Reading Adinkra: the symbols we wear without knowing their names
Adinkra symbols sit on cloth, coffins, jewellery and tattoos. Far fewer people can name the values they encode — or the Akan proverb behind each one.
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African Pride Magazine publishes on culture, style, opinion, business and diaspora life. Five desks, one standard: we would rather run one carefully reported piece than twenty aggregated ones.
In this issue
Showing 4 of 4. Choose a desk to narrow the list — the count follows you.
Adinkra symbols sit on cloth, coffins, jewellery and tattoos. Far fewer people can name the values they encode — or the Akan proverb behind each one.
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Every strip is woven narrow on purpose. The pattern names record proverbs, births, victories and grief — which is why the cloth outlives the wearer.
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Credit history that does not transfer, suppliers who only answer at 3am your time, and customers on two continents. A practical guide for diaspora founders.
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A language that survives only in greetings and in church is already half gone. What it actually takes to keep one alive in a Canadian household.
Read the columnAn honest note about this page. You are looking at the current issue, and it is four pieces long — because that is what we have published so far. We would rather show you a short, real index than pad it with headlines that go nowhere. New pieces appear here by desk as they are filed.
The desks
Each desk carries an Adinkra symbol from the Akan tradition of Ghana. The symbol is the standard the desk is held to.
Language, food, faith, music and the rituals that travel with families across oceans — and the people who keep them going in cities far from where they began. Adinkrahene, the chief of the symbols: leadership and greatness.
Print, tailoring, hair, jewellery, and the designers turning heritage cloth into contemporary wardrobes — without turning it into costume. Dwennimmen, the ram's horns: strength with humility.
Argument, not outrage. Columns on identity, migration, parenting and the questions diaspora families actually argue about at the dinner table. Nkyinkyim, the twisting vine: adaptability.
Founders, traders and tradespeople: how African-owned businesses get started, financed, staffed and handed on. Nkonsonkonson, the chain link: unity, and the strength of being joined.
Settlement, study permits, remittances, credential recognition and community associations — the practical business of living far from home, reported without the inspirational gloss. Aya, the fern: endurance.
Africanpride Radio: music in the morning, talk in the afternoon, and a community noticeboard every evening — free to send in, read out on air. Gye Nyame: the supremacy of God.
Write for us
Most of what we publish starts as a message from a reader: a business nobody has written about, a tradition being taught in a church basement, a correction we should make. Tell us what you know and who else we should speak to.