Category: English

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Phoebe Runciman, Associate Professor and Research Chair at the Division of Sport and Exercise Medicine, Stellenbosch University

Wheelchair basketball is one of the fastest-growing Para sports in the world. Over 100,000 athletes compete in national and international competitions and at the Paralympic Games and Commonwealth Games. In Africa, there are 26 national wheelchair basketball federations.

But the level of support and resources available for athletes with disability (Para athletes) varies greatly between the global north and south, shaped by gaps in healthcare, infrastructure and policy.

In African countries the sport is often underfunded. In 2022, for example, South Africa’s sports and recreation budget was 15 times lower than France’s.

Many Para sport athletes from the global south must pay for their own travel expenses and equipment. This limits their access to quality training and support, affecting their performance.

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But little is known about what it’s like for Para athletes to move between countries, especially from the global south to the global north.

My case study (on page 83 of the PDF) followed Sphelele Dlamini, a 29-year-old South African wheelchair basketball player who grew up in an underdeveloped area in KwaZulu-Natal province. He was born with a condition that led to the amputation of both legs below the knee.

After beginning his sporting journey in South Africa, Dlamini moved to France in 2022 to play professionally.

His experience reveals what Para athletes can expect as well as what they gain and what they leave behind when crossing borders in search of better opportunities. Dlamini’s journey highlights how cross-border moves may offer access to resources and more recognition, but also involve cultural challenges, adaptations and identity shifts.

His story can inform the support needed from organisations helping Para athletes to navigate these transitions so that they can compete at their full potential.

What must happen for athletes to shine

Dlamini’s story highlights four key factors that must be addressed to make a difference in the lives of South Africa’s Para athletes.

1. Public services

Firstly, the South African government and schools need to address the shortage of public services for people with disability. This includes creating accessible infrastructure, disability-inclusive healthcare and social support services.

Overcrowding and limited public services have been part of Dlamini’s daily life. For people with disability, townships can be especially challenging environments.

These are residential areas that were designated for Black South Africans under apartheid, South Africa’s former system of white minority rule. Townships were deliberately underdeveloped and under-resourced and they remain structurally disadvantaged today.

As Dlamini told me in an interview for my case study:

With the things that are happening in the township, it’s wild, it’s always busy.

He shared a home with 11 family members and described his upbringing as “an ever-changing environment that never settled down”.

2. Funding and promotion

Secondly, Para sport requires more financial support and promotion to build a more inclusive society – funding and competitive opportunities.

Dlamini had all but stopped playing competitively:

I spent about two years without playing. Then suddenly, I got a chance to go to France.

In France he found himself in what he called “a different type of chaos”. Training schedules were intense, and “there was hardly any free time”. Although the move was a breakthrough, the years of limited game time had caused some self-doubt for him.

This highlights the need for investment in Para sport in countries like South Africa, so that athletes can develop locally and have greater chances of international success.

3. Athlete and coach education

Thirdly, athlete and coach education is critical. Dlamini’s move to France was self-driven with no formal pathways or international exposure. He reached out to coaches directly:

I sent them emails and sometimes I would write to them on Facebook.

In much of the global south, Para sport relies on volunteer coaches with limited access to networks. Despite having no video footage, a French coach gave Dlamini a chance. In the global north, building a portfolio through documented game performance is standard, but this kind of athlete education is rarely emphasised in South Africa.

Countries like France also have established local clubs, with leagues that create pathways for regional, national and international competitions – and opportunities for professional contracts. Athletes receive a salary and games are streamed with backing from sponsors.

4. NGO support

Securing a spot on a French team didn’t mean Dlamini’s challenges were over. While his new club offered a salary, they couldn’t cover the cost of travel to France. It was Jumping Kids, a South African non-governmental organisation (NGO), that stepped in and paid for his air ticket, visa, flights and insurance.

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Dlamini first connected with Jumping Kids in 2014, when the organisation visited his school. He was selected to receive prosthetic legs and has remained in contact with them ever since. Today, he is one of the NGO’s ambassadors, alongside Paralympic athletes like Ntando Mahlangu and Arnu Fourie.

NGOs like this are a lifeline that need to be funded and supported, particularly in countries like South Africa where there are gaps in formal support.

Why Para sport matters

For many Para athletes, support starts at the school level. South Africa has 465 special needs schools catering to a range of disabilities. These schools often provide the first exposure to sport, as they did for Dlamini:

That’s where I saw people who were similar to my situation.

