that my authority meant little, if anything, to them. I was not the all-powerful and feared mwalimu (teacher) of Africa.

My mother always wanted to live near the water," she said. "She said it's the one thing that brings us all together. That I can have my toe in the ocean off the coast of Maine, and a girl my age can have her toe in the ocean off the coast of Africa, and we would be touching. On opposite sides of the world.

Never refuse any who ask you for help; if your pockets are empty, give them hope. Your every action must be born of kindness, your every word spoken with love. Live as God would have you live, and others will be inspired to do the same.

I prayed that our growth would be as strong and determined as the seeds of coconut palms, boldly reaching skyward toward the sun diligently boring deeper into the earth to secure a firm foundation for the beautiful, durable, fruit-bearing trees they would become. For me, Mhonda was the place to continue the growth of the still young but strong roots of my tree planted in Kifungilo. This was my life now, the life I’d prayed for, the life that would provide me with an education and would open doors. I wanted this life very much. I told my wavering spirit to bear with me because, just like the coconut palm, I would sway and bend and bruise, but I would survive. I would have to become the tree in the African saying: ‘The tree that bends with the wind does not break.

If origin defines race, then we are all Africans – we are all black.

I had covered wars in Croatia, Bosnia, Kosovo, Sierra Leone, Iraq and elsewhere, but the work had started to feel routine. I wanted to leave the journalistic herd, to find a project that would both daunt and inspire me. Facing down the Congo was just such a project.

Sentiments that glorify humanity know no racial distinction.

In the biological sense, race does not exist.

Let go of the past. Embrace the present. Reach for the future. The past is in your bosom. The present is in your lap. The future is in your hands.

I embrace you. You embrace me. We embrace each other. I encourage you. You encourage me. We encourage each other. I inspire you. You inspire me. We inspire each other. I elevate you. You elevate me. We elevate each other.

Every man reaches his destination, if he just keeps walking

UBUNTU - I am because we are, and because we are, you are.

When you meet young people, inspire them. When you meet old people, honor them. When you meet wise people, study them. When you meet foolish people, avoid them. When you meet humble people, treasure them. When you meet arrogant people, ignore them. When you meet gracious people, emulate them. When you meet crude people, disregard them. When you meet brave people, support them. When you meet cowardly people, encourage them. When you meet strong people, follow them. When you meet weak people, toughen them. When you meet kind people, esteem them. When you meet cruel people, oppose them. When you meet virtuous people, reward them. When you meet evil people, evade them.

The world needs great inspires, who will encourage every living soul to reach their highest potential. You can be one.

If they hate your race, pardon them. If they hate your religion, enlighten them. If they hate your gender, admonish them. If they hate your class, avoid them. If they hate your politics, debate them. If they hate your culture, question them. If they hate your tribe, confront them. If they hate your ancestry, defy them. If they hate your age, outshine them. If they hate your appearance, disregard them. If they love you for your knowledge, teach them. If they love you for your wisdom, counsel them. If they love you for your understanding, instruct them. If they love you for your intuition, guide them. If they love you for your excellence, inspire them. If they love you for your humility, honor them. If they love you for your compassion, welcome them. If they love you for your honesty, value them. If they love you for your kindness, treasure them. If they love you for your virtue, cherish them.

Life isn’t about having, it’s about being. You could surround yourself with all that money can buy, and you’d still be as miserable as a human can be. I know people with perfect bodies who don’t have half the happiness I’ve found. On my journeys I’ve seen more joy in the slums of Mumbai and the orphanages of Africa than in wealthy gated communities and on sprawling estates worth millions.

Some people talk of Africa being a continent cursed not blessed with minerals, but the real curse is the leaders and politicians of Africa

Why do so many today want to wander off to South Africa or Kenya or India or Russia or Honduras or Costa Rica or Peru to help with justice issues but not spend the same effort in their own neighborhood or community or state? Why do young suburbanites, say in Chicago, want to go to Kentucky or Tennessee to help people but not want to spend that same time to go to the inner city in their own area to help with justice issues? I asked this question to a mature student in my office one day, and he thought he had a partial explanation: 'Because my generation is searching for experiences, and the more exotic and extreme the better. Going down the street to help at a food shelter is good and it is just and some of us are doing that, but it's not an experience. We want experiences.

I see for you. You see for me. We see for each other. I hear for you. You hear for me. We hear for each other. I think for you. You think for me. We think for each other. I speak for you. You speak for me. We speak for each other. I stand for you. You stand for me. We stand for each other.

I believe the most difficult situation to be in, is one of mind-game-playing. Interestingly enough, it can be observed that it’s those from the most prosperous countries that tend to play the most mind-games with other people. They even write things about it. Why is it very difficult to be honest and transparent about what one thinks and feels? Why must one resort to manipulations and mind-mockery and mimicry? It is such a sad situation or state for any person to be in. Living in cubicle within cubicle within cubicle of themselves. Victims and perpetrators of mind games, interestingly, are the most paranoid about it happening to them— because they do it, they think everyone else does it too. Or because it’s been done to them, they think everyone will do it to them. Why cannot people say what they think, think what they say, say what they mean and mean what they say? The world would be happier if we were all just living out in a big plain in Africa! Roaming with animals, walking barefoot, being simple, transparent, real...

All that summer and fall she painted, mornings, afternoons, evenings, then walked around the streets that were still echoing the music of the masters, and every stone, every pebble seemed to have a life and reason of its own and she somehow felt, though vaguely, a part of that reason. Some nights she would sit in the café with other young artists and poets and musicians and who knows what else, drinking wine and talking and laughing and discussing and arguing and life was exciting and tangible and crisp like the clear Mediterranean sunlight. Then as the grayness of winter slowly seeped down from the north the energy and inspiration seemed to ooze from her as paint from a tube and now when she looked at a bare canvas it was only a bare canvas, a piece of material stretched over a few pieces of wood, it was no longer a painting waiting to be painted. It was just, canvas. She went further south. Sicily. North Africa. Trying to follow the sun to the past, the very recent past, but all she found was herself.

It is only human to be kind to others.

Because of my schooling, my fate would always be a little different from my friends.

A nation can be mighty, when the citizens put away their political differences, work together for a common vision, a common goal and a common good.

Making a difference to the welfare of Animals doesn't require a massive effort; it requires small actions that can make a significant impact.

She felt a sense that things were in order, the way they were meant to be, and that even if they tumbled down once in a while, in the end they would come back together again.

As we stand on the precipice of a life of ministry, we will have to answer the question that Jesus poses to each one of us: Are you willing to count the cost?

What is more important for the world right now than preserving ways of living in balance with the earth?

When we uplift others, we in turn uplift ourselves.

Cry for the broken tribe, for the law and the custom that is gone. Aye, and cry aloud for the man who is dead, for the woman and children bereaved. Cry, the beloved country, these things are not yet at an end. The sun pours down on the earth, on the lovely land that man cannot enjoy. He knows only the fear of his heart.

When he was a child, that man wanted to travel, too. But he decided first to buy his bakery and put some money aside. When he's an old man, he's going to spend a month in Africa. He never realized that people are capable, at any time in their lives, of doing what they dream of.

If you want to sing, sing like today is your last. If you want to dance, dance like today is your last. If you want to laugh, laugh like today is your last. If birds sing without worrying about who is listening to them, and monkeys dance without worrying about who is watching them, and hyenas laugh without worrying about who is mocking them, then you too must do what you do best without worrying about who is ridiculing you.

It is my own belief that the only power which can resistthe power of fear is the power of love. It’s a weak thing anda tender thing; men despise and deride it. But I look for theday when in South Africa we shall realize that the only last-ing and worth-while solution of our grave and profoundproblems lies not in the use of power, but in that under-standing and compassion without which human life is anintolerable bondage, condemning us all to an existence ofviolence, misery and fear.

The story of the hunt only favors the hunter, until the lion tells the truth!

Many people read History books but it takes just a few people to LEAD the cause that will shape the course of HISTORY.

Our part in life is to persevere and learn as quickly as we can, for our victory depends upon our perception of the world".

Girls are pearls, ladies are rubies, mothers are moulders, and women are wonderful.

What a mighty nation, we will be, if we encourage one another?

The beginning of a nations self defeat is when it denigrates the powerful capabilities of its own people.

Here in Africa mankind was born. And it was a woman

It is our duty to stand up for humanity. Step in and correct things that are wrong.

Our potential should not be limited by where we are born, nor our dreams be diminished by our current circumstances.

Most striking about the traditional societies of the Congo was their remarkable artwork: baskets, mats, pottery, copper and ironwork, and, above all, woodcarving. It would be two decades before Europeans really noticed this art. Its discovery then had a strong influence on Braque, Matisse, and Picasso -- who subsequently kept African art objects in his studio until his death. Cubism was new only for Europeans, for it was partly inspired by specific pieces of African art, some of them from the Pende and Songye peoples, who live in the basin of the Kasai River, one of the Congo's major tributaries. It was easy to see the distinctive brilliance that so entranced Picasso and his colleagues at their first encounter with this art at an exhibit in Paris in 1907. In these central African sculptures some body parts are exaggerated, some shrunken; eyes project, cheeks sink, mouths disappear, torsos become elongated; eye sockets expand to cover almost the entire face; the human face and figure are broken apart and formed again in new ways and proportions that had previously lain beyond sight of traditional European realism. The art sprang from cultures that had, among other things, a looser sense than Islam or Christianity of the boundaries between our world and the next, as well as those between the world of humans and the world of beasts. Among the Bolia people of the Congo, for example, a king was chosen by a council of elders; by ancestors, who appeared to him in a dream; and finally by wild animals, who signaled their assent by roaring during a night when the royal candidate was left at a particular spot in the rain forest. Perhaps it was the fluidity of these boundaries that granted central Africa's artists a freedom those in Europe had not yet discovered.

If the world allows the people of Darfur to be removed forever from their land and their way of life, then genocide will happen elsewhere because it will be seen as something that works. It must not be allowed to work. The people of Darfur need to go home now. I write this for them, and for that day, ... and for those still living who might yet have beautiful lives on the earth.

