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Zappa Montag walks through a 76‑hectare (189‑acre) forest of redwoods, madrones and oaks that he co‑manages with five other Black residents at Black to the Land in Boonville, California. Powered by solar panels and supplied by a well, the off‑grid ecovillage embodies Montag’s goal to “reverse‑gentrify the country” by creating a self‑sufficient sanctuary for Black people. Intentional communities—small groups united by shared values—have long served Black and Indigenous peoples, ranging from urban co‑housing to rural ecovillages. In the post‑slavery era, tightly knit Black networks relied on mutual aid for business and farming, a tradition that is resurfacing in places like Alabama, Massachusetts and California as a way to revive ancestral agricultural knowledge. Montag and his daughter Bibi Sarai first imagined Black to the Land in 2015, frustrated by the rapid gentrification of Oakland. After a 2021 introduction to the declining Emerald Earth Sanctuary in Mendocino County, the nonprofit transferred stewardship of the property to their group through a verbal and written agreement. Montag describes the hand‑over as a form of reparations—instead of cash, they invest time learning land stewardship. Tragedy struck in February 2023 when Bibi Sarai died unexpectedly. Yet, reports that visitors felt uplifted after summer stays convinced Montag to stay permanently, turning grief into a catalyst for the community’s growth. Today, the community—members ranging from their late 20s to mid‑50s—funds land maintenance through grants, workshops and fundraising. They host classes on building, gardening and foraging, while some members work remotely to cover personal expenses. African plant‑medicine practitioners prepare herbal remedies, and a partnership with Ghanaian ecovillage leaders introduces natural‑building techniques. In addition to cultivating vegetables, the residents construct clay dwellings, practice yoga, and collectively manage chores such as fire‑wood gathering and trench‑building to prevent driveway flooding. Self‑reliance is the guiding principle, especially amid today’s economic uncertainty. The BIPOC Intentional Community Council, founded in 2020, supports Black and brown groups in establishing similar settlements by providing funding, nonprofit‑formation workshops and land‑trust guidance. Board member Crystal Byrd Farmer notes a growing “back‑to‑the‑land” movement as people seek rural roots. While mainstream media sometimes label intentional communities as radical, Farmer argues they echo millennial human practices of mutual support. Most U.S. intentional communities remain majority‑white due to historic capital access, leaving people of color to feel culturally alienated in those spaces. In Alabama, the Ekvn‑Yefolecv ecovillage—run by Indigenous Maskoke families—reclaimed 3,105 hectares (7,674 acres) of ancestral land. Governed matriarchally, residents speak their language daily, practice traditional foraging, reintroduce buffalo and sturgeon, and share land title, offering a model of ecological sustainability and cultural preservation. Massachusetts hosts the Solidarity Arts & Education Decolonial Initiatives (SAEDi) collective, a communal home for women of color that blends art, food sovereignty and reparations work. Rent is adjusted to ability, and members contribute childcare, meals and chores. Plans include a garden, orchard, and a “green residency” program that will archive elders’ agricultural stories online, aiming to boost security for immigrant families amid rising xenophobia. The modern roots of Black intentional living trace back to 1969’s New Communities in Georgia, a civil‑rights‑era farming settlement that pioneered the nation’s first community land trust. Although federal opposition led to its collapse, a 2009 $12 million settlement acknowledged USDA discrimination. Today, the organization runs workshops on land stewardship and mentors new generations of Black farmers. For Montag, the land also serves as a personal memorial. A clay bench honors his late daughter Bibi Sarai, allowing him to “connect with humanity” and keep her spirit alive. Future plans include grief‑focused rituals and a memorial garden, underscoring the belief that joy and healing are essential components of communal living. Increased security and safety Marginalized groups view intentional communities as safe havens for preserving cultural practices and passing knowledge to youth. Elders’ expertise is documented for future generations, reinforcing resilience against systemic oppression. Empowering collective action From the civil‑rights farms of Georgia to contemporary ecovillages in California and Alabama, these settlements illustrate how shared land ownership, communal labor and cultural affirmation can counter gentrification, foster economic independence, and nurture intergenerational healing.

Big Mama Thornton, born Willie Mae Thornton in 1926, was a force to be reckoned with in the music industry. Standing at 6ft 2in, with an imposing physique and a razor-scarred face, she exuded uncompromising intensity. Her voice conveyed struggle and defiance, fury and hurt, like few others.Thornton's music career began in the 1940s, performing with comedians, dancers, and musicians in the touring Hot Harlem Revue. In 1950, she was signed to Duke and Peacock Records and adopted the stage name 'Big Mama' by Johnny Otis. Her most famous song, 'Hound Dog', was written for her by Mike Stoller and Jerry Leiber and topped the R&B charts for nearly two months in 1953.Despite her early success, Thornton's career was marked by financial struggles and racism. She was often forced to perform animal-themed comedy songs and was underpaid by her manager, Don Robey. Her frustration with the music industry and her experiences with racism and sexism are etched in her voice, says Black British blues singer Dawnette Fessey.Thornton's legacy extends beyond her music. She was a trailblazer for Black female artists and an inspiration to many, including Janis Joplin, who recorded Thornton's song 'Ball and Chain'. A new documentary, Big Mama Thornton: I Can’t Be Anyone But Me, aims to right the wrongs of her overlooked legacy and celebrate her contributions to blues music.

