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Motherafricacry, Abeokuta (2026)

23/03/2026

Among the Aka people of the Central African rainforest, fathers hold or stay within arm's reach of their infants for nearly half of every 24-hour period—around 47% of the time, the highest level of direct paternal proximity ever recorded in any human society.

This is not a modern experiment in equal parenting. It is a centuries-old way of life, documented by anthropologist Barry Hewlett who lived among the Aka for years. Infants are rarely apart from human contact; they are held, carried, soothed, and surrounded by attentive caregivers all day long. Care is not rigidly divided into “mother’s work” and “father’s work.” When mothers are away hunting or gathering, fathers step in fully—holding, feeding, comforting. Roles shift fluidly. Care flows wherever it is needed.

In some cases, Hewlett observed fathers allowing infants to suckle on their ni***es for comfort when mothers were absent. The practice is not nutritional in the way breastfeeding is, but it provides soothing and connection—skin-to-skin reassurance that calms a fussy baby when the primary caregiver is unavailable.

Just pause and take that in.

In much of the modern world, nurturing is often treated as secondary, feminine, or optional for men. Fathers are praised for “helping” rather than expected to be primary. Many babies spend significant time alone in cribs, playpens, or daycare, learning—sometimes through tears—that comfort is not always immediate. The Aka remind us of something older and perhaps wiser: human beings did not evolve in isolated nuclear households with one exhausted parent carrying the full emotional weight. We evolved in webs of touch, responsiveness, and shared responsibility.

The Aka are hunter-gatherers. Their lives are mobile and resource-limited. They have no accumulated wealth to hoard, no rigid hierarchies to defend. Kinship—brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandparents—is their most essential resource. Food is not stored; everyone contributes. Women and men both hunt with nets, both gather, both care for children. This egalitarianism extends to infancy. Fathers are not “babysitting.” They are parenting. When the camp is quiet, fathers hold infants for long stretches. When families are on the move, fathers carry them alongside mothers. Infants are almost never laid down unattended; they are passed from caregiver to caregiver, held skin-to-skin, soothed quickly when they cry.

The Aka are not performing a progressive social experiment. They are living a pattern many small-scale societies share: children thrive when care is abundant, flexible, and communal. Babies are not expected to cry alone and learn that no one is coming. They are answered. They are held. They are kept close.

Modern societies have drifted far from this. In many places, parents—especially mothers—are expected to meet ancient human needs inside systems never designed for them. Daycare ratios stretch caregivers thin. Work schedules pull parents away for hours. Cultural messages often frame close, responsive care as optional or even indulgent. Yet research consistently shows that infants flourish with physical contact, quick responses to distress, and multiple attentive adults. The Aka have known this for generations. They have not forgotten that the first year of life is not a time to teach independence through separation—it is a time to build security through presence.

The Aka fathers’ involvement is not perfect or universal across all forager groups, but it stands out as an extreme on a spectrum. Cross-cultural studies show hunter-gatherer fathers generally provide more direct care than fathers in farming or industrial societies. The Aka are the outlier at the high end, with fathers holding infants for hours each day in camp settings and remaining nearby even during economic activities. Their infants are held by someone—father, mother, sibling, grandparent, aunt, uncle—nearly all waking hours.

This is not romanticizing a “primitive” life. The Aka face hardship: disease, hunger, conflict. But their childcare reflects a deep cultural logic: a baby’s survival and well-being depend on being surrounded by responsive adults. That logic once shaped most human societies. It still shapes the Aka.

And perhaps most striking of all, they remind us that for the vast majority of human history, babies were not expected to cry alone and learn self-soothing. They were held. They were answered. They were kept close.

Maybe the question is not whether Aka fatherhood is extraordinary.
Maybe the question is why so much of the modern world drifted so far from what once was ordinary.

20/03/2026

Music has always had its kings—but it has also had its queens. Women whose voices, style, and influence didn’t just follow trends… they created them.

Aretha Franklin gave soul music its most powerful voice. With unmatched vocal depth and emotional delivery, she turned songs into statements and became a symbol of strength, faith, and cultural pride.