More often than not, an inspirational or motivational speaker is someone who makes money from telling us that we can do all of the things that we can do … and pretty much all of the things that we cannot do.

You are no greater than the thoughts you carry, the knowledge you acquire, the desires you harbor, and the experiences you cherish. You are no better than the friends you keep, the books you read, the heroes you admire, and the obstacles you overcome. You are no higher than the wisdom you retain, the understanding you gain, the faith you practice, and the love you give. You are no larger than the powerless you help, the poor you enrich, the weak you embolden, and the fearful you inspire. You are no bigger than the opponents you face, the alliances you broker, the battles you fight, and the enemies you defeat.

The first time you fail it is a mistake, the second time it is carelessness, the third time it is incompetence, the fourth time it is mediocrity, and the fifth time it is inability. The first time you succeed it is chance, the second time it is luck, the third time it is skill, the fourth time it is talent, and the fifth time it is genius.

So is that what’s important to you? To be able to freeze in the middle of a scene and to have somebody give you your line? Wouldn’t it be much better to go through Africa and show them how to dig wells and how to make vegetables grow and inspire them to plant?

You are not wrong," Laurence said. He had assumed as much himself, after all, in his Navy days: had thought the Corps full of wild, devil-may-care libertines, disregarding law and authority as far as they dared, barely kept in check-- to be used for their control over the beasts, and not respected. "But if we have more liberty than we ought," Laurence said, after a moment, struggling through, "it is because they have not enough: the dragons. They have no stake in victory but our happiness; their daily bread and nation would give them just to have peace and quiet. We are given licence so long as we do what we ought not; so long as we use their affections to keep them obedient and quiet, to ends which serve them not at all-- or which harm." "How else do you make them care?" Granby said. "If we left off, the French would only run right over us, and take our eggs themselves." "They care in China," Laurence said, "and in Africa, and they care all the more, that their rational sense is not imposed on, and their hearts put into opposition with their minds. If they cannot be woken to a natural affection for their country, such as we feel, it is our fault, and not theirs.

To help people takes strength, to inspire people takes wisdom, to rule over them takes virtue, but to elevate them takes love. The real power of a leader is in: the number of minds he can reach, hearts he can touch, souls he can move, and lives he can change.

The weak dread obstacles, the foolish invite them, the wise avoid them, the strong battle them, and the great overcome them. The strong overwhelm opponents, the mighty crush them, the shrewd outwit them, the cowardly hide from them, but the enlightened transcend them.

There was a time in Africa the people could fly. Mauma told me this one night when I was ten years old. She said, “Handful, your granny-mauma saw it for herself. She say they flew over trees and clouds. She say they flew like blackbirds. When we came here, we left that magic behind.” She looked at my face, how it flowed with sorrow and doubt, and she said, "You don't believe me? Where you think these shoulder blades of yours come from, girl?" We weren't some special people who had lost our magic. We were slave people, and we weren't going anywhere. It was later I saw what she meant. We could fly all right, but it wasn't any magic to it.

With each new day in Africa, a gazelle wakes up knowing he must outrun the fastest lion or perish. At the same time, a lion stirs and stretches, knowing he must outrun the fastest gazelle or starve. It is no different for the human race. Whether you consider yourself a gazelle or a lion, you simply have to run faster than others to survive.

What separates those who build exceptional lives from others, is the way they use their time.

It is character that should be the sole measure of judgement in the society of thinking humanity, and nothing short of that would do.

Don’t wait till you have grey hair before you believe people will take you seriously because scientifically, grey hair is a sign of old age and not necessarily of wisdom.

It is not enough to believe. Believe must lead to change of attitude and conduct.

Peace and gladness in every home is a peace for the society, nation and the world.

The failure of the citizens to pray for the nation will lead to its collapse.

I am not a Lion because I was born a Lion, it's because a Lion was born in me

Before we can truly understand the Animal Kingdom, we must first learn to respect all of the sentient beings that exist within it

Regardless of one's destination, all roads lead home.

As Africans we must uplift each other.

Don't keep your nation-changing thoughts to yourself. Else it won't actually change the nation. Impact!

Bad decisions are more costly than the expensive goods you hesitate to buy.

I will not make any predictions. If the past is anything to judge by, Congolese politics will continue to surprise and bewilder, frustrate and inspire.

She moved like a woman whose body not only provided her with pleasure, but peace and ease. She moved like a fully embodied universe of her own making.

Rhythm came from Africa. We need 2 stop frontin' about that. Rhythm and heartbeats.

The most dangerous predator in Africa, I’ve come to realise, is not the lion. Nor can the hippo, the buffalo or the elephant hope to compete. The most dangerous animal by far is man. Hwange

Wisdom has a mind. Joy has a heart. Love has a soul. Awareness has a mind. Discernment has a heart. Consciousness has a soul. Intention has a mind. Desire has a heart. Mindfulness has a soul. Imagination has a mind. Inspiration has a heart. Passion has a soul. Understanding has a mind. Patience has a heart. Humility has a soul. Intellect has a mind. Compassion has a heart. Goodness has a soul. Speech has a mind. Silence has a heart. Action has a soul. Nature has a mind. The world has a heart. The universe has a soul. Mankind has a mind. Angels have a heart. God has a soul.

Call up the ever-pure, the effulgent and the ever-radiant character of true humanism in yourself and in others, and no racism shall have the power to thrive in such society even for a few seconds.

Destination Kampala! Africa’s postcolonial renaissance.” There would have been few other places in the world where there was such an excitement about new literature, new ideas, and new politics. The inspiration arrived at this conference for a new publishing imprint of literary titles called the African Writers Series, which was soon launched by Heinemann in the U.K., with Achebe as the series editor. The excitement reached as far as my high school in Dar, where literary competitions were held, new drama was produced, and a parade of literary luminaries passed through, including Chinua Achebe.

Oh.” Her voice sounded small, and her eyes began to water. I halted in horror as not one but two tears spilled down her cheeks. “Are you … are you crying?” I did not know what to do with a weeping woman.

The theory is that immersion in the history of one's own group will overcome feelings of racial inferiority both by instilling pride in past ethnic accomplishments and by providing ethnic role models to inspire future performance. Telling black children how marvelous old Africa was will make them work harder and do better. But does study of the glory that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome improve the academic record of Greek-American and Italian-American children? Not so that anyone has noticed. Why is it likely to help black children, who are removed from their geographical origins not by 50 years but by 300?

When I was young, I knew that, somehow, I would go to Africa and live with animals. And I wanted to write books about them. I don't think I spent too much time wondering exactly how I would do it. I just felt sure that the right opportunity would somehow come. I didn't feel frustrated because I could not go a really long trip while Rusty was still alive. It would have seemed like a betrayal. And while I waited I went on learning.

It will all be in vain, to try and look at the world through a small window and hope to comprehend it's complexities. Only those who boldy step out into it, will experience and learn things that are beyond their own understanding.

The thing about life is we already know the ending is death. Personally I have tried to at least give the bits in the middle every chance of surprising me. We all start and end the same , but what happens in between might be up to us

MANDELA: " a man deemed to be the greatest icon in Africa. his life thought me couple of lessons that always inspires me to strive hard for respect and to make an impact on humanity. may his footsteps continue to live for ever on the sands of time.

When perplexed, light appears to you in the form of truth; when troubled, in the form of reason; when sad, in the form of understanding; and when heartbroken, in the form of love. When perplexed, love appears to you in the form of friendships; when troubled, in the form of family; when sad, in the form of lovers; and when heartbroken, in the form of God. When perplexed, God appears to you in the form of wisdom; when troubled, in the form of patience; when sad, in the form of joy; and when heartbroken, in the form of peace.

Draconian censorship was soon imposed, with correspondents advised that no dispatches would be allowed that made people at home feel unhappy. Equally rigorous censorship of letters home inspired one soldier to write his parents: After leaving where we were before we left for here, not knowing we were coming here from there, we couldn’t tell whether we had arrived here or not. Nevertheless, we now are here and not there. The weather here is just as it always is at this season. The people here are just like they look. On this page a censor scribbled simply, “Amen.

The speaker was good, I liked what he had to say. I had expected a dry recitation on how women should change their gender if they expected to advance in a man's world, since I wasn't about to grow a cock and balls this man gave me hope and inspiration. Women dominated the audience, not surprising since the average African man wouldn’t support a speaker preaching gender equality. Africa was a continent with generational precedent for the alpha male, it was part of their culture, learned at an early age. This led to abuse on many levels. Women were expected to do the physical work, produce male babies and satisfy the sexual urgings of men. Urgings that in other societies would be called rape but in Africa were accepted as common practice. I understood this better than most. Pictures of the Kony boy-soldiers and their adult commander were burned into my memory.

Negative thoughts prevent mindfulness. Negative desires hinder happiness. Negative habits counter excellence. Negative people disturb peacefulness. Positive thoughts foster brilliance. Positive desires promote joyfulness. Positive habits encourage blessedness. Positive people inspire transcendence.

Maybe life is like a walking safari. If you venture out expecting lions and leopards all the time you’ll almost always never find them. Maybe the best things are the ones you never knew you wanted to see. The ones that, scary as they may seem, were just the things you needed to unleash reality. I’d selfishly written my story before even reaching Africa. I’d romanticized scenarios, fabricated settings, invented fantastical dialogue, and almost overlooked the lesson I’d been sent to learn – to live life on foot and not in my head, with fearlessness, presence, without expectation, and above all, with gratitude.

But these men had become object lessons for me, men I might love but never emulate, white men and brown men whose fates didn’t speak to my own. It was into my father’s image, the black man, son of Africa, that I’d packed all the attributes I sought in myself, the attributes of Martin and Malcolm, DuBois and Mandela. And if later I saw that the black men I knew—Frank or Ray or Will or Rafiq—fell short of such lofty standards; if I had learned to respect these men for the struggles they went through, recognizing them as my own—my father’s voice had nevertheless remained untainted, inspiring, rebuking, granting or withholding approval.