Aaron Ramsey, a name synonymous with Welsh football excellence, has officially retired from the sport. His career was marked by early promise, rapid rise to international stardom, and a legacy that will be remembered for generations to come.Ramsey's journey began with Wales' national team debut at just 17, a testament to his prodigious talent. He quickly became a cornerstone of the team, known for his exceptional technique, vision, and creativity on the field. His performances earned him captaincy by the age of 20, a rare honor that underscored his leadership qualities and influence.One of the defining moments of Ramsey's career was his heroic performance in Euro 2016, where Wales reached the semi-finals, a feat that rekindled the nation's passion for football. His four assists and one goal in the tournament showcased his skill and determination. Ramsey's absence in the semi-final due to suspension was deeply felt, as Wales were eventually eliminated by Portugal.Despite struggling with injuries that plagued him throughout his career, Ramsey's impact on Welsh football cannot be overstated. He was a key player in qualifying for Euro 2020, scoring crucial goals against Hungary. His partnership with Gareth Bale was particularly notable, as they inspired victories and memorable moments for Welsh fans.As Wales failed to qualify for the 2026 World Cup, fans will look back on Ramsey's contributions with gratitude and admiration. He is undoubtedly a shoo-in for Wales' all-time XI, a testament to his enduring legacy in the sport.

A £7.5m refurbishment of a Derbyshire railway viaduct has sparked outrage among nature lovers and conservationists. The project, undertaken by Network Rail, has resulted in the blocking of swift nesting holes that have been used by the birds for generations.Campaigners had appealed to Network Rail to preserve the tiny gaps in the stonework, which serve as ancestral nesting sites for the swifts. However, three holes were filled with mortar in February, sparking concerns about the impact on the local swift population.“It’s utterly heartbreaking,” said Deb Pitman, a swift campaigner. “Seeing footage of what happens when swifts return to a blocked nest is deeply upsetting. They repeatedly try to access their entry point, sometimes with fatal consequences.”The swift population in Britain has declined by 66% between 1995 and 2022, largely due to the widespread loss of nesting holes in older roofs and buildings. Campaigners argue that preserving the swift holes in the viaduct would have no impact on the structural integrity of the structure.Network Rail claims to have consulted ecologists and created exclusion zones to protect the nesting swifts during the refurbishment work. However, campaigners dispute this, citing 38 pieces of evidence that show at least nine nest sites on the viaducts.The British Transport Police’s wildlife crime team is investigating whether nesting birds may have been disturbed during the refurbishment work. Campaigners plan to hold a vigil beneath the viaduct on Saturday in the hope that the holes will be unblocked before the swifts return around the end of April to breed.

The Artemis II mission is set to make a profound impact on the world, inspiring future generations to pursue careers in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM). The crew's journey represents a significant milestone in space exploration, uniting people across the globe in their quest for knowledge and discovery.As the world watches, the Artemis II mission is poised to ignite a sense of wonder and curiosity about the vastness of space and the possibilities that lie beyond our planet. By pushing the boundaries of human exploration, the crew is embodying the spirit of adventure and cooperation that defines humanity's pursuit of excellence.

In the heart of Kyiv, Ukraine, a unique theatre has emerged as a beacon of hope and healing for those affected by war. The Veterans' Theatre, founded in 2024, provides a platform for soldiers, their wives, and widows to share their experiences and find catharsis through performance.One of the theatre's most poignant productions is 'Twenty One', a play that explores the struggles of a soldier's wife, Maryna, as she waits anxiously for her husband's return from the front line. The play, written by Olha Murashko, is an autobiographical account of the emotional toll of war on those left behind.The theatre's approach is rooted in the idea that sharing one's experiences can be a powerful tool for healing. By dramatizing their stories, participants are able to process their emotions and find a sense of closure. The theatre's director, Kateryna Vyshneva, believes that this collective catharsis is essential in helping individuals cope with the trauma of war.The Veterans' Theatre serves as a therapeutic outlet for its participants, providing a safe space for them to express their emotions and connect with others who have gone through similar experiences. As the theatre continues to grow and evolve, it is clear that its impact will be felt for generations to come.

