“Black Panther” has burst onto the screen in Africa, handing a powerful response to the unfortunate remarks about the continent by President Donald Trump.

As the red carpet in South Africa swirled with stunning outfits and exclamations in the local isiXhosa language used in the film’s Wakanda kingdom, cast member John Kani laughed at the U.S. president’s views, which several African nations have openly scorned. (Oscar-winning actress Lupita Nyong’o said simply: “No comment.”)

The South African actor Kani, like many at Friday night’s Johannesburg premiere, expressed pride at seeing an Afrofuturistic society that celebrates traditional cultures and dreams of what the world’s second most populous continent can be.

“This time the sun now is shining on Africa,” he said. “This movie came at the right time. We’re struggling to find leaders that are exemplary and role models … so when you see the Black Panther as a young boy and he takes off that mask you think, `Oh my God, he looks like me. He is African and I am African. Now we can look up to some person who is African.”‘

Added actress Danai Gurira, who grew up mostly in Zimbabwe: “To bring this film home is everything.”

The film has opened in other top economic powers across Africa, where a growing middle class flocked to IMAX showings and shared vibrant opening-night images on social media.

“The African culture highlighted in the movie is so rich that it makes me feel proud of being black. I totally love it,” said Liz Muthoni after a screening in Kenya’s capital, Nairobi. “I can watch it again and again.”

“Black Panther” screened a few days ago in Kenya’s western city of Kisumu, where Nyong’o’s father, Anyang, is the local governor.

“Sometimes we think that we have two choices to make in Africa,” he wrote this month in The Star newspaper. “Choice one: We maintain our traditions and cultures and stay backward forever. Choice two: We modernize by becoming westernized and forgetting our cultural traditions which, by their very nature so we think, are stuck in the past. The experience of the Wakanda people teaches us otherwise.”

In Ethiopia’s capital, Addis Ababa, “Black Panther” has been selling out its five-times-a-day screenings at the only theater showing the film. 

“Moviegoers are enjoying the African heritage part of the film. This is also unique for us because Ethiopia is often mentioned alongside the black power and black movements as the only nation not colonized by Western powers,” said Elias Abraha, the cinema’s operations chief. “There are people who changed their flight plans just to watch the movie.”

Some Ethiopian fans quickly changed their Facebook profile pictures and expressed their adoration.

“Tears stream down my face as I write this,” said one Facebook user who goes by LadyRock Maranatha. “Black Panther was basically an enormous . roller coaster of emotions, adventure and most of all the affirmation of what I had felt since I left my country for Cambridge and came back. I cried for my people and felt immense pride in being Ethiopian and most importantly AFRICAN. We are truly resilient and beautiful.”

As the audience poured out of the Johannesburg screening, spirits were high.

“Totally blown away. I got emotional,” said reality TV star Blue Mbombo, who admitted that going into the film she thought the expectations had been “hype.” But she praised its use of cultural touches like Basotho blankets and called the use of the isiXhosa language “very humbling.”

Others considered the American side of the story. “An African-American coming back to Africa, it’s a nice reminder of their heritage as well,” said Ayanda Sidzatane. She called the film awesome. “We knew it would be cool but not like this.”

Some anticipated a flood of interest from African-Americans, even cheekily. “Now I know Black Panther makes Africa look cool … But please don’t come to Lagos … It’s overcrowded,” Nigerian artist Arinze Stanley tweeted of the continent’s most populous city.

As Ghanaian celebrity blogger Ameyaw Debrah put it on social media: “What will #BlackPanther make the world think of Africa now?”
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As the world watches the Olympic Winter Games in South Korea, some American athletes in Washington are lacing up their skates to train for their own, major sporting event. Special in every way, these young people work to overcome their developmental obstacles to compete for gold — just like the world’s top athletes in Pyeongchang. Arash Arabasadi reports from Washington.
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The world, some fret, is falling apart. Politicians spar viciously on social media. Leaders lie. Former heroes fall like dominoes amid endless scandals. Cruelty has come to feel commonplace.

But never fear: We have curling.

The sport with the frenzied sweeping and clacking rocks has rules that require players to treat opponents with kindness. Referees aren’t needed, because curlers police themselves. And the winners generally buy the losers a beer.