At conception I had the soul of an Egyptian, at birth I had the soul of an Ethiopian, at death I had the soul of an African, and at resurrection I had the soul of God. At conception, I was a citizen of creation. At labor, I was a citizen of the world. At delivery, I was a citizen of the universe, and at death, I became a citizen of Heaven.

Every human alive today came from a single mother in Africa, who lived about two hundred thousand years ago. Later, when the sea levels receded about ninety thousand years ago, a small tribe of a few hundred traveled out of the plains of Africa. After crossing the Red Sea through the Gate of Grief passageway, they fanned out and populated the entire world. How can there be any strangers among us when we all share a single common ancestor?

The Black American freedom struggle was inspired in part by the South African freedom struggle. In fact, I can remember growing up in the most segregated city in the country, Birmingham, Alabama, and learning about South Africa because Birmingham was known as the Johannesburg of the South. Dr. Martin Luther King was inspired by Gandhi to engage in nonviolent campaigns against racism. And in India, the Dalits, formerly known as untouchables and other people who’ve been struggling against the caste system have been inspired by the struggles of Black Americans. More recently, young Palestinians have organized Freedom Rides, recapitulating the Freedom Rides of the 1960s by boarding segregated buses in the occupied territory of Palestine and being arrested as the Black and white Freedom Riders were in the sixties. They announced their project to be the Palestinian Freedom Riders.

MUSHAKABVU, I may be in a tough spot, but I am more worried about you. I have never experienced anything close to a sense of kinship with any of my clients, let alone those I have never met. However, the world you sent me to investigate has inspired a selfless concern that is uncommon between strangers. I hope you are just a curious, distant observer in the affairs I have been probing ... But something tells me this hope was frustrated long before our acquaintance.

Initially, his theory was inspired by the observation that the shapes of continents like South America and Africa could be fitted together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Continental drift then became more certain as fossils accumulated and paleontologists found that the distribution of ancient species suggested that the continents were once joined. Later, “plate tectonics” was suggested as a mechanism for continental movement, just as natural selection was suggested as the mechanism for evolution:

I can’t give this letter a storybook ending in the world’s eyes. Today finds Bob back to his regular schedule and the boys spending extra time talking with me flopped across the foot of my bed, which seems to be my permanent residence for now. My head symptoms have not changed. The medication has not settled well, and so the struggle continues. Whether I am in the valley or soaring above the mountain tops, God is there with me. I thank God that I am able to be His child. Now that’s a true storybook ending!

In his work Maladies and Remedies of the Life of the Flesh, published in Leiden under the pseudonym Christianus Democritus, he claimed to have discovered the Elixir of Life—a liquid counterpart to the Philosopher’s Stone—which would heal any ailment and grant eternal life to the person who drank it. He tried, but failed, to exchange the formula for the deed to Frankenstein Castle, and the only use he ever made of his potion—a mixture of decomposing blood, bones, antlers, horns and hooves—was as an insecticide, due to its incomparable stench. This same quality led the German troops to employ the tarry, viscous fluid as a non-lethal chemical weapon (therefore exempt from the Geneva Convention), pouring it into wells in North Africa to slow the advance of General Patton and his men, whose tanks pursued them across the desert sands. An ingredient in Dippel’s elixir would eventually produce the blue that shines not only in Van Gogh’s Starry Night and in the waters of Hokusai’s Great Wave, but also on the uniforms of the infantrymen of the Prussian army, as though something in the colour’s chemical structure invoked violence: a fault, a shadow, an existential stain passed down from those experiments in which the alchemist dismembered living animals to create it, assembling their broken bodies in dreadful chimeras he tried to reanimate with electrical charges, the very same monsters that inspired Mary Shelley to write her masterpiece, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, in whose pages she warned of the risk of the blind advancement of science, to her the most dangerous of all human arts.

Как-то одна старая дама, сидя в кругу друзей, рассуждала о своей жизни. Она заявила во всеуслышание, что готова заново прожить свою жизнь, и, как видно считала это доказательством того, что ее жизнь прожита не зря. Мне подумалось: ведь у нее была такая жизнь, которую и вправду надо прожить два раза, чтобы испробовать, иначе ее и жизнью не назовёшь. Можно спеть на бис короткую арию, но нельзя повторить всю оперу - как и целую симфонию или пятиактовую трагедию. И если приходится повторять, значит, в первый раз ее сыграли из рук вон плохо.

These things may sound trivial, but they are signs of adjustment in our human aspect of life. We are just your average family. I’m happy to report we’re all saved by grace and living in His power. Because of the unique culture we live in, we face different struggles in this earthly journey. It is always fun to sit back and marvel at how God will work out each of the situations that distract us from fellowship with Him. These distractions can strengthen us in our walk if we allow God to take hold. Or, they can keep us away from our source of life and strength: God, our maker.

Pakistan is an Islamic country and the victim of an Easter terrorist attack. Groups like Isis or in this case the Taliban are not about religion. No more than the KKK is about Christianity. These groups are about hate! I did post on the Pakistani attack because it is really important to point out that brown and black people in the middle east and Africa are being killed. Terrorism isn't about Islam. It is about hate. SO let's fight this hate. Let's stand united with our Islamic brothers and sisters who are being slaughtered. Step back from judging a religion you are not exposed to. Understand that we need to work together. ALL faiths. That's how we defeat this

I was inspired by their intergenerational relationships and annoyed that in the US, many of our elder Black liberals in the mainstream media condemned our music for its profane language, and young Black people too easily dismissed the messy yet rich traditions that made us possible. For many of us in the beginning, “Black Lives Matter” was a response to violence or a non-indictment; South Africa demonstrated that we deserved much more. I felt completely politically undone and inadequate. I’d been reading so much history but had not quite yet developed a political analysis connected to any tradition of organizing. I was getting smarter, not necessarily getting free.

Life isn’t about having, it’s about being. You could surround yourself with all that money can buy, and you’d still be as miserable as a human can be. I know people with perfect bodies who don’t have half the happiness I’ve found. On my journeys I’ve seen more joy in the slums of Mumbai and the orphanages of Africa than in wealthy gated communities and on sprawling estates worth millions. Why is that? You’ll find contentment when your talents and passion are completely engaged, in full force. Recognize instant self-gratification for what it is. Resist the temptation to grab for material objects like the perfect house, the coolest clothes, or the hottest car. The if I just had X, I would be happy syndrome is a mass delusion. When you look for happiness in mere objects, they are never enough. Look around. Look within. ——

When it came to the frying of chicken, they took pity on the captors and incorporated the seasonings and spices of Africa- garlic, melegueta pepper, cloves, black peppercorns, cardamom, nutmeg, turmeric and even curry powder. They forgave them their cruelty and presented them with what can only be described as a gift born in sorrow. Food has the ability to move people in this manner. It can inspire bravery. These kitchen slaves could have been beaten for this insolence, or perhaps even killed for such an act, but they served their fried fowl anyway. Not surprisingly, their captors were entranced by it. Soon southern fried chicken became a delicacy enjoyed by both cultures- it was the one point where both captors and captive found pleasure, although the Africans were only allowed to fry the discarded wings of the bird for their own meals. Despite the continued injustice, it was an inspired and blessed act of subversion. Although born in slavery, this dish has not only brought together an entire region of people, it has transformed them. It is, as the Americans say, "democratic," and is now enjoyed by people of all walks of life and all parts of the country.

At Hennie’s home in Worcester, in true South Africa style, we braaied choppies, Boerewors, chicken, and braaibroodtjies along with a few different types of salads and dessert, which included Peppermint Tart with vanilla ice-cream. My day started when I learned that my hart se punt is an expression to reaffirm exactly how much we love something or someone. My day ended by learning that love is a measurement of how much our heart can hold. The type of love that makes you feel propvol because the area is completely filled up. And that’s the type of love that helps us to understand expressions of love that we have never considered before since love gives us the confidence to understand that love can’t be contained into little bottles or containers of security. Love is an ever-flowing emotion much like a running river that inspires us as it sweeps across our lives, and it covers everything with its inspiration simply called my hart se punt. A point that reminds us that we’re not that special, love is our universal gift. A point that always pulls us toward our heart’s True North, even when can’t initially see the blessing that is hiding past the weight of the cross. An anchor of truth that’s freeing, as it pulls us toward our life’s highest purpose to be made whole, not perfect, through love’s grace that is simply called... Die Punt, The Point.

Palo Mayombe is perhaps best known for its display of human skulls in iron cauldrons and accompanied by necromantic practices that contribute to its eerie reputation of being a cult of antinomian and hateful sorcerers. This murky reputation is from time to time reinforced by uninformed journalists and moviemakers who present Palo Mayombe in similar ways as Vodou has been presented through the glamour and horror of Hollywood. It is the age old fear of the unknown and of powers that threaten the established order that are spawned from the umbra of Palo Mayombe. The cult is marked by ambivalence replicating an intense spectre of tension between all possible contrasts, both spiritual and social. This is evident both in the history of Kongo inspired sorcery and practices as well as the tension between present day practitioners and the spiritual conclaves of the cult. Palo Mayombe can be seen either as a religion in its own right or a Kongo inspired cult. This distinction perhaps depends on the nature of ones munanso (temple) and rama (lineage). Personally, I see Palo Mayombe as a religious cult of Creole Sorcery developed in Cuba. The Kongolese heritage derives from several different and distinct regions in West Africa that over time saw a metamorphosis of land, cultures and religions giving Palo Mayombe a unique expression in its variety, but without losing its distinct nucleus. In the history of Palo Mayombe we find elite families of Kongolese aristocracy that contributed to shaping African history and myth, conflicts between the Kongolese and explorers, with the Trans-Atlantic slave trade being the blood red thread in its development. The name Palo Mayombe is a reference to the forest and nature of the Mayombe district in the upper parts of the deltas of the Kongo River, what used to be the Kingdom of Loango. For the European merchants, whether sent by the Church to convert the people or by a king greedy for land and natural resources, everything south of present day Nigeria to the beginning of the Kalahari was simply Kongo. This un-nuanced perception was caused by the linguistic similarities and of course the prejudice towards these ‘savages’ and their ‘primitive’ cultures. To write a book about Palo Mayombe is a delicate endeavor as such a presentation must be sensitive both to the social as well as the emotional memory inherited by the religion. I also consider it important to be true to the fundamental metaphysical principles of the faith if a truthful presentation of the nature of Palo Mayombe is to be given. The few attempts at presenting Palo Mayombe outside ethnographic and anthropological dissertations have not been very successful. They have been rather fragmented attempts demonstrating a lack of sensitivity not only towards the cult itself, but also its roots. Consequently a poor understanding of Palo Mayombe has been offered, often borrowing ideas and concepts from Santeria and Lucumi to explain what is a quite different spirituality. I am of the opinion that Palo Mayombe should not be explained on the basis of the theological principles of Santeria. Santeria is Yoruba inspired and not Kongo inspired and thus one will often risk imposing concepts on Palo Mayombe that distort a truthful understanding of the cult. To get down to the marrow; Santeria is a Christianized form of a Yoruba inspired faith – something that should make the great differences between Santeria and Palo Mayombe plain. Instead, Santeria is read into Palo Mayombe and the cult ends up being presented at best in a distorted form. I will accordingly refrain from this form of syncretism and rather present Palo Mayombe as a Kongo inspired cult of Creole Sorcery that is quite capable