Tina Turner broke barriers in a genre often dominated by men. Her electrifying performances, resilience, and global appeal redefined what it meant to be a rock star.

Donna Summer became the heartbeat of an era. Her sound helped shape dance music as we know it today, influencing generations of artists and transforming nightlife culture around the world.

Mahalia Jackson brought gospel music to the global stage. Her voice carried spiritual depth and emotional power, inspiring not just music, but movements rooted in faith and justice.

Chaka Khan infused funk with boldness and versatility. Her sound blended soul, jazz, and R&B into something uniquely her own—timeless and influential.

And then there is Whitney Houston—a vocalist whose precision, range, and clarity set a standard few have ever reached. She didn’t just sing songs—she elevated them, turning music into moments that still resonate across generations.

These women didn’t just succeed in music—they changed its direction. They opened doors, challenged expectations, and proved that greatness isn’t confined to one lane.

16/03/2026

Dr Oghenevwaere "Vwaere" Diaso (March 27, 1999 – August 1, 2023) was just 24 years old and had barely begun her journey in medicine when her life was cruelly taken by a tragedy that could—and should—have been prevented. She was on a one-year internship at the hospital and had only about two weeks to complete her programme before the unfortunate incident happened.

On August 1, 2023, at the Lagos Island General Hospital, Odan, an elevator she boarded plummeted from the 10th floor, trapping her beneath a mangled shaft of twisted metal and shattered glass. She was still alive, bruised, bleeding, and in excruciating pain, but she was left there for 40 minutes as her colleagues scrambled for help that came far too late.

Her friend and colleague, Dr Moye, was just outside the lift moments before the crash. She had pressed the button but didn’t enter, only to hear a thunderous crash seconds later. A dispatch rider who had delivered Vwaere’s lunch ran out in fear.

When hospital staff pried the elevator open using rods, what they saw was horrific: Vwaere was sandwiched between the elevator base and the ground floor, the engine dangling above her head, a slight misstep away from instant death. Her face bore deep cuts; her limbs were fractured, and her voice muffled but full of pain.

“I told her to relax,” Moye recalled. “She said, ‘Don’t tell me to relax. Tell them to get me out of here.’” Still conscious, Vwaere pleaded for her life: “I don’t want to die.” But there was no emergency response team ready, no blood bank, no fully functioning trauma protocol.

This wasn’t a remote village; this was a government hospital in Nigeria’s commercial capital. By the time Cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) was attempted, she had already gone silent.

This elevator had been faulty for years. Doctors had complained countless times. But their pleas were ignored, dismissed with indifference. They were told to be grateful for water, for rooms, and for an elevator that barely worked. They were denied even the barest minimum. The system failed Vwaere, first by allowing danger to fester, and then by being unprepared when that danger became deadly.

Interestingly, a year after her death, just like Vwaere's life, the elevator had not been repaired or replaced, as doctors and workers in the hospital used the stairs.

However, if the systemic neglect is allowed to continue and fester, Dr Diaso won’t be the last. We remember her not just for how she died, but for how she fought to live—to the very end.