At the Pyeongchang Olympics, curlers and their fans agree: In an era of vitriol and venom, curling may be the perfect antidote to our troubled times.

“Nobody gets hit — other than the rock,” laughed Evelyne Martens of Calgary, Canada, as she watched a recent Canada vs. Norway curling match. “And there’s nothing about Trump here!”

​Thanks, Scotland

In the 500 years since curling was conceived on the frozen ponds of Scotland, it has remained largely immune to the cheating controversies and bloated egos common in other sports. This is thanks to what is known as “The Spirit of Curling,” a deeply ingrained ethos that dictates that curlers conduct themselves with honor and adhere to good sportsmanship.

The World Curling Federation’s rules state: “Curlers play to win, but never to humble their opponents. A true curler never attempts to distract opponents, nor to prevent them from playing their best, and would prefer to lose rather than to win unfairly.”

Kindness is the baseline for what curling is all about, says Canadian Kaitlyn Lawes, who won the gold medal this week in curling mixed doubles.

“We shake hands before the game, we shake hands after. And if someone makes a great shot against you, we congratulate them because it’s fun to play against teams that are playing well,” Lawes says. “I think that spirit of curling can be used in the real world — and hopefully it can be a better place.”

Case in point: After losing the curling mixed doubles gold medal to Canada, Switzerland’s Martin Rios swallowed his disappointment during a press conference to say that the Canadians had deserved to win, declaring: “They were the better team.”

The Canadians returned the favor by heartily applauding their Swiss opponents not once but twice. And before the women’s round-robin match Thursday, the Korean team presented their Canadian competitors with a gift bag of Korean curling banners and pins.

​A certain morality

Children new to the sport are coached about the spirit of curling from the very start, says Willie Nicoll, chairman of British Curling. Fair play is not an afterthought, he says. It is the heart of the game.

“It’s always been looked at as being a very gentlemanly sport,” says Kate Caithness, president of the World Curling Federation. “Where does that happen in sport, when you say to your opposition, ‘Good shot?’”

It’s not that curling isn’t competitive. Like every other Olympian in Pyeongchang, curlers all want the gold — just not at the expense of their integrity.

Perhaps the best example of this is the lack of referees. Officials rarely get involved in matches because players call themselves out for fouls. If a curler accidentally hits a stone that’s in motion with their foot or broom — a situation known as a “burned stone” — he or she is expected to immediately announce the mistake. Aileen Geving, a member of the U.S. Olympic curling team, says it would be unthinkable for her not to own up to such a goof.

“We all have to be true to ourselves and I know I would feel way too guilty not to say anything if I hit it!” she says, laughing. “I think there’s a certain morality behind that.”

On Friday, an exceedingly unusual controversy over a burned stone erupted that — unsurprisingly — meandered its way to a mild end. In a tense match against Canada, a Danish player accidentally hit a moving rock. Canada, which had the right to decide what happened, chose to remove the rock from play rather than allow it to remain.

The “aggression” stunned some observers. Canadian media covering the game launched into frenzied discussions, and some curling fans tweeted shock over what they considered unsportsmanlike behavior.

This, though, was the measured reaction from the Danish team’s skip a bit later: She wouldn’t have made the same choice, but she also wasn’t mad.

For the fans, seeing such displays of warmth — or, in the above case, lack of heat — can be a welcome respite from the harshness of the outside world.

Sinking into her seat at the Gangneung Curling Centre, Crystle Kozoroski was still stressed from attending the previous night’s rough and rowdy hockey game. Watching curling, she said, was just the therapy she needed.

“I’m still tense from last night’s game — my body is literally sore,” said Kozoroski, of Manitoba, Canada. “It’s nice just to sit and relax.” Curling is, she says, a “very calming and soothing sport.”

​A typical game

Here is how a typical game starts at Gangneung: Opponents turn to each other, share a handshake and wish each other “Good curling!” A bouncy organ tune blasts across the arena and the stadium announcer cheerfully bellows, “Good luck and GOOD CURLING!” The crowd whoops with glee. Even if you have no idea what is happening, it is almost impossible not to smile.

There’s a sense that everyone is welcome. And with curling, that’s kind of true. Both women and men compete in all three versions of the sport — traditional curling, mixed doubles and wheelchair — and members of curling clubs range in age from 7 to 90.