In Healing the Masculine Soul, Dalbey introduced themes that would animate what soon became a cottage industry of books on Christian masculinity. First and foremost, Dalbey looked to the Vietnam War as the source of masculine identity. The son of a naval officer, Dalbey described how the image of the war hero served as his blueprint for manhood. He’d grown up playing “sandlot soldier” in his white suburban neighborhood, and he’d learned to march in military drills and fire a rifle in his Boy Scout “patrol.” Fascinated with John Wayne’s WWII movies, he imagined war “only as a glorious adventure in manhood.” As he got older, he “passed beyond simply admiring the war hero to desiring a war” in which to demonstrate his manhood. 20 By the time he came of age, however, he’d become sidetracked. Instead of demonstrating his manhood on the battlefields of Vietnam, he became “part of a generation of men who actively rejected our childhood macho image of manhood—which seemed to us the cornerstone of racism, sexism, and militarism.” Exhorted to make love, not war, he became “an enthusiastic supporter of civil rights, women’s liberation, and the antiwar movement,” and he joined the Peace Corps in Africa. But in opting out of the military he would discover that “something required of manhood seemed to have been bypassed, overlooked, even dodged.” Left “confused and frustrated,” Dalbey eventually conceded that “manhood requires the warrior.” 21 Dalbey agreed with Bly that an unbalanced masculinity had led to the nation’s “unbalanced pursuit” of the Vietnam War, but an over-correction had resulted in a different problem: Having rejected war making as a model of masculine strength, men had essentially abdicated that strength to women. As far as Dalbey was concerned, the 1970s offered no viable model of manhood to supplant “the boyhood image in our hearts,” and his generation had ended up rejecting manhood itself. If the warrior spirit was indeed intrinsic to males, then attempts to eliminate the warrior image were “intrinsically emasculating.” Women were “crying out” for men to recover their manly strength, Dalbey insisted. They were begging men to toughen up and take charge, longing for a prince who was strong and bold enough to restore their “authentic femininity.” 22 Unfortunately, the church was part of the problem. Failing to present the true Jesus, it instead depicted him “as a meek and gentle milk-toast character”—a man who never could have inspired “brawny fishermen like Peter to follow him.” It was time to replace this “Sunday school Jesus” with a warrior Jesus. Citing “significant parallels” between serving Christ and serving in the military, Dalbey suggested that a “redeemed image of the warrior” could reinvigorate the church’s ministry to men: “What if we told men up front that to join the church of Jesus Christ is . . . to enlist in God’s army and to place their lives on the line? This approach would be based on the warrior spirit in every man, and so would offer the greatest hope for restoring authentic Christian manhood to the Body of Christ.” Writing before the Gulf War had restored faith in American power and the strength of the military, Dalbey’s preoccupation with Vietnam is understandable, yet the pattern he established would endure long after an easy victory in the latter conflict supposedly brought an end to “Vietnam syndrome.” American evangelicals would continue to be haunted by Vietnam. 23

Africans, you have the permission to celebrate your roots and your heritage again. Go on and heal your bodies with your traditional herbs. And teach your children the secrets of your ancestors. Your ancestors lived well — with little to nothing. They were self-sufficient. Yet, they were the happiest. Embrace the secrets of your traditions again. You're safe and free.

Beloved Africans, you were once the victims of the past. But no longer. Today you're free and enriched with resources to maintain yourselves. Let the victim mentality go. And embrace your survivor status. Be wise and be resourceful.

My passion for social justice and uplifting people also serves as my inspiration.

I AM BLACK Not because I'm born in Africa but because Africa is born in me. I'm black not because of choice nor decision but because it is my birth right You see black is not just a skin color Black is a survivor,black is a hard worker, black is a family man,black is the most kindest human being ,black is a pure soul filled with love,joy, happiness, compassion ,kindness, understanding of others, selflessness and humbleness Black is not and should not be the person you are afraid of Black is not and should not be the person you feel like making a mockery of everyday because of the color of their skin Black is not and should not be treated like an outsider, like a stray dog with no home,no family ,no future and no hope. Black is authenticity,black is my identity and being hopeful is our treasured ability.

If one of us is unwell, then none of us is well.

Tana Africa focuses its efforts on food, beverages and personal care, fast-moving consumer goods, retail and education, and will also consider select opportunities in healthcare, consumer financial services, media, logistics and agriculture. ‘We are Africans, and we would like to invest in Africa,’ says Nicky. ‘So we are busy looking for things to do.

What we share is more powerful than what divides us.

Our culinary memory is short and we live in a very different food world now. Chances are you won’t remember the late nineties as a time when restaurants were basically inaccessible to most Americans, but it was. Our dining culture was, by and large, bifurcated. On one side, you had prohibitively expensive, mostly French-inspired restaurants with excellent service and comfortable dining rooms. On the other, there were far more affordable options serving the cuisines of Asia, Africa, and Latin America in humble settings—a genre that’s been lumped together as “ethnic food” since the 1960s. But as delicious as those places could be, they were usually locked into the traditions and time periods from which their immigrant proprietors first came. There really wasn’t a place where you could find something in between: innovative cuisine that was neither married to France nor fixed to the recipes of the motherland, made with high-quality ingredients, and available for, say, twenty bucks. I could tell that race played a major role in America’s slow uptake on this concept, which only made it more personal for me.* 9

American intelligence knew little about Iraq, and much of what it knew was wrong. The CIA didn’t begin to imagine that Saddam could be overthrown and then operate from underground, nor did it foresee the insurgency that followed, and the ripple effect of that fighting, inspiring jihadists across the Middle East and North Africa. The consequences of that ignorance have been immense. Roughly half a million people have died, including fifteen thousand American combatants and contractors, in the name of the war on terror. Estimates of the financial toll run from $3 trillion to $6 trillion; in today’s dollars, World War II cost about $4 trillion. And in Iraq, the only winners of the war have been Iran, whose military commanders gained political power and prestige in Baghdad while working with jihadists to kill American troops, and Russia, which has forged a regional alliance of convenience with the Iranians.

Africans must realize that it is time to be fruitful and multiply. 

Environmentalists were right to be inspired by marine biologist Rachel Carson’s book on pesticides, Silent Spring, but wrong to place DDT in the category of Absolute Evil (which she did not). Most of her scientific assessments proved right, some didn’t—such as her view that DDT causes cancer. In an excess of zeal that Carson did not live to moderate, DDT was banned worldwide, and malaria took off in Africa.

As the tide fell, the footsteps emerge. The footsteps of a family walking on the beach of what is now a small village in eastern England, Happisburgh. Five sets of footprints. Probably a male and four children, dating from between 950,000 and 850,000 years before the present. These, discovered in 2013, are the oldest family footprints ever found. They are not the first: even older footprints have been found in Africa, where the human story started. But these are the oldest traces of a family. And they are the inspiration for this history of the world.

I am a proud African, no matter what other nationality I may possess. I am a product of Africa, and I will never apologize to anyone for that. Like me or not, that's your problem. I stand tall in the richness of my heritage, embracing the diversity that makes me who I am. My roots are my strength, and I celebrate the beauty of being authentically myself, unapologetically African.

One of my biggest worries is that youth grow in discomfort and insecurity, which stops them from truly dreaming freely. society, religion, and family should be the source of support, not the horror.

Collective strength is the force to make the impossible happen. Sacrifices contributed to the creation of our current world and it is the mission of some of us to take leadership and work for others.

The BDS movement, which was inspired by South Africa’s anti-apartheid movement, was formally launched in 2005 by 170 Palestinian grassroots and civil society groups. The aim is to put political and economic pressure on Israel to respect Palestinian rights and comply with international law. The three goals of the BDS movement are to end Israel’s military rule over the Palestinian land it occupied in 1967, full equality for the Palestinian citizens of Israel, and the right of return for Palestinian refugees who were driven out of their homes in 1948.

Magic is happiness and happiness is vast quantities of quality hemp oil. It's good for the mind, the body, the skin, and the sex drive. Happiness is hemp oil and Reece's Pieces ice-cream drizzled with melted Nutella followed by so much masturbation that you pass out pronto.

The relationship became so close by the mid-1970s that Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin invited South African Prime Minister John Vorster to visit, including a tour of Yad Vashem, the country’s Holocaust memorial in Jerusalem. Vorster had been a Nazi sympathizer and member of the fascist Afrikaner group Ossewabrandwag during World War II. In 1942, he proudly expressed his admiration for Nazi Germany. Yet when Vorster arrived in Israel in 1976, he was feted by Rabin at a state dinner. Rabin toasted “the ideals shared by Israel and South Africa: the hopes for justice and peaceful coexistence.” Both nations faced “foreign-inspired instability and recklessness.” A few months after Vorster’s visit, the South African government yearbook explained that both states were facing the same challenge: “Israel and South Africa have one thing above all else in common: they are both situated in a predominantly hostile world inhabited by dark peoples.”6 The relationship between the nations was broad but also sworn to secrecy. In April 1975, a security agreement was signed that defined the relationship for the next twenty years. A clause within the deal stated that both parties pledged to keep its existence concealed.