14/03/2026

He was an African prince. She was a London clerk. Their 1948 marriage threatened to collapse the British Commonwealth and sparked a five-year exile. They became Botswana's founding First Family.
In June 1947, at a London Missionary Society dance, Seretse Khama—heir to the throne of the Bamangwato people in Bechuanaland—met Ruth Williams, a clerk at Lloyd's of London.
He was studying law. She loved jazz. They bonded over their shared passion for The Ink Spots.
Ruth had never spoken to a Black man before. Seretse had never imagined falling in love with a white Englishwoman.
But over the next year, as they attended concerts, danced, and talked for hours about music and dreams, something extraordinary happened: they fell deeply, irrevocably in love.
In September 1948, Seretse sent an airmail letter to his uncle, Tshekedi Khama, the regent of Bechuanaland, with shocking news: he planned to marry Ruth on October 2nd.
All hell broke loose.
Tshekedi was horrified. In Bamangwato culture, the wife of the chief was considered the mother of the entire tribe. A white woman as queen? Inconceivable. He demanded Seretse return immediately and end the engagement.
Ruth's father was equally furious. He refused to speak to her. Her employer gave her an ultimatum: transfer to New York or resign.
The Bishop of London refused to marry them in a church without British government approval—approval that would never come.
But Seretse and Ruth had made their decision.
On September 29, 1948, they walked into Kensington Registry Office and got married anyway.
The diplomatic storm that followed nearly shattered the British Commonwealth.
South Africa—which had just elected an apartheid government in 1948—was outraged. Prime Minister Daniel Malan called their marriage "nauseating" and banned both Seretse and Ruth from entering South Africa. The Afrikaner press labeled Ruth "a foolish, ignorant girl."
Britain was caught in an impossible position.
The country was broke after World War II. It desperately needed South Africa's uranium for its atomic bomb program and South African gold to rebuild its economy. South Africa threatened to leave the Commonwealth if Britain recognized Seretse's marriage.
But Bechuanaland was a British protectorate. And Seretse was its rightful king.
Tshekedi summoned Seretse back to Bechuanaland in October 1948. Seretse went—but Ruth stayed behind, pregnant with their first child.

In November 1948, Seretse faced a kgotla—a public tribal assembly—where elders grilled him for four days about breaking tradition and defying his uncle.
Seretse stood before his people and spoke from his heart:
"We should be fighting for equality. That is where we should be focusing our minds, not on the wife I have chosen, who means you no harm, whose only apparent crime has been to fall in love with me—and mine to fall in love with her."
The Bamangwato people listened. And then, shockingly, they voted overwhelmingly to accept him as their chief—with Ruth as his wife.
Tshekedi, who had ruled as regent for over 20 years, found his authority overthrown. Humiliated, he went into voluntary exile.
In August 1949, Ruth arrived in Serowe, Bechuanaland's capital. Despite initial skepticism, the Bamangwato people welcomed her warmly. She proved herself genuine, kind, and deeply committed to her husband and his people.
But the British government wasn't finished.

In March 1950, Seretse was summoned to London for "discussions." It was a trap.
Once in England, the British government refused to let him return home. They conducted a sham "judicial inquiry" into his fitness for chieftainship—then ignored its findings when the inquiry concluded he was perfectly fit.
On November 13, 1950, the British government demanded Seretse renounce his chieftainship in exchange for a pension.
Seretse refused.
So Britain exiled him. Ruth and their infant daughter Jacqueline were allowed to join him in England, but they were forbidden from returning to Bechuanaland.
For five years—from 1951 to 1956—Seretse and Ruth lived in exile in London.
Seretse sank into deep depression. He sat for hours in front of the fire, warming his hands and brooding in silence. He tried to stay hopeful, but the injustice was crushing.
Ruth, pregnant with their second child, stayed strong. American photojournalist Margaret Bourke-White befriended her and did a sympathetic photo essay for Life magazine. Bourke-White even gave Ruth two kittens to lift her spirits—Seretse named them Pride and Prejudice after Ruth's favorite novel.
Back in Bechuanaland, the Bamangwato people protested. They sent telegrams to Queen Elizabeth II begging for Seretse's return. Riots broke out when the British refused.
In Britain's House of Commons, MPs debated the exile. In a 1951 vote, 308 MPs voted to keep the Khamas exiled, while 286 voted to allow them home. Winston Churchill—who had championed Seretse's cause as opposition leader—said nothing when he became Prime Minister.

The hypocrisy was staggering. Britain claimed to support racial equality while bowing to South African apartheid pressure.
Finally, in 1956, a new Commonwealth Relations minister recognized that Britain needed to distance itself from South Africa's racism.
Seretse and Ruth were allowed to return—but only as private citizens. Seretse had to renounce his chieftainship permanently.
After six years of separation, Seretse Khama returned home. Not as king, but as a cattle rancher in Serowe.
Most men would have given up. Most would have been broken by exile, betrayal, and the loss of their birthright.
But Seretse Khama was not most men.

