#and what about Cape Verde?

[aragarna]

White Collar rewatch (142/?) 6x04 All's Fair

[psychotrenny]

Like I really do wish people remembered more about the Anti-Imperial struggles of Southern Africa in the late 20th century. As incomplete as their revolutions may have been, with the politically free nations succumbing to the overwhelming force of Western Imperialism and being taken over by neo-colonial comprador regimes, what they did manage to achieve was still so very impressive. A struggle for human dignity against the most openly cruel and brutish forms of colonialism, the mobilisation and education of the most impoverished and super-exploited people on the planet in the name of not only liberating their own people but with the understanding that they were advancing the interests of humanity as a whole. Nationalist in character and internationalist in spirit, seeking to build independent nations that could co-operate in solidarity with all the progressive minded peoples of the world. Introducing healthcare, education and fair exchange into the forgotten and exploited parts of their country, giving a purpose to millions who enthusiastically gave their lives to defend and advance their gains both material and psychological.

The MPLA in Angola, FRELIMO in Mozambique, the alliance of ZANU and ZAPU in Zimbabwe, SWAPO in Namibia and the ANC of South Africa. It's also worth remembering the PAIGC of Guinea-Bissau and Cape Verde who, despite their geographical separation, faced a common enemy and so forged deep bonds with their comrades to the south. Whatever their eventual fates after independence, triumphs and failures alike, the struggles they fought against the reactionary White Supremacist regimes of Portugal, Rhodesia and South Africa were nothing short of heroic. Despite vast differences in space and time, I think these struggles hold both inspiration and lessons for progressives peoples all over the world to this day. It's truly a great shame how much they've been forgotten, these conflicts only ever brought up as a footnote to something more well known rather than as an area of interest in their own right.

If you're curious, the Africa section of the Marxist Internet Archive has a lot of good material from the period that's a good place to start learning more, even if it is rather lacking in information from the latter portion of the struggle. ARG's Race to Power gives a good overview of the general situation in Southern Africa as of 1971, while LSM has some good general collection of material collected from Angola, Mozambique and Guinea-Bissau. The entire LSM "Life Histories from Revolution" series provides some really interesting first hand ground-level accounts of the conditions of life under Imperialism and the movements that formed to oppose it, while their Interviews with Liberation Movement Leaders provides the views of people higher up in the revolutionary movements. I'd recommend checking them out to at least broadly familiarise yourself with these tragically neglected struggles.

[rinixo]

aquae vivae

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, PIV sex, Mand’alor Din Djarin, breeding kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of pregnancy, subtle sex pollen, wedding night, oral sex

Your wedding night as the new bride of the Mand'alor.

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: This follows the same general story as 'thrones and people and cities' but can technically be read alone.I tagged 'sex pollen' but it just barely fits that trope. Mainly just added it so folks who aren't into it can skip/you're aware of the inherent dubious consent of it - but there is nothing but 100%, enthusiastic consent from all parties here.

read on ao3

You pause at the edge of the pool, eyeing the dark depths. The sound of dripping water echoes through the caverns, the only sound apart from your thrumming heart.

The murmur of your name snaps your attention to the caped man halfway down the steps into the pool. Din is half-turned towards you, armored head to toe as usual, the end of his long, furred cape floating in the still water. The cape around your shoulders matches his, and you rub the soft fur with your fingers nervously.

Din reaches out a gloved hand. Stepping forward, you lay your own in it and let him lead you down into the water. You’re surprised - despite the dark chill of the cavern, the water is strangely warm. You wonder if it is fed by geothermal springs, deep below the crust of the planet, or if it is something deeper.

There’s magic in the sacred pools, Din had murmured into your hair one late night. He told you about how bathing in the waters had redeemed him, how it was the great catalyst leading to his eventual accession to the role of Mand’alor. Now, as you stand before him, hands grasped in his, you wonder if the tingling on your skin is from the magnitude of what was about to occur or something more. Something without a name.

When Din had explained to you what a Mandalorian wedding was like, you had been quite happy at knowing it was a simple sharing of vows. He had then suggested that the two of you journey into the depths below the city center, to where the caverns with the living waters were located. There, just the two of you, you would bind yourself not only to the man you loved but also become Mandalorian yourself. It was a big moment, and one you had put a lot of careful thought into.

“Are you ready?” Din asks quietly. Squeezing his hands, you smile softly.

“Yes.”

Though you had memorized the vows before venturing into the caves, Din lead you through the words. You were grateful, not wanting to embarrass yourself by stumbling over the pronunciation.

“Mhi solus tome.”

We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when apart.

“Mhi me'dinui an.

We share all.

“Mhi ba'juri verde.”

We will raise warriors.

—

Blinking at the late afternoon light, you followed Din up out of the caves, wet gown sticking around your legs. You were looking forward to changing out of your damp outfit and spending the rest of the evening with your new husband.

People buzzed around you the whole way back to your chambers, several of them wishing the two of you congratulations. You murmured shy thanks, the feeling of being the center of attention during what you felt was such an intimate time causing some of your innate timidness to come forward.

Din had explained to you that part of Mandalorian weddings included feasting and celebrating after the vows were shared. The families and clans of the couples were usually the extent of the guests, but with an apologetic smile, Din warned you that the feast to celebrate your union was likely to be much larger. He was quite beloved as a leader - as the first Mand’alor to resettle the planet since the Purge. The first royal wedding in decades, with the capital more populated than it had been in ages, was shaping up to be quite the affair.

The delegation from Naboo had also gotten involved. The ambassador, who had been so put off by your relationship at first, reveled in the chance to showcase Naboo. All week shipments of millaflowers and lanterns were arriving, along with cases of draping fabrics, mirrors, and jewel-toned crystal. He had even commissioned a gown for you to wear during the feast. Traditionally Naboo clothing was very structured, so you were thankful to see that the gown the ambassador had made for you was in the lake country style - lighter, made of lace and tulle, with a low, open back.

As you stepped into the gown, securing it at your shoulders and around your neck, you paused to look at yourself in the full-length mirror in the closet of your chambers. You had never worn something so lovely. Draped over a chair in the corner was your cape, now dry from its dip in the living waters. It was a symbol of your new status, and you mused at the fact that the gown complemented it quite well.

A knock at the closet door drew you out into the main part of your room. Din - your husband, you thought giddily - was standing there in his armor, sans helmet. You felt yourself flush at the way his eyes widened at your appearance, drinking you in.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, and you smiled at the compliment. You step forward and fuss with his armor - unnecessary, as it was spotless as usual - and looked up into his deep, kind eyes.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you remarked, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth gently. You felt him smile and tilt his head to chase after your mouth, but you pulled away teasingly.

“Later,” you whispered. “We have a feast to attend, remember?”

Din grumbled, and you smiled placatingly. You’d be lying if you didn’t want to forget about the feast and spend the rest of the evening alone with your husband, but you knew if you didn’t show up for just a little while the ambassador would drag you there himself.

“I have something for you first,” Din pulled a small pouch out and turned it over. Something silver fell out into the palm of his gloved hand.

“A pendant?” You watched him hold it up, and saw that it was a delicate chain with a silver charm at the end in the stylized shape of some kind of creature, no bigger than one of your fingernails.

“I asked the armorer to make it,” he murmured. “It’s a Mudhorn, the symbol of my - our - clan.” He reached forward and clasped it around your neck, the weight of the pendant laying heavily on your breast. “It’s pure beskar, made from a piece of my armor.”

You looked down, touching it lightly. “It’s beautiful.”

Din merely smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead on yours, and you responded in a quiet moment of tranquility.

—

The feast was certainly one for the history books. The throne room made you gasp as you entered it, arm-in-arm with Din. The vaulted ceilings were lit with hundreds of beautifully crafted lanterns, mirrors, and crystals reflecting the shimmering flames around the massive space. The millaflowers and fabric draped every surface, the sweet scent of the blooms perfuming everything around you. You gave credit to those who had decorated - all of the decorations perfectly complimented the stark, structured Mandalorian architecture. It truly was a unification of your two cultures.

All around you guests came forward with well-wishes and gifts, which a never-ending retinue of assistants would take a place elsewhere. Grogu, who was also dressed up for the occasion, gurgled happily in his father’s arms at all of the attention. You, however, were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Sensing your discomfort, Din lead you up to the raised dais in the front of the room, where the two of you sat side-by-side in lavish seats set in front of the throne. You reached for a goblet and downed a mouthful of sweet, flowery liquor. Din - who had put his helmet back on before the two of you joined the celebrations - tilted his head slightly in amusement.

“Feeling all right?” He asked, placing his hand on your thigh soothingly. You nodded, placing your drink down on the table and sighing deeply.

“Yes, I just needed some space,” you admitted. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he answered. “Just a little while longer.”

Guests continued to stream up to the two of you, though now that you were seated and there was a decadent table between you and them you felt more at ease.

An elder Mandalorian approached your table with a crystal carafe filled with a deep red liquid. Setting it gently on the table, they intoned in heavy Mando’a.

“Wine,” Din translates, “Made in the ancient tradition from herbs and tinctures symbolizing prosperity and love. It’s a gift from those who remember the old ways and hope that our union brings forth a new age of growth for our people.”

“Thank you,” you express, taking the carafe. The elder bowed, before shuffling away to allow others to come forward.

The number of people coming up to you seemed to go on forever, and you poured yourself a generous glass of the special wine to help distract you and calm your nerves. It seemed to be working, the sweet yet tart liquid filling you with a familiar warmth and ease. You offered some to Din, who accepted a small taste by lifting his helmet enough for you to tip the goblet into his mouth.