Africa Is Not Only My Homeland, But My Heaven As Well

We can be free only through the application of reason, valuing our togetherness and cultivating our minds to find inspiration in everything that we undertake.

Among other experiments which I was about to try in Africa was that of a good watch-dog on any unmannerly people who would insist upon coming into my tent at untimely hours and endangering valuables. Especially did I wish to try the effect of its bark on the mighty Wagogo, who, I was told by certain Arabs, would lift the door of the tent and enter whether you wished them or not; who would chuckle at the fear they inspired, and say to you, "Hi, hi, white man, I never saw the like of you before; are there many more like you? where do you come from?" Also would they take hold of your watch and ask you with a cheerful curiosity, "What is this for, white man?" to which you of course would reply that it was to tell you the hour and minute. But the Mgogo, proud of his prowess, and more unmannerly than a brute, would answer you with a snort of insult. I thought of a watch-dog, and procured a good one at Bombay not only as a faithful companion, but to threaten the heels of just such gentry.

The Jim Crow South and genocidal warfare against Indians would inspire the Nazis in Germany, as well as the apartheid state of South Africa.14

Africans have always shown skin. In Africa, the Sun forms part our attire. We don't hide from the Sun, we wear it. To wear something is to have your skin exposed to it. Showing skin, in the context of the African culture, has nothing to do with sexual connotations.

Africa Must Transform From The Era Of "Yes To Everything" To An Era Of "Why To Everything" Why To Religion? Education? Democracy? WHY....?

Every 60 seconds, a mitochondria becomes the powerhouse of Africa.

The Enemies Of Africa Are Africans, But The Worst Enemies Of Africa Are The Financiers Of African Enemies.

To everyone who is representing our country well out there. Whether it is in sports, music, art, behavior ,manners, morals, marriage , relationship, job or business, foreigners or tourist. Thank you for flying our flag high. No DNA just RSA , Because of people like you. We are proud of our country

Preamble The Klassik Era was a cultural and musical revolution that swept through Kenya and East Africa in the early 2010s. It was a time of bold experimentation, fearless expression, and unapologetic individuality that challenged the norms of mainstream music and culture. For the first time, young people from the ghettos and slums of Nairobi, Mombasa, and Kisumu could see themselves represented and celebrated in the music and arts scene, and their voices and stories were given a platform like never before. The Klassik Era was characterized by a fusion of different musical genres and styles, from hip-hop and reggae to dancehall and afro-pop, to create a sound that was uniquely Kenyan and African. It was a time when young artists and producers like Blame It On Don (DON SANTO), Kingpheezle, Jilly Beatz, Tonnie Tosh, Kenny Rush, and many others came together under Klassik Nation, a record label that would change the face of Kenyan music forever. The Klassik Era was also marked by a sense of community and camaraderie, with young people from all walks of life coming together to support each other's art and creativity. It was a time when collaborations and features were the norm, and when artists and producers worked together to create something new and exciting. But the Klassik Era was not without its challenges and controversies. It was a time when the Kenyan music industry was dominated by a few powerful players who controlled the airwaves and the mainstream narrative, and who were resistant to change and innovation. It was a time when artists and producers had to fight tooth and nail to get their music played on the radio and to gain recognition and respect from their peers. Despite these challenges, the Klassik Era left an indelible mark on the Kenyan music industry and on the cultural landscape of Africa. It was a time of creativity, passion, and rebellion that inspired a generation of young people to dream big and to believe that anything was possible. This book is a tribute to that era and to the artists and producers who made it all possible.

My sense of South Africa is that whenever we have a problem we’ve got to go to the brink before we sort it out. Why do we have to fuck this place up before we fix it? Let’s start building now with what we have instead of breaking it first.

You can only become truly accomplished at something you love. Don’t make money your goal. Instead, pursue the things you love doing, and then do them so well that people can’t take their eyes off you.” —Maya Angelou

the

When they think about Africa, they think about War, Poverty, Hunger and Diseases.

On the plane ride to Ethiopia, doubts had plagued my thoughts. What are you doing leaving your children for two weeks? Why go all the way to Africa to help the poor? Why you? For this exact moment, answered a voice in my spirit. I crossed the room, held her hand, and, bending near, whispered life-giving Scripture. In that moment love was as elemental to life as breath. Love is extending my hand, sharing a prayer, and, sometimes, leaving all I’ve ever known to find what I truly have to give.

The beetle, endemic to Africa’s Namib desert—where there is just 1.3 cm of rainfall a year—has inspired a few proof-of-concepts in the academic community, but this is the first time a self-filling water bottle has been proposed. The beetle survives by collecting condensation from the ocean breeze on the hardened shell of its wings. The shell is covered in tiny bumps that are water attracting (hydrophilic) at their tips and water-repelling (hydrophobic) at their sides. The beetle extends and aims the wings at incoming sea breezes to catch humid air; tiny droplets 15 to 20 microns in diameter eventually accumulate on its back and run straight down towards its mouth. NBD

They sang that song which distills all the suffering and the hope of Africa; that song which had inspired and comforted so many, “Nkosi Sikeleli Afrika,” God Bless Africa, give her life, watch over her children.

The time is always right to create the life you want.

With the first rays of dawn coming from a huge orange sun, rising out of the Indian Ocean from the East, the Dominion Monarch passed the Durban bluffs and entered the protected harbor. A police boat escorted the ship in and stood by as it was secured. Everybody crowded close to the railings and looked down onto the concrete dock. From the ship you could see that there were police cars blocking the entry to the wharf area and it became quite apparent that something was amiss. The reason was soon made clear when the loudspeakers announced that before clearing the ship, everyone on board would be required to get a smallpox vaccination or present their international immunization card, to verify that they were in compliance. There had been an outbreak of smallpox and yellow fever throughout Africa especially in the Cape Province and in tribal areas. During the previous year, nearby Northern Rhodesia had reported several thousand cases of these diseases. The police boat lay in wait, until every last one of the passengers was immunized. It took hours, however everyone was happy when the health officials finally came aboard to do the vaccinating. Finally the announcement came that the ship was cleared so that we could go ashore. Not until then did the band strike up and play “God Save the King.

Known as “Leni,” Helene Bertha Amalie Riefenstahl was born on August 22, 1902. During the Third Reich she was known throughout Germany as a close friend and confidant of the Adolf Hitler. Recognized as a strong swimmer and talented artist, she studied dancing as a child and performed across Europe until an injury ended her dancing career. During the 1920’s Riefenstahl was inspired to become an actress and starred in five motion pictures produced in Germany. By 1932 she directed her own film “Das Blaue Licht.” With the advent of the Hitler era she directed “Triumph des Willens” anf “Olympia” which became recognized as the most innovative and effective propaganda films ever made. Many people who knew of her relationship with Hitler insisted that they had an affair, although she persistently denied this. However, her relationship with Adolf Hitler tarnished her reputation and haunted her after the war. She was arrested and charged with being a Nazi sympathizer, but it was never proven that she was involved with any war crimes. Convinced that she had been infatuated and involved with the Führer, her reputation and career became totally destroyed. Her former friends shunned her and her brother, who was her last remaining relative, was killed in action on the “Eastern Front.” Seeing a bleak future “Leni” Riefenstahl left Germany, to live amongst the Nuba people in Africa. During this time Riefenstahl met and began a close friendship with Horst Kettner, who assisted her with her acknowledged brilliant photography. They became an item from the time she was 60 years old and he was 20. Together they wrote and produced photo books about the Nuba tribes and later filmed marine life. At that time she was one of the world's oldest scuba divers and underwater photographer. Leni Riefenstahl died of cancer on September 8, 2003 at her home in Pöcking, Germany and was laid to rest at the Munich Waldfriedhof.

The inspiration for "Cornflake Girl" came from a conversation she was having with a longtime friend about female genital mutilation in Africa, specifically how a close female family member would betray the victim by performing the procedure. Tori has said that growing up, the name they gave to girls who would hurt you despite close friendship was cornflake girls

ORIGIN OF CONCENTRATION CAMPS When Namibia won its independence in 1990, the main avenue of the capital city still bore the name Göring. Not for Hermann, the Nazi, but in honor of his father, Heinrich Göring, one of the perpetrators of the first genocide of the twentieth century. That Göring, who represented the German Empire in the southwest corner of Africa, kindly approved in 1904 an annihilation order given by General Lothar von Trotta. The Hereros, black shepherds, had risen up in rebellion. The colonial authorities expelled them all and warned that any Herero found in Namibia, man, woman, or child, armed or unarmed, would be killed. Of every four Hereros, three were killed, by cannon fire or the desert sun. The survivors of the butchery ended up in concentration camps set up by Göring. And Chancellor Bernhard von Bülow pronounced for the very first time the word “Konzentrationslager.” The camps, inspired by a British forerunner in South Africa, combined confinement, forced labor, and scientific experimentation. The prisoners, emaciated from a life in the gold and diamond mines, served as human guinea pigs for research into inferior races. In those laboratories worked Theodor Mollison and Eugen Fischer, who later became the teachers of Josef Mengele. Mengele carried forth their work as of 1933, the year that Göring the son set up the first concentration camps in Germany, following the model his father pioneered in Africa.

It was a glorious experience to travel by rail for the children and the panoramic views of Africa through the big glass window in the back of the last car were beyond description. It was just as you would expect it to be as described in a vintage National Geographic magazine, with springbok and other wild animals abounding. The distance is approximately the same as from New York to Chicago and took an overnight. Adeline and Lucia talked late into the night as the children tried to hear what was being said. There was a lot of catching up to do, but it had been a long and exhausting day and the next thing they all knew, was that it was the following morning and the train was approaching Cape Town, affectionately known as the “Tavern of the Seas.” When the train finally came to a halt, after being switched from one track to another through the extensive rail yards, the realization sank in that this was their new life. Kaapstad, Cape Town in Afrikaans, would be their new home and German, the language they had spoken until now, was history. A new family came to meet them and helped carry their luggage to waiting cars. All of these strange people speaking strange languages were uncles, aunts and nephews. An attractive elderly woman who spoke a language very similar to German, but definitely not the same, was the children’s new Ouma. However, to avoid confusion she was to be addressed as Granny. She lived in a Dutch gabled house called “Kismet” located in a beautiful suburb known as “Rosebank.” This would be their home until Adeline could find a place where they could settle in and start their new life.