In 1962, he founded the Bechuanaland Democratic Party (BDP). He campaigned across the protectorate, advocating for independence and multiracial democracy.
In 1965, his party won the general election in a landslide. Seretse became Prime Minister.
On September 30, 1966, Bechuanaland gained independence from Britain and became Botswana.
Seretse Khama—the man Britain had exiled and forced to renounce his throne—became Botswana's first president.
Queen Elizabeth II knighted him. He became Sir Seretse Khama.
Ruth became Lady Khama, Botswana's First Lady.
For the next 14 years, President Khama transformed Botswana from one of the poorest countries in Africa into a beacon of democracy, stability, and prosperity.
He promoted multiracial equality—a direct rebuke to apartheid South Africa just across the border.
He discovered diamonds and used the wealth to build schools, hospitals, and infrastructure.
He established democratic institutions that made Botswana one of Africa's most stable nations.
And through it all, Ruth stood beside him—raising their four children, working with charities, serving as president of the Botswana Red Cross, and proving that a white British woman could be the beloved mother of an African nation.
Their children thrived. Their daughter Jacqueline grew up in Botswana. Their sons Ian, Anthony, and Tshekedi (named after Seretse's uncle, with whom he eventually reconciled) became leaders in their own right.

On July 13, 1980, Sir Seretse Khama died of pancreatic cancer. He was 59 years old.
He had served four terms as president. He had guided his nation through independence. He had built a country that respected human dignity, democracy, and equality.
And he had done it all with Ruth by his side.
Lady Ruth Khama remained in Botswana after Seretse's death. She continued her charity work, her advocacy, and her deep love for the Bamangwato people who had accepted her as their own.
In 2002, Ruth died of throat cancer in Gaborone at age 78.
She was buried next to Seretse, recognized by all Batswana as "Mohumagadi Mma Kgosi"—Mother of the Nation.
Their son, Ian Khama, became Botswana's fourth president, serving from 2008 to 2018—a living testament to the legacy his parents built.
In 2016, their story was told in the film A United Kingdom, starring David Oyelowo and Rosamund Pike.
Seretse Khama and Ruth Williams fell in love in 1947 at a jazz club in London.
Their 1948 marriage sparked international outrage, threatened the British Commonwealth, led to a five-year exile, and forced a king to renounce his throne.
But they refused to let racism, colonialism, or political pressure destroy their love.
They returned home as private citizens and built a nation from the ground up.
They proved that love—real, sacrificial, transformative love—can reshape history.

09/03/2026

This International Women’s Day, AHS recognizes the achievements of Dr. Jane Ojedokun, the North Zone medical director, a Whitecourt physician, and lead for the North Corridor’s Virtual Emergency Physician program. She shares her journey as a woman in medicine:

“When I began medical training in Nigeria, I didn’t fully appreciate how much courage it would take—not just to practice medicine, but to lead within it. Moving across countries for postgraduate training in Ireland and eventually building a life and career in rural Alberta, I learned that competence opens doors—but confidence and community keep them open.

As a woman in medicine, and a woman of colour, there were moments when I was the only one in the room. Those experiences didn’t diminish me; they refined me. They taught me to listen closely, speak clearly, and lead with both conviction and compassion. Today, whether I am caring for patients in Whitecourt or contributing to system-level decisions, I carry those lessons with me.

To young women in medicine—especially those who may not see themselves reflected in leadership yet—your journey may not look traditional, and that is not a weakness. Your lived experience is insight. Your resilience is leadership training. Take up space. Ask questions. Lead when the opportunity comes—and sometimes before it does. There is room for you, and there is need for you.”

