ARTISTIC TRIBE

Dawn broke over Zanzibar on the morning of 27th August 1896, but the island did not wake to peace. A thick tension hung in the humid air , the kind that whispers that history is about to shift. Inside the grand, white-walled palace, Sultan Khalid bin Barghash stood defiant, surrounded by loyal guards and the thunderous heartbeat of anxiety. He had claimed the throne overnight, but the British Empire, anchored just beyond the harbor, had come to reclaim it. By 8:55 AM, British warships , iron giants with cannons trained on the palace , waited in icy silence. The ultimatum ticked toward its final minute. Inside, Khalid refused to kneel. Outside, Britain prepared to roar. 9:00 AM. The deadline shattered. And so did the peace. With a sound that ripped through the morning sky, the British fleet opened fire. Cannons boomed. Walls crumbled. Smoke curled upward like dark serpents. The palace trembled, windows exploding into dust and shards of memory. The Sultan’s royal yacht Glasgo...

When technology meets creativity, something extraordinary happens. Jasmine, an AI model designed by a visionary African creator, is fast becoming the new face of cultural expression in the digital world. With almost 10 million impressions on X (formerly Twitter), Jasmine isn’t just a trend—she’s a statement. A fusion of artificial intelligence, high fashion, and authentic African identity, she was created by the team at @Steez3Universal to influence lifestyle, redefine modeling, and prove that the future of AI belongs to innovators who dare to evolve. Jasmine is the intersection between tech and lifestyle, embodied in a single, hyperreal persona. 1. The Birth of Jasmine: An African Vision for AI The idea for Jasmine was born from a simple, powerful observation: as AI models began to dominate the global digital landscape, there was a glaring absence of authentic, vibrant African representation. The creators at Steez3 Universal saw the rise of global virtual influ...

Infrastructure as Security: The Lagos-Calabar Coastal Road and Nigeria’s Fight Against Insecurity By Olanrewaju Ebunoluwa James It is no longer news that Nigeria faces a persistent insecurity crisis. From insurgency in the North-East to kidnapping and banditry in the South and Middle Belt, the country has become a case study in how fragile economies create fertile ground for violence. While many look to the military for solutions, I believe one key to solving insecurity lies in a place we often overlook: the economy. More precisely, infrastructure that drives economic activity—like the newly launched Lagos-Calabar Coastal Highway —has the potential to reshape the narrative. Why Insecurity Persists: An Economic Lens There’s a popular saying: “An idle hand is the devil’s workshop.” But this is more than just a cliché. History, economic data, and current realities all show that where the economy is broken, crime thrives . A jobless youth, with no access to opportunity or...

A Year of Disappointment: Kajola Local Government and the Burden of Wasted Opportunity Two weeks ago, on a Monday evening, a few of us—young people from Kajola and its surrounding towns—were grooving at Sango, just opposite the police station in Ibadan. It was one of those casual hangouts where laughter flowed easily, and conversations danced from politics to pop culture. Then someone mentioned, almost offhandedly, “It’s exactly a year since the Kajola Local Government executives were sworn in.” I paused, turned to the group, and asked, “So, what has been their most significant achievement so far?” The response? A chorus of shrugs and sighs. One person spoke up and said, “They haven’t been duly funded. The state government hasn’t released enough from the LG allocations.” Others nodded in agreement, repeating what has now become a common refrain. But I told them point blank: those are rumors or at best unverified facts. Even if they were true, lack of funds is no excuse for ...

Diaries of Concerns I keep a diary, written in disappearing ink just in case God reads between the vanishing lines. My prayers are paper planes they fly, crash softly, then burn without smoke. I gave life my account number it debited peace, credited chaos, and left my balance in doubt. I water my wounds with laughter they bloom into sarcasm. It’s cheaper than therapy, and twice as cruel. Hope knocks like a scam call frequent, familiar, but never worth picking up. My shadow keeps secrets even daylight won’t touch. I walk tall, but bend in places mirrors can’t see.