At London's famous Hyde Park at around 11:00 on a crisp Saturday morning, runners gather at some benches - some tall and lean, others broad and sturdy, a few logging into the Strava app, but one common thread unites them - most of them are Nigerians of Igbo extraction.
This is the Ozo running club, formed by Igbo people to celebrate the culture of one of the largest of Nigeria's more than 300 ethnic groups.
"We wanted to create a space where young Igbo people could connect and re-connect to their culture," said Chibueze Odoemene, who co-founded the club with Emeka Atumonyogo, and Chigo Ogbonna.
In less than three months, the Ozo running club already has more than 300 members.
This rapidgrowth speaks not only to the deep desire for community, but to the significant boom of social running clubs in recent years.
Strava, the popular running app, said there had been a 59% increase in running club participation globally this year.
But for the Ozo running club, the weekly Saturday meets aren't simply about running, pace or fitness - it's a place where strangers become family.
Even as the runners wait to join their respective speed groups - fast, medium, slow, and walking pace - a buzz and energy cuts through the calm of the park as Afrobeats music pulses from a nearby speaker.
“Igbo kwenu!” shouts Mr Odoemene, his voice booming across the park to gather everyone’s attention.
The group responds in unison with a low, rumbling “Eyy.”
“Igbo kwezo!” he calls out again, his tone both commanding and warm.
Once more, a unified “Eyy” follows, resonating among the runners and setting the tone for the morning.
This traditional Igbo call-and-response is more than a greeting - it’s a moment of pride, a reminder of shared roots and identity that runs as deep as their commitment to each other and the weekly run.
“The chant is used as a call of unity, community, and love among all Igbo peoples,” said Mr Odoemene.
Running clubs like Ozo, which are often free, have become spaces for people to make new friends, create a community, and possibly even meet future partners.
The co-founders, who met at other Igbo social events, laugh at the prospect of a love story blossoming at their club.
“If people meet the love of their lives, that's amazing, but the most important part for us is to build a fun community,” said Mr Odoemene.
ForFrancesca Ngozi Ezennolim, 21, the prospect of romance is not what brought her all the way from Reading, about 64km (40 miles) from London, on a Saturday morning, but the promise of community.
“I don't have a lot of Igbo friends,” she said, adding: “I do have a lot of Nigerian friends - but it's hard to find Igbo friends.”
Donning a black athletic outfit, she told the BBC she hopes the running club will fill that hole in her life.
And she is not alone.
A first-timer to the club, Jennifer Iwuamadi, 23, echoed the same sentiments.
“It's so important to come to an Igbo run club because we get to socialise with our brothers and sisters. It's a great way to get fit and network,” she said.
Although the Igbos are one of Nigeria's largest ethnic groups and are prominent in the diaspora, many feel their culture is under threat. In 2006, the United Nations cultural organisation (Unesco) predicted that the Igbo language would become extinct by 2025.
However, in the UK, their numbers have risen over the last decade - from around 8,000 to 11,000, according to the Office for National Statistics.
In contrast, speakers of Yoruba, the other main language in southern Nigeria, have declined from 15,000 to 10,000 over the same period.
Nevertheless, some young Igbo people told the BBC they have struggled to make friends outside their parents' community.
“I have so many Yoruba friends, but I want to meet people from my tribe,” Ms Ezennolim told the BBC.
“When people think about Nigerians, they don't really think about Igbo. Nigeria is not just one piece, it's multiple pieces,” said Mr Odoemene.
But isn't it divisive to have a running club which focuses on Igbo culture?
The founders vehemently shake their heads.
"You don't have to be Igbo to come to the run club," said Mr Atumonyogo.
He adds that people from Iran, Italy, and the Caribbean have come to their sessions - and they encourage others to join in, learn about Igbo culture, ask questions, and immerse themselves in the vibrant atmosphere.
Yet, beneath the joy and camaraderie, there is a darker side to the Igbo story.
In Nigeria, many people still associate the Igbos with the 1967-70 Biafran war, which left some one million people dead after Igbo leaders in the south-east led a campaign to secede from the rest of the country.
Decades later, the wounds of the war remain raw, still shaping to some degree how Igbo people are viewed, both at home and abroad.
In his book The Trouble with Nigeria, the late Chinua Achebe, one of the most renowned Nigerian authors, who was Igbo, said: "Nigerians will probably achieve consensus on no other matter than their common resentment of the Igbo."