After a while, you felt yourself relaxing into the plush furs of your chair, leaning against Din’s side. You played with Grogu’s ears as he tucked into the snacks laid out on the table, smiling fondly at the child and his voracious appetite.

“Does this mean I’m his mother now?” You wondered aloud and felt Din chuckle.

“I suppose,” he mused. “I’m his father, and you’re my wife, so that would make him our child.”

“Hmm,” you wiped a crumb from the side of the baby’s mouth, amused. “I always imagined my first child looking a little more like me.”

Din coughed, tensing slightly next to you. “Well,” he intoned lowly, leaning a little closer so that his words were only audible to you, “Perhaps the next one will.”

He placed his hand on your thigh again, the thin fabric shifting as he rubbed your skin. You felt warm from your head to your toes, with most of the heat pooling between your legs and where Din’s hand was placed. Throat suddenly dry, you lifted your drink and took another sip.

“C-can we go soon?” You lilted, wanting nothing more than to return to your rooms with Din alone.

“Soon,” Din promised, and you tensed your legs slightly to try to alleviate the ache growing between them. It was a familiar kind of ache, one that you had felt before, wine or no wine. However, there was something different about the way your body was reacting to the man next to you, and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to take it before pouncing on him in front of everyone in attendance.

Thankfully it was not very long before Din gestured to a member of his staff and had them assist the two of you in making a smooth exit. He passed Grogu, now pleasantly drowsy, to one of his aides and then guided you back to your shared chambers.

When inside you kicked off your shoes, sighing at the relief of the cool floor under your feet. Din let go of your hand and locked the doors behind you, the sound of it engaging sending a throb of anticipation through your body.

You stepped towards your bed, which you had been sharing with Din for months before this. Something about its wide surface, covered in soft linen and furs, felt different this time. It was now your marriage bed.

The sound of Din removing his helmet, the seal disengaging, made you glance over to him. He placed it down gently and started with the rest of his armor. You stood there as if transfixed, watching as the man beneath the armor was slowly revealed. You always enjoyed being the audience to this ritual, and tonight was no exception. In fact, your body continued to warm, shivers of need going up your spine.

Din turns towards you, dressed down only to his most base inner layers. Realizing you were staring, your hands went to the clasp of your gown before he stops you with a low murmur.

“Allow me,” he husks, and you drop your hands to allow him to undress you himself. His fingers, surprisingly soft despite his rough past, dusted across your skin as the lace and tulle were unwound from your frame. At the same time, he began to back you up until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Pulling a pin from where your neck met your shoulder, your gown unraveled and fell softly around your legs. Din’s hands paused, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you there, bare save for the beskar pendant around your neck.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, and you nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. It rolled over you, through you, like thick, rich honey and smoke. You could practically taste it. With a gentle push, Din laid you back onto the bed, standing over you with a hungry look in his eyes.

“I dreamed about this.” He kneeled on the bed, crawling up your body. “You, in my bed, wearing the symbol of my clan.” His head dipped to place a kiss to the center of your ribcage. “Bound to me.” You shivered again as his mouth trailed up to your collarbone, your neck, and across your jaw. Your hands, shaking with expectant thirst, snaked up his powerful arms to clutch at his shoulders.

You wanted to say so many things, all of the emotions that had built up catching on the tip of your tongue, but when you opened your mouth all that left you was a choked “please.”

Din’s mouth slotted over yours and you moaned deeply into it, body arching up to press against his firmer form. One of his hands came to your thigh, and you hitched it up around his waist, rolling your hips wantonly. Your hands ran under his linen shift, and you whined at the barrier between your skin and his.

With a groan, Din’s mouth released from yours just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. He continued his exploration of your flesh, licking a slow stripe down your arched neck. You hissed as his teeth pulled at your skin, your nails scratching lightly across the skin of his upper back.

“Din,” you crooned, hand going to his head as he dipped down to tease the peak of one of your breasts with that wicked tongue. You cried out as he sucked roughly on your nipple, sensations of velvet and fire going straight to your swollen pussy. His mouth moved between the tips of your breasts, pinching and sucking and nipping at the flesh there until it was as swollen as your pussy felt.

He raised his head, eyes wild. He took in your body, writhing and panting, and thought you reminiscent of molten steel. You sought his gaze, pupils blown dark and wide with desire.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Din croaked, dipping his head down to nose the soft skin of your stomach. “Perfect creature…” he kissed his way down your lower abdomen. “I want to fill you up, sweet girl - do you want it too?”

You let out a wail as he licked a firm stripe up your leaking cunt. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders so that you were bent - your upper back laying against the bed, your hips angled up towards his mouth. You were wetter than you thought possible, your pussy swollen and flushed. Din sucked firmly on your clit, moaning at the way you keened and shook in his grasp.

Your hands thrashed, clutching desperately at the furs around you. Your thighs tensed, squeezing tightly against the sides of Din’s head as he brought you closer to the crest of your pleasure.

The feeling of his mouth leaving you made you groan in frustration as he dropped your lower body back to the bed. You opened your eyes, brow furrowed as you propped yourself up to stare at your smug husband.

He climbed over you again, shedding his pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the hard cock between his legs, flushed and bobbing, leaking clear droplets of pre-spend. You laid back, legs spreading so that he could settle between them firmly.

“Eager girl,” Din teased. “You that desperate to have me inside of you?”

“Din,” you groused, “If you don’t fuck me soon I think I’m going to die.”

He laughed, husked low in his chest as he pressed himself firmly to your swollen entrance. You laid your head back onto the bed, sighing in relief as he began to stretch your walls. It felt like he was splitting you right down the middle in the best way, and you arched your back to let him sink in further.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re a jewel,” he breathed roughly, hips snapping forward until you wailed. “Taking my cock so well.”

You shifted your hips under him, angling yourself to take him as far in as your body would allow. He chuckled at your frustrated expression, arms braced on either side of your head. He bent forward to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

“My little wife,” he breathed over your lips. “Wants my cock so badly.”

“’S'good,” you slurred. “Big. Fuck me, please.” He answered you with a rock of his hips, hitting that spot inside of you that made you keen again.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he crooned against your mouth, hips slapping mercilessly against your pelvis. “Come on.”

“C-come in me,” you begged. Flashes of images - a little curly-haired baby at your breast, curled up against Din’s chest as he whispered to it lovingly, lowly - made your pussy clench around him. Your body ached for it in a way you had never experienced. You wanted him to get you pregnant, wanted to carry his child inside of you.

“Fucking - anything you want, sweet girl,” Din gasped. “Want me to fill you up “ he rides you hard, desperate for the way you cry with every punch at your guts. “You’re so good, baby, fuck-“

He continues to ramble, lost in how you’re tensing around him. “You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful, full of my child. You don’t know how badly I want it, so badly - I can practically see it -“

Emotion wells up in your chest, binding with the pleasure thrumming through you. You’re nearly there - fire rising from your toes and flooding down from your chest. Din dips his head to kiss your neck, and you start to tip over the edge. Your orgasm starts deep inside of your cunt, from where his swollen head is grinding up into your walls, and sparks down to where his pelvis rubs against your clit. Your vision goes white and you hear Din cry out as your desperate pussy wrenches from him his own release.

“T-take it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours, the head of his cock tight against the seal of your womb. You whine at the pressure of it, the feeling almost too good to bear. You shift your hips, pulling away before his head snaps up from your neck.

“No no no- take it,“ he groans, hand tight on your hip. You writhe under him, tears of pleasure pricking the corner of your eyes. His gaze on you burns, and you struggle to see him clearly through the fog of your ecstasy.

His pace remains steady, desperation clear in the way he rams his cock up into your cunt. “Your duty,” he gasps, leaning forward so that his chest nearly crushes you. “Do your duty and take my seed, bear my children.”

He holds you there as he pulses out the last of his release, breath leaving him in short pants through his nose. His teeth are gritted, brow furrowed, gaze locked to your eyes so that you can’t look away.

“D-Din,” you shudder, and his eyes soften. His grip on your hips loosens minutely, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You did so well,” he praises you. “You’re so fucking good.”

You blink wetly, mind still focused on his cock and how it’s anchored inside of you, pinning you to the bed, plugging you securely. Din tilts his head at your determined expression, and when you roll your hips experimentally he sucks in air sharply.

“Feels good,” you mumble, drunk on the pleasure and the feeling of him still hard inside of you. Stars, how was he still so fucking hard? And why was your body telling you to make him come inside of you again?

Think about that later, you decide, hooking your legs around his waist and pushing him further up into you. He chokes again, head drooping to look at where the clutch of you holds him tightly inside.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re never going to know sleep without the feel of me leaking out of you.” He rolls his hips back before slamming back into you, your mouth opening in a satisfied groan. “Not until you’re fucked full of my child, sweet girl.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding feverishly. It’s all you can manage to say, everything in you focused on where his body enters yours, in and out, inandout-

The two of you spend the entire night and most of the early morning like that, tangled together, until your bodies are near to collapse from exhaustion. It’s Din who taps out first, placating your desire with soft kisses to your temple and strokes to your still-swollen cunt. It isn’t long before your eyes start to droop, sleep just on the edge of your consciousness as he teases you to one last, lazy orgasm. You all but pass out, head resting on his chest to the feeling of him stroking your hair lovingly.

You wake hours later, alone in bed. Your body aches sweetly, and as you start you rise you roll your neck and groan.

“Good morning,” a raspy voice greets you, and you turn to look at where Din leans up against a dresser. He sips from a steaming mug, brow raising in humor at your bedraggled appearance.

“G’morning,” you croak, throat dry. Din sets his mug down, trading it for a glass. He comes over to the bed, sitting next to you, and hands it to you. You take it, gulping down the cool water gratefully.