Research shows that sport gives individuals with disability a sense of belonging. This sense of inclusion, however, is difficult to achieve when environments are inaccessible.

In France, Dlamini felt that his skills were recognised and everyday life felt more navigable:

I really enjoy having the access [to public transport] and being able to move around and do things easily, without having to bother any other person.

Compared to South Africa, where players often share wheelchairs and go months without formal competition, France offered both structure and dignity.

However, in hindsight, Dlamini says he can look back at the setbacks and challenges he faced in South Africa, and view them from a different perspective:

I can never really judge it because, I may never know, maybe I was getting prepared for that journey.

Sphelele Dlamini’s story is one of resilience. Despite the odds, he created his path to play professionally. His journey highlights the determination required of athletes from the global south, and the systemic barriers they face that hinder development and progress in sport.

While NGOs continue to fill critical gaps, long-term progress in Para sport requires structural investment.

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Faatima Adam, a biokineticist and PhD candidate, contributed to this article.

– Wheelchair basketball: what can be learned from a South African athlete’s journey to France
– https://theconversation.com/wheelchair-basketball-what-can-be-learned-from-a-south-african-athletes-journey-to-france-261593

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Sulette Ferreira, Transnational Family Specialist and Researcher, University of Johannesburg

Becoming a grandparent is often envisioned as a deeply intimate, hands-on journey, holding a newborn, sharing first smiles, witnessing the first wobbly steps. It is traditionally grounded in physical presence, marked by spontaneous visits.

For many grandparents whose children have emigrated, however, these defining moments often unfold not in person, but through screens, filtered through time zones, digital platforms, and a lingering sense of distance.

This is true in South Africa, a country with rising emigration, especially among young families. Over a million South Africans now live abroad. This has systemic, multigenerational effects.

In a recent study I explored the impact of global emigration on the relationships between South African grandparents and their grandchildren born abroad. I examined what it means to step into their grandparent role role from afar, often for the first time, and how the absence of physical closeness reshapes intergenerational relationships.

I have published various articles on migration and intergenerational relationships in transnational families. I also run a private practice that focuses on the emotional challenges of emigration.

As part of my PhD study, I conducted in-depth interviews with 24 South African parents whose adult children had emigrated. This project laid the foundation for my broader research programme on the emotional effects of migration. This research article is based on the experiences of 44 participants.

For these grandparents, emigration represents more than just geographical separation. The familiar rhythms of hands-on grandparenting, from spontaneous visits to shared celebrations, are disrupted. With it comes a layered and ongoing sense of loss, not only of everyday interactions with their grandchildren, but also the gradual fading of a cherished role once grounded in physical presence and routine connection.

The findings show that the absence of physical proximity creates profound emotional barriers, especially during the early, most formative years of a grandchild’s life. Yet despite this distance, grandparents are finding creative and meaningful ways to remain emotionally present.

In transnational families, grandparents serve as custodians of cultural continuity and emotional support as well as active agents reshaping the meaning of grandparenthood in the context of global migration.

What grandparents had to say

The central question of my research was how distance reshaped the role of some grandparents in South African families. It further investigated how grandparents adapted and renegotiated their roles across different stages of their grandchildren’s lives.

The selection criteria included: being a South African citizen; speaking fluent English; living in South Africa; being a parent whose adult child(ren) had emigrated and lived abroad for at least one year; and being from any race, culture, gender; socio-economic status; aged between 50 and 80 years.

I supplemented interviews with qualitative surveys distributed via my online support group.

Grandparents reported various challenges,such as the loss of everyday involvement, the emotional strain of distance, and difficulties with digital communication that required ongoing adaptive strategies to sustain connection.

The study shows how distance does not necessarily weaken intergenerational bonds but requires grandparents to redefine presence.

My research made it clear that the place of birth is a pivotal factor in shaping the grandparent- grandchild bond.

Grandparents of children who are born in South Africa and move to another country later are often involved from the beginning. They assist with daily care, celebrate milestones and enjoy spontaneous visits. These everyday interactions nurture strong emotional ties.

As Annelise, a participant, shared:

When your grandchild is born here, you know them from birth, you see them every day, you share in everything.

When these grandchildren emigrate, the rupture can be profound. Grandparents not only lose regular contact but also their role as hands-on caregivers.