That feeling of inclusiveness is intertwined with a deep camaraderie that goes back to curling’s inception. Take “broomstacking,” named for the original practice of opponents stacking their brooms in front of a roaring fire after a game and enjoying a drink together.

These days, rivals still socialize after matches, with the winner generally buying the loser a round. The other day, Canadian gold medal curler John Morris posted a photo on Instagram of himself sharing a locker room brew with U.S. rival Matt Hamilton, their arms slung around each other and grins stretching across their faces.

Mae Polo, whose son Joe Polo is a member of the U.S. Olympic curling team, says she and her family have formed tight bonds with curlers across the globe. Those friendships have traversed any competitive or cultural divides, she says, with the curlers’ families all helping each other sort out travel logistics to the Olympics.

Curling is one big family, she says. And maybe, just maybe, curling could serve as a blueprint for us all.

“The world needs to take a lesson from it,” she says. “Let’s just love each other.”
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By the 1980s, America finally publicly embraced the black athlete, looking past skin color to see athleticism and skill, rewarding stars with multimillion-dollar athletic contracts, movie deals, lucrative shoe endorsements and mansions in all-white enclaves.

Who didn’t want to be like Mike?

But those fortunate black athletes like Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods did not, for the most part, use their celebrity to speak out. Most were silent on issues like the crack epidemic, apartheid in South Africa, the racial tensions exposed by the O.J. Simpson trial and the police brutality that set off the Rodney King riots.

There were exceptions — more, perhaps, than are generally remembered. And the times and the media of those times did not necessarily lend themselves to protest. But while Jack Johnson and Muhammad Ali once stood up — and more recently, Colin Kaepernick , LeBron James, Serena Williams and others would not back down — black athletes of the ’80s and ’90s were known mostly for playing games.

“It seems to me that we need to rethink how we define ‘activism’ since black athletes certainly were involved in various social causes during that era. Anecdotally, I think about them donating to various scholarship funds and participating in ‘say no to drugs’ campaigns,” said Johnny Smith, professor of sports, society and technology at Georgia Tech University. “That’s certainly a form of activism. “However, on the whole, the most prominent black male athletes were not confrontational or outspoken.”

When Harvey Gantt took on conservative Republican Senator Jesse Helms in 1990, Jordan — the undisputed superstar athlete of his time — refused to support the black Democrat in his native North Carolina, reportedly saying Republicans buy shoes, too.

It took until 2016 for Jordan to finally speak out strongly on a social issue by condemning the killing of black men at the hands of police, writing in a column published by The Undefeated, a sports and pop culture website.

Woods said this week that throughout America’s history, blacks have struggled.

“A lot of different races have had struggles, and obviously the African-Americans here in this country have had their share of struggles,” Woods said. “Obviously has it gotten better, yes, but I still think there’s room for more improvement.”

Not everyone is an activist

The mold of the public activist — the person who is willing to lead but also willing to lose everything for a cause — doesn’t fit everyone, said Harry Edwards, a scholar of race and sports who has worked as a consultant for several U.S. pro teams.

Some people don’t want to be bothered, Edwards said, but “that has always been there. That was there during slavery. Nat Turner comes and says, ‘Hey, let’s run away. Let’s get some guns. Let’s get some machetes, and let’s fight for our freedom.’ And you always have someone say, ‘You kidding me?’ ”

Dominque Wilkins, a National Basketball Association Hall of Famer known as the “Human Highlight” for his thunderous, acrobatic dunks during the 1980s and ’90s, believes social media have amplified athletes’ voices — and the Twitter-less past did not offer sports stars the soapboxes they have now.

“We didn’t have a platform because it wasn’t that type of media around,” Wilkins said. “You had the normal, everyday media, but you didn’t have Twitter, Facebook, Instagram — you didn’t have any of that.”

Wilkins, 58, said people are completely off base when they say his generation didn’t do anything or care about what was happening in their communities and in the world.

“We grew up in a different era. We were born in the civil rights era. I remember when Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated,” said Wilkins. “People who say we didn’t care don’t know what they’re talking about. … We cared. We were a part of it, so we cared.

“Our parents lived it. Our grandparents lived it. How can we not care?”

