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We plan trips to the motherland where you will be integrated with the community, given an African name and welcome home traditionally.. Ada Foah will contain articles and editorial stories featuring a diverse array of Tourism. The goal of this publication is to recognize and promote Ghana Tourism especially Ada Foah. we aim for the best for everything that's going to promote and protect Ada Nature and Beauty of this lovely Town.

He didn’t plan to disappear from the world — life simply carried him to the place his soul had been searching for.In 198...
11/17/2025

He didn’t plan to disappear from the world — life simply carried him to the place his soul had been searching for.

In 1989, Mauro Morandi set sail for Polynesia, hoping to escape the noise and chaos of modern life. But fate had a different route. When his catamaran broke down near the tiny island of Budelli, Italy, he stopped only to make repairs… and ended up discovering the peace he had been longing for his entire life.

What began as an accident became a 32-year sanctuary.

For more than three decades, Mauro lived completely alone on one of Europe’s most breathtaking islands — surrounded by turquoise water, pink sand, and a silence so deep it felt holy. No crowds. No deadlines. No pressure. Only wind, waves, and the quiet truth inside his own heart.

A former schoolteacher, he became Budelli’s quiet guardian — cleaning its shores, protecting its rare Pink Beach, welcoming the occasional traveler, and watching the seasons move like poetry.

“I don’t need to talk,” he said. “Nature speaks for me.”

But in 2021, the island was designated a protected park, and authorities forced him to leave the home that had become part of his spirit.

Mauro Morandi passed away at 85, but his life whispers a lesson many have forgotten:

Sometimes the peace you’re chasing isn’t found by running toward something new…
but by surrendering to the unexpected gift life places in front of you.

Chicken George: The Man, the Memory, the Legend (1806–1890s)Chicken George was not just a character from Roots — he was ...
11/17/2025

Chicken George: The Man, the Memory, the Legend (1806–1890s)

Chicken George was not just a character from Roots — he was a real man whose life began in 1806 in Alamance County, North Carolina. Born George McDonald, he earned the name “Chicken George” through a gift that stunned everyone who witnessed it.

He was the son of Kizzy, an enslaved woman, and her enslaver, Tom Lea. As a boy, George was introduced to the world of cockfighting — a brutal sport, but one he mastered with extraordinary skill. He studied the birds, understood their nature, and soon became one of the greatest trainers and breeders of gamecocks in the region. People traveled long distances to watch him work. His name carried weight even in circles where enslaved men were never meant to be recognized.

Yet all the talent in the world could not change one truth: George remained enslaved. His genius enriched others, not himself. He married Matilda, built a family, and dreamed of freedom, a dream that was promised to him many times — and stolen from him just as often.

When his enslaver fell into debt, George was hired out to the cockfighting rings of England. He spent years overseas, winning fame but losing precious time with his wife and children. No cheering crowd could fill the ache of separation.

Then history shifted. The Civil War came. Emancipation followed.

At last, freedom — not promised, not borrowed, but real.

George returned home a changed man in a changed world. His children were grown. His years had been hard. But he reclaimed his family, his dignity, and the life that had long been denied him. He lived the rest of his years as a free man and passed away sometime in the 1890s.

His story could have vanished into silence — but it didn’t.

Generations later, his great-great-grandson, Alex Haley, gathered the oral histories whispered through families, shared at reunions, passed down like sacred heirlooms. From those memories came Roots, and with it, the world met Chicken George.

And because of memory, he still stands:

A symbol of charm, skill, and unstoppable endurance.
A reminder that African American history survived through mouths and memories when books refused to hold it.
A testament that behind every name in our past is a real life, a real struggle, a real legacy.

Chicken George lived.
He struggled.
He returned home.
And today — we remember.

Prince Randian was born in Guyana in 1871 with tetra-amelia — a rare condition that left him without arms and legs. Many...
11/17/2025

Prince Randian was born in Guyana in 1871 with tetra-amelia — a rare condition that left him without arms and legs. Many people believed his future was already limited, but his life became the complete opposite: a story of brilliance, confidence, and unstoppable human spirit.

He was brought to the United States to perform in sideshows and was given the name “The Human Caterpillar.” On stage, he amazed crowds with what seemed impossible. Randian could roll a cigarette using only his lips, strike a match, and smoke entirely on his own. His performances became a powerful reminder that the body may have limits, but the mind and willpower do not.

Away from the spotlight, he lived a full and warm family life with his wife, Sarah, and their four children. Those who knew him described him as joyful, fiercely independent, and full of life.

In 1932, he appeared in the iconic film Freaks, showcasing the same extraordinary abilities that made him unforgettable. Prince Randian passed away in 1934, but his legacy remains—a timeless example that determination, courage, and self-belief are far greater than any physical challenge.