When grandchildren are born abroad, a different emotional journey unfolds. Joy and excitement are often tempered by longing and sadness.

The reality of nurturing relationships across borders forces grandparents to redefine their roles.

For many families, pregnancy strengthens the bond between generations, especially between mothers and daughters. This phase is typically marked by shared rituals, which shape both maternal and grandparental identities. Rituals foster emotional connection and a sense of belonging.

But for grandparents who are separated, these moments may be replaced by screenshots and voice notes, making milestones feel distant and intangible.

This early absence can feel like an exclusion from grandparenthood itself, as if the role is denied before it has even begun. The phenomenon aligns closely with US psychologist Pauline Boss’s concept of ambiguous loss, grief without closure.

Despite this, many grandparents remain actively involved. Some grandparents become what US sociologists Judith Treas and Shampa Mazumdar call “seniors on the move”, becoming more mobile, structuring their lives around flights, visa renewals and seasonal caregiving.

But the challenges are big.

Staying close from far away

Sustaining a relationship across borders is tough.

Two key strategies emerged in my research: virtual communication and transnational visits.

All those I interviewed used technology extensively: weekly Zoom story time, recorded readings, or care “parcels” filled with letters, recipes, or handmade crafts.

In-person visits were limited by a mix of financial, logistical, emotional, and relational barriers.

The flights are just too expensive, and with my health, I don’t think I could manage the trip. It breaks my heart, but it’s just not possible. I don’t think I will ever see him again.

I also found that the role of parents was key. Through sharing photos, initiating calls, and keeping grandparents present in everyday conversations, some parents helped emotional bonds flourish.

My daughter and son-in-law are both very good at sending me photos and videos regularly … They both know how much I miss being with my two grandkids, so they keep me updated … They also phone weekly and encourage the children to be focused on our calls.

Takeaways

Transnational grandparenting challenges the traditional script of hands-on involvement. It calls for a reimagining of presence.

My research shows that grandparents are doing that through creativity, emotional elasticity and enduring love. They are forging a new kind of grandparenting across continents: one where connection transcends distance.

– Grandparenting from a distance: what’s lost when families are separated, and how to bridge the gap
– https://theconversation.com/grandparenting-from-a-distance-whats-lost-when-families-are-separated-and-how-to-bridge-the-gap-263279

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Solomon Waliaula, Associate Professor, Department of Languages, Linguistics and Culture, Maasai Mara University

Nollywood, Nigeria’s prolific video-film industry, has been popular in Kenya since it was introduced to east Africa at around the turn of the century.

These low-budget, high-output films and TV series immediately struck a chord with ordinary people in lower income brackets. Although new Nollywood productions can be slick, high budget affairs, the bulk are not about high production values. They’re about real-life stories and social issues that are easy to relate to.

At first Nollywood films were screened in informal video-halls in poorer Kenyan communities, offering a unique going-to-the-movies experience. But in the first decade of the new millennium, TV stations began screening them. In Kenya, Nollywood was most popularly known as “Afrocinema” on TV, and it was soon a daily affair.

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One of the audiences that has emerged are young women, often in their teens, working in urban Kenyan homes. Known as housemaids, they come from humble and materially deprived backgrounds and occupy a precarious position in the homes they work in. Their daily routine is a blend of domestic chores including childcare, cooking, cleaning and running errands for the family.

Employed through an informal system of social networking and patronage, housemaids don’t necessarily bring any training or experience to their jobs and generally aren’t offered employment contracts. The power is in the hands of the employer and there is little job security.

These young women were the subject of my recent study in the Kenyan city of Eldoret for the book Contemporary African Screen Worlds.

I explored the housemaid’s fandom of Nollywood films, as part of a decade-long study of electronic media audiences in the city.

It became clear that housemaids saw themselves as socially inferior to the families they worked for. Their identity as domestic labourers masked their identity as real people. Their social identity was defined by, and reducible to, their daily job card.

I found that they developed a special relationship with Nollywood cinema. This love of the movies (fandom) offered much more than leisure and companionship. Nollywood stories are a medium through which they could transcend the limits of their situations and aspire to other, more desirable worlds. Nollywood on TV helped them make sense of their lives.

The research

Twelve participants took part in the study, most of them housemaids, some former housemaids. All were drawn from similar neighbourhoods. Research mostly involved observing their working lives along with in-depth, unstructured interviews.