06/03/2026

On March 4, 1875, Blanche Kelso Bruce made history when he took office as the first Black American elected to serve a full term in the United States Senate.
Bruce represented the state of Mississippi from 1875 to 1881, during the period known as Reconstruction, when formerly enslaved African Americans were beginning to gain political rights and representation following the American Civil War.
Blanche Kelso Bruce was born into slavery in 1841 in Virginia, but during the Civil War he escaped bo***ge and eventually built a life as an educator, landowner, and public official. After the war, he moved to Mississippi, where he became active in local politics and public service.
By the early 1870s, Bruce had gained the respect of both Black and white voters in his state. In 1874, the Mississippi legislature elected him to the U.S. Senate, making him the first Black American to serve a full six-year Senate term. (Earlier, Hiram Rhodes Revels had served a shorter, unexpired term beginning in 1870.)
During his time in the Senate, Bruce worked on issues that affected both his state and the country as a whole. He supported policies related to public education, civil rights, economic development, and the protection of Black citizens’ voting rights during a time of intense political change.
Bruce also became the first Black American to preside over a session of the U.S. Senate, a significant moment in the history of American government.
After completing his term in 1881, he continued serving in several federal positions in Washington, D.C., remaining active in public life for many years.

06/03/2026

🚨 She was dragged through Iraqi streets by her braids.

Shot. Beaten. Captured.

And somehow… almost erased from the story.

At just 25 years old, Shoshana Johnson joined the Army because she was broke in El Paso and dreamed of going to culinary school. She just wanted to cook and build a better life for herself and her two-year-old daughter.

Instead, she was deployed to Iraq.

During an ambush, Johnson was shot, captured, and taken prisoner. She became the first Black female prisoner of war in U.S. history.

For 22 days, she was held captive.

Dragged through the streets.
Beaten.
Humiliated.

All while her two-year-old baby waited for her to come home.

But while the world focused on other stories… her suffering barely made headlines.

Shoshana Johnson survived.

But the question still lingers:

Why did America forget her? 🇺🇸💔

04/03/2026

Nigerian Family at centre of Department of Justice protest In Ireland Finally deported to South Africa

The family at the centre of a large protest outside the Department of Justice earlier last month have been deported from Ireland to South Africa.

T**ilayo Oluwakemi Oyekanmi and her three sons were deported to South Africa on Saturday.

Her sons Samuel, Joseph and Genesis, who are aged between five and 18, attended local schools and sports clubs in south Dublin.

The family’s neighbours and friends had appealed to the department not to proceed with the deportation, saying the family’s removal would be a huge loss to the area.

Members of the community said they were shocked and saddened by the development on Saturday.

“For the friends who gathered in support, there was no chance to say goodbye,” they said in a statement.

The group said the family believed they would have more time to prepare for the deportation.

“This glimmer of hope was taken away from T**i and her three children this morning, as an uncertain future now awaits,” the statement said.

The Oyekanmi family arrived in the State in late 2023.

T**ilayo, who is originally from Nigeria, said she had sought asylum after being beaten by a gang and threatened at gunpoint in South Africa. She said she fears for her family’s safety.

Stephen Kirwan of KOD Lyons, the family’s solicitor, on Saturday described the situation as “absolutely appalling”.

The family’s international protection application was rejected and a subsequent appeal was unsuccessful. They received a deportation order last April.

The Irish Times

04/03/2026

DID YOU KNOW?

During World War II, Black women worked on U.S. railroads in industrial and track labor roles.

When millions of men were deployed overseas, railroads faced critical labor shortages. Between 1942 and 1945, Black women were hired into jobs maintaining tracks, loading freight, and supporting rail operations that moved troops and war supplies across the country.

This shift was partly made possible by Executive Order 8802, signed in 1941 by President Franklin D. Roosevelt after pressure from labor leader A. Philip Randolph. The order banned discrimination in defense industries and opened doors in sectors that had long excluded Black workers.

Railroads were the backbone of wartime America. Without them, the war effort would have stalled.

Black women stepped into that backbone.

Before the war, most Black women in rail work were confined to service roles under segregation. During the war, they entered industrial spaces. After the war, many were forced back out when returning soldiers reclaimed those jobs.

Their names were rarely recorded.
Their labor was.

Steel tracks connected the nation. Black women helped maintain them.