As the years go by and I grow older, I feel compelled to record my experiences in wartime Germany. It is important that my children, grandchildren and future generations know about the difficult times we all endured and of the horrors that existed in Nazi Germany during the Second World War. Due to my advanced age and present condition, I am aware of the urgency to document my memories. If I fail in this, I will fail those who follow me, for they will never know!” Adeline Perry This book had its origin many years ago when Adeline Perry tried to recount her experiences and found that she would become overcome by her emotions every time she tried. The horrors and trials that she had experienced, plus the responsibility of raising her two daughters proved to be overwhelming. It was not until the twilight of her life when her daughters gently persuaded her to try again so that future generations might hear and perhaps learn from her experiences. In fact a good portion of these manuscripts were written while she was in the care of Hospice and only now survive because of immense personal strength and devotion to her family and the desire that what had happened to her would never happen again. Her daughter, and my wife, Ursula can take a great deal of pride in the effort it took to make these manuscripts a reality. After Adeline’s passing I had the privilege to develop the book Suppressed I Rise. Staying true to her story I gave her the authorship of the first edition of this book, which adhered to, and did not exceed what she had left in her original manuscripts. This book which was printed in limited numbers became an instant success and deserved more exposure. Readers also felt that there were questions that went unanswered requiring a follow-up. How did Adeline justify going to Germany prior to World War II? What happened to her marriage to Richard and how did she resume her own life, as a single mother, when she returned to South Africa! With additional reflections by her daughters Brigitte Grigsby and Ursula Bracker, and travel to the areas discussed in Suppressed I Rise, I expanded the book to include the prewar years. I also corrected minor contradictions and factual discrepancies that were inadvertently caused by the passage of time. Talking to people in Germany I confirmed some of what had happened including the hanging of the Russian prisoner of war. The book has now become a powerful example of not only personal courage but also of human tragedy. It is a book that I am proud to have written and share in the concept that it was a story that had to be told.

Passion is the fire to all great things.

Speke

Unity without a conquering spirit yeilds  failure; only those who posses a conquering  spirit will prevail.

Palo Mayombe is perhaps best known for its display of human skulls in iron cauldrons and accompanied by necromantic practices that contribute to its eerie reputation of being a cult of antinomian and hateful sorcerers. This murky reputation is from time to time reinforced by uninformed journalists and moviemakers who present Palo Mayombe in similar ways as Vodou has been presented through the glamour and horror of Hollywood. It is the age old fear of the unknown and of powers that threaten the established order that are spawned from the umbra of Palo Mayombe. The cult is marked by ambivalence replicating an intense spectre of tension between all possible contrasts, both spiritual and social. This is evident both in the history of Kongo inspired sorcery and practices as well as the tension between present day practitioners and the spiritual conclaves of the cult. Palo Mayombe can be seen either as a religion in its own right or a Kongo inspired cult. This distinction perhaps depends on the nature of ones munanso (temple) and rama (lineage). Personally, I see Palo Mayombe as a religious cult of Creole Sorcery developed in Cuba. The Kongolese heritage derives from several different and distinct regions in West Africa that over time saw a metamorphosis of land, cultures and religions giving Palo Mayombe a unique expression in its variety, but without losing its distinct nucleus. In the history of Palo Mayombe we find elite families of Kongolese aristocracy that contributed to shaping African history and myth, conflicts between the Kongolese and explorers, with the Trans-Atlantic slave trade being the blood red thread in its development.

Here is why the wellbeing economy comes at the right time. At the international level there have been some openings, which can be exploited to turn the wellbeing economy into a political roadmap. The first was the ratification of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) in 2015. The SDGs are a loose list of 17 goals, ranging from good health and personal wellbeing to sustainable cities and communities as well as responsible production and consumption. They are a bit scattered and inconsistent, like most outcomes of international negotiations, but they at least open up space for policy reforms. For the first time in more than a century, the international community has accepted that the simple pursuit of growth presents serious problems. Even when it comes at high speed, its quality is often debatable, producing social inequalities, lack of decent work, environmental destruction, climate change and conflict. Through the SDGs, the UN is calling for a different approach to progress and prosperity. This was made clear in a 2012 speech by Secretary General Ban Ki-moon, who explicitly connected the three pillars of sustainable development: ‘Social, economic and environmental wellbeing are indivisible.’82 Unlike in the previous century, we now have a host of instruments and indicators that can help politicians devise different policies and monitor results and impacts throughout society. Even in South Africa, a country still plagued by centuries of oppression, colonialism, extractive economic systems and rampant inequality, the debate is shifting. The country’s new National Development Plan has been widely criticised because of the neoliberal character of the main chapters on economic development. Like the SDGs, it was the outcome of negotiations and bargaining, which resulted in inconsistencies and vagueness. Yet, its opening ‘vision statement’ is inspired by a radical approach to transformation. What should South Africa look like in 2030? The language is uplifting: We feel loved, respected and cared for at home, in community and the public institutions we have created. We feel understood. We feel needed. We feel trustful … We learn together. We talk to each other. We share our work … I have a space that I can call my own. This space I share. This space I cherish with others. I maintain it with others. I am not self-sufficient alone. We are self-sufficient in community … We are studious. We are gardeners. We feel a call to serve. We make things. Out of our homes we create objects of value … We are connected by the sounds we hear, the sights we see, the scents we smell, the objects we touch, the food we eat, the liquids we drink, the thoughts we think, the emotions we feel, the dreams we imagine. We are a web of relationships, fashioned in a web of histories, the stories of our lives inescapably shaped by stories of others … The welfare of each of us is the welfare of all … Our land is our home. We sweep and keep clean our yard. We travel through it. We enjoy its varied climate, landscape, and vegetation … We live and work in it, on it with care, preserving it for future generations. We discover it all the time. As it gives life to us, we honour the life in it.83 I could have not found better words to describe the wellbeing economy: caring, sharing, compassion, love for place, human relationships and a profound appreciation of what nature does for us every day. This statement gives us an idea of sufficiency that is not about individualism, but integration; an approach to prosperity that is founded on collaboration rather than competition. Nowhere does the text mention growth. There’s no reference to scale; no pompous images of imposing infrastructure, bridges, stadiums, skyscrapers and multi-lane highways. We make the things we need. We, as people, become producers of our own destiny. The future is not about wealth accumulation, massive

It is equally important to be cognisant of building a healthy relationship out of bipartisanship that excludes unilateral interests; but rather embrases common interests that shape the blueprint of your virtues.

Principled leadership that embraces the fundamental need to aid in the successful development of a society, consequently cultivates a path of greatness to be followed.

Social wars of a society should aim to reinstate a dignified life where love can thrive; not to create a future bound by immense discord.

Far gone are the escapades of open disparage, it is the dawn of courageous hopeful hearts.

Change is not only a topic of discussion, transformative change is effected through action.

If not as a true human, let me tell you as a Biologist, color of the skin does not define an individual’s intelligence – it does not define an individual’s ambitions - it does not define an individual’s dreams – and above all, it does not define an individual’s character.

We came from different backgrounds; he was white from privileged class in America, and I black from a village in Africa, but he was kind generous, and he reached out to this young poor black boy. He changed the odds against me. Our friendship rose above race.

In a 5 November leader article the West African Pilot vented its anger at Churchill’s words in the Commons: ‘That a British prime Minister could utter such a statement during an unparalleled destructive war which has cost Colonial peoples their material resources and manpower is, indeed, a revelation. What, now, must we expect our fate to be after the war?’120 Nnamdi ‘Zik’ Azikiwe, the editor of this pioneering Nigerian nationalist newspaper, also cabled Churchill requesting clarification of the discrepancy between Attlee’s statement and Churchill’s. Did the Charter apply to West Africa or not? Churchill gave instructions for a reply, which, echoing his Commons statement, claimed that the government’s Empire policy was ‘already entirely in harmony with the high conceptions of freedom and justice which inspired the joint declaration [i.e. the Atlantic Charter]’. Therefore, no fresh statement of policy on Africa was required.121 But his efforts were to no avail. In 1943 Zik travelled with a delegation to Britain and used the Charter as the basis for a demand for a timescale for complete independence.

the deficiency of the negro race is not as a result of the deluge number of bad leaders;rather, its is an outcome of the shortage of young negro intellect ready to lead a revolutionary africa.

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.” —John Green

In all, Nigeria belongs to us all and we have a personal responsibility to see that it succeeds

Nelson Mandela so much believed in education-because he knew it lead us (social free)to political views different from the ones he implemented.

When I was young, I knew that, somehow, I would go to Africa and live with animals. And I wanted to write books about them. I don't think I spent too much time wondering exactly how I would do it. I just felt sure the right opportunity would somehow come. I didn't feel frustrated because I could not immediately get to the wild places. Partly this was because I knew I could never go on a reallt long trip while Rusty was still alive. It would have seemed like a betrayal. And while I waited I went on learning.

Osama bin Laden drew inspiration from Hezbollah’s dual suicide attacks against the multinational forces in Beirut in 1983. Al Qaeda’s first simultaneous suicide attacks on two U.S. embassies in eastern Africa on August 7, 1998, were directly modeled on Hezbollah’s 1983 attacks. Al Qaeda’s coordinated suicide missions expanded the model three years later for four simultaneous airplane hijackings on September 11, 2001. The nineteen Islamic jihadists, who were armed only with box cutters, successfully hijacked four commercial planes to carry out their suicide mission. Their bravado spoke for itself in that they didn’t even bother to have a backup plan.

