REMEMBER, the ancient Egyptian Empire existed in Central , South America, Indonesia along with West Africa before it existed in Northeast Africa.
The Ugewelle Culture of Ancient Nigeria(6000 BCE) was an outlet of the Kemetic Empire in West Africa.
So lets reflect. Why is Mexico and Africa so Poor and why does Spain have one of the highest unemployment rates in Europe?
Why do we now have yet another White Pope ( Italian from South America ) even though Catholics are now mostly Latino / Hispanic?
Why has African art, traditions, Customs, Rituals and Fashion been copied to advance the hidden agendas ( secret societies) of our closeted enemies?
I don’t hate the oppressors, I feel sorry for him because he is going to get his and that is why all these conservatives who have several guns know they have to pay for what they did, are doing and what their ancestors did. While I don’t believe in violence there are those who do.
I also don’t believe in reverse racism. There are children reading all of this, lets be mindful of this. If we want to eradicate racism we must do so in constructive ways. The same nonblacks who put Obama in office are eager to learn about the truth and how we can change things. Black power this and the white man that wont help because that is reverse racism. We all know that Black racist are very rare and cease to exist primarily black culture is not only influenced by African culture but Europeans culture. If Blacks and other races don’t assimilate white culture they simply wont make it. It’s reality.
An empty wagon makes a lot of noise. My wagon is full.
The hairstyle currently making you do a double-take is known as Eembuvi Braids, worn by women of the Mbalantu tribes from the Namibia. It’s a style that requires preparation from a young age, usually around twelve years old, when Mbalantu girls use thick layers of finely ground tree bark and oils– a mixture that is said to be the secret to growing their hair to such lengths. The girls will live with this thick fat-mixture on their scalp for several years before it’s loosened and the hair becomes visible. It will then be braided and styled into various gravity-defying headresses throughout their life.
A number of different tribes have lived scattered across the highland plateau for 1000 years, in small agrarian clans, isolated by the harsh terrain and divided by language, custom and tradition. The legendary Asaro Mudmen first met with the Western world in the middle of the 20th century. Legend has it that the Mudmen were forced to flee from an enemy into the Asaro River where they waited until dusk to escape. The enemy saw them rise from the banks covered in mud and thought they were spirits. The Asaro still apply mud and masks to keep the illusion alive and terrify other tribes.
The mudmen could not cover their faces with mud because the people of Papua New Guinea thought that the mud from the Asaro river was poisonous. So instead of covering their faces with this alleged poison, they made masks from pebbles that they heated and water from the waterfall, with unusual designs such as long or very short ears either going down to the chin or sticking up at the top, long joined eyebrows attached to the top of the ears, horns and sideways mouths.
The United States of Hoodoo explores the influence of African spirituality, traditional religions, customs and Culture brought to the Americas by with the people taken during the Trans-Atlantic Slave trade, in American popular culture.
It is written by Darius James and Oliver Hardt and directed by Hardt.
Documentary overview The United States of Hoodoo is a road trip to the sources of black popular culture in America. The film’s main character is African-American writer Darius James who is known for his often bitingly satirical and self-ironic texts on music, film and literature. The film’s story begins when Darius´ world is turned inside out after his father´s death.
Uprooted from his life in Berlin, he unwillingly returns to his childhood home. All that remains from his father is his mask collection and a cardboard box filled with ashes. His father had been a painter and sculptor, his work drawing deeply on manifestations of African-based spirituality.Yet while he lived he fiercely rejected any idea of being inspired by the old gods of Africa.
Back in a house that is now his, but not quite, Darius finds himself confronted with many questions about his own life. In need of answers he sets off on a search, not for his roots but for traces of the spiritual energy that fueled and informed a whole culture.
Sorry it has been so long since I have last written - I’ve been real busy learning the local African customs. There are so many rules and ‘gotchas’ that can trip a dumb 'ol foreigner! Fortunately I’ve met Kwame, a real cool dude who’s been showing me the ropes. Kwame insists that I stay with his family for the rest of the summer, or longer. He’s a hard man to say 'no’ to, so don’t expect me home for xmas.
Inspired by the local dress codes of far-off destinations; thee perfect ensemble for the upcoming season is on my body right now! Can you say “statement piece”?! I know that I service a multiethnic audience and I myself have a multiethnic background but you don’t have to be exotic or have an African cultural background to respect and wear this trend. After all this trend is about mixing it up anyway. The thing I love about it is that while the prints may be ancient, when combined with these cuts and silhouettes the look becomes super modern. Team this skirt with a crisp white shirt, your faithful denim button down or bold print tee and get your passport out cause you are global chic, gurl!