**THE VICTORIAN PORTRAIT THAT SEEMED PERFECT — UNTIL THEIR HANDS REVEALED A SECRET OF GRIEFLondon, 1891**In the late 19t...
11/14/2025

**THE VICTORIAN PORTRAIT THAT SEEMED PERFECT — UNTIL THEIR HANDS REVEALED A SECRET OF GRIEF

London, 1891**

In the late 19th century, family photography was more than a luxury — it was a ritual of legacy. On October 14, 1891, a well-known London portrait studio received a request from a quiet, grieving household. The mother arrived dressed in her finest lace, seated with solemn dignity between her two young daughters. Her posture was immaculate, her expression composed — the kind of stillness Victorians considered noble and refined.

To any onlooker, the photograph captured the refined elegance of a respectable family. But the Victorians had customs hidden beneath their beauty — symbols only the trained eye could read.

And the symbol in this portrait was in her hands.

Folded carefully on her lap, the mother’s fingers formed an unusual gesture — stiff, motionless, and held with unnatural precision. Her daughters stood on either side, their hands resting lightly on her shoulders, their faces calm yet strangely distant.

For decades, the image was regarded simply as an example of formal Victorian portraiture. But in 1953, when historians revisited the studio’s surviving archives, the truth emerged.

The mother had died the morning before the photograph was taken.

This was not a celebration of life — it was a final tribute.

Victorian families often commissioned post-mortem portraits, believing that photography could preserve the spirit of a loved one. In this case, the daughters insisted their mother be photographed “as she had lived — upright, proud, and surrounded by love.”

Her hands, rigid and carefully arranged into a symbolic “crossing” gesture, were the giveaway. Victorian photographers used this pose for the departed because stiff fingers could be positioned easily, and the gesture represented “the soul at rest.”

Her posture was held in place by hidden supports under her dress. Her daughters’ hands on her shoulders were not just affectionate — they were gently steadying her for the long exposure time.

When the truth was uncovered, historians were struck by the portrait’s delicate balance of grief and honor. It became one of the most haunting and intimate examples of Victorian mourning culture, a reminder of a time when love, death, and memory existed side by side.

A perfect family portrait —
revealed, at last, as a final goodbye.

C.C. Reindorf wrote this almost 200 years ago, and he said it plainly:The Lateh people were part of the “Le-speaking” gr...
11/13/2025

C.C. Reindorf wrote this almost 200 years ago, and he said it plainly:
The Lateh people were part of the “Le-speaking” group — the same people we now call Dangme.

That means something people don’t like to admit:

🔥 The Larteh people are originally Dangmeli.
Not “related,” not “influenced,” not “close to.”
They ARE Dangme.

The history is there. The language is there. The roots are the same.

So the real question we should be asking is:

What clear similarities show that Dangmes and Lartehs come from the same ancestral source?

Because the truth is simple:

✨ You can change labels, but you can’t erase blood.

Many people try to oversimplify identity by saying Native Americans came from Siberia and Black Americans came from West...
11/13/2025

Many people try to oversimplify identity by saying Native Americans came from Siberia and Black Americans came from West or Central Africa.
But history is far richer than that.

What most don’t talk about is this:

📌 Black presence in the Americas existed thousands of years before Columbus or the trans-Atlantic slave trade.
Ancient West African seafarers, Nubian navigators, and Olmec-era travelers left cultural, linguistic, and archaeological footprints across the Americas.

📌 Researchers have documented African features in early American civilizations, including the Olmecs, the earliest major civilization in Mexico.

📌 Oral traditions from tribes in North, Central, and South America speak of “Black people who were here before us.”

📌 Genetic studies show traces of West African and African-related markers in some Indigenous groups that predate European contact.

📌 Ancient American art, statues, and carvings depict dark-skinned, wool-haired people considered by some scholars to reflect African influence.

So the narrative is shifting:

Instead of “Blacks came here later,”
the fuller truth is emerging:

✨ Black people have been part of the American story since ancient times — as explorers, traders, settlers, and contributors to early civilizations.

The idea that Black identity in America begins only with slavery is false and incomplete.
The roots are much deeper, older, and more powerful than most mainstream history books admit.
🌍) 🤔

Happy Birthday Nene
11/11/2025

Happy Birthday Nene

The ST*PID Joke lols
11/10/2025

The ST*PID Joke lols

The Man Who Grew Like a Tree — and Chose to Stand TallIn Indonesia lived a man named Dede Koswara, known to the world as...
11/07/2025

The Man Who Grew Like a Tree — and Chose to Stand Tall

In Indonesia lived a man named Dede Koswara, known to the world as “The Tree Man.”
His body carried a story nature itself could not forget — one written in bark, pain, and unyielding strength.

Dede was born with a rare genetic condition called Epidermodysplasia Verruciformis, a disorder that caused his skin to grow uncontrollably into bark-like layers. What looked like twisted roots and branches were actually his own cells — a forest his body could not stop creating.

Doctors removed over six kilograms of growths in 2008, granting him brief relief. But like nature’s cycle, the growths always returned. Through countless surgeries, through years of stares and questions, Dede never hid. He faced the world — not as a spectacle, but as a lesson in quiet courage.

He once said he only wanted “to live, to work, and to hold my children again.”