Behind-the-scenes work

The activism of the time was different, said sports historian Victoria Jackson, who works in the School of Historical, Philosophical, and Religious Studies at Arizona State University.

Behind the scenes, superstar athletes worked in their communities and with schools — without making their activities known or asking for publicity for their time. Millions of dollars went to schools like historically black colleges and universities, as well as other deserving charities, without public acknowledgment, Jackson said.

“While we might have seen a decline in athletes voicing strong opinions publicly about systemic racism, police brutality, criminal justice and education and residential and workplace reform — and perhaps the growth of endorsements contributed to this — I would suspect, if we did a little digging, we’d find countless stories of athletes doing work in the space of social justice and that this is the constant theme in the long historical arc,” she said.

There were some who spoke loudly. Dashiki-wearing point guard Craig Hodges, Jordan’s teammate on the Chicago Bulls, presented then-President George H. W. Bush with a letter in 1991, urging more concern for African-Americans during one of the Bulls’ championship trips to the White House.

During the 1995-96 season, Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf began stretching or staying in the locker room during the national anthem. Abdul-Rauf was suspended for one game.

But at season’s end, despite averaging 19.2 points and 6.8 assists, he was traded from the Denver Nuggets to the Sacramento Kings. And when his contract expired two years later, he couldn’t get a tryout and was out of the league at age 29.

Efforts in boardrooms

Those protests, some say, may not represent the most radical actions of black athletes of the time, which were in the boardrooms, not on the streets.

Jordan built a brand that turned him into a Nike powerhouse, where he brought African-American businessmen and women up the ladder with him, before becoming the first black sports billionaire with his ownership of the NBA’s Charlotte Hornets.

Magic Johnson, in addition to building a business empire, spoke out passionately about the HIV/AIDS crisis after contracting the disease. The NFL’s Man of the Year award was long named for Walter Payton, who pushed organ donation into the public limelight in his native Chicago and around the country through his foundation while advocating for minority ownership in professional football.

Mike Glenn, who played in the NBA from 1977 to 1987 and is a member of the National Basketball Retired Players Association board of directors, believes how those first black millionaires went about their business helped build the foundation that allows athletes to speak out today.

“I think all of them were aware of backlash,” said Glenn, a collector of documents on African-American history and culture. “They were aware that if you say certain things it may hurt your brand, or may hurt your ability to do things or that maybe even the league would take a different look at you. I think it was an insecurity of their position regardless of how much success they had.”

Jordan and other iconic athletes of that period established the power of individual sports brands, a transitional platform Glenn believes athletes benefit from today.

“LeBron has took what Michael had,” Glenn said, “and taken it a step further.”
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Asians and Asian Americans are increasingly putting their stamp on the global fashion industry — and the big Asian student body at top fashion schools suggests their influence will be lasting. Filipino Jason Wu, American Vera Wang and Malaysian Jimmy Choo are now household names among fashionistas. As London Fashion Week opens today, meet another aspiring designer: 23-year-old, US-trained Xinye Jiang, whose Chinese and international backgrounds inspire her jewelry pieces. Lisa Bryant reports.
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Pakistan, which has sent athletes to previous Winter Olympics, this year sends a two-man delegation — an uncle and his nephew — to compete in Pyeongchang, South Korea.

Muhammad Karim, 22, and his nephew Syed Human, 26, are both from the Naltar Valley, a village located in Gilgit Baltistan, the northernmost region of the country.

Karim was the sole athlete from Pakistan at the 2014 Sochi Olympics.

“It feels very good. Before I was alone, and now, God willing, we have a team,” Karim told VOA in Urdu.

He said he has been able to give his nephew Human tips about preparing for the Olympics as well as how to stay relaxed at this level of competition.

​Alpine, cross-country skiing

Although the two are participating in different events, he said they support each other. Karim will compete in the Alpine skiing competition and Human in cross-country skiing.

As a child, Karim started skiing for fun and took part in competitions that were organized for kids. He then joined the Shah Khan School, a ski school that was set up in Naltar Valley. In 2007, he first visited South Korea for a junior championship. Afterward, he was sent to Austria for training.

Now, Karim has returned to South Korea, this time for the Olympics. He is participating in two Alpine skiing events: giant slalom and slalom, scheduled for Feb. 18 and 22, respectively.