This skirt AND crop top were both made to order by the wonderful Racheal of NGOZI “Nigerian Hippie”. Her Etsy store features dozens of customizable pieces (for all shapes and sizes) and plenty fabric options too. She is super duper quick and easy to work with (the best kind of Etsy vendor). I was extremely pleased with my experience and can’t wait for my next piece(s)!
So, the moral of this story is:
Vibrant African prints are definitely Spring/Summer must haves.
Like MJ said: “It doesn’t matter if you’re black or white”.
Search no further for a source for your ethnically influenced, global-chic frocks because Nigerian Hippie has the goods and is also offering my peeps 15% off! Holla! Promo code is Bcurve http://www.etsy.com/shop/ngozi
Having lost the rights to the Top Gear format, the Sunday Times columnist was glumly sitting at home when he had the best idea for a new motoring show … in the world Jeremy Clarkson, Chief imagineer
When it became obvious that Richard Hammond, James May and I were going to carry on making a car show, I knew only one thing for sure. It would not be based in a hangar, on a former RAF airfield, in the British countryside.
Twelve years earlier, the producer Andy Wilman and I had been to the BBC and sold them the idea of hosting just such a car show from just such an airfield. They liked the plan and the two of us were charged with the task of finding one. And frankly, we’d have had more options in 1940.
Time and again, we’d identify a site only to be told that the RAF still needed it for, er, glider training, or its annual brass band parade practice, or parachute storage.
And when we did find somewhere the RAF didn’t want any more, we became entangled in disputes about newts, bats, grasshoppers, ancient thoroughfares, rare stones and unusual grasses. And then with the neighbours about noise. We’d tell them it’d just be Terry Wogan, once a week, in a reasonably priced saloon but they were having none of it and soon there’d be an action committee and housewives chaining themselves to railings.
Dunsfold in Surrey, the location we eventually found, was a one-off. There was no point looking for something similar for our new Amazon show because such a thing doesn’t exist. We considered northern France, which is near, and South Africa, because they don’t care about newts down there. Or health and safety. Or any of the other irritants that plague our lives in Britain.
But then the lawyers pointed out that we couldn’t host the show from a static location because, although it had been our idea, the BBC owned it. It was all a bit of a problem.
The eureka moment came when I was watching an episode of True Detective. In it, there was a scene where a Baptist minister, displaced by a fire at his church, had set up shop in a tent in a field.
“Yes,” I exclaimed to my colleagues the next day. “We shall host our new show from a tent that will be in a different part of the world every week.” Richard Hammond, who likes being damp and cold in Buttermere, was very excited at the prospect. And James May was excited too, but only because someone had just bought him a new penknife. So we agreed. We’d be rootless, peripatetic, like music teachers in the Seventies. Or gypsies. Maybe after the show each week we could sell pegs.
It sounds simple. But it isn’t. First of all, the tent would have to be big enough to house a stage, a lighting rig, a crane, five cameras, a car, a tech gallery, a 4K data logging server — which is bigger than the USS Enterprise and more complicated — and an audience of at least 250 people. Any fewer and we’d have the same atmosphere you get at a village cricket match.
This meant the tent would have to be huge. A Las Vegas circus marquee, only bigger. And do you have any idea how much it would cost to fly such a thing from location to location? Especially if we folded it away when it was wet and therefore heavier than a mountain?
It turned out we couldn’t fold it away when it was wet because the fabric would rot. And then we discovered that we couldn’t break it down in one place, load it on a plane and have it built somewhere else in a week. So we’d need two tents, which would leapfrog one another from location to location. And then the director pointed out that we’d need a solid floor for his cameras to rove around on, on their little wheels. And that would mean two solid floors, each of which would weigh more than Asia.
Our budget — contrary to what you may have read in various hysterical reports — was not much bigger than it had been at the BBC. Yet the cost of our tents meant we’d have only enough left in the kitty each week for two pints of petrol and a box of James May’s beef Hula Hoops.
Happily, a magnificent company called DHL then rode into the equation, offering to meet our transport costs in something called a “sponsorship deal”. Finally, The Grand Tour was ready to roll.