On January 30, 2016, Dede Koswara passed away in Badung, Indonesia, from complications of the disease. Yet his legacy lives beyond medicine or pity — it lives in the hearts of those who saw the beauty in endurance.

Dede didn’t just survive a rare illness —
he showed humanity what it means to grow even when life roots you in suffering.
Because sometimes, true strength doesn’t shout. It simply endures — like a tree.

When China Was Black and peaceful with love...
11/06/2025

When China Was Black and peaceful with love...

ADA IS DYING OF THIRST — AND I’M DONE BEING POLITEBy Mershack Kabu Aklie ()Youth Advocate | Environmental & Cultural Ac...
11/06/2025

ADA IS DYING OF THIRST — AND I’M DONE BEING POLITE

By Mershack Kabu Aklie ()

Youth Advocate | Environmental & Cultural Activist | Eyes of Hope Foundation

Let’s stop pretending.
Ada is not “developing.” Ada is drowning in neglect and thirsting in silence.

We are the land of rivers, yet our children dig the earth for water.
We are surrounded by rivers lagoons and the sea, yet mothers cook with mud.
We sing songs of festivals, yet our toilets are the open beaches where our children play.

Tell me — what progress is this?
How do we boast of “projects” when people fetch water beside faeces?
How do our leaders cut ribbons while our children dig holes?

This is not politics anymore. This is betrayal dressed as governance.

⸻

THE CURSE OF SILENCE

Every generation inherits something — wealth, wisdom, or wounds.
Ours inherited silence.
And silence is killing us faster than cholera ever could.

Look at Totopey — the children wake at sunrise not for school, but for survival.
They dig into the sand, waiting for brown water to rise from the ground like a ghost of what used to be life.
They drink it.
They share it with goats.
And somehow, they still smile.
That’s the spirit of Ada — strong enough to survive, yet broken enough to be ignored.

But me? I’m done being silent.
I am not here to please politicians or pamper cowards.
If truth makes you uncomfortable, maybe you’re the reason Ada is suffering.

⸻

THE SEA DEFENCE SCAM

They said the Ada Sea Defence Project would bring hope.
Instead, it brought chaos, displacement, and deceit.
Millions of euros gone — and yet not a single borehole for the people whose homes were taken.

The sea took our land; the government took our trust.
The Kasseh–Ada Foah road is still bleeding dust, the markets still rot, and the youth still roam without direction.
And when we speak, they call it “opposition.”

No. This is not opposition — this is accountability.
This is not rebellion — this is revival.
You cannot call yourself a leader if your people drink from mud.

⸻

THE MORAL FAILURE

Leadership is not about handshakes and headlines.
Leadership is standing in the mud with your people until the water flows clean.

But our leaders don’t lead — they wait for cameras.
Our chiefs don’t defend — they shake hands with politicians who sell the land for photo ops.
And our youth? Many have become pawns — shouting for parties that will never fill their buckets.

Ada has become a cautionary tale of loyalty abused.
Thirty years of devotion to one political color, and what do we have?
Dry taps.
Dirty water.
And the slow death of dignity.

You cannot build a modern Ada on the bones of thirsty children.
You cannot call it development when mothers fetch water from gutters.

⸻

THE SPIRITUAL TRUTH

We have not just polluted our land — we have insulted our ancestors.
Because to an African, water is not a resource — it is a spirit.
When we defile it, we defile the covenant between the living and the dead.

The ancestors gave us rivers, and we gave them sewage.
They gave us rain, and we gave them silence.
Do you see why nothing is moving?
Because the land is angry.
The water is angry.
The spirits are tired of our excuses.

This is not superstition — this is spiritual science.
Every drop of dirty water is a curse waiting for confession.

⸻

THE AWAKENING

I am not writing this for pity. I am writing this as prophecy.
Ada will rise again — not through politics, but through people.
Not through slogans, but through sweat.

We will build our own wells.
We will clean our own beaches.
We will call on the spirits of the river, the lagoon, the sea and the ancestors to guide us.
Because when the leaders fail, the land itself becomes the leader.

Our youth will organize.
Our mothers will protest.
Our elders will speak again — not with fear, but with fire.
The world will hear us.
And when that happens, no amount of propaganda will drown our truth.

⸻

THE NEW COVENANT

This is not just about water — this is about dignity.
It is about taking back our identity as people of wisdom, water, and wonder.

So here is the covenant we make with our ancestors and with our children:
• We will no longer drink shame.
• We will no longer beg for what is ours.
• We will no longer worship leaders who watch us suffer.
• We will restore Ada — with our hands, our voice, and our spirit.

Because when the people wake up, corruption trembles.
And Ada is waking up.

⸻

ADA DOESN’T NEED PITY — ADA NEEDS PERFORMANCE.

THE SEA MAY BE RISING, BUT SO ARE WE.

THE SPIRIT OF OUR ANCESTORS IS WATCHING — AND THIS TIME, THEY WILL NOT FORGIVE SILENCE.

⸻

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