To establish some of the specific lessons the housemaids of Eldoret learnt from Nollywood, I asked each to discuss any two films that they considered as educational. I noted that there were some significant patterns.

The lessons raised were connected to the housemaids’ immediate life experiences, and many of the films mentioned seemed to explore the social impacts of poverty, and how it affects family relationships. The social costs of poverty on the family is a popular Nollywood theme.

Another kind of story that appealed to participants was the Cinderella tale. In these films, the orphaned girl living in abject poverty eventually becomes a princess.

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Dina recalled a film that told the story of a poor woman whose father died and his extended family kicked her and her mother out. They moved to a slum. It so happened that she was actually destined to be a princess, but her father died before telling her the news. Her paternal grandmother eventually tracked her down, to link her up with her prince.

Most of the housemaids I’ve talked to over the years have clearly expressed their admiration for this Cinderella narrative in Nollywood stories. They can project themselves into her situation and use her experience as a source of hope for a better future.

Real life stories

But there were many other ways that housemaid fans of Nollywood said they saw their real lives in the films. One told me:

I used to watch films that presented young women who underwent life experiences that were like mine. But within the stories, their lives turned round, yet mine did not…

But then things changed:

I had reached the very end of my tether when God turned my life around. I met a man in church that proposed to me and we got married two months later. This is when I looked back and realised God had used Nollywood to prepare me for my portion.

She added:

The very first Nollywood film I watched was about a married couple who stayed with the wife’s mother, who ended up taking over her daughter’s husband. But the wife was a prayerful woman, and she consulted her pastor to intercede for their marriage as well. It worked.

True to Nollywood’s often melodramatic form, the mother became mentally deranged, drank a poisonous concoction and died.

I remember many other Nollywood stories that had been about the virtue of patience and waiting for God’s time.

In her case, Nollywood had helped her face her situation for what it was, and, in her view, it helped to keep her positive.

Why this matters

An exploration of the housemaids’ own understanding and use of Nollywood cinema becomes a medium through which to engage with the housemaids’ world – as well as their aspirational identities.

This is a social category of people that occupies a place of absolute subservience and has been forced by circumstances to live invisibly. Electronic media fandom is one of the few avenues where they can momentarily rise above their immediate circumstances.

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The routine nature of the housemaids’ lives, coupled with limited social interaction and the pressures of long working hours, is a danger to mental health. For them Nollywood fandom served as a healthy antidote.

– How Nollywood films help Kenyan housemaids make sense of their lives
– https://theconversation.com/how-nollywood-films-help-kenyan-housemaids-make-sense-of-their-lives-262059

Source: The Conversation – Africa – By Peter J. Brown, Honorary Fellow in Archaeology, Durham University

Written accounts tell the story of the Zanj rebellion – a slave revolt that took place in the late 9th century in southern Iraq. Some of the rebels were enslaved Africans working in various sectors of the local economy.

Thousands of ridges and canals still stand today across a floodplain in southern Iraq. They’ve long been believed to be the remains of a massive agricultural system built by these enslaved people. Creating them, and farming here, could have been what drove the rebellion that’s often thought to have led to the rapid decline of the historic city of Basra and the local economy.

For the first time, our archaeological study offers a firmer timeline for when farming occurred across this landscape. This also allows an insight into how the Zanj rebellion affected the region.

We dated four of the 7,000 abandoned ridge features which cover a large swathe of the Shatt al-Arab floodplain, attesting to a period of agricultural expansion.

Our study finds that this agricultural system was in use for far longer than was previously assumed, calling into question the impact of the rebellion on farming and the local economy.

Our findings enhance our knowledge of the landscape history of southern Iraq and draw attention to the historical significance of landscape features which have often been overlooked.

The secret of the abandoned ridges

Abandoned and eroding earthworks litter the floodplain of the Shatt al-Arab – the river forming at the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates. This flows through southern Iraq out into the Gulf and the Indian Ocean.

Most noticeably, groups of massive, raised, linear ridge features, some of which extend for over a kilometre, are arranged in regular formations. Among these features, the remains of dried-up canals and smaller, adjoining, secondary water channels can be traced.