Danai Nesta Kupemba / BBC
Spontaneous dance breaks occur during the runs
These words capture - in the view of many Igbos - a history of marginalisation that continues to resonate.
For them, this history underscores a deeper purpose - the desire to make their mark and amplify Igbo representation.
Uzoma Ehziem, 34, who moved to the UK almost two decades ago, said he does not feel Igbo culture gets the attention it deserves.
He is one of the club's pacers and believes that Yoruba culture dominates what many in the UK and, globally, think of as "Nigerian".
From the legendary Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti to the first African Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, and contemporary stars like Davido, Ayra Starr, and Tems, many of the most prominent figures in Nigerian pop culture are Yoruba.
The exception is literature, where Achebe, and contemporary Igbo authors like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Akwaeke Emezi have gained international fame.
Many in the running club feel the world should know more about the Igbo people.
"If you tell someone you are Nigerian, the first thing someone will ask is: 'Are you Yoruba?'" Mr Ehziem said.
The club does not only organise running sessions. It has added monthly social outings for members of the community - from karaoke to dodgeball sessions and even an Igbo gala that will take place next year.
But for now the weekly running clubs have become a source of joy and camaraderie for members.
As the run winds down and all the group meet at the benches again, Mr Odoemene rounds up the runners with the same chant of unity.
Old friends catch up and new friends say hello.
People exchange phone numbers, and as they part ways, the promise to meet again next Saturday is a reminder this isn’t just a fleeting encounter but the beginning of lasting relationships rooted in community and cultural pride.
总的来说，我想要做第一件事是争取赔偿。最后在外包公司坐了两个星期，争取了 N 的赔偿吧。对我来说已经足够煎熬了，我内心并不强大，也没有很坚决的勇气。跟我同批去外包公司静坐争取赔偿的人，有一两个几天熬不住了，就签约半天就走了，而且我们互相之间也很少交流。最后不清楚是不是又要来“新人“了，所以在第二周的时候，我被叫过去说，可以给我两个月的赔偿。
忘了说，第一天去到公司的时候，跟那个所谓的老总谈，他说只给半个月。而我的工龄接近两年，我知道我正常合法被裁员的话是 2+1 。但当时心态每天都不知道明天怎样，除了有妥协的人，也有被叫回家说不能再来，要强制解约打官司的人。所以他说给我两个月的时候我也觉得 OK 吧，那当下还是很开心的。后面再看到别人坚持不懈还要打官司追回公积金之类的所有的赔偿，我觉得他们厉害的同时会跟自己说，这不是我能争取的东西，那不知道有没有结果的两周就已经让我有点崩溃了，给别人的勇气一点掌声就好了。
在那过后，我就开始过了一段做自己想做的事情的时间。健身、打球、游泳、旅游、补 C++的基础。进度很慢，而且不知道为啥我老是一段时间只干一件事情就觉得自己了不起。我老是想到无聊斋里嘉宾说自己离职后也没荒废时间，就是在健身，教主说健身也不需要占据一天吧。无聊斋是档播客，教主是这档播客的主持人。这段对话在听到之后就偶尔在我脑海响起，我这些事情明明就可以一起前行啊。我又不是单核 CPU ，额，不会吧。就是我觉得以后不要再做单线程的事了，我明明都 28 了！我应该多线程的进行我的人生，第一步我今天开始记录我自己想法。
The popular measure gives full benefits to millions of people who currently receive them at a reduced level. Critics warn the $196 billion cost will speed up the program’s insolvency.
Undocumented workers help feed America’s hunger for prepared foods, but some take jobs with staffing agencies that expose them to hazardous conditions.
Citywide rules now require more buildings to place trash bags inside containers for pickup. Many New Yorkers are thrilled to see fewer rats, but some are discovering new headaches.
The Ukrainian energy network has been so battered by Russian attacks that officials are seeking out new options to prevent a crisis, like renting floating power plants and scavenging scrapped ones from the region.
This year, of the 52 destinations on our annual list, our writers and photographers touched down in 11 to capture their essence. Here’s what they found.
The small village of Cartmel has been described as "captivating"
Long known as the home of sticky toffee pudding, Cartmel in Cumbria is experiencing its own sweet taste of success. Just how did this small village on the edge of the Lake District establish itself as one of country's leading luxury destinations?