Everybody must be given the opportunity for self liberation and development.

Life isn’t about having, it’s about being. You could surround yourself with all that money can buy, and you’d still be as miserable as a human can be. I know people with perfect bodies who don’t have half the happiness I’ve found. On my journeys I’ve seen more joy in the slums of Mumbai and the orphanages of Africa than in wealthy gated communities and on sprawling estates worth millions. Why is that? You’ll find contentment when your talents and passion are completely engaged, in full force. Recognize instant self-gratification for what it is. Resist the temptation to grab for material objects like the perfect house, the coolest clothes, or the hottest car. The if I just had X, I would be happy syndrome is a mass delusion. When you look for happiness in mere objects, they are never enough. Look around. Look within.

Peter Allison is a safari guide who has spent much of the last twelve years leading wildlife-viewing and ecotourism trips in Africa, mostly Botswana. His love of animals led him to train as a safari guide in the early 1990s and soon thereafter he was hired by southern Africa’s largest operator to train all of their safari experts. Safaris he has led have been featured in magazines such as Vogue and Condé Nast Traveler. He has assisted National Geographic photographers and appeared on television shows such as Jack Hanna’s Animal Adventures. Peter is also active with the Athena Foundation, a nonprofit conservation group. He is on the board of the Athena Foundation’s youth program, whose mission is to inspire young people to develop their interest in conservation. Originally born and raised in Sydney, Australia, he currently divides his time between Australia, California, and Botswana.

The African Challenge - We must end conflict in Africa. We must lead to allow the Africans to enjoy the benefits from their natural resources. We must end poverty in Africa. Every African must be educated, have access to health care and a fair chance to fulfil their dream. Preventable sickness and disease must not reduce life expectancy or rob pregnant women of a chance to continue living. Africa must develop. Africa must not depend on foreign aid. Africa must be united and governed more effectively. Africa must customize her leadership culture and philosophy in a way that gives her global relevance and respect but still remain true and authentic to herself. Will you accept the challenge? Will you be that Africa?

Just imagine the strides Africa would have made if all the resources being channeled towards conflict resolution were going into construction of power generation plants and irrigation capacity. Can’t we promote our own peace? What are we doing to seriously focus on other eco-friendly energy sources like wind and solar?

LIMITATIONS: Don’t Believe in the Impossible A man was on vacation in Africa. One day, he watched an old African  man tying a giant elephant to a small wooden stake. The other side of the rope was tied to the front leg of the elephant.  To his great surprise, he noticed that the giant elephant waited patiently and did not attempt to move or run away, even though he was big enough to pull out the stake at  any moment. Later that day, he asked an elephant trainer how such a big elephant would not make an attempt to break free. The trainer explained, “When the elephants are very young, we use the same size rope to tie them to a small wooden stake. At their age, this stake is enough to hold them. As they grow up and get stronger, they never try to escape, as they continue to believe that that little stake will still hold them. The man was stunned. These would not try to break free because they believed it was impossible.

Which is where the next ambitious ALG project comes in: African Leadership Unleashed, or ALU. Led by Fred Swaniker, ALU is a plan to establish a network of 25 universities across the continent by the end of the decade—Africa’s Ivy League—each of which will have 10,000 students. The first ALU has already opened in Mauritius. The idea is to apply the exact same boutique model of the African Leadership Academy to tertiary education. Once the 25 colleges are built and running, it will mean that every four years 250,000 young Africans trained in business, government, ethics, social policy, medicine and the arts will be entering the workforce. Among them will be the new generation of Africa’s leaders. Says Swaniker, “Hundreds of thousands of university graduates on the continent today are not equipped with the skills to lead change. About 45 percent of university graduates in Africa today are unemployed. This is a tragedy. I want to change this by applying ALA’s model in a tertiary space to provide the critical skills and leadership experience necessary for success.” Swaniker announced the project in a powerful talk at TEDGlobal 2014 in Rio de Janeiro titled “The Leaders Who Ruined Africa, and the Generation Who Can Fix It.” The talk has been downloaded over 1 million times and is a powerful and inspiring manifesto for this, the African Century.

Mara Foundation is the nonprofit side of Mara’s business, a social enterprise focused on emerging entrepreneurs. We have myriad programs designed to address the complete life cycle of an entrepreneur’s business idea, from start-up advice right through to venture capital. My sister Rona, the foundation director, has been a dynamic force in ongoing advocacy for youth and women in business. Always someone with a keen eye for detail, she has secured partnerships for the Foundation with Ernst & Young to nurture and develop small and medium entrepreneurs (SMEs) in Africa and with UN Women, whose UN Women’s Knowledge Gateway for Women’s Economic Empowerment has operations in 80 countries. A spin-off of this is a program called Mara Mentor—tagline: Enable, Empower and Inspire—an online community that connects budding entrepreneurs with experienced and inspiring business leaders around the world.

(courtesy Travel Africa magazine) sums up the feeling rather well –: “Surely everyone who has had the honour of setting foot on African soil understands how difficult it is to answer the question: “Why Africa?” I’ve often found it impossible to do Africa justice in words. In the past I’ve felt that my answers never conveyed the joy I feel when I hear the word Africa, see a glimpse of her on television, or hear African people talking in the street. My answers are most often unsatisfying and frequently leave my audience unconvinced. But of late I’ve found a much simpler way to explain it. Africa is a feeling. Africa is an emotion. Of course it is much more detailed than that, but also just as simple. Africa is the awe-inspiring landscapes, the beauty in the people, the wild creatures that inhabit the land and the seas, and it’s the speed in which the sun leaves in the evening and comes again in the morning. The feeling of Africa waking up is indescribable, dramatic and incomparable. Africa seems to breathe life, into itself and into all things. And death. And the cycles in between. Africa is the longed-for lover, the oft-missed friend, and the trusted elder. Africa is all of these things but maybe none of them. Africa affects us in a deep, personal, individual way. It comes to us in an instant, inhabits our being, and never leaves. I long for Africa. I miss it every day. It embodies all that I believe about life, space and freedom, even though such things are often scarce commodities on the ground. Africa is a memory, a constant presence and is all future possibilities. Africa is old and wise, new and dynamic, and I will be there again.” Enough said...

Every child must be taught how to think, read and write.

The feeling, all encompassing, safe and warm like a blanket permanently draped over her shoulders, follows her around. She takes it into the shower, to meals with her mother and sister, to work as she reads out the news script, her voice never faltering.

After Steve’s death I received letters of condolence from people all over the world. I would like to thank everyone who sent such thoughtful sympathy. Your kind words and support gave me the strength to write this book and so much more. Carolyn Male is one of those dear people who expressed her thoughts and feelings after we lost Steve. It was incredibly touching and special, and I wanted to express my appreciation and gratitude. I’m happy to share it with you. It is with a still-heavy heart that I rise this evening to speak about the life and death of one of the greatest conservationists of our time: Steve Irwin. Many people describe Steve Irwin as a larrikin, inspirational, spontaneous. For me, the best way I can describe Steve Irwin is formidable. He would stand and fight, and was not to be defeated when it came to looking after our environment. When he wanted to get things done--whether that meant his expansion plans for the zoo, providing aid for animals affected by the tsunami and the cyclones, organizing scientific research, or buying land to conserve its environmental and habitat values--he just did it, and woe betide anyone who stood in his way. I am not sure I have ever met anyone else who was so determined to get the conservation message out across the globe, and I believe he achieved his aim. What I admired most about him was that he lived the conservation message every day of his life. Steve’s parents, Bob and Lyn, passed on their love of the Australian bush and their passion for rescuing and rehabilitating wildlife. Steve took their passion and turned it into a worldwide crusade. The founding of Wildlife Warriors Worldwide in 2002 provided Steve and Terri with another vehicle to raise awareness of conservation by allowing individuals to become personally involved in protecting injured, threatened, or endangered wildlife. It also has generated a working fund that helps with the wildlife hospital on the zoo premises and supports work with endangered species in Asia and Africa. Research was always high on Steve’s agenda, and his work has enabled a far greater understanding of crocodile behavior, population, and movement patterns. Working with the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service and the University of Queensland, Steve was an integral part of the world’s first Crocs in Space research program. His work will live on and inform us for many, many years to come. Our hearts go out to his family and the Australia Zoo family. It must be difficult to work at the zoo every day with his larger-than-life persona still very much evident. Everyone must still be waiting for him to walk through the gate. His presence is everywhere, and I hope it lives on in the hearts and minds of generations of wildlife warriors to come. We have lost a great man in Steve Irwin. It is a great loss to the conservation movement. My heart and the hearts of everyone here goes out to his family. Carolyn Male, Member for Glass House, Queensland, Australia October 11, 2006

Society came first. But these religions come with a complete manual to change your entire lifestyle. Thus giving you a new identity. You can live in Africa, but still behave like a Roman.

We followed him to a covered veranda. In America, we would call that a lemonade porch, however, in South Africa, they call it a stoep. A meeting place located outside the front of the home where friends and family can gather, and one can watch the rising or the setting of the sun in the cozy spot simply called a stoep. The stoep projected a natural ambience of peace and harmony, as a light breeze filled the space with its woodsy fragrance of pine and other natural fragrances inspired by the area’s shrubbery. It almost felt like it was hypnotizing one into a deeper state of tranquility, a state of existence that celebrated the quiet pockets of solitude where a richer from of living is housed. It made one slouch a little more meaningfully and relax the muscles of your body a little more conscientiously, as you let go of one’s innate need to think – to think to the point of hyper focusing on the meaningless details of life, for example, the incessant need to make every moment in life count… Yet, the stoep’s lesson of deeper living is simply the gift of becoming reacquainted with the joy of just being – open yet connected to now, without a higher purpose beyond that. Sometimes, the greatest gift that we can give ourselves is just to sit in the rawness of the moment without any outcome or intention in mind – except, to breathe in the life of the area around us. That is where my afternoon’s lesson ended, knowing that a stoep is a space where quality of human connection is made with or without the presence of any audience because it’s that space that celebrates the stillness of nothing and yet everything simultaneously, or in the words of Rumi: “In order to understand the dance, one must be still. And in order to truly understand the stillness, one must dance.” In South Africa that concept is lovingly called…Die Stoep, a space of possibility.