“What time is it?” You asked, licking your lips. When he tells you - mid-afternoon - you scoff. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Din’s brow raises again, and he leans back against the headboard. “Thought you needed the rest,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Since you kept me up all night.”

You pouted, indignant and embarrassed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you mumble, and he laughs.

“Quite the opposite,” he husks. “And as much as I’d like to take responsibility for your behavior, I had a feeling it was due to something else.” You tilted your head in confusion, sipping more of the water.

“The wine,” he explained, and you thought back to the previous night - somewhat difficult a task - and remembered the crystal carafe.

“Turns out they mean “new age of growth” more literally than I understood,” Din continues. “That wine is made from herbs that act as an aphrodisiac and increase fertility. You drank a lot more of it than I did, so it hit you harder than it did me.”

You choke on your water, some of it dribbling down your chin. Wiping it away, you set your glass to your side and cover your eyes, groaning. Din pulls you closer and you bury your face in his chest, burning with embarrassment at the situation - and the implication.

“Silly girl,” he croons, hand creeping down your side. You look up at him, another shy pout on your lips, and he tips your chin up to kiss you slowly, deeply. You sigh into it, shifting your leg to straddle his lap and feel him smile against your mouth. You shift down to where his cock sits, firm and proud, and grind your bareness against him until he groans.

“More? So soon?” He whispers darkly, and you nip at him cheekily. Pulling back, you look your husband in the eye, a mischievous glimmer in your gaze.

“Might as well make sure it works, right?” You tease lowly, and shriek in loving laughter as he throws you down and begins to devour you again.

[the-irreverend]

Forgive me for venting here, but one of the things that irritates me the most about the media coverage of the Olympics is how it overlooks all the medalists (and athletes) from countries that don't have as much geopolitical influence/affluence.

Wouldn't it be great to see more recognition and support given to athletes such as the gold medalist Thea LaFond, who won Dominica's first-ever medal in the triple jump? Or what about Julien Alfred, who won Saint Lucia's first-ever medal in the 200m? Or Daniel Varela de Pina who won Cape Verde's first in the flyweight? Or what about Olympians from places like Mongolia, Jordan, Botswana, Grenada, or Panama? Or what about the Olympians from the Refugee Olympic Team?

So it's disappointing that extraordinary athletes like them (and the history they made) end up being just as overlooked as the countries they're from.

[ltwilliammowett]

In door no.4 we go on a journey of discovery and see what surprises the Nao Victoria has for us...

Nao Victoria

More about her here:

The Victoria was one of five ships in Ferdinand Magellan's Armada, which set sail on behalf of the Spanish crown in 1519 to find a western sea route to the Moluccas. In 1522, the Victoria was the only ship in the Armada to return to Spain from East Asia on its way through the Indian Ocean and around the Cape of Good Hope, thus completing the first historically documented circumnavigation of the globe.

She was originally named Santa María and belonged to a shipping family from the Basque harbour town of Ondarroa. In September 1518, the Spanish government had the ship, which was moored in the harbour of Cádiz and already loaded for a voyage to London, confiscated for Magellan's Moluccan expedition and compensated the previous owners with 800 ducats. A contract about the expropriation is preserved in the archives of the notaries of Seville. In it, one of the previous owners, a certain Pedro de Arismendi, declares that the ship was taken from him against his will and that the sum paid in compensation was too low. After the expropriation, the ship was renamed Santa María de la Victoria in honour of an image of a saint that was venerated in the convent of the same name of the Pauline Order in Triana and which is now in the Carmelite convent of Santa Ana, also in Triana. Since its renaming, the ship is usually referred to by its short form Vitoria or Victoria.

On 20 September 1519, the squadron sailed from Sanlúcar de Barrameda in Spain. Luis de Mendoza was the captain of the Victoria. Mendoza was killed in a mutiny in Puerto San Julián on 1 April 1520. After Magellan's violent death on 27 April 1521 on the Philippine island of Mactán, the former profos of the Armada, Gonzálo Gómez de Espinosa, initially took command of the Victoria. At the northern tip of Borneo, command was transferred to the boatswain Juan Sebastián Elcano, who held it until the return to Spain. Shortly before the end of the voyage, the Portuguese captured part of the crew on Santiago (Cape Verde). Hunger and scurvy decimated the crew, the ship was in a wretched condition and had to be bilged around the clock in the end. On 6 September 1522, the Victoria reached Sanlúcar de Barrameda, its port of departure at the mouth of the Guadalquivir. Of the original 237 members of the expedition, only 18 Europeans and four Asians reached their home port. The first circumnavigation was complete. It had taken two years, 11 months and two weeks and brought home 25 tonnes of spices. Contrary to what is often claimed, the proceeds from their sale were not enough to cover the costs of the endeavour.

After her return from the Moluccas, the Victoria was auctioned off to the highest bidder in Seville in February 1523. The winning bid was placed by a merchant from Genoa, who had the ship refloated and fitted out for an Atlantic crossing to Santo Domingo in 1525. From then on, she sailed for almost fifty years before she was lost with all hands around 1570 on the voyage from the Antilles to Seville.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

The P. Diddy mess could be the reason for all this talk about Harry going back to the UK. Didn't the FBI want Andrew to come to the US for an interview and the UK said no to that? Harry better start living within embassy walls. LOL

I don’t think Harry knows as much about P.Diddy himself personally as we’re all speculating. If he did, he’d get more than one line in the lawsuit. I think it’s more likely that he’s aware of circumstances *around* these parties like who else was there, not so much about P. Diddy’s whole operation.

Harry keeps talking about going back to the UK because without an active royal connection, the Sussex brand is DOA. (I mean, it’s already dead. Harry’s visits back to the UK is practically CPR efforts at this point.)

I’m really curious to see what happens next. How do the Sussexes handle this? What does the BRF do? Does Harry come back to London in May for the IG anniversary service? Does he go home after?

Something I don’t think has been pointed out here is that yesterday afternoon, P. Diddy was papped at the Miami airport and last night, the flight plans for P. Diddy’s private plane show it was headed for Cape Verde…which doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the US.

So if P. Diddy is fleeing…those are some serious charges and he’s very guilty. (Real world application here — feds don’t do raids like this until they are absolutely 100% certain there’s incriminating evidence that could be destroyed if the suspects knew we/they were coming.)

And Harry getting named in the lawsuit as someone who may or may not know something about these parties is very serious. We’ll see what happens. His travel will be watched very closely.

[thesymphonytrue]

for the Blorbo ask: for Peter Burke. :)

What appeals to you about this character?

3. What's your favorite canon moment with this character?

ohhhhh I just love Peter 🥹

There are so many things that appeal to me about him! I love that he is good down to his core, he desires true justice--not corrupted "justice" like we see in a lot of law enforcement. Peter is also pretty loyal, which is also appealing to me. No matter how many times Neal goes behind his back, Peter still cares for him and wants the best for him. Sure, he may be angry, but his love is constant. This also goes for Elizabeth, his white collar team, lol his dog...I feel like he is a strong pillar of goodness in the show and would never intentionally harm someone else. All of his actions are backed up by his moral code---even if that is arresting his best friend.

3. favorite canon moment: this is hard!! I have several, but for pure admiration and fangirling, I LOVE the tango scene and also when he is riding that horse through Central Park...or when he's jogging....LOL *blushes furiously* but if we're talking serious, like character development moments...I really love his first interaction with Neal in the pilot, the moment he and Neal get ready to open up the submarine, and then the entirety of Peter in Cape Verde. Moments he really shows how much he cares for Neal---those have to be some of my favorites,

BUT LET"S BE HONEST ANY TIME HE IS ONSCREEN I AM ENAMORED

also this, I just LOVE how he says "cartoon" 😂

[countriesgame]

Please reblog for a bigger sample size!

If you have any fun fact about Cabo Verde, please tell us and I'll reblog it!

Be respectful in your comments. You can criticize a government without offending its people.

[radykalny-feminizm]

hi dear! wanted to preface saying i’m sorry ppl are coming after you for what you said about islam.

i’m a woman of color (christian background but not religious) who lives in europe in a city that has become unbearable because of muslim men & i completely share what you say.

anyway i wanted to add that me & my bestie were talking about this & my bestie said something that stuck with me. basically she said that for most cultures & religions, areas who are richer & have lower crime rates also report lower rates of violence against women. this doesn’t mean that they are not sexist because all cultures are sexist but that by improving public security & economic conditions the women in these areas can live better.

this is something you see in every continent for example. russia has far more crime & is poorer than switzerland & it has more violence against women. cape verde has less violence against women than south africa bc is richer (well not exactly but is less unequal thus the average person is actually better) & has less crime & also less violence against women. mexico has more violence against women than chile & uruguay & it has more poverty & crime as a whole. this is basically true worldwide, at least for countries with a christian tradition.

now this is not to say that culture doesn’t have an influence bc it has & highest rates of violence against women are also influenced by culture (& religion given that christianity is sexist af). also even the “best” countries have a lot of misogyny. but we see in many countries that by implementing public security measures & bettering the economic conditions, women can live better (even if ofc the goal is liberation not simply *bettering* conditions).

but this is not true of muslim countries. very rich muslim countries like saudi arabia have among the most draconian laws against women & lgbt ppl. the rate of economic development of some muslim african countries had not reduced things like fgm. economic development correlates positively with women’s freedom in europe, latin america, non-muslim africa & asia but not in muslim countries. many muslim countries have also very low rates of crime bc drug dealers, robbers, etc. are punished very harshly but still they have incredibly high rates of violence against women. like in other places it’s a mix of culture, religion, crime & socioeconomic conditions, in muslim countries is 99% religion & culture. getting richer wouldn’t help much. the same discourse can be made regarding rights for lgbt ppl.

i don’t want to whitewash women’s oppression in non-muslim countries bc my own country (angola) is so fucking misogynistic. what i’m saying is that other places are at least beginning to show a minimum level of open-mindedness, especially in some parts of non-muslim asia & latam with things like gay marriage (like in japan!). while it seems to me that the muslim world is going in the opposite direction. tell me what do you think 🩵

Thank you for your message; it is truly insightful, and gives much food for thought. It's true that economic factors influence crime, including violence against women. I believe this stems from the fact that individuals suffering from poverty and failures feel they have nothing to lose and succumb to their worst instincts, disregarding social norms.