Coming from a rural valley, Karim said it makes him very happy and proud to now represent the country on an international level.

Human echoed that sentiment. He is in the Pakistan Army and is a member of its skiing team. He competes in the men’s 15km free cross-country skiing event on Friday.

Like his uncle, Human’s interest in skiing started at home, in the Naltar Valley.

The Ski Federation of Pakistan opened a school in his village. He was inspired to join after watching others train. Showing a talent for cross-country skiing, he was sent abroad to train. Later, he began competing at a national level, and now internationally.

“After the Ski Federation of Pakistan sent me abroad for training in 2010-2011, it was on my mind and became my mission to represent Pakistan in cross-country skiing at the Olympics,” he said, adding that dream has come true now in South Korea.

While Naltar Valley is a remote valley and a difficult area to access, it has been central to the development of skiing in Pakistan.

​Future of Pakistan winter sports

Shahid Nadeem, secretary general of the Ski Federation of Pakistan, said the first ski resort was opened in Naltar Valley in 1958, to provide training to the Pakistan air force pilots. It later allowed civilians to train.

In 1990, the Ski Federation of Pakistan was created. Twenty years later, Pakistan participated for the first time at the 2010 Winter Games in Vancouver. The sole athlete was Muhammad Abbas, also from Naltar Valley.

Back in Pakistan, the families of Karim and Human are praying for and supporting the two men.

“They are hopeful that we will return to Pakistan having given a great performance, InshAllah, we will keep this hope alive and try to give our best performance,” Karim said.

In Pyeongchang, they were given a warm welcome by the Pakistani embassy and Korean students, whom Karim said made him feel at home. The two men practice on the ski slopes every day, as well as in the gym, they said.

Nadeem, of the Ski Federation, accompanied Karim and Human to Pyeongchang. He said he believes Pakistan, home to some of the world’s highest mountains, has a lot of potential for growth in winter sports.

By the 2022 Winter Olympics in China, Nadeem said he hopes Pakistan will be represented in even more events.

He said his organization is trying to develop athletes in other winter sports, including ice skating, ice hockey and snowboarding. They are also focusing on female participation, with the hope to have a woman qualify for alpine skiing at the Beijing Winter Games.
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Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux are separating after two and a half years of marriage.

The couple said Thursday in a statement to The Associated Press released through a publicist that the decision to split “was mutual and lovingly made at the end of last year.”

The couple said they are making the announcement publicly “in an effort to reduce any further speculation.”

“Normally we would do this privately, but given that the gossip industry cannot resist an opportunity to speculate and invent, we wanted to convey the truth directly,” they said in the statement released by Aniston’s longtime publicist, Stephen Huvane. “Whatever else is printed about us that is not directly from us, is someone else’s fictional narrative. Above all, we are determined to maintain the deep respect and love that we have for one another.”

Aniston and Theroux were engaged in August of 2012 and married in August of 2015. They have no children.

The two worked together on 2012’s Wanderlust, in which she starred.

They said they are “two best friends who have decided to part ways as a couple, but look forward to continuing our cherished friendship.”

Theroux, 46, had a small role in Star Wars: The Last Jedi and has several films slated for release this year, including Netflix’s Mute out this month. His writing credits include Tropic Thunder, Iron Man 2 and Zoolander 2.

Theroux said in an interview earlier this week that he and Aniston were not together on her Feb. 11 birthday, and he would not be spending Valentine’s Day with her.

Aniston, 49, is featured on the cover of the current issue of Architectural Digest with a story about the “pure domestic bliss” of the Beverly Hills, California, home she shared with Theroux. Known as much for her style and stalwart acting career as she is for being a tabloid target, Aniston was previously married to Brad Pitt from 2000 to 2005.

Aniston denounced tabloid culture in a 2016 op-ed, saying she “has worked too hard in this life and this career to be whittled down to a sad, childless human.”

Aniston rose to fame on TV’s Friends and has appeared in such films as Horrible Bosses, Office Christmas Party, Cake and Marley & Me.
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You may not be familiar with the name Kam Mak, but you’ve probably seen his work.  In 2008, the Chinese-American artist was selected by the U.S. Postal Service to create an annual stamp through 2019 for its Celebrating Lunar New Year series.

