Face Hunter

🇰🇼 Meet some creative minds from one of the most forward-thinking nations on the Arabian Peninsula:

1-2: Ghadah, artist: “During the pandemic, my friend and I would stroll around our neighborhood, rating the houses and making up stories about who lived there.”

3: Sulaiman, entrepreneur: “One of my absolute favorite travel experiences was swimming with whales in Tonga. Since then, I’ve found it hard to feel as excited about other trips.”

4-5: Noor, owner of .nur.art art platform : “I remember the simplicity of life in Kuwait in the 80’s, as a child we used to go fishing nearly every weekend. They were full days out at sea to fish and visit the islands. The new generation doesn’t have the patience and interest for such slower activities.”

6-7: Yousef, photographer: “In Winter, Kuwait can be very fun and people get more creative because we don’t have to stay indoors.“

8: Ameena, marketing/PR freelancer: “I’ve been writing movie reviews for years, I wish one day I can build up my own cinema.”

9-10: Afnan, high school English teacher: “I’m planning to complete a master’s degree and a PhD to teach at a university here in Kuwait.”

11: Aseel, artist: “Kuwait is a place where modernity and tradition constantly negate each other, creating a dynamic and often contradictory identity. My work is about examining these layers; tracing the histories, narratives, and power structures that shape this inhabit. was also built on this curiosity, as a space to question and rethink what it means to create within (and about) Kuwait’s evolving context.”

12-13: Zooz, artist, writer & filmmaker

14: Azizah, online second-hand shop owner: “In Kuwait, many people are interested in second-hand clothing but hesitate due to the idea that it has been previously worn by someone else.

15-16: Layala, entrepreneur: “I own the first medical wellness center in Kuwait we specialize in preventive medicine and recovery optimisation: physical and mental. Kuwait is a country with a big heart, where everyone feels like family

Did the creation from scratch of a new capital city in the Brazilian savannah in the late 1950s encouraged and celebrated “internal ”?

Behind ’s capital’s spectacular display of , there is a story less often told.

By moving its capital from Rio de Janeiro to Brasilia in 1960, Brazil’s government had the ambition to “turn the page on the past”, “develop empty lands” and evolve into a “modern, unified and industrialised nation”.

But the these lands were not exactly empty…

The region where Brasília is located is an ancestral quilombo territory, historically occupied by autonomous communities of fugitive formerly-enslaved Afro-descendent people.

The pharaonic construction of Brasilia and its numerous far-reaching highways connecting the capital with the different states of the federation had ethnocidal and genocidal consequences for indigineous communities and quilombos; creating as well astronomic amounts of ecocide.

The alignment of the Brasilia project with colonialism is not just a factual reality, it was as well symbolically manufactured.

For instance, a highly publicised catholic mass was celebrated on the 3rd May 1957 to mark the foundation of the construction site of Brasília, on the exact same day as the first Catholic mass celebrated in Brazil, shortly after Cabral’s fleet reached southern Bahia -which symbolically marked the possession of Indigineous territories by the Portuguese Empire.

“The construction of the new capital meant the continuation of a process of colonization and territorial dispossession, but now legitimized under discourses, images, and imaginaries of national modernity and racial integration.” Paulo Tavares , Brasilia-based architect and researcher

ምጽዋዕ ( ) 🇪🇷 What does the future hold for the Eritrean marvel of the ?

With its intricately designed balconies, narrow alleys and ornate doorways, the Old Town is blending styles, from Ottoman, Islamic, to even Venetian, influenced by the various cultures, kingdoms, sultanates and empires that have left their mark on the port city.

Its strategic location made it for millennia an important hub for commerce, connecting Africa, Asia, and Europe.

Unfortunately, the War of Independence (1961-1991) between Ethiopia and saw the old town blanket-bombed, leaving only 10% intact.

With Eritrea’s de facto independence in 1991, Ethiopia lost its costal territories. This geopolitical shift transformed Ethiopia into one of the world’s largest landlocked countries, a status that has profound implications for its economy, trade, and regional influence.

Ethiopia had to rely on the port of Djibouti, as its primary trade conduit, but that hasn’t come cheap - over a $1 billion annually in port fees. Until this day, Ethiopia has been on the look to regain a better/cost efficient maritime access.

In October 2023, the tension between Ethiopia and Eritrea raised again, when Ethiopian Prime Minister claimed that his country had a “historical right” (in reference to 3rd Century Kingdom of Aksum + Ethiopian Empire from 1270 to 1974) to a Red Sea access, aka Massawa and Assab. In January 2024, Massawa’s destiny might have shifted again, when Ethiopia signed an initial agreement with Somaliland on getting access to the Gulf of Aden (in Berbera) for 50 years in exchange of the recognition of the sovereignty of the semi-autonomous region of Somalia.

At the end of 2023, Russia and Eritrea were also discussing the possibility of Massawa hosting a Russian military base.

Seems like everyone wants a peace of Massawa’s strategic position.

🇪🇷 is one of the very few countries in the world not to have any mobile internet AT ALL.

Witnessing people being glued to their screens at any given moment is still a rare occurrence in this country. You can even see people talking to each other at cafés.

The only option to go online when you’re in Eritrea is to visit some of the very few dedicated “internet cafés”, where you can buy vouchers and use extremely slow wifi for 30 min or one hour. They are not really cafés per say, but actually rooms with chairs.

When -as an outsider- you experience such a rare offline environment in an urban setting, it automatically makes you (re-)think your relationship to screens and internet.

I’m not trying to romanticise this dictatorial limitation of internet access. The policy in place in Eritrea drastically affects people’s freedom to communicate, educate themselves and work.

In the same time, in the very last few years, we have started to understand how our extensive screen/social media/internet usage is making us more likely to be sedentary, overweight, depressed, anxious, lonely, socially awkward, sleep deprived, at higher risk of diabetes, high blood pressure or high levels of cholesterol, etc…

Recently, France, Italy, Spain, the Netherlands and the UK have introduced - or will soon introduce- partial or total phone bans at school. China has announced it would fully cut off anyone under the age of 18 from accessing the internet from 10PM to 6AM. What about us adults? Are most of us we really able to have enough self-discipline to avoid harming ourselves?

Even though I see myself as a free soul, I’m starting to realise that in a world of abundance and convenience where nearly everything is accessible 24hrs, we need to create some kind of framework to protect ourselves. I’m not advocating for dictatorship-style internet restrictions, but I believe that as a society we urgently need to put in place safer and healthier internet-related environments and habits.

Do you have any kind of “rules” for you or your loved ones?

🇪🇷 How safe is ? It’s the question some of you have been asking regarding my recent trip. There are often multiple facets to the reality.

While the capital of Eritrea looks peaceful and charming and I felt super safe during my whole trip, I heard also humbling stories of Eritreans who risked their lives to leave their country. Some people told me how they walked into Ethiopia, to eventually reach Sudan, cross the Sahara into Libya and then traverse the Mediterranean Sea into Europe to eventually seek asylum. According to Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and the UN, many young Eritreans are fleeing their country to avoid being forced into military service for indefinite periods (often years or even decades) in conditions that have been described as slavery-like forced labour.

“A large proportion of the adult population of Eritrea is currently engaged in national service, which is mandatory for men and women between the ages of 18 and 50. While the service period is supposed to be 18 months, this is frequently extended indefinitely. All schoolchildren are required to complete their final year of schooling at a military camp in the desert, which results in children being conscripted into military service. Teenagers as young as 15 and 16 years old have been conscripted through this system.”