History is not only written by generals and presidents. Sometimes it is written by women in heavy coats holding shovels in freezing rail yards.

04/03/2026

Father Speaks Out After 12-Year-Old Indicted in Brutal Alleged Assault on 12-Year-Old Girl in Florida

A Florida father is speaking out after his 12-year-old son was charged as an adult in the alleged r**e of a 12-year-old girl at a Miami community garden.

The attack allegedly happened on June 18, 2025, inside The Green Haven Project garden in the city’s Overtown neighborhood.

Police say the girl was walking home from a friend’s house when she encountered three boys, ages 12, 13 and 15. Investigators allege 13-year-old Nelson Nunez dragged her to a couch area and r**ed her while 12-year-old Jusiah Jones and 15-year-old Xavier Tyson held her down, and that rocks were forced into her mouth to stop her from screaming.

“All of this is bogus,” Jusiah’s father, Mervin Jones, said outside court, insisting his son is innocent. “He’s a young Black man who was visiting Miami and wound up with the wrong crowd,” the father said, arguing he is an involved parent and that his son should not be in an adult jail.

A grand jury has indicted all three boys as adults.

Nunez faces sexual battery on a minor and kidnapping charges, Jones is charged with aggravated battery, sexual battery and false imprisonment, and Tyson faces sexual battery, false imprisonment and lewd and lascivious conduct with a child.

All have pleaded not guilty.

04/03/2026

Granville T. Woods, the self-taught electrical prodigy often dubbed the “Black Edison,” electrified the world with over 60 patents that transformed transportation and communication.

Born in 1856, this ingenious inventor engineered the revolutionary Induction Telegraph in 1887, allowing trains to chat on the move. Think of it as the original railway WhatsApp, drastically boosting safety and scheduling efficiency.

From pioneering electric railway systems to introducing automatic brakes that became the gold standard for train safety, Woods’ innovations made public transit safer and smarter.

Despite battling systemic bias and economic hurdles, his genius attracted even Edison's interest in his patents! Celebrating his legacy means recognizing how Woods connected our past to the high-speed, tech-savvy world we navigate today. - Africa Giant

02/03/2026

She was five years old when they held her down.
No anesthesia. No sterilization. Just a dull, bloody razor and a scream that split the Somali desert air.

Her name means Desert Flower — Waris Dirie.
A little girl born into a nomadic family, herding goats through heat and hunger, learning survival before she learned to read.

And then came the day that almost stole her future.

Female ge***al mutilation.
Type III — the most extreme form.
Everything cut. Everything sewn shut.
A matchstick-sized opening left for her to survive… maybe.
Her sister died from it. So did her cousins.
Waris lived — but the pain followed her into every day of her life.

At thirteen, her father tried to sell her into marriage —
to a sixty-year-old man
for five camels.

So she ran.

A barefoot girl crossing the desert alone.
No map. No food. No safety.
Only the instinct to choose life over tradition.

She made it to Mogadishu.
Then London — as a servant.
No English. No school. No money.
Just survival, again.

And then one day… a photographer saw her.
From cleaning floors at McDonald’s
to the runways of Paris and New York.
Chanel. L’Oréal. Vogue. James Bond.

A Cinderella story — but the nightmare never left.

At the height of her fame, Waris did something almost no celebrity would dare:
She told the truth.

She spoke the words the world didn’t want to hear:
What was done to her… was still being done to millions.

Her voice cracked open global silence.

The UN appointed her Special Ambassador to end FGM.
She wrote Desert Flower — 11 million copies sold.
She founded the Desert Flower Foundation.
She built clinics for survivors across Europe.
She forced the world to call it what it is —
a human rights violation.

And because of her,
thousands of girls every day are spared the blade.

Not a model.
Not a victim.
A revolutionary.

Waris Dirie took the most painful moment of her life
and turned it into a movement that is saving others from the same fate.

She was born in the desert —
but she refused to wither.

She bloomed.
And she made sure millions more get the chance to bloom too. 🌸✨

Motherafricacry

23/03/2026

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