Choosing the first location was easy. The three of us, in our former lives, had toured the world with a live show and learnt one thing: South Africa offers by far and away the best audiences in the world. Crack a gag at a Friday night event in London and you get a chuckle. Crack the same gag in Norway and you get a taste of what it might be like to be in space. But crack it in South Africa and they laugh for about a year.
So we found a field in a place called the Cradle of Humankind — because it’s, er, the cradle of humankind — and up went Tent One.
Except it didn’t, because South African customs had decided to impound just one of our containers: the one containing the tent’s feet. That was a bit like the time Vietnamese customs officials confiscated one of our walkie-talkies. It renders the whole operation pointless. However, as is the way when you are far away, it’s always easy, in a quiet corner with the senior man, to find a resolution.
I’m going to be honest with you: as the filming day dawned, we were all nervous. No show of this kind had ever been recorded in 4K. A Dutch company had built a multi-camera server and was fairly sure it’d work. But would it? In a field? In Africa?
And how would the audience react to all the new features? The Star in a Reasonably Priced Car, the Cool Wall, the Stig — all that had been left behind at Dunsfold and replaced with other stuff. Would that be like the Rolling Stones suddenly appearing on stage in tweed suits and doing Abba songs because of some uninteresting intellectual property issues?
And then there were the films we’d made. The newspapers had got it into their heads that, because we had £400m an episode, we’d be reporting each week from a different planet. “Oh look, James has been crushed by the atmospheric pressure on Jupiter. Haha. And Hammond is on Mercury … on fire. Hahahahahaha.”
Would everyone be disappointed to find the films had all been shot on Earth? And that they were still full of three middle-aged men falling over? With the occasional car sticking its nose into the frame?
Our biggest worry, however, was the make-up girl. The job had plainly gone to the lowest bidder, who turned up with a bag full of Artex and some trowels. Hammond was first in the chair and after half an hour emerged looking like he’d just arrived from Easter Island. It simply wasn’t him any more.
The Grand Tour facts • 1 billion: The number of miles Clarkson claims were clocked up by presenters and crew filming the first series of The Grand Tour
She’d heard that 4K was extremely high-definition television that shows up every wrinkle and spot, and had decided that the best solution to the problem was to encase our faces in a plastered box. Speech was impossible because we couldn’t move our mouths. James had breathing difficulties. I couldn’t get my head off the floor because it weighed so much.
Some chisels were found and soon we began to emerge from our tombs, like skeletons unearthed at an archaeological dig. Would anyone notice when we appeared on the screen? It was another thing to worry about.
It’s hard to be sure whether our fears were founded because, of course, the audience was South African. Which means they laughed and cheered and clapped every time one of us even looked like we might be on the verge of saying something amusing or interesting. The acid test will come when we get to Germany. That’s many weeks away, though. Next up, it’s Los Angeles. Then there will be a two-week stint in Britain. And after that we will whizz round Europe for a bit.
It’ll be strange. For 12 years, we got up on a Wednesday and drove to Surrey, where we were surrounded by familiar faces and familiar things. Now we will be somewhere different all the time. In front of a different audience, with different values and different tastes.
The only constant will be James and Richard, whom I hate. But that’s really what’s at the core of The Grand Tour: our relentless and unending need to belittle and humiliate one another.
Yes, we shall be in a different place each week, in a tent, doing new stuff. But when James comes back from the lavatory, having not shaken himself properly, you can be sure Richard and I will bring it up.
So hopefully, whether we are in Scandinavia or the Middle East or the United States of America, it’ll be a case of meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.
Packing for The Grand Tour: Jeremy • 290 boxes of cigarettes • Nicotine gum (for between cigarettes) • Spare metaphors • Quadruple espresso maker (extra strong) • Hammer
Packing for The Grand Tour: Richard • Hair products • Hot-weather waistcoat • Cold-weather waistcoat • Spare waistcoat • Waistcoast polish
Packing for The Grand Tour: James • Tea • Beef Hula Hoops • Ginger beer • Kit for polishing shoes • More tea
it just hurts me that I was supposed to grow up knowing african cultures and customs instead of having to learn them. I should’ve known what country/village/tribe that my family originated from instead of paying ancestry sited for that information. I’ll never know the full extent of my family’s lineage because either they were left on africa, died on the way,or was sold from plantation to plantation. white folks wonder why we don’t just “forgive and forget” but because of slavery we were robbed.