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Today, agriculture in the floodplain is restricted to the band roughly within 5km of the river. But the abandoned features relate to farming in the past across a much larger area. While we don’t know exactly what was grown, cereals like barley or wheat, dates or sugarcane are the most likely crops.

Accounts from travellers who visited the area, as well as historical maps, indicate that the modern agricultural pattern has existed, essentially unchanged, at least since the 17th century. So, the features we see in the landscape today must have been constructed, in use, and abandoned in an earlier period.

New scientific evidence for the dating of these features helps us to understand when this occurred and the historical circumstances around this phase of agricultural expansion.

In 2022, we excavated small trenches into the top of four of the ridges. This allowed us to extract soil samples from their cores. Using a method called optically stimulated luminescence dating, individual grains of soil could be analysed. This allows the length of time since these grains were exposed to sunlight to be calculated. As our samples came from inside the ridge features, where they would have been permanently hidden from the sun, these samples should give the date when the soil was originally deposited.

The Zanj rebellion

Until now, no significant fieldwork had been carried out to investigate these features. However, these traces of pre-modern farming have often been linked with one particular historical episode – but without concrete evidence. Documents from the early Islamic period (from about the mid 7th to mid 13th century) provide a detailed account of a slave revolt in southern Iraq during the late 9th century, between 869 and 883.

The Zanj Rebellion saw large groups of slaves rebel against the forces of the Abbasid Caliphate – which ruled most of the Islamic world. The rebellion included violent episodes, including the sacking of the nearby city of Basra and clashes with the forces of the caliph sent to suppress the revolt. This threw southern Iraq into turmoil.

The identity of the Zanj people involved in the uprising has been a focus for debate. “Zanj” is an Arabic term used throughout the medieval period to refer to the Swahili coast of east Africa, though it was also used to refer to Africa more generally. As a result, the Zanj have typically been regarded collectively as enslaved people transported to southern Iraq from east Africa.

While the evidence for slaving traffic between Africa and Iraq during the early Islamic period is uncontroversial, the scale of the trade has been questioned. Based on genetic evidence, and the logistics of shipping large numbers to the Gulf, it has been argued that the majority of African slaves at the time of the revolt came from west and western central Africa via Saharan trade routes, rather than coastal east Africa. Importantly, the people involved in the revolt were not all African slaves – some seem to have been local farmers – so the rebels were a mixed group.

We know little about what the group known as the Zanj were doing before the 869 revolt. Their presence in Iraq is documented for centuries beforehand – smaller scale rebellions occurred in the late 7th century but only a few details are available about the lives of the slaves before the 9th century rebellion.

Some were involved in tasks like transporting flour. Others were dispersed in groups of 50-500 in work camps across the floodplain. Details relating to life within these camps are unavailable yet the written sources suggest the slaves were treated poorly by the “agents” who oversaw them. Other than for agriculture, it’s difficult to explain why such camps would have existed across this zone.

What we know about the Zanj fits closely with the scale of the landscape features visible today. Large numbers of labourers would have been needed, both to transport the soil forming the raised ridges and to farm the areas in between. This must have been enormously difficult work.

Unanswered questions

It’s often been assumed that the Zanj rebellion caused a significant decline in the region’s economy, including activities like farming. Our results, however, indicate that the earthworks date to the period after the rebellion.

While some samples date to the period immediately after the rebellion, others gave dates from a century or two later, in the 11th, 12th or 13th centuries. Rather than features created in one go, these traces in the landscape were likely added to over a longer period – perhaps as part of the annual farming cycle.

This means the samples we dated likely do not relate to the earliest farming activity but provide a “snapshot” of ongoing work. Since some of the features date to shortly after the rebellion, the slaves discussed in the written sources were likely involved in creating these ridge features. However, farming across this landscape certainly continued for a significant period after the revolt’s conclusion.

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Be it climatic change, the impact of a pandemic, or wider economic and political shifts, exactly why such a large area of farmland was later abandoned remains an unanswered question. One which requires further research to answer.

But, by more definitively linking these landscape features to their historical context, we are one step closer to understanding social and economic processes in southern Iraq during the medieval period.

Archaeology adds another dimension to what we know about a historical event like the Zanj rebellion.

– Enslaved Africans, an uprising and an ancient farming system in Iraq: study sheds light on timelines
– https://theconversation.com/enslaved-africans-an-uprising-and-an-ancient-farming-system-in-iraq-study-sheds-light-on-timelines-262977