The fact that muslims resort to violence against women regardless of their level of wealth and comfort in life stems from the fact that, for them, this behavior kind of behavior is considered a social norm.

That's why this religion is so dangerous. It doesn't provide a moral internal barrier against violence and oppression of women. Instead, it normalizes and encourages it.

[zvaigzdelasas]

A cool Atlantic breeze blew across the dusty port in Praia, Cape Verde’s capital, as Mr. Blinken noted that the facility there had been expanded and modernized with nearly $55 million in U.S. aid[...] That project was completed more than a decade ago, but more U.S. development funds were on the way, he said.[...]

After Cape Verde, Mr. Blinken will travel to Ivory Coast, Nigeria and Angola. U.S. officials said he would address a range of issues on his stops, including conflict prevention and political stability after military coups in several countries in recent years.[...]

Mr. Blinken is making his fourth visit to sub-Saharan Africa as secretary of state. A parade of other top administration officials have also visited the continent over the past year, including Vice President Kamala Harris, Defense Secretary Lloyd J. Austin III and the first lady, Jill Biden. But President Biden has yet to follow through on a pledge he made in 2022 to visit the continent, raising doubts about the depth of his commitment — even though Mr. Biden said at a U.S.-Africa leaders summit in Washington in December 2022 that America was “all in” on Africa’s future.[...]

Frustrated by several downbeat questions about security threats and Chinese influence, [Molly Phee, the assistant secretary of state for African affairs,] added, “You guys are bumming me out because you’re not talking about any of the really fun and positive, forward-looking things we’ll be doing.”[...]

One reason [for US interest in Angola] is that the United States is investing $250 million in a rail corridor that would allow the transport of minerals from landlocked areas of Zambia and the Democratic Republic of Congo to Lobito, Angola’s Atlantic port, from which they can be shipped to Europe and the United States. During Mr. Lourenço’s visit, Mr. Biden called the project “the biggest U.S. rail investment in Africa ever.” The corridor helps the United States keep pace with China, which has invested tens of billions of dollars in Angola.

China’s reach extends as far as Cape Verde, where Mr. Blinken’s motorcade drove to a government palace past signage in Chinese reflecting that the compound had been constructed by Beijing.

Oge Onubogu, the director of the Africa program at the Wilson Center in Washington, said that on recent trips to the continent she found confusion about the U.S. agenda there. Africans, she said, clearly understood Russia’s “at times sneaky” security interests, which often take the form of mercenary military partnerships with governments. And China’s economic development projects, she said, created “visible infrastructure that people can actually see and feel.” “But they’re not very clear on what the U.S. is doing,” she said. Biden officials have sought to promote African democracy and condemned military coups in places like Niger and Gabon, she said, while working with authoritarian rulers in other places. “The U.S. talks about democracy strengthening,” Ms. Onubogu added. “But at the same time, we maintain relationships with individuals Africans see as not being democratic leaders. So I think we have a struggle with messaging.” Despite public alarms raised by security analysts, Biden officials bristle at persistent questions about how the United States is countering China’s enormous investments in a continent that increasingly supplies it with oil, minerals and other natural resources. Mr. Blinken will be arriving in Ivory Coast days after a visit by China’s top diplomat, Wang Yi. “It’s you guys [sic], frankly, who frame this as a U.S.-China soccer match,” Ms. Phee told reporters last week. She added: “If China didn’t exist, we would be fully engaged in Africa [sic]. Africa is important for its own sake, and it’s important for American interests.”

22 Jan 24

[youngshinxjunghoo]

From the setting prompts: 029.   an extravagant greenhouse

omg lets so go <33 just so you know this is going to be so self indulgent i love writing about plants so much help. but also this is the first white collar thing ive ever written this is so scary but have some flower talk <3

(also this is set canon universe post 4x02)

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Peter Burke struggled with feelings. He liked logic, efficiency, and results, not sitting down and spilling his guts about uncomfortable feelings. Maybe because the emotions of other people- and sometimes himself- were completely uncontrollable to him. He liked solving puzzles, sure, but only when those puzzles ended in finding hidden treasure or someone getting arrested, not when he had to figure out what the hell was going on in someone’s brain and then try to comfort them about it. 

Which is one thing most people agreed he should never be allowed to do. 

Peter Burke wasn’t exactly good with sappy words or comforting others. 

However, he just so happened to have a wife who was great at it. 

It was only a week after Peter and Neal had returned from Cape Verde. Neal was still healing from getting shot in the leg and immediately being pushed back into work.

It was clear he was holding on to a lot and with everything that had happened, Elizabeth could tell he needed a well deserved break- and no, Cape Verde did not count. But since when did Neal Caffrey ever take care of himself? He was too focused with throwing himself into work in an attempt to do anything he could to bring Peter back to White Collar. 

He was the one who was shot, yet here he was, doing everything he could to help Peter’s career. 

He more than deserved a bit of gratitude from El, and since she lacked the skills to steal some pricey European painting for him, a personalized gift from event planner extraordinaire Elizabeth Burke would have to do for now.  

She had decided on making a flower arrangement for him. It was personal, classy, and it would hopefully make for a fresh new decoration to Neal’s apartment. Almost like a ‘welcome back’ gift. Besides, Peter was money conscience and Elizabeth just so happened to have a florist she often collaborated with owe her a favor. 

So Elizabeth and Peter soon found themselves in a homey greenhouse outside of the city. Elizabeth had a white basket around her arms as she entered the greenhouse, only to be attacked by the vibrancy of the plants and flowers that covered almost every area of the packed room. The bright sunlight used the glass walls to bend its rays to magnify the soft colors of the flowers that took up most of the greenhouse. 

Despite the bundles of plants scattered around the greenhouse, it was surprisingly organized. Each section was labeled and even seemed to be color coded. It was like a rainbow had exploded into hundreds of soft, flower petals. 

It was already giving Elizabeth inspiration, as she could clearly picture bouquets of different flower arrangements sitting as a centerpiece in Neal’s already lively home. 

Peter, on the other hand, was stumped. 

Elizabeth’s friend who owned the greenhouse was letting her pick as many flowers as she needed, and Peter soon found out how overwhelming simply picking out flowers was. There were too many shapes, colors, and types involved and Peter had no idea which ones would even look together. El was the one with a keen eye for style. 

“It’s not about the flowers, Hon,” Elizabeth tried to explain as they walked through the rows of flowers. “It’s about the meaning behind them.” 

Peter stopped himself from asking if she thought Neal would know the meanings behind all these flowers, because who was he kidding, of course he would.

“Make something that represents Neal,” El suggested, walking past a collection of lilies. 

Something that represented Neal? It’s not like there was a fedora shaped flower or anything. However, there were some brightly colored gaudy flowers that almost resembled those sparkly jewels Neal had an eye for. 

“What’s this one?” Peter asked when he came across a fluffy looking bundle of bright yellow flowers. Yellow flowers were usually used for joy or friendship, right? That could probably work. 

“Yarrow.” Elizabeth leaned over to get a better look at the small flowers that almost looked like a honeycomb from farther away. “You know, it’s actually known as a healing plant.” 

Huh. That was pretty on the nose, wasn’t it?

So Peter stuffed some of the lacy yellow yarrow flowers and placed them in Elizabeth’s basket. Sure, he felt a bit silly that he was wishing Neal a good recovery through flowers, but it seemed like flowers were good for speaking the words he didn’t know how. 

Hm, maybe that’s what he needed to do. Communicate through the flowers. Which, yeah, sounded a bit cheesy, but Neal knew how to appreciate cheesy. 

With that in mind, Peter let Elizabeth lead him around the greenhouse and tell him the meanings of each flower, occasionally stopping to let him pick out a few flowers he thought would fit. And after stuffing about four different flower types in their basket, they returned home to let Elizabeth demonstrate the artistry of actually arranging the flowers together. 

It wasn’t that difficult, as Peter’s floral choices had turned out to be strangely tender, with a soft and welcoming palette of pale pinks and yellows. 

Peter watched as Elizabeth started with pink chrysanthemums, which almost had an ombre look to them as the curved, leaf shaped petals in the middle started out as a vibrant pink and then faded out to a classy rose pink. Peter did not at all consider himself to be sappy, but when Elizabeth told him the meaning of chrysanthemums, his hands began moving on their own volition to pick the flowers and put them in the basket. 

Unwavering optimism. Positive growth. Joy. They were all such hopeful and colorful descriptions of the delicate looking flower and Peter couldn’t help picturing Neal. After all, there was no one he knew who had more ‘unwavering optimism’ than Neal Caffrey. It was almost obnoxious, how he could have such a positive outlook on everything and use that to fuel most of his hairbrained impulsiveness. 

But maybe Peter also wanted to use the flowers as a reminder. That yeah, he was proud of Neal. 

Which was something he didn’t say enough. 

And that led to the next flower, the dahlia. 

Elizabeth cut down the stems of the orangish-pinkish dahlias so that they hung just right underneath the petals of the chrysanthemums. The ball shaped flowers with the cone like petals were yet another soft addition to the arrangement as they symbolized devotion, love, beauty, and finding inner strength. 

It was at this point that Peter began to wonder if he had gone overboard. 

...This was extremely tacky, wasn’t it?

“You don’t think Neal deserves to know how you feel?” El had countered when Peter had voiced her concerns aloud. 

“Sure, through my own voice, not through flowers.” 

“I think he’ll appreciate the flowers. And he knows you don’t always have the easiest time saying what you feel.”

So the dahlias stayed. 

Peter couldn’t complain, the arrangement actually did look stunning- it was by Elizabeth though, so that was to be expected. 

El proceeded to weave the lacy yarrow in between the dahlias and chrysanthemums, injecting some neatly placed leaves throughout the bouquet. 

And lastly, she took the tall stalks of yellow and muted pink snapdragons and added them to the arrangement. Like many flowers, snapdragons held many different meanings. They stood for grace and strength, but at the same time, they symbolized deception. 

And what represented Neal Caffrey better than graciousness and deception? 

Besides, he knew it would get a long overdue chuckle out of Neal. He knew Peter didn’t mean it to be vicious or accusatory, but rather something that pointed to Neal’s strength.  

Soon enough, Elizabeth had put the finishing touches on the bouquet and stepped away from her creation, studying it for a few minutes with pursed lips before turning back to Peter. 

“What do you think?” 

“It’s like I’m staring right at him.” Peter admired the vibrant yet sophisticated arrangement as he pictured it sitting in June’s apartment, fitting right at home with Neal’s vintage suits and work in progress paintings. “Do you think you could add a mini fedora?” 

Elizabeth laughed, but grabbed sheets of brown and black origami paper a few minutes later. 

And just like that, Neal’s bouquet was decorated with a tiny fedora. 

It was straightforward, it was cheesy, it was bright and colorful and carefully crafted. It was everything that was to be expected from Peter Burke trying his best to represent the enigma that was Neal Caffrey. 

Peter wasn’t always the best at expressing his feelings, but hey, at least now he could try to communicate through the language of cutting and neatly arranging flowers.  

[ambeauty]

"About the Blogger" Meme

Thank You @bioloyg for tagging me! I haven't talked about me in a minute!

Star Sign(s): Scorpio Sun, Capricorn Rising, Taurus Moon

Favorite Holidays: Halloween, it's a week before my birthday! And it's fun af!

Last Meal: Lasagna 👩🏾‍🍳

Current Favorite Musician: ¿Téo? Is my current favorite. My all time are Hayley Williams, Justin Nozuka, Beyoncé

Last Music Listened To: GUTS

Last Movie Watched: Renaissance a Film by Beyoncé! But also I watched 3 movies in 1 day and they were all good. Killers of the Flower Moon devastating and rage inducing! But such a good movie. Cinnamon, a tubi original but the romance and violent crime drama was top tier not gonna hold you!

Last TV Show Watched: My Life with the Walter Boys and Real Housewives of Potomac… I never promised to be more than what I am which is a trash tv watcher 🤭

Last Book/Fic Finished: Novella: Snow Place like LA, Novel: Salt Kiss, Fic: I’ve read too many!!! Ok wait this fic destroyed me recently: Epicure Sydcarmy Army IT’S FIRE!

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: The Vampire Queen 😩 I will be coming back to it! Just trying to be festive 😭

Currently Reading: Merry Little Meet Cute and just started Manacled today (👀 never read HP fic before)

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: Cape Verde so I could detail it accurately as the non-outer space location of Tamaran for my Bonnie and Clyde Non-Powered DickKory AU. I wanna go there so bad now!!

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: Breaking down over Brenton’s Birthday post that he dedicated to Anna. That was a WILD day in titans fandom! On here and on Twitter 😭

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: Bonnie Bennett, I was so late but the content was still flowing! Haven’t checked her tag in a minute! Bamon/Klonnie were my faves. And Spideychelle I miss them because there’s some good fucking writers in that fandom but idk I fell off for some reason.

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: Upload and Citadel! Those shows are soooo good! If I hadn’t become obsessed with The Bear this summer I would probably be writing shit for Citadel. Upload is just so fun!!!

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: Any of my Sydcarmy ideas! And I have a lot 🤭 but I must finish my DickKory AU before year end!

Besties please feel free: @escapism-through-imagination @jonskory @lyanaalvarado @graysonfamfan2021 @not-so-mundane-after-all @selinascatnip @songbee @meetmeunderthestarrynight

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: Freedom is the Devil's Best Tool

The concept of democracy originated in ancient Greece, initially flourishing in Greek city-states. In the past century, democracy has swept across the world. Today, more than two hundred years after the French Revolution, hardly anyone in the world doubts the righteousness of democracy. From Japan in Asia to Denmark in Europe, and even Cape Verde in Africa, politicians unanimously praise democracy. Few dare to openly challenge it, and even notorious dictators claim to be democratic.

Throughout world history, anything good has been exploited and distorted by the devil. One of the devil's greatest skills is using people's misinterpretation of something to destroy the thing itself. Confucianism is no exception, Buddhism is no exception, and democratic thought is no exception either. As is well known, I am a practitioner, and I don't care about political systems themselves. What I care about is how these things are used by the devil to disrupt our practice. It needs to be clarified that I am not hostile to democracy; I even believe it will be our best choice for a long time until its replacement appears. I have also explained that anything good will be infiltrated by the devil, who is best at distorting these great ideas in its unique way to achieve the purpose of destroying them. Whether it's Mahayana Buddhism, Vajrayana teachings, or Confucianism, none can escape this fate, and democratic thought is certainly no exception. Is the Buddhism, Confucianism, or liberty, equality, and fraternity understood by the masses the true Buddhism, Confucianism, or liberty, equality, and fraternity?

"Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" was the most famous slogan during the French Revolution. It was written into the French Constitution in 1958, becoming a symbol of the French spirit. Most Chinese intellectuals are familiar with this slogan. We all yearn for freedom and want to obtain it, but although everyone desires freedom, it doesn't mean everyone knows what freedom is and how to achieve it. On the path to freedom, do we need to sacrifice some freedom? This raises some issues, namely that most people don't truly understand what freedom is. Because they don't understand freedom, in their eyes, freedom means they can do anything, and no one has the right to interfere with whatever they do. They long for that "full and complete freedom," but even in the freest country, America, there is no "full and complete freedom." When a police officer points a gun at you, you must obediently lie on the car and put your hands where they can see them. If you turn your stereo to maximum volume in the middle of the night, the police will soon be knocking on your door because you've disturbed your neighbors. I've met some people before, and I don't know what kind of environment they grew up in or what kind of education they received, to the extent that their understanding of freedom is that they can do whatever they want, and anyone interfering is infringing on their freedom. Such people are not few in number. You see, this is how the devil uses freedom. Freedom is the devil's best tool; it uses it to spread various wrong views, unstoppably. If you say this is wrong or a misconception, someone will come out and say they have the right to express their own views. Of course, who can say they don't have this right? Every day, I can see many naive faces on Douyin, faces that think they hold the truth, faces full of passion, faces speaking with gravity. Behind all of them are the shadows of the devil. On one hand, freedom and democracy seem to have inspired human creativity, leading us into a seemingly advanced society; on the other hand, it has also allowed the devil to run rampant. In the past few centuries, everyone has been praising freedom. Poets extol freedom, singers sing about freedom, even truck drivers and politicians advocate for freedom. Those irresponsible remarks hide under the protection of freedom and democracy, running rampant. Few people can foresee the consequences of those remarks. No one thinks freedom will bring disaster, but it has.

Living in this world, everyone is influenced by various factors from all directions. Among these influences, there are good ones, but most are not good influences. When a practitioner is influenced by these things, when he thinks freedom and equality are right but can't reconciliate them, he will enter a very strange state. Of course, there are a few people who can perfectly integrate these two things. They can correctly understand what freedom is and know that to obtain freedom, one must first constrain oneself. But most people can't do this. When a person can't correctly understand freedom, I don't know how he can combine freedom and precepts. In his view, these seem to be opposite things. How can he balance freedom and the requirements from the guru? The guru's behavior doesn't look like that of a democratic gentleman; he's very dictatorial. When a person's mind is full of liberty, equality, and fraternity, entering Buddhist practice seems to be a very difficult thing for him.

I remember Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse Chökyi Rgya mtsho Rinpoche once mentioned an incident. He visited a Western white disciple without notice. When he appeared at their doorstep, the Western disciple was having a party with friends. Rinpoche's appearance surprised him, but he couldn't refuse his visit. When he introduced his guru to his friends, he didn't tell them this was his Buddhist teacher. He told them, "This is a friend of mine." I think this is the result of being enslaved by too much freedom and equality. He must have been afraid that others would think he was a person led by the nose by his guru, which seemed to be a very shameful thing, especially in Western society. It makes you look not independent at all. Like a child who hasn't grown up, because you need others to make decisions for you, you need others to tell you what to do and what not to do. This is a very shameful thing in Western society. Now such things don't just happen in the West; they also happen in China. Once, a girl said she wanted to ask me something. It was obvious that she found it hard to speak out. Finally, she gathered her courage and said, "Why do those who serve the guru look like dogs?" Although I was slightly surprised for a moment, I quickly understood why she would think this way. Those who serve the guru, they all bend their backs, and when speaking to the guru, they cover their mouths with their sleeves. When the guru sits in a high place, they sit at the guru's feet looking up at him. If you don't understand Buddhism, you would indeed think they look like dogs. From the perspective of someone who was born believing that everyone should be equal, the way some people serve the guru is indeed quite shocking. But if we truly understand Buddhist practice (especially Vajrayana practice), fully understand the significance of the guru to our practice, and also fully understand the significance of disciples respectfully serving the guru, then we wouldn't have such thoughts. (For example, I wouldn't have such thoughts.) I'm not saying that most people who behave this way in front of the guru understand the significance of doing so. In fact, most of them do this out of custom or blind following, but it's undeniable that there are people who truly understand why they do this - although such people are not particularly numerous.

On the path of practice, you will encounter many obstacles. These obstacles each have their own deceptive nature, but the most deceptive among them is this kind of obstacle. The whole world believes that democracy is good, freedom is good, equality is good. When democracy and freedom meet with practice, when you, who are accustomed to freedom, encounter a dictatorial guru, how can you ensure that you can correctly handle such a relationship?

So, if you don't fully understand the theory of Buddhist practice and your mind is full of shallow understanding of liberty, equality, and fraternity, many unpleasant things will happen. When the guru asks you to do this or that, you will do it because you haven't decided to say goodbye to the guru yet, but this doesn't prevent the devil from whispering in your ear while you're doing it. When the guru performs wrathful actions, when the guru rejects you, when the guru seems very uncompassionate and unfair, the devil will always jump out to whisper in your ear, because you are enslaved by equality and fraternity. Someone once said that everywhere in life is a place of practice. I agree with such words, but I very much doubt whether you are always a practitioner. If you are not always a practitioner, then even if everywhere in life is a place of practice, it's useless to you because you can't use everything to practice. I rather think that if you are enslaved by liberty, equality, and fraternity, there will be traps everywhere in life. If a practitioner falls into such traps, he will often see various behaviors of the guru that don't conform to liberty, equality, and fraternity. True pure perception is very difficult; most people just pretend to have pure perception. If a person often sees various behaviors of the guru that don't conform to liberty, equality, and fraternity, that don't conform to what he believes Buddhism should be, I don't know what terrible things will happen next.

In Confucian teachings, almost everything Confucius advocated is a state naturally achieved through practice, but hardly any of the later Confucian scholars could reach Confucius's state. But they need to show such a state, so hypocrisy appeared. Similarly, liberty, equality, and fraternity, I believe, belong to the realm of sages. Only sages can truly understand liberty, equality, and fraternity, and truly lead you into liberty, equality, and fraternity, but their methods may look nothing like liberty, equality, and fraternity. When an ordinary person tries to understand these concepts, he will almost inevitably be led astray by the devil. When he tries to practice these ideas, various problems will arise. I know of an American couple who believed that love should be given to everyone. They passed through an area controlled by ISIS. Everyone warned them not to go through there, but they believed that even terrorists have humanity and can be communicated with and reasoned with. The result was that they were brutally murdered. Do you really know when to be free and when to be restrained? Is your understanding of freedom that those who illegally cross from Mexico into the United States should not be stopped - because that's their freedom and right? Is your understanding of freedom arranging your own practice? Is your understanding of fraternity that everyone's right to speak should be respected, even if their speech will cause many problems and should not be stopped? The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, passed by the French National Assembly in 1789, says that freedom is: "Liberty consists in the freedom to do everything which injures no one else." But the problem is, most speech that harms others is not as obvious as robbery, murder, or cutting off someone's nose. Most people also cannot identify whether certain speech will harm others. Judges also cannot convict a person because their speech affected others. I often see videos on Douyin of elderly people in northern China asking for bride price in matchmaking. A few days ago, I saw a video where a father admonished his daughter who was about to enter marriage: "Except for your own parents, no one truly cares about you." I think this teaches many people wrongly and also hurts many people, but no one will be punished for this. The Buddhist practitioners around me also watch Douyin, and they are all influenced. If they believe that in this world, no one truly cares about you except your parents, I don't know how they can practice. How can they practice Guru Yoga? How can they possibly believe that there are saints in the world, how can they possibly believe that the guru only wants you to attain enlightenment?

The devil will use everything it can use to undermine all beautiful things. It makes most people misunderstand concepts like liberty, equality, and fraternity, and then uses these misunderstandings to destroy the true path of liberty, equality, and fraternity.

Written by Lingshan Hermit on May 18, 2022, first published on May 21, 2022

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灵山居士：自由是魔鬼最好用的工具

民主思想起源于古希腊，它最初盛行于希腊城邦。在最近的一百多年里，民主席卷了全世界。今天距离法国大革命爆发已经两百多年了，在两百多年后的今天，全世界几乎没有人会怀疑民主的正义性，从亚洲的日本到欧洲的丹麦，甚至非洲大陆的佛得角，政客们都异口同声赞扬民主，罕有人敢于公开挑战民主，即便是那些声名狼藉的独裁者也宣称自己是民主人士。

纵观世界历史，凡是好的东西都会被魔鬼利用、被魔鬼曲解，魔鬼最擅长的本领之一是利用人们对一件事物的曲解来破坏事物本身，儒家不例外、佛法不例外、民主思想也不会例外。众所周知，我是一个修行人，我不关心政治制度本身，我关心的是这些东西如何被魔鬼利用来破坏我们的修行。需要说明的是，我并不敌视民主，我甚至认为在它的替换物出现之前的很长一段时间里它都是我们的最佳选择。我也已经说明，任何好的东西都会被魔鬼渗透，魔鬼最擅长以它独特的方式曲解这些伟大的思想，以达到破坏它们的目的。无论是大乘佛法、金刚乘教法还是儒家，都无法逃脱这样的命运，民主思想当然也不例外。大众所理解的佛法儒家或是自由平等博爱，是真正的佛法儒家或是自由平等博爱吗？

“自由、平等、博爱”是法国大革命时期最著名的口号，它于1958年被写进法国宪法，成为法国精神的象征，大多数中国知识分子对这个口号并不陌生，我们每个人都向往自由，我们也都想得到自由，但是虽然每个人都向往自由，但并不意味着每个人都知道什么是自由，以及怎样达到自由，在达到自由的路上是不是需要牺牲一些自由？这样就出现了一些问题，那就是大多数人并不真的理解什么是自由，因为不理解什么是自由，自由在他们眼里就是什么都可以做，无论他们做什么别人都没有资格干涉。他们向往那种“充分的完全的自由”，但是即便是在最自由的美国，也没有“充分的完全的自由”，当警察用枪指着你的时候，你就必须老老实实趴在车上把手放在他能看到的地方，如果你半夜把音响开到最大，很快就会有警察来敲你的门，因为你吵到了邻居。以前我见过一些人，我不知道他们生长在什么样的环境受到什么样的教育，以至于他们理解的自由就是他想干什么都行，别人干涉就是侵犯他的自由。这样的人不在少数。你看，魔鬼就是这样利用自由。自由是魔鬼最好用的工具，它用它来传播各种邪见，所向披靡。如果你说这是错误的、是邪见，就会有人出来说，他有表达自己看法的权利。当然，谁能说他没这个权利呢。每一天，我都能在D音上看到很多天真烂漫的脸，看到很多真理在握的脸，看到很多奔放热情的脸，看到很多语重心长的脸，他们的背后，都有魔鬼的影子。一方面自由民主似乎激发了人类的创造力，让我们步入一个似乎很先进的社会，另一方面它又让魔鬼大行其道。在过去的几个世纪里，所有人都在称颂自由，诗人歌颂自由，歌手吟唱自由，连卡车司机和政客都鼓吹自由。那些不负责任的言论躲在自由民主的护翼下大行其道，很少有人能预见到那些言论的后果，没有人觉得自由会带来灾难，但是它带来了。

活在这世上，每个人都会受到各种影响，这些影响来自各方，这其中有好的影响，但大多数都不是什么好的影响。当一个修行人被这些东西影响，当他觉得自由平等是对的而又不能圆融的时候，他就会进入一个很奇怪的状态，当然，也有少数人能把这两样东西完美地相融，他能正确理解什么是自由，他知道要得到自由必须先约束自己，但是大多数人无法做到，当一个人无法正确理解自由，我不知道他如何把自由和戒律双运，在他看来，这似乎是相反的东西，他如何去平衡自由和来自上师的要求，上师的表现可不像是一个民主先生，他很独裁哦。当一个人满脑子都是自由平等博爱的时候，进入佛法修行对他来说似乎就是一件很困难的事。

我记得宗萨仁波切说过一件事，有一次他没有打招呼就去拜访一个西方白人弟子，当他出现在他们家门口的时候，那个西方弟子正在和朋友们举行派对，仁波切的出现让他很意外，但是他无法拒绝他的来访，当他向他的朋友们介绍自己的上师的时候，他并没有告诉他们这是自己的佛法上师，他告诉他们：“这是我的一个朋友。”我认为，这就是他受到太多自由平等的奴役的结果，他应该很怕别人认为他是一个被上师牵着鼻子走的人，那似乎是很丢人的事，尤其是在西方社会。这让你看起来似乎一点也不独立。像个没长大的孩子，因为你需要别人替你做决定，需要别人来告诉你该做什么不该做什么。这在西方社会里，是很耻辱的事。现在这样的事，不仅仅会发生在西方，他同样会发生在中国，有一次，有个女孩说她想问我一件事，看得出她难以启齿，最后她鼓足勇气说：“为什么那些承事上师的人，看起来都像狗？”我虽然略微惊讶了一下，但是很快我就理解了为什么她会这么想，那些承事上师的人，他们都弯着腰，和上师说话的时候都用袖子遮住嘴，当上师坐在高处的时候他们坐在上师的脚边仰视上师。如果你不懂得佛法，你确实会觉得他们像条狗。从一个一出生就认为所有人都应该是平等的人的角度来看，有些人承事上师的样子确实比较惊骇。但是假如我们真正理解佛教的修道（尤其是金刚乘的修道），充分理解上师对我们修道的意义，也充分理解弟子恭敬承事上师的意义，那我们就不会有这样的想法。（譬如，我就不会有这样的想法。）我这么说并不是在说大多数人在上师面前这样表现的人都懂得这么做的意义，其实他们这么做大都是出于习俗或是盲从，但是也不可否认有真正明白自己为什么要这么做的人——虽然这样的人并不特别多。

