In a softly lit Shanghai bar, graduate student Helen Zhao stretched out both wrists to have her pulse taken -- the first step to ordering the house special, a bespoke "health" cocktail based on traditional Chinese medicine.

"TCM bars" have popped up in several cities across China, epitomising what the country's stressed-out, time-poor youth refer to as "punk wellness", or "wrecking yourself while saving yourself".

At Shanghai's "Niang Qing", a TCM doctor in a white coat diagnoses customers' physical conditions based on the pulse readings, before a mixologist crafts custom drinks incorporating the herbs and roots prescribed for their ailments.

Instead of shelves of alcohol, apothecary drawers stocked with ingredients like goji berries and angelica root line the walls, permeating the room with their scent.

"This bar is actually an opportunity for me," 26-year-old Zhao told AFP, describing her "typical young person" lifestyle of late nