UNESCO Selects 34 Elements Marking Sudan's Intangible Cultural Heritage

 The UNESCO headquarters building, seen here, is located in Paris. (© Charles Platiau/Reuters)
The UNESCO headquarters building, seen here, is located in Paris. (© Charles Platiau/Reuters)
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UNESCO Selects 34 Elements Marking Sudan's Intangible Cultural Heritage

 The UNESCO headquarters building, seen here, is located in Paris. (© Charles Platiau/Reuters)
The UNESCO headquarters building, seen here, is located in Paris. (© Charles Platiau/Reuters)

The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) announced the selection of 34 elements of the Sudanese intangible cultural heritage to make part the human cultural heritage, including "the cheese ritual, coffee, the Sudanese dress, and the Sudanese henna."

The selection came during a workshop in Khartoum aimed at developing strategies for safeguarding and developing intangible Sudanese cultural heritage and strengthening national capacities to carry out this mission in partnership with the UN and other global institutions.

In a keynote delivered during the opening of the workshop on Tuesday, Faisal Mohamed Saleh, minister of Culture and Information, said the partnership with the international community represented by the UNESCO, with the participation of the UAE, and the National Council for Cultural Heritage and Promotion Of National Languages, as well as the civil society organizations, is a good start for the development of strategies and indicators to safeguard the intangible cultural heritage of Sudan.

"The official institutions have been suffering from failure in managing cultural diversity, due to a lack of care and financial support," Saleh added.

For her part, Minister of Education and Scientific Research Intisar Saghiroun emphasized the important role of the heritage and unity centers in El Fashir and Blue Nile Universities and the Sinnar Regional Center for Dialogue and Cultural Diversity in this mission.

She also said her ministry's institutions are ready to assist and encourage studies in the field of "intangible heritage." The strategy for safeguarding intangible heritage is the first step in a project supported by the Heritage Fund and funded by the UNESCO and the UAE's Abu Dhabi Tourism and Culture Authority.

The project debuted in 2013 with the training and qualification of 164 administrators and researchers in heritage and culture. "There is little national capacity for heritage, so we signed the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage with the UNESCO in 2003, and 30 experts were invited to urge the safeguarding of heritage. We aim to highlight and preserve the rich Sudanese heritage, which gathers the African and Arabic cultures, as a symbol of national identity," Hassan said.



In Beirut, a Photographer's Frozen Moments Slow Down Time and Allow the Contemplation of Destruction

A bomb dropped from an Israeli jet hits a building in Ghobeiri, Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, October 22, 2024. (AP Photo/ Bilal Hussein)
A bomb dropped from an Israeli jet hits a building in Ghobeiri, Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, October 22, 2024. (AP Photo/ Bilal Hussein)
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In Beirut, a Photographer's Frozen Moments Slow Down Time and Allow the Contemplation of Destruction

A bomb dropped from an Israeli jet hits a building in Ghobeiri, Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, October 22, 2024. (AP Photo/ Bilal Hussein)
A bomb dropped from an Israeli jet hits a building in Ghobeiri, Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, October 22, 2024. (AP Photo/ Bilal Hussein)

We watch video after video, consuming the world on our handheld devices in bites of two minutes, one minute, 30 seconds, 15. We turn to moving pictures — “film” — because it comes the closest to approximating the world that we see and experience. This is, after all, 2024, and video in our pocket — ours, others', everyone's — has become our birthright.
But sometimes — even in this era of live video always rolling, always recording, always capturing — sometimes the frozen moment can enter the eye like nothing else. And in the process, it can tell a larger story that echoes long after the moment was captured. That's what happened this past week in Beirut, through the camera lens of Associated Press photographer Bilal Hussein and the photographs he captured.
When Hussein set up his camera outside an evacuated Beirut apartment building Tuesday after Israel announced it would be targeted as part of military operations against Hezbollah, he had one goal in mind — only one. "All I thought of," he says, “was photographing the missile while it was coming down.”
He found a safe spot. He ensured a good angle. He wasn't stressed, he said; like many photographers who work in such environments, he had been in situations like this one before. He was ready.
When the attack came — a bomb, not a missile in the end — Hussein swung into action. And, unsurprisingly for a professional who has been doing this work for two decades, he did exactly what he set out to do.
Time slowed down
The sequence of images he made bursts with the explosive energy of its subject matter.
In one frame, the bomb hangs there, a weird and obtrusive interloper in the scene. It is not yet noticed by anyone around it, ready to bring its destruction to a building that, in moments, will no longer exist. The building's balconies, a split-second from nonexistence, are devoid of people as the bomb finds its mark.
These are the kind of moments that video, rolling at the speed of life or even in slow motion, cannot capture in the same way. A photo holds us in the scene, stops time, invites a viewer to take the most chaotic of events and break it down, looking around and noticing things in a strangely silent way that actual life could not.
In another frame, one that happened micro moments after the first, the building is in the process of exploding. Let's repeat that for effect, since even as recently as a couple generations ago photographs like this were rare: in the process of exploding.
Pieces of building are shooting out in all directions, in high velocity — in real life. But in the image they are frozen, outward bound, hanging in space awaiting the next seconds of their dissolution — just like the bomb that displaced them was doing milliseconds before. And in that, a contemplation of the destruction — and the people it was visited upon — becomes possible.
Tech gives us new prisms to see the world
The technology to grab so many images in the course of little more than one second — and do it in such clarity and high resolution — is barely a generation old.
So to see these “stills,” as journalists call them, come together to paint a picture of an event is a combination of artistry, intrepidity and technology — an exercise in freezing time, and in giving people the opportunity to contemplate for minutes, even hours, what took place in mere seconds. This holds true for positive things that the camera captures — and for visitations of violence like this one as well.
Photography is random access. We, the viewers of it, choose how to see it, process it, digest it. We go backward and forward in time, at will. We control the pace and the speed at which dizzying images hurtle at us. And in that process, something unusual for this era emerges: a bit of time to think.
That, among many other things, is the enduring power of the still image in a moving-picture world — and the power of what Bilal Hussein captured on that clear, sunny day in Beirut.