The Year of the Dog stamp is his latest, and Mak says it highlights some of the holiday’s traditions.

“In the Year of the Dog stamp I decided to use three stalks of lucky bamboo. In Chinese tradition, three lucky bamboo symbolize first, blessing and luck, second is long life, and third is wealth. I also included the pasting of the Fu character, and that means blessing and luck.”

The Lunar New Year stamps date back to the 1980’s, when the Organization of Chinese Americans, now known as OCA – Asian Pacific American Advocates, began urging the postal service to issue a stamp honoring the contributions of Chinese Americans in the U.S.

Mak explains that Jean Chen, one of their members, led the way after she came across a book about the history of the Transcontinental Railroad with a photo showing only Caucasian workers celebrating the completion of the railroad in 1869.

“She was incensed to not see one Chinese American in any of those photos. And she felt that is not right. And she came up with the idea of lobbying the U.S. Postal Service to have some kind of stamp to pay honor to these Chinese Americans who helped build the railroad. That railroad transformed America and a lot of Chinese people gave their lives building that.”

The first Lunar New Year stamp, issued in 1992, was designed by Hawaii graphic artist, Clarence Lee. Due to its popularity, the U.S. Postal Service commissioned Lee to design a series depicting all 12 animals of the Chinese zodiac.  Mak’s series, which celebrates some of the holiday customs and traditions that have endured throughout time , incorporates Lee’s paper-cut designs.  

His favorite, he says, features narcissus flowers, issued in 2010 for the Year of the Tiger.  “It comes with lots of memory, because it was something that my grandmother would cultivate right before the lunar new year and as a little boy (I) always watch her doing it …And the fragrance from the flower always reminds me lunar new year is coming and always brings back, really fond memory being with my grandma.

Mak, who was born in Hong Kong, immigrated to America with his family in 1971, and grew up in New York City’s Chinatown.  There, the 10-year-old faced language barriers and the challenge of adjusting to a new life.

“My Dad was a dishwasher in a Chinese restaurant and he worked six days a week,” he said.  “And my Mom was working in a sweatshop, six days a week, 12 hours a day.  They struggled, because the pay’s really low … they struggled just to take care of us.”

Mak recalls during that time, gangs that were rampant in Chinatown and trying to recruit new members.  His friend joined a gang.  “One day I heard that my friend got shot in a Chinese Theater,” Mak said.  “And the whole scenario, really scared me straight.  And I realized, ‘Oh boy, I want to make sure that I don’t end up being in that situation.’  And think from then on, I really started taking school very seriously.  Because I think that was really my way out.”

Mak was not a good student, but he was good at making pictures.  Before long, he got involved with the City Art Workshop, which allowed inner-city youth, like him, to explore the arts.  Today, in his 50s, Mak is a professor at New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology, where he teaches painting.  He’s also illustrated numerous books, including a retelling of an old Chinese folktale, The Dragon Prince, by renowned author Laurence Yep.

Eventually, Mak illustrated and wrote his own picture book called My Chinatown: One Year In Poems.  It’s about a little boy growing up in Chinatown.  Through an organization called Behind the Book, he shares his immigrant experience with New York City students.

“[They] are mostly Latinos and African American kids (from the) inner city.  So besides reading them the book, I take them out to Chinatown and have them experience all the things that I experienced growing up … I just want to stir their imaginations and want them to learn about other cultures, besides what they only know in their own neighborhood.”

And he wants the people he meets to be proud of who they are, and not feel ashamed if they’re different. He recalled a talk at a public school in Chinatown.

“And so after my presentation to these group of kids, a bunch of Chinese kids came to me very emotionally (and said), ‘Kam, I’m so happy there’s a book that is about me.’   I say, ‘Yes, this book is about all our experiences, our similar experiences.’  So at that moment, I felt really emotional because, wow, the book itself had moved other kids, and they would not feel that they are isolated, that there’s actually a book that actually plays a very positive light about how they grew up and it’s something they can relate to.  And so I think that’s a very positive thing.”

For Kam Mak, carrying on the legacy of the Lunar New Year stamps, and Chinese culture and heritage, is not only a huge responsibility, but a personal mission, as well.
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