Our soul is a lot like the African elephant’s memory. Our soul intuitively remembers where it has buried the richest part of our life’s story even in the future chapters that haven’t been written yet by the light of our awareness. The soul knows. It remembers. It never forgets. The process of remembering becomes a lesson for us in the power of surrendering our limited perspective that only see what’s in front of us, and what we think may be waiting for us in some future moment. However, our soul sees deep into the distance of some future horizon of a time period that is waiting on the gift of time to mature to its fullness, to blossom on its own – outside of our own expectations and envisioned dreams because it is all part of our life’s predetermined story; a script carved in infinite time. That process of remembering becomes a lesson in the divine gift of believing, believing that the next moment is there waiting on us because our soul has already visited this path before, yet the lesson in it for us is that any future moment remains always just out of our reach, as we entrust our soul’s strength of memory to guide us on blind faith and firm footing to where our story needs to go to encourage our highest learning potential. We will thus forever be known by the tracks that we refollow when we follow the memory of our soul’s original path left on the dust of time. A lesson inspired by the mighty African elephant in what it means to surrender to life...

Hebrews 11:8, NASB, says, “By faith Abraham, when he was called, obeyed by going out to a place which he was to receive for an inheritance; and he went out, not knowing where he was going.” I sure do not know what I’m going to do here this semester or in Togo, but I do know that God knows what He is doing—so my attitude must be to trust God entirely. I’m glad He doesn’t let us know what He has planned next; He just continues to reveal who He is. Some days I feel alone here, but being alone with God isn’t bad either. My solitude with Him has been special. --Shirley Cropsey, January 13, 1982

Veld, that space within most South African hearts that mirrors the open expanse of land where the greatness of life resides in the vastness of grasslands captured in the imaginations of wanderers and adventurer seekers alike when we stop our overthinking and optimize our ability to enjoy life’s unscripted moments that are wide-open and usually – right in front of us. Veld, a word for the miracle of newness and the appreciation for the life that is waiting to be lived, one grass blade at a time, and a lesson for humans in appreciating the fullness of life’s abundance when we slowdown the pace of our own world to absorb the miracles happening all around us – at any given moment. Veld, although this word literally means an open expanse, that is what life around us is truly about – an open expanse of miracles just waiting on us for our sense to mature… The magic of South Africa, a spell that will leave your heart as open as the veld and the expanse beyond that. A lesson in feeling small…

GIVING A VOICE “Julian Starks compassionately depicts animals who can only dream of the life they may have had if not for the thoughtless and cruel behavior of humans. We hope his beautiful images will inspire people to get active in whatever ways they can to help wildlife, from boycotting circuses with animal acts to refusing to have their photos taken with tiger cubs while on vacation. From talented photographers like Julian who document animals' plight to families who take the time to educate themselves before they buy that ticket, we can all make a difference for animals.

The Expatriate Town Clerk. How does a young man with a debilitating stammer, a harsh background of broken relationships and no qualifications make his way in this world? The inspiring and often humorous course of Ron's life provides surprising answers, moving through numerous twists and turns to the improbable international development role as Town Clerk of Lilongwe, Malawi's capital city in the heart of Africa. Running away to join the army as a teenager and subsequent deployment in Aden is followed by determined, systematic pursuit of education. All this time signs of the loss of innocence and sexual awakening appear as character is forged. After posts in the UK, adjustment to African ways proves a challenge, not least the chaotic lack of administrative structure and the snootiness of the British expatriate set. Yet new friendships and a sense of professional purpose combine to add fulfilment to the unfolding African adventure.

Mohandas K. Gandhi went to South Africa and saw oppression there. Suddenly, he found a higher purpose: the liberation of the oppressed everywhere. With this new singleness of purpose, he eliminated everything else from his life. He called the process “reducing himself to zero.” 1He dressed in his own homespun cloth (khadi) and inspired his followers to do the same. He spent three years not reading any newspapers because he found that their contents added only non-essential confusion to his life. He spent thirty-five years experimenting with simplifying his diet.2 He spent a day each week without speaking. It would be an understatement to say he eschewed consumerism: when he died he owned fewer than ten items.

There was so much suffering in Africa that it was tempting just to shrug your shoulders and walk away. But you can't do that, she thought. You just can't.

You were not made from dirt. You were made from Cocoa, in Africa. That's why your skin is rich in quality and in value.

Against this cultural backdrop, it’s not hard to understand why Banksy’s Dismaland was painted by its critics as naïve, reductive, repetitive, and deeply uncool, another act of ego-driven attention-seeking. Ben Luke of the London Evening Standard proclaimed that Banksy’s Dismaland was “mostly selfie-friendly stuff, momentarily arresting, quickly forgotten—art as clickbait.” Others emphasized its pointlessness. “[I]f Banksy has the money to make an entire theme park, WHY NOT JUST USE IT TO HELP PEOPLE!?” squawked John Trowbridge of The Huffington Post. Banksy could “fund a school in Africa” or “make a video encouraging the youth to be positive and engaged.” Has there ever been a more Disneyfied vision of what it takes to change the world? Ignore all the bad stuff out there and post a super-inspiring video to YouTube instead.

scholar of the history of race and racism, Pierre L. van den Berghe, places Roosevelt within an unholy triumvirate of the modern world’s leading racist statesmen; the other two, according to van den Berghe, are Adolf Hitler and Hendrik Verwoerd, South Africa’s original architect of apartheid.)147 For the “extirpation” of the “lower races” that Hall and Roosevelt were celebrating drew its justification from the same updated version of the Great Chain of Being that eventually inspired Nazi pseudoscience.

Words from Karen Blixen's book, Out of Africa, subsequently play over and over in my mind: 'If I know a song of Africa ... does Africa know a song of me?... would the eagles of Ngong look out for me? Will Hwange's bateleur eagles keep looking out for me?

Who says all the fantasies with sword-wielding heroes and heroines have to be in Middle Earth, Westeros, or even our dreams of Africa past—“copper sun or scarlet sea?” Maybe they can happen right here, too.

Eva, my love, It’s over. One way or another, everything comes to an end. It’s all over some day. That’s perhaps one of the most fascinating truths we know about the entire universe. The stars die, the galaxies die, the planets die. And people die too. I’ve never been a believer, but the day I became interested in astronomy, I think I put aside all that was left of my fear of death. I’d realized that in comparison to the universe, a human being, a single human being, me … is infinitely small. Well, I’m not writing this letter to deliver a profound religious or philosophical lecture. I’m writing to tell you “farewell.” I was just talking to you on the phone. I can still hear the sound of your voice. I imagine you, before my eyes … a beautiful image, a lovely memory I will keep until the end. At this very moment, reading this letter, you know that I am dead. There are things that I want you to know. As I leave for Africa, I’m aware of what’s waiting for me. I even have the feeling that this trip could bring about my death, but it’s something that I have to experience, in spite of everything. I wasn’t born to sit in an armchair. I’m not like that. Correction: I wasn’t like that … I’m not going to Africa just as a journalist, I’m going above all on a political mission, and that’s why I think this trip might lead to my death. This is the first time I’ve written to you knowing exactly what to say: I love you, I love you, love you, love you. I want you to know that. I want you to know that I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I want you to know I mean that seriously. I want you to remember me but not grieve for me. If I truly mean something to you, and I know that I do, you will probably suffer when you learn I am dead. But if I really mean something to you, don’t suffer, I don’t want that. Don’t forget me, but go on living. Live your life. Pain will fade with time, even if that’s hard to imagine right now. Live in peace, my dearest love; live, love, hate, and keep fighting. … I had a lot of faults, I know, but some good qualities as well, I hope. But you, Eva, you inspired such love in me that I was never able to express it to you. … Straighten up, square your shoulders, hold your head high. Okay? Take care of yourself, Eva. Go have a cup of coffee. It’s over. Thank you for the beautiful times we had. You made me very happy. Adieu. I kiss you goodbye, Eva. From Stieg, with love.

The late Archbishop Desmond Tutu, chairing South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission during the country’s transition away from apartheid in the 1990s, cited ubuntu along with his Christian principles as inspiration for his approach. He believed that the oppressive relationships of apartheid had damaged oppressor and oppressed alike, destroying the natural bonds of humanity that should exist within and between people. His hope was to create a process that would reestablish those connections, rather than focus on avenging wrongs. He defined ubuntu with these words: “We belong in a bundle of life. We say, ‘a person is a person through other people.

Empowering individuals should be the cornerstone of leadership renewal. This involves providing people with the skills, knowledge, and confidence they need to lead effectively within their own contexts, whether that’s in business, government, or civil society. Education systems must emphasize critical thinking, problem-solving, and leadership development from an early age. Young people, in particular, need to be inspired by stories of possibility rather than constrained by narratives of limitation. They should see examples of leaders who have defied norms, built thriving organizations, and turned failing institutions around; not as outliers, but as tangible models for what can be achieved.

Policymakers, the call is clear: your duty is to build governance systems that empower people rather than seek control. Business leaders, the challenge before you is to create organizations that foster leadership at every level, ensuring growth and collaboration flourish. Educators, your mission is vital. To inspire a generation capable of critical thought and decisive action. Young people, the moment is yours to step up, question outdated systems, and create the Africa you envision. And to every citizen, your strength lies in active participation, by demanding better, leading through example, and embracing the truth that leadership is not reserved for a select few; it is a shared responsibility.

Freedom and responsibility themselves are at stake. One does not find freedom or enact responsibility by surrendering to another’s conceptualization of these ideas. Living out the rules of conscience laid down by someone else for the attainment of an unquestioned goal, a freedom designed and articulated by someone else, is the surrender of human imagination and intuition. In the more extreme versions of this, we end up with a collective momentum resulting in events such as Nazi extermination of millions of Jews, the Inquisition, or similar events recently in Africa and elsewhere. That comes from allocating one’s conscience to someone else, not attending to one’s own deeper intuitive sense of right and wrong.