Some 60 years ago, the handful of amenities here included a petrol station and a school.
And while visitors have always been attracted to Cartmel for its 800-year-old priory, its racecourse and its famous dessert, people living here have seen a shift from seasonal influx to year-round flow.
About 20 years ago, it became home to chef Simon Rogan's three Michelin-starred restaurant L'Enclume which, coupled with an ever-growing interest in the Lake District, has shaped the village's reputation.
"Now we're getting a constant stream of tourism which never used to happen," says resident Barry Dean, who also represents the area on Allithwaite and Cartmel Parish Council.
"It has stimulated other trade as well."
The Lower Allithwaite parish, of which Cartmel is a part, has fewer than 2,000 residents, according to ONS figures, and Dean says about 400 people live in Cartmel itself.
Yet within a couple of miles of the village sit dozens of hotels, guesthouses and self-catering units, many aiming for the higher end of the market. And more are coming.
While the tourism trade brings important employment opportunities, it all comes with its challenges.
"We had a massive event - Christmas in Cartmel - but it was so popular we were inundated," Dean says.
"Previously that would have attracted local people [but] it was so over-attended we couldn't do it this year."
Getty Images
Cartmel is known for its 800-year-old priory
Dean says while the success of "brand Cartmel" is great for the village, it also drives investment from second-home owners and real estate investors, meaning fewer local people are able to buy properties here.
"The downside is it's driven out a lot of people who looked after the village, the doers who got involved in the community."
Jenny Boak, 62, has always lived in this corner of Cumbria and remembers the days when Cartmel was a sleepy village.
"All you needed to come to Cartmel for was to go to school," explains Boak, who now sits as a Liberal Democrat on Westmorland and Furness Council.
"The growth has all been organic, it has come from enterprise and employment has gone up."
While there are many holiday homes in and around its main square, Boak is keen to stress the area at large has managed to secure social housing.
She claims a "strong neighbourhood plan" put in place by the council, which identifies areas that can be developed, ensures a "balance" between tourism and community.
Getty Images
Cartmel Racecourse attracts many tourists
Newlyweds Lauren and Greg Foggo are the latest investors to be attracted to Cartmel, having purchased the village's multimillion-pound old grammar school which is to become a hotel and wedding venue.
"Cartmel seems to be a really luxury destination," says Mrs Foggo.
"Obviously you've got L'Enclume and [sister restaurant] Rogan and Co, you've got the racecourse, you've got lovely pubs that all seem to work well together as a community."
The couple - who have never worked in the hotel business - received the news their purchase of the Grade II listed 1790 building had gone through just 10 days after tying the knot in October.
They are preparing to open in the new year.
Lauren Foggo
Lauren and Gregg Foggo are new to the hotel business
Mrs Foggo's parents bought a property near Cartmel and fell in love with the area, she explains, and that is what attracted them here.
Christie & Co, the company that dealt with the sale, said the previous owners carried out extensive renovations but wanted to sell the property to retire.
"The feedback has been that the local community are happy that it's going to be a hotel again, that it's going to bring more people to the village and hopefully we can bring something back to them as well," the 28-year-old says.
Christie & Co
The Grade II listed old grammar school dates back to the late 18th Century
Although the cost of living crisis continues to affect many sectors, Cartmel continues to attract wealth.
Jim Walker, president of Cumbria Tourism, says: "We've found post-pandemic that there is still strong demand among the more expensive, higher value end of the market."
As for Cartmel's success, he puts it down to its "buoyant" offering and he does not think its charm will stop attracting visitors any time soon.
"It has become quite a centre of excellence in terms of super experience for visitors.
"It's a real community, it's very vibrant, but it's worked hard to earn its place with some fantastic culinary offers for both visitors and the local people."
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Syria has a thriving electronic music scene and many now wonder what comes next
In the midst of the scramble for a new Syria, the country's musicians are warily eyeing the Islamist rebel leadership and hoping to build on hard-won achievements made during the almost 14-year civil war.
The conflict gave energy and focus to a nascent heavy metal scene.
As the fighting ebbed, a flourishing industry of electronic music and dance shows then rose from the ashes, leading to a resurgence of Syrian nightlife.
Now, its members are preparing to approach a government led by the Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, or HTS – a group with roots in al-Qaeda and the Islamic State.
