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African Champions League title stays in Egypt after Pyramids beats Mamelodi Sundowns

African Champions League title stays in Egypt after Pyramids beats Mamelodi Sundowns

Yahoo2 days ago

CAIRO (AP) — The African Champions League soccer title stayed in Egypt with Pyramids winning the final Sunday just seven years after the club was renamed and moved to Cairo.
The president of African soccer's governing body Patrice Motsepe presented the trophy after watching the South African club he owns, Mamelodi Sundowns, lose the second leg in Cairo 2-1, giving Pyramids a 3-2 aggregate win.
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Pyramids took a first-half lead with Congo forward Fiston Mayele's competition-best ninth goal. Defender Ahmed Samy added a second in the 56th minute for the team coached by Krunoslav Jurčić from Croatia.
Iqraam Rayners cut the lead in the 75th and Pyramids survived pressure during 10 minutes of stoppage time added.
Egypt now has a record 19 African club titles by four different teams. Al Ahly has 12, including the past two competitions, Zamalek has five and Ismaily one.
Pyramids was rebranded and brought to the Egyptian capital in 2018 by Saudi sports executive Turki Al-Sheikh, who is now a key official in boxing. One year later the big-spending club's new owner was Salem Al-Shamsi, a businessman from the United Arab Emirates, who had been its vice president.
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Pyramids' first African title earned a place at FIFA's Club World Cup in 2029.
Sundowns, which won its only African title in 2016, qualified to play in the United States next month in the first 32-team edition of the FIFA tournament.
The South African club was drawn in a group to play Ulsan in Orlando on June 17, then Borussia Dortmund in Cincinnati and Fluminense in Miami.
___
AP soccer: https://apnews.com/hub/soccer
The Associated Press

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Boulder community to come together for vigil after firebombing attack that injured 12
Boulder community to come together for vigil after firebombing attack that injured 12

Associated Press

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  • Associated Press

Boulder community to come together for vigil after firebombing attack that injured 12

BOULDER, Colo. (AP) — As members of the Boulder community reeled from a firebombing attack that injured 12 people demonstrating for the release of Israeli hostages, residents prepared to come together for a vigil Wednesday. Mohamed Sabry Soliman had planned to kill all of the roughly 20 participants in Sunday's demonstration at the popular Pearl Street pedestrian mall, but he threw just two of his 18 Molotov cocktails while yelling 'Free Palestine,' police said. Soliman, an Egyptian man who federal authorities say has been living in the U.S. illegally, didn't carry out his full plan 'because he got scared and had never hurt anyone before,' police wrote in an affidavit. His wife and five children were taken into custody Tuesday by U.S. immigration officials, and the White House said they could be swiftly deported. It's rare that family members of a person accused of a crime are detained and threatened with deportation in this way. Soliman told authorities that no one, including his family, knew about his plans for the attack, according to court documents that, at times, spelled his name as 'Mohammed.' According to an FBI affidavit, Soliman told police he was driven by a desire 'to kill all Zionist people' — a reference to the movement to establish and protect a Jewish state in Israel. Authorities said he expressed no remorse about the attack. A vigil was scheduled for Wednesday evening at the local Jewish community center to support those impacted by the attack. Defendant's immigration status Soliman was born in el-Motamedia, an Egyptian farming village in the Nile Delta province of Gharbia that's located about 120 kilometers (75 miles) north of Cairo, according to an Egyptian security official who spoke on the condition of anonymity because he wasn't authorized to talk to the media. Before moving to Colorado Springs three years ago, he spent 17 years in Kuwait, according to court documents. He has been living in the U.S. illegally, having arrived in August 2022 on a tourist visa that expired in February 2023, Department of Homeland Security Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin said in a post on X. She said Soliman filed for asylum in September 2022 and was granted a work authorization in March 2023, but that it also expired. DHS did not respond to requests for additional information about the immigration status of his wife and children and the U.S. State Department said that visa records are confidential. The New York Times, citing McLaughlin, said his family's visas have since been revoked and they were arrested Tuesday by ICE. Hundreds of thousands of people overstay their visas each year in the United States, according to Homeland Security Department reports. The case against Soliman Soliman told authorities that he had been planning the attack for a year and was waiting for his daughter to graduate before carrying it out, the affidavit said. A newspaper in Colorado Springs that profiled one of Soliman's children in April noted the family's journey from Egypt to Kuwait and then to the U.S. It said after initially struggling in school, she landed academic honors and volunteered at a local hospital. Soliman currently faces federal hate crime charges and attempted murder charges at the state level, but authorities say additional charges could be brought. He's being held in a county jail on a $10 million bond. His attorney, Kathryn Herold, declined to comment after a state court hearing Monday. Witnesses and police have said Soliman threw two incendiary devices, catching himself on fire as he hurled the second. Authorities said they believe Soliman acted alone. Although they did not elaborate on the nature of his injuries, a booking photo showed him with a large bandage over one ear. The attack unfolded against the backdrop of the Israel-Hamas war, which continues to inflame global tensions and has contributed to a spike in antisemitic violence in the United States. The attack happened at the beginning of the Jewish holiday of Shavuot and barely a week after a man who also yelled 'Free Palestine' was charged with fatally shooting two Israeli Embassy staffers outside a Jewish museum in Washington. Six victims hospitalized The victims ranged in age from 52 to 88, and their injuries spanned from serious to minor, officials said. They were members of the volunteer group called Run For Their Lives who were holding their weekly demonstration. Three victims were still hospitalized Tuesday at the UCHealth University of Colorado Hospital, spokesperson Kelli Christensen said. One of the 12 victims was a child when her family fled the Nazis during the Holocaust, said Ginger Delgado of the Arapahoe County Sheriff's Office, who is acting as a spokesperson for the family of the woman, who doesn't want her name used. ___ Associated Press reporters Eric Tucker in Washington, Heather Hollingsworth in Kansas City, Missouri, Samy Magdy in Cairo, Sean Murphy in Oklahoma City and Hallie Golden in Seattle contributed to this report.

AP PHOTOS: Cuba's energy crisis forces families to find ingenious solutions to get by
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AP PHOTOS: Cuba's energy crisis forces families to find ingenious solutions to get by

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‘A huge loss.' In remote Nagasaki islands, a rare version of Christianity heads toward extinction
‘A huge loss.' In remote Nagasaki islands, a rare version of Christianity heads toward extinction

Hamilton Spectator

time23 minutes ago

  • Hamilton Spectator

‘A huge loss.' In remote Nagasaki islands, a rare version of Christianity heads toward extinction

IKITSUKI, Japan (AP) — On this small island in rural Nagasaki, Japan's Hidden Christians gather to worship what they call the Closet God. In a special room about the size of a tatami mat is a scroll painting of a kimono-clad Asian woman. She looks like a Buddhist Bodhisattva holding a baby, but for the faithful, this is a concealed version of Mary and the baby Jesus. Another scroll shows a man wearing a kimono covered with camellias, an allusion to John the Baptist's beheading and martyrdom. There are other objects of worship from the days when Japan's Christians had to hide from vicious persecution, including a ceramic bottle of holy water from Nakaenoshima, an island where Hidden Christians were martyred in the 1620s. Little about the icons in the tiny, easy-to-miss room can be linked directly to Christianity — and that's the point. After emerging from cloistered isolation in 1865, following more than 200 years of violent harassment by Japan's insular warlord rulers, many of the formerly underground Christians converted to mainstream Catholicism. Some, however, continued to practice not the religion that 16th century foreign missionaries originally taught them, but the idiosyncratic, difficult to detect version they'd nurtured during centuries of clandestine cat-and-mouse with a brutal regime. On Ikitsuki and other remote sections of Nagasaki prefecture, Hidden Christians still pray to these disguised objects. They still chant in a Latin that hasn't been widely used in centuries. And they still cherish a religion that directly links them to a time of samurai, shoguns and martyred missionaries and believers. Now, though, the Hidden Christians are dying out, and there is growing certainty that their unique version of Christianity will die with them. Almost all are now elderly, and as the young move away to cities or turn their backs on the faith, those remaining are desperate to preserve evidence of this offshoot of Christianity — and convey to the world what its loss will mean. 'At this point, I'm afraid we are going to be the last ones,' said Masatsugu Tanimoto, 68, one of the few who can still recite the Latin chants that his ancestors learned 400 years ago. 'It is sad to see this tradition end with our generation.' Hidden Christians cling to a unique version of the religion Christianity spread rapidly in 16th century Japan when Jesuit priests had spectacular success converting warlords and peasants alike, most especially on the southern main island of Kyushu, where the foreigners established trading ports in Nagasaki. Hundreds of thousands, by some estimates, embraced the religion. That changed after the shoguns began to see Christianity as a threat. The crackdown that followed in the early 17th century was fierce, with thousands killed and the remaining believers chased underground. As Japan opened up to foreign influence, a dozen Hidden Christians clad in kimono cautiously declared their faith, and their remarkable perseverance, to a French Catholic priest in March 1865 in Nagasaki city. Many became Catholics after Japan formally lifted the ban on Christianity in 1873. But others chose to stay Kakure Kirishitan (Hidden Christians), continuing to practice what their ancestors preserved during their days underground. Their rituals provide a direct link to a vanished Japan In interviews with The Associated Press, Hidden Christians spoke of a deep communal bond stemming from a time when a lapse could doom a practitioner or their neighbors. Hidden Christians were forced to hide all visible signs of their religion after the 1614 ban on Christianity and the expulsion of foreign missionaries. Households took turns hiding precious ritual objects and hosting the secret services that celebrated both faith and persistence. This still happens today, with the observance of rituals unchanged since the 16th century. The group leader in the Ikitsuki area is called Oji, which means father or elderly man in Japanese. Members take turns in the role, presiding over baptisms, funerals and ceremonies for New Year, Christmas and local festivals. Different communities worship different icons and have different ways of performing the rituals. In Sotome, for instance, people prayed to a statue of what they called Maria Kannon, a genderless Bodhisattva of mercy, as a substitute for Mary. In Ibaragi, where about 18,000 residents embraced Christianity in the 1580s, a lacquer bowl with a cross painted on it, a statue of the crucified Christ and an ivory statue of Mary were found hidden in what was called 'a box not to be opened.' Their worship revolves around reverence for ancestors Many Hidden Christians rejected Catholicism after the persecution ended because Catholic priests refused to recognize them as real Christians unless they agreed to be rebaptized and abandon the Buddhist altars that their ancestors used. 