在修道之路上，你会遇到很多障碍，这些障碍各有各的迷惑性，但是其中最有迷惑性的就是这样的障碍。整个世界都认为民主是好的、自由是好的、平等是好的，当民主自由遇到修道的时候，当习惯自由的你遇到独裁的上师的时候，你如何保证能正确处理这样的关系？

所以，如果你并不充分理解佛教的修道理论而又满脑子都是对自由平等博爱的浅薄理解的时候，就会发生很多不愉快的事。当上师要求你做这个做那个的时候，你会去做，因为你还没打算和上师说拜拜，但是这不妨碍你做的时候魔鬼在你耳边说话。当上师诛杀的时候，当上师拒绝你的时候，当上师表现的似乎很不慈悲很不公平的时候，魔鬼都会跳出来在你耳边说话，因为你���平等博爱奴役。以前有人说生活中处处皆是道场，我同意这样的话，但是我很怀疑你是不是时时都是修行人，如果你不是时时都是修行人，那生活中处处皆是道场对你来说也没有用，因为你无法利用每件事修行。我倒是觉得如果你被自由平等博爱奴役，生活中就会处处皆是陷阱。如果一个修行人落入这样的陷阱，他就会经常看到上师各种不符合自由平等博爱的表现，真正的净观是很难的，大多数人只是假装自己有净观。如果一个人经常看到上师各种不符合自由平等博爱不符合他所认为的佛法的表现，我不知道接下来会发生什么可怕的事。

在儒家的教法里，孔子所倡导的种种几乎都是修行自然达到的境界，但是后世的儒生们几乎没有人能达到孔子的境界。但是他们需要表现出这样的境界，所以，就出现了伪善。同样的，自由平等博爱，我认为它属于圣者的境界，只有圣贤才能真正理解自由平等博爱，也真正能带你走入自由平等博爱，但是他的方法可能看上去一点也不自由平等博爱，当一个凡夫去理解这些概念的时候，他几乎必然会被魔鬼带偏。当他去践行这些理念的时候，他会出各种问题，我知道有一对认为应该把博爱施予每个人的美国夫妇，他们经过IS的控制区，所有人都警告他们不要从那过，但是他们认为即便是恐怖分子也是有人性的，也是可以沟通讲道理的，结果就是他们惨遭杀害。你真的知道什么时候该自由什么时候该管束吗？你理解的自由是不应该阻止那些从墨西哥偷渡美国的人——因为那是他们的自由和权利？你理解的自由是自己安排自己的修行？你理解的博爱是应该尊重每个人的发言权利，即便他的言论会引发很多问题也不应该阻止？1789年法国国民议会通过的《人权和公民权宣言》说自由是：“自由即所有人皆拥有的，做一切不伤害其他人事情的自主权。”但是问题是，大多数会伤害他人的言论，并不像抢劫杀人割掉别人的鼻子那么一目了然。大多数人也无法识别某种言论是否会伤害他人。法官也无法因为一个人的言论影响了他人而判定这个人有罪。我经常在D音上看到一些北方老年人相亲要彩礼的视频，前几天我还看到一个视频，视频里一个父亲告诫自己即将步入婚姻的女儿：“除了自己的父母，没有人是真心对你好。”我认为这教坏了很多人，也伤害了很多人，但是没有人会因此获罪。我身边的学佛人，他们也都会看D音，他们都会受到影响，如果他们相信这世上除了父母没有人对你真心好，我不知道他们如何修行，他们怎么修上师瑜伽？他们怎么可能相信世上有圣者，怎么可能相信上师只是想让你证悟。

魔鬼会利用所有它所能利用的东西，来瓦解所有美好的东西，它让大多数人对自由平等博爱这些概念产生错误的理解，然后再用这种误解毁掉真正的自由平等博爱之路。

灵山居士写于2022年5月18日，首发于2024年8月7日

[cabezadeperro]

jaster&jango, gen, 785w

for @mandalorianbrainweasel

the prompt was this picture. i hope you like it!

---

Jaster returns to the camp to find the boy gone.

It’s not hte first time—it will probably not be the last. He is eight and he is grieving; he’s also clever, so very clever. 

His verde are growing tired of the child, however, and Jastest can’t say he blames them. He is being irresponsible, adn he knows it—he should find whatever’s left of Jango’s family and he should leave the boy there, among kin, because there must be someone left. And they will be better than Jaster and his roaming band of mercenaries and beroyase.

But he keeps putting it off, and Jango keeps running off, and his verde are growing tired of losing track of an eight year old child who should not be so hard to find. 

They can’t keep up with him. Jango’s quiet and canny and patient: he listens and he does as he’s told: you forget he is there and then you blink and you find that he is not.

The sun’s brushing the mountains to the west, washing the sky pink and purple, and the wind’s picking up again: Jaster can feel it whistling against his buy’ce. He’s glad he found them an actual home to pass the next few nights. It’s cold, and growing colder, and darker, and Jango is still missing, and Jaster tries and fails not to worry.

The old manor looms from behind the tree line, dark and ominous and overgrown: Jaster thinks he can feel it—whatever it is—looking at him, staring at him with its empty-socket windows. 

He asked their hosts but they knew nothing: whoever lived in it is long gone, and their ancestors did not care enough to remember their names and histories. If they had the time—if Jaster did not have a war to fight, an army to keep alive—he’d love to explore the ruins, to ask and ask and ask until he found someone who knows. 

He finds Jango’s tracks by the trees. Small feet, keeping to the weeds, trying and failing to leave no tracks, to be invisible. Jaster follows them until the old house and then loses them altogether. He breathes out, tired and frustrated, and looks around himself, trying to think like a too clever eight year old child.

By the time he finds the boy, night has already fallen, the wind’s prowling the manor’s wild garden like a beast, scraping down his beskar and tugging at his cape, and he has received and summarily ignored seven commcalls.

Jango watches him with wide eyes from within one of the bushes, a bloody gash in his cheek that will very probably scar and his lips blue. Jaster curses out loud within his buy’ce and then he takes it off, wincing when the cold night air hits him right on the face and makes his eyes water. 

He squats, eyeing the thorny branches. Jango eyes him right back. His hair is a mess—Jaster should probably do something about that.

Why did he think he could raise a kid?

“Su’cuy,” he says. Jango blinks. 

“Su’cuy,” he replies. He’s shaking, his teeth chattering.

Jaster licks his lips. He scrambles, trying to find what to say.

“You ready to go back to the camp?” he finally asks the boy. He tries and fails not to think what he’ll do if Jango tells him he isn’t.

The boy watches him, eyes wide and dark and wet. He sniffs. He’s hugging his knees and his hands are black with dirt, his brown skin washed out by the harsh white light of Jaster’s buy’ce.

“No,” Jango finally replies. Jaster doesn’t move: Jango’s watching him, very still, very quiet. “But I’m cold.”

Jaster sighs.

“And hungry. You’ve been gone for a while,” he says. Jango nods. Jaster sighs again. He gives in and sits on the dirt, his knees complaining at him all the while. When did he grow so kriffing old? 

They share the silence for a beat.

“You shouldn’t look for me,” Jango tells him suddenly. 

“Why?”

Jango shrugs. “I am not your kid,” he says, very matter-of-fact. “I’m alone now.”

Jaster feels—Jaster needs a moment.

He doesn’t have one.

“It’s cold, and I’m tired, and I’m hungry,” he says instead. He sounds—he sounds normal. He’s glad for the dark and the wind and the shadows: he was never very good at controlling his face. “And I will always find you.”

Jango scowls, sudden and black and hilarious in such a tiny face. 

“You always do,” he grumbles. 

Jaster snorts. It’s shakier than he’d like, but it’ll do. “‘Lek. Dinner?”

Jango stares at him from within his cave of thorns, quiet and sad and sharp, and for too long.

“Okay.”

[robyn-goodfellowe]

@howdyfriend i didn't feel likke finishing. the doodle unfortunately because i am tired and i have sososo many things to do today but here is a really quick sketch of ruby for your viewing pleasure :) i'll render her for realsies one day

ruby is a character from a story that i created for a writing contest in spring 2022 that i ultimately did not end up completing or entering due to a lack of time and confidence in both the story and my writing abilities. because this is a story that i do want to tell one day, i won't go super into the plot, but i will tell you some of the core information about my favorite character from it: ruby <3

ruby is a little girl who immigrated with her dads from cape verde to north carolina (SAD! 💔) when she was ~3 years old. she was by all means a normal child growing up! she was an absolute ray of sunshine and a huge source of joy to everyone who knew her- even as a child, she was always regarded as very charming! she knew how to wrap people around her little fingers and did it with ease. she was very in tune with her surroundings- nature and animals especially-, but her talent was always with reading others in her life. she had an affinity for befriending other kids that were normally bullied, teased, or just weren't very good at making friends, and because she was so well-liked, this friendship offered these other kids protection from bullying. the first friend she really latched onto was khalil (the protagonist of this story), but there were three others that joined her main circle of friends growing up: jordyn, and fraternal twins haadi and fatima. she was, really, the heart of a lot of things: the heart of her friendship, the heart of her family, so on and so forth. in a way, the world did revolve around her. people were always drawn to her and she knew it.

and then one day she went missing.