"We have to be organised before we go to them, because they are so organised," said DJ and musician Maher Green. "We are willing to talk to them with logic. We are willing to talk to them with a real proposal."
The electronic music organisers found a way to talk to the security services working for the former president, Green said.
"They didn't understand the gathering of 50 boys and girls and dancing in such a goofy way," he said. "We developed a relationship with them through the years to make it go in a good and peaceful way."
DJ and musician Maher Green says he wants to talk to HTS about the music scene's future
The Assad regime was less tolerant with the heavy metal rockers who started up underground bands in the late 1990s and early 2000s.
They saw it as a subversive Western subculture connected with Satanism.
"I went to the intelligence force maybe three times, just because I sold this kind of music," said Nael al-Hadidi, who owned a music shop. "They made me sign some papers that I wouldn't do it again."
The scrutiny shifted when the brutal suppression of Syria's pro-democracy revolution triggered a bloody civil war.
"Before the war, even if you grew long hair, wore black T-shirts, metal dance T-shirts, the security would take you. They suspected that you were Satanic or something," said al-Hadidi.
"After the war started, they were too busy to dig in this way. They were more afraid about the political stuff."
This opened up space for the emergence of a vibrant heavy metal scene, the subject of a documentary by Monzer Darwish called Syrian Metal is War.
War may have energised the metal bands, but ultimately it led to a mass exodus of musicians that felt the country no longer offered a future.
"Ninety percent of my friends are now in Europe, the Netherlands and Germany," said al-Hadidi, shaking his head.
Wajd Khair is a musician who stayed, but he quit music in 2011 when the killing started.
"It seemed that any lyrics I would write, they didn't express what really happened, no words can express what was happening back then," he told me.
Wajd Khair says that he won't be keeping a low profile now HTS are in control
Just last year Khair finally started playing and recording again. Now he is wondering what the Islamist leadership means for creative freedom.
"We have to be more bold," he said when asked if he will keep a low profile until the situation becomes clearer.
"We have to be heard. We have to let all the people know that we are here. We exist. It's not just Islamic Front and Islamic State here. I don't think that keeping a low profile under these circumstances is good for anyone."
Khair was encouraged by the pragmatism demonstrated in the days following the rebel takeover. "The indicators are that we are going to better place, hopefully," he said.
But as he was speaking, we heard that HTS had closed the Opera House. "Not a good sign" if true, Khair exclaimed.
We rushed to the venue only to be told by officials outside it that this was a false alarm, that the venerable institution would open one week after the rebel victory along with other public buildings.
The HTS is certainly promising to respect rights and freedoms, declaring that it long ago broke with its extremist past.
It seems sensitive to the cosmopolitan culture of Damascus. State television started broadcasting Islamic chanting last week but withdrew it in less than 24 hours when social media erupted in protests.
Outside the Opera House people gathered to sing celebratory songs
In the square outside the Opera House, Safana Bakleh was trying to perform revolutionary songs with the choir she directs. Joined by enthusiastic youths, she handed over her drum and let them chant and sing.
"It's maybe not going to be an easy path," she said. "Maybe we will have some new obstacles, but we used to have corruption, we used to have dictatorship, we used to have secret police. We're still very hopeful for the future…because we have a very, very large group of people that are opposition and artists and actors, musicians and composers and the future of Syria."
But they do not want to exchange political authoritarianism for religious fundamentalism, said al-Hadidi.
"I hope that HTS stands by their words about freedom, because we don't want to be another Afghanistan or another country ruled by a specific party or rulers who enforce you to (follow) some rules."
Determined to stay part of Syria's future, Green said it is important for the artistic community to act quickly.
"It doesn't seem like in the first week of freeing Syria, (HTS) is willing to look for the cultural side. They have a lot of problems, they're looking for the economy, looking for making a new government," he said.
"We are trying to organise ourselves before they start looking at culture. So that we get there first, (and we must be) united in our opinions."
Like others here, Green has been experimenting, mixing traditional Arabic music with electronic beats.
The culture of the Islamist rebels "is religious songs and that's it," he said.
"This is a little bit backward for us. We were here in Syria before the war, and inside during the war, (when) we had so many experiments. We evolved so much. We have so much mixed culture."
Syria's music scene revived and even thrived during the civil war - now it faces a new and unexpected test.
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