'They are very proud of what they and their ancestors have believed in' for hundreds of years, even at the risk of their lives, said Emi Mase-Hasegawa, a religion studies professor at J.F. Oberlin University in Tokyo. Tanimoto believes his ancestors continued the Hidden Christian traditions because becoming Catholic meant rejecting the Buddhism and Shintoism that had become a strong part of their daily lives underground. 'I'm not a Christian,' Tanimoto said. Even though some of their Latin chants focus on the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ, their prayers are also meant to 'ask our ancestors to protect us, to protect our daily lives,' he said. 'We are not doing this to worship Jesus or Mary. … Our responsibility is to faithfully carry on the way our ancestors had practiced.' Archaic Latin chants are an important part of the religion Hidden Christians' ceremonies often include the recitation of Latin chants, called Orasho. The Orasho comes from the original Latin or Portuguese prayers brought to Japan by 16th century missionaries. Recently on Ikitsuki, three men performed a rare Orasho. All wore dark formal kimonos and solemnly made the sign of the cross in front of their faces before starting their prayers — a mix of archaic Japanese and Latin. Tanimoto, a farmer, is the youngest of only four men who can recite Orasho in his community. As a child, he regularly saw men performing Orasho on tatami mats before an altar when neighbors gathered for funerals and memorials. About 40 years ago, in his mid-20s, he took Orasho lessons from his uncle so he could pray to the Closet God that his family has kept for generations. Tanimoto recently showed the AP a weathered copy of a prayer his grandfather wrote with a brush and ink, like the ones his ancestors had diligently copied from older generations. As he carefully turned the pages of the Orasho book, Tanimoto said he mostly understands the Japanese but not the Latin. It's difficult, he said, but 'we just memorize the whole thing.' Today, because funerals are no longer held at homes and younger people are leaving the island, Orasho is only performed two or three times a year. Researchers and believers acknowledge the tradition is dying There are few studies of Hidden Christians so it's not clear how many still exist. There were an estimated 30,000 in Nagasaki, including about 10,000 in Ikitsuki, in the 1940s, according to government figures. But the last confirmed baptism ritual was in 1994, and some estimates say there are less than 100 Hidden Christians left on Ikitsuki. Hidden Christianity is linked to the communal ties that formed when Japan was a largely agricultural society. Those ties crumbled as the country modernized after WWII, with recent developments revolutionizing people's lives, even in rural Japan. The accompanying decline in the population of farmers and young people, along with women increasingly working outside of the home, has made it difficult to maintain the tight networks that nurtured Hidden Christianity. 'In a society of growing individualism, it is difficult to keep Hidden Christianity as it is,' said Shigeo Nakazono, the head of a local folklore museum who has researched and interviewed Hidden Christians for 30 years. Hidden Christianity has a structural weakness, he said, because there are no professional religious leaders tasked with teaching doctrine and adapting the religion to environmental changes. Nakazono has started collecting artifacts and archiving video interviews he's done with Hidden Christians since the 1990s, seeking to preserve a record of the endangered religion. Mase-Hasegawa agreed that Hidden Christianity is on its way to extinction. 'As a researcher, it will be a huge loss,' she said. Masashi Funabara, 63, a retired town hall official, said most of the nearby groups have disbanded over the last two decades. His group, which now has only two families, is the only one left, down from nine in his district. They meet only a few times a year. 'The amount of time we are responsible for these holy icons is only about 20 to 30 years, compared to the long history when our ancestors kept their faith in fear of persecution. When I imagined their suffering, I felt that I should not easily give up,' Funabara said. Just as his father did when memorizing the Orasho, Funabara has written down passages in notebooks; he hopes his son, who works for the local government, will one day agree to be his successor. Tanimoto also wants his son to keep the tradition alive. 'Hidden Christianity itself will go extinct sooner or later, and that is inevitable, but I hope it will go on at least in my family,' he said. 'That's my tiny glimmer of hope.' ___ Tokyo photographer Eugene Hoshiko contributed to this story. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.

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