Duro ladipo biography of martin luther king
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The Black Power Movement stretched across the Atlantic, Indian and Pacific ocean worlds in both expected and surprising ways. Scholarship on Black Power in Oceania has largely focused on Australia and New Zealand. My own work centers on Black Power in Melanesia, where the Movement was very much linked with the region’s surges for decolonization and Black self-determination. This was certainly the case in Papua New Guinea, where, in the 1970s, self-determination in the mineral-rich island represented the tangible potential of Black liberation in Oceania.
Denounced as a “Mau Mau factory” bygd its detractors, the University of Papua New Guinea (UPNG) was a beacon of Melanesian transnationalism during the country’s push for independence from Australia. Beginning in 1967, the University hosted a series of popular Waigani seminars that addressed Melanesian issues, including economics, politics, culture, education, history and nation tenure. Across the 1970s, the campus was influenced bygd
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When the Party Came to Lagos
Marilyn Nance can’t find Stokely Carmichael. She is compiling a bibliography for her forthcoming book, Last Day in Lagos, which documents her time as a photographer at the Second World Black and African Festival of Arts and Culture, or FESTAC ’77, as it is popularly known. Nance has a lingering, unshakeable, urge to include a book by Carmichael. His life’s work “sprung from being a young intellect to a civil rights worker to a Pan-Africanist,” she told me recently. “My life, while much more humble, follows a similar trajectory.” The Pan-African revolutionary, later known as Kwame Ture, attended the 1969 Pan-African Cultural Festival in Algiers, Algeria, where Eldridge Cleaver’s Black Panther Party also held court. Combing through photographic archives, books, and his own writings, Nance believes that the radical lover of Black music and culture should have been at FESTAC ’77. But it has never been easy to tell who was actually there, especially
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My time with Adebayo Faleti, the legendary author who did not want his story written
Like our fathers will say, ọjọ a ba ku la d’ere, eeyan o suwon laaye. This is roughly translated as the day we die, we become monuments, man is not respected in his life time.
On Sunday, July 23, 2017 the Yoruba race and Nigeria at large lost one of its finest minds, one of its brightest sons and perhaps the best of its philosophers. I was broken, touched to tears, but I consoled myself with beautiful memories of who Baba Faleti was.
His actual age is in dispute: while some say 86, many others say he was well into his 90s. Whatever the case is, Baba, as he is fondly called, died at a good old age. So why should anyone feel teary about such a death? Why should anyone be broken that a man who had been grey in hair and philosophies since the early 1990s was called to the abode of the gods? Here are my reasons.
While at the University of Ibadan, when I was still finding my feet — I