Afika Bambaataa, the Bronx‑born architect of modern hip‑hop, passed away at age 67 in Philadelphia early Thursday morning, with officials citing complications from cancer as the cause of death. The Hip‑Hop Alliance, chaired by veteran rapper Kurtis Blow, released a statement honoring Bambaataa’s role as a founding figure of the culture. The group praised his creation of the Universal Zulu Nation, which promoted the movement’s core values of peace, unity, love and fun, while also acknowledging the complexity of his legacy in light of recent abuse allegations. During the 1980s, Bambaataa helped define the sound of hip‑hop, most notably with the 1982 electro‑funk anthem “Planet Rock”. The track, which sampled German pioneers Kraftwerk, positioned him at the forefront of a new musical frontier and led to collaborations with artists such as John Lydon, George Clinton and James Brown. Born Lance Taylor, he launched the Universal Zulu Nation in the late 1970s, drawing inspiration from DJ Kool Herc and the solidarity of South Africa’s Zulu people. This collective became a cultural hub that spread hip‑hop’s ethos worldwide. In the early 1980s Bambaataa also performed with the electronic group Ebn Ozn, further cementing his reputation as a bridge between American street culture and European synth‑pop. His work helped crystallize the electro‑funk genre that dominated clubs across the globe. His activist side emerged in 1985 when he joined Artists United Against Apartheid to produce the landmark protest single “Sun City.” The project featured a roster of high‑profile musicians—including Bob Dylan, Bono, Bruce Springsteen and Run‑DMC—united against South Africa’s apartheid regime. Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s Bambaataa continued to record, culminating in his final album, “Dark Matter Moving at the Speed of Light” (2004). While his musical output waned, his influence on subsequent generations of artists remained unmistakable. However, Bambaataa’s later years were marred by serious accusations. In 2016, several Bronx men alleged sexual misconduct, which he publicly dismissed as “baseless and cowardly.” A former bodyguard later claimed to have witnessed inappropriate behavior involving teenage boys. The allegations resurfaced in May 2025 when an anonymous plaintiff filed a civil suit alleging four years of abuse beginning in 1992. Bambaataa failed to appear in court, resulting in a default judgment against him. As the hip‑hop community mourns a foundational artist, it also confronts the enduring debate over how to reconcile his cultural contributions with the serious allegations that have come to define the final chapter of his public life.

Mircea Lucescu, a Romanian football great and serial trophy winner as a player and coach, has passed away at the age of 80. Lucescu's death was confirmed by the Bucharest University Emergency Hospital, where he was admitted after reportedly suffering a heart attack on Friday morning.Lucescu was one of the most successful Romanian football coaches and players, known for being the first to qualify the Romanian national team for a European Championship in 1984. He had a lengthy coaching career spanning almost half a century, from the late 1970s to World Cup 2026 qualifying.As a player, Lucescu captained his country at the 1970 World Cup. His coaching career included stints with Shakhtar Donetsk, where he won the UEFA Cup in 2009 and accumulated 22 trophies, making him the most successful manager in the club's history.Lucescu also coached Turkish and Romanian national teams and had spells with Italian clubs such as Pisa, Brescia, Reggiana, and Inter Milan. His contributions to Romanian football have been widely praised, with Romanian President Nicusor Dan paying tribute to him as "one of the most respected figures in the history of Romanian and European football".UEFA President Aleksander Ceferin remembered Lucescu as "one of the game's true originals – a man of rare football intellect, remarkable dignity and passion". Lucescu's legacy continues to inspire generations of football players and fans.

Arthur Rosenfeld, 73, and Meryl Tankard, 70, open the performance by introducing themselves as “sprightly old geezers,” setting a tone of candid humor that runs through the evening. The production, ‘Kontakthof – Echoes of 78,’ is a fresh staging of Pina Bausch’s iconic 1978 work, now re‑imagined by Australian choreographer Meryl Tankard. Unlike the 2010 London run that split the piece between teenagers and senior amateurs, this rendition features the eight surviving members of the original cast—all now in their late sixties to early eighties—performing the very roles they created half a century ago. A ninth dancer was absent due to illness. Their live movements are mirrored on a large screen by the black‑and‑white film of the 1978 performance, creating a visual palimpsest where past and present dance together. The choreography, set to 1930s dance‑hall songs, remains a wry commentary on courtship, power dynamics and consent. Tankard’s direction emphasizes the passage of time, allowing audiences to witness the same steps executed by bodies that have aged, yet retain a striking vitality. Dancers such as Josephine Ann Endicott, now in her seventies, glide across the stage in silk dresses, their frames more fragile but their confidence undiminished. Moments of poignancy arise when the film shows cast members who have since passed away. Onstage, John Giffin reaches for his late partner’s face, only to grasp empty air—a visual metaphor for loss that resonated deeply with the audience. Personal revelations punctuate the performance: Beatrice Libonati, 71, describes herself as “paranoid and a misanthrope,” while Tankard admits, “I wish I’d had children; I miss my mother every day,” underscoring the undercurrent of longing that runs through the piece. Beyond its narrative, the production offers a meditation on continuity. Bausch’s signature walking patterns—slow circles and linear traverses—are repeated, suggesting that despite changing bodies, the human species continues to tread familiar social routes. The music, unchanged from the original, carries on until the final dancer pauses, symbolising the inevitable end of the dance of life. The show runs at Sadler’s Wells, London through 11 April, offering a rare glimpse into how art can bridge generations and celebrate the endurance of the human spirit.