two weeks before school let out for summer and exactly five days after her thirteenth birthday, ruby started walking home from school and never came home. she was reported missing, but nothing ever came of it- there were no signs as to where she could've gone or anyone who could've taken her. some theorized that maybe she'd tried to take a shortcut through the woods near her home- something she was known to do often when she walked home alone (both out of a love for nature and because it was faster)- but extensive volunteer search and rescue results yielded no results. it was strange. she was there one moment and gone the next in the blink of an eye.

her disappearance absolutely tore her community apart- her fathers relationship suffered, her friend group fell apart, that sort of thing. there was nowhere to search and no one to question and ruby, beloved as she was by her community, was eventually just... accepted as gone and set aside. after all, what can you do when you've done everything you can and still yield no results? (... damn, sounds familiar...)

exactly two years later, two weeks before let out for the summer and five days after what would've been ruby's fifteenth birthday, khalil- ruby's oldest friend- walks home from school. he'd grown up in the same neighborhood as ruby did, but it never really felt like home after she'd left. her family had always been more of a family to him than his own had (his mother is a hoarder with deep, complex issues stemming from her own childhood, and while she loves him greatly she ultimately just was never meant to be a parent and it really shows) and he'd distanced himself through his own grief when he realized that ruby was gone for good. except... there she is, standing by the trail entrance to the woods so many people had meticulously combed through searching for her. wearing the same clothes, holding the same backpack, and waving brightly at him like she hasn't been missing for two years.

despite khalil's tears and ruby's confusion over said tears and seeing him (why does he look so much older?), it's a happy reunion between the two of them. its even happier when khalil practically sprints to ruby's dads' home and almost breaks down the door knocking on it. ruby's home, she's home, and everyone's happy! it's ruby! it's a miracle! most missing children never come home, but she did! she came home alive, whole and healthy... unnaturally so, it seems, because a medical examination that the local precinct insists on preforming on her reveals that she's... completely unchanged.

it's not just that she's still wearing the same clothes or carrying the same backpack (neither of which show any dna that isn't hers) from the day she went missing. it's not just that she's the same height and the same weight as she was when she was thirteen. it's not just that she's still wearing the exact same bandaid she'd put on at lunch the day she'd disappeared because she'd scraped her knee dicking around with her friends. it's not just that the food she didn't finish the day she disappeared left inside of her bag is still as fresh as it was that morning.

she's completely untouched by time. she's still thirteen, and whatever happened to her within the span of the two years she'd been missing, she claims that she doesn't remember any of it. in fact, it doesn't seem like anything happened to her at all. it's almost be tempting to pretend she'd never disappeared in the first place. ruby's fathers, her friends, khalil, they should all be thankful! not everyone gets to have their loved ones back in one piece- or at all.

after all, even if there's still a two year gap in her life where her memories should be, she's still home, and that's enough. sure, her eyes might be growing lighter by the day and there might be more sharp teeth in her mouth than any human normally has, but she's still the same old ruby everyone knows and loves.

it's just a shame there's something else underneath her skin now, too.

i think dwight and ruby would be friends because they both get to have fun body-related horrors :) but outside of that he just feels like one of those kids that ruby would be really quick to latch to and be protective of, even before she goes missing. he's a big sweetheart and ruby has a big, big soft spot for people like him. he's her friend now. they're having soft tacos later!

[ausetkmt]

Portugal “must apologise and take full responsibility for colonial period”

And that includes apologising for “exploitation, human slavery”

President of the Republic Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa used Liberty Day commemorations today to say that Portugal must apologise and “fully assume responsibility” for the exploitation and human slavery that characterised its colonial past.

Marcelo delivered this arguably popular opinion (a number of countries have decided similarly recently) at the commemorative session in parliament of the 49th anniversary of the April 25 revolution.

He used the example of President Lula da Silva making the first address of the morning as making “perfect sense” because Brazil “pioneered decolonialisation”.

“It’s not just (a question of) saying sorry – which is undoubtedly due”, Marcelo explained, “ because sometimes saying sorry is the easiest thing to do. You say sorry, turn your back, and the job is done. No, it is the assumption of responsibility for the future of the good and bad things we did in the past”, he said.

According to Portugal’s head of State, colonisation of Brazil had some positive factors, “the language, the culture, the unity of Brazilian territory”.

But the negatives were “the exploitation of the indigenous people (…) slavery, the sacrifice of the interests of Brazil and Brazilians.

“The worst of our presence that we must assume, just as we assume the best of that presence. And the same can be said of the best and the worst, the worst and the best of our presence in the empire throughout colonisation”, he concluded.

Literal translation of the president’s speeches can leave readers a little breathless. But the bottom line is clear: apologies are due for what long-dead Portuguese citizens did in the past.

Okay We Will Respond Now -

What Portuguese Colonialism Did to the World ?

RE Ausetkmt 4/27/2023

we asked Bard, Google's AI to write an essay about the said Portuguese colonialism, including facts, and outcomes and this is what it gave us. Enjoy

What Portuguese Colonialism Did to the World ?

RE Ausetkmt 4/27/2023

First We asked this question for comparison to give focus to our thought pattern :

How many countries did Portugal colonize globally?

Portugal colonized over 50 countries, including many in Africa. Some of the most notable Portuguese colonies in Africa include:

Angola

Mozambique

Guinea-Bissau

Cape Verde

São Tomé and Príncipe

Mozambique

Angola

Guinea-Bissau

Cabo Verde

São Tomé and Príncipe

Portuguese India

Portuguese Macau

Portuguese Timor

But we asked again and got a real list -

Sure, here is a complete list of the countries that were colonized by Portugal since the country of Portugal existed:

Africa

Angola

Mozambique

Guinea-Bissau

Cape Verde

São Tomé and Príncipe

Portuguese Guinea

Portuguese Mozambique

Portuguese Angola

Portuguese Cape Verde

Portuguese São Tomé and Príncipe

Portuguese India

Portuguese Macau

Portuguese Timor

Americas

Brazil

Portuguese America

Portuguese Caribbean

Portuguese Newfoundland

Asia

Macau

Portuguese Timor

Portuguese India

Portuguese Malacca

Portuguese Goa

Portuguese China

Portuguese Japan

Portuguese Ceylon

Portuguese Mozambique

Portuguese Angola

Portuguese Cape Verde

Portuguese São Tomé and Príncipe

Europe

Azores

Madeira

Oceania

Portuguese Timor

Portuguese Macau

We corrected once again with this question and response:

where is portuguese america located and what is it called today

There is no such thing as Portuguese America today. The term Portuguese America was used to refer to the Portuguese colonies in the Americas, which included Brazil, Portuguese Guiana, Portuguese Cape Verde, Portuguese São Tomé and Príncipe, Portuguese Angola, and Portuguese Mozambique.

All of these colonies gained independence from Portugal in the 20th century, and are now independent countries.

Brazil is the largest country in South America, and it is the only former Portuguese colony in the Americas that is still considered to be a Portuguese-speaking country.

Portugal's colonial empire was one of the largest and most powerful in history. It lasted for centuries, and it had a profound impact on the people and cultures of the lands it colonized.

Portuguese Colonialism

Portugal was one of the first European nations to engage in colonialism, and its empire lasted for centuries. At its peak, the Portuguese Empire stretched from Africa to Asia, and included territories in South America, the Caribbean, and the Indian Ocean.

The Portuguese were motivated to colonize by a number of factors, including the desire for economic gain, religious conversion, and territorial expansion. The Portuguese were also skilled navigators and explorers, and they were able to establish colonies in some of the most remote parts of the world.

The Portuguese had a significant impact on the people and cultures of the lands they colonized. They introduced new crops, animals, and technologies, and they often forced the local people to convert to Christianity. The Portuguese also enslaved millions of people from Africa and brought them to their colonies in the Americas and Asia.

The Portuguese Empire had a mixed impact on Portugal itself. On the one hand, the empire brought great wealth and power to Portugal. On the other hand, the empire also drained Portugal's resources and led to the neglect of its own people.

The Portuguese Empire began to decline in the 18th century, and it finally collapsed in the 20th century.

Historical Dates

1415: Portugal conquers Ceuta, its first overseas territory.

1420: Portugal begins exploring the coast of Africa.

1498: Vasco da Gama reaches India, opening up a new trade route between Europe and Asia.

1500: Portugal establishes a colony in Brazil.

1510: Portugal conquers Goa, its first major territory in India.

1580: Portugal is united with Spain, forming the Iberian Union.

1640: Portugal regains its independence from Spain.

1755: A devastating earthquake destroys Lisbon and much of Portugal.

1822: Brazil declares its independence from Portugal.

1961: Portugal's African colonies begin to fight for independence.

1974: A military coup in Portugal leads to the end of the Portuguese Colonial War and the independence of Portugal's African colonies.

1999: Portugal returns Macau to China.

Groups of People Enslaved by the Portuguese

The Portuguese enslaved millions of people from Africa, and they brought them to their colonies in the Americas and Asia. The majority of the enslaved people were from West Africa, but people from other parts of Africa were also enslaved. The Portuguese enslaved people for a variety of reasons, including to work on plantations, in mines, and as domestic servants.

Economic Growth for Portugal as a Result of Colonialism

The Portuguese Empire brought great wealth and power to Portugal. The empire provided Portugal with access to new resources, markets, and labor. The empire also helped Portugal to become a major player in global trade. As a result of the empire, Portugal became one of the wealthiest and most powerful nations in Europe.

Conclusion

Portuguese colonialism had a profound impact on the world. The Portuguese Empire was one of the largest and most powerful empires in history, and it had a significant impact on the people and cultures of the lands it colonized. The legacy of Portuguese colonialism is still felt today, and it continues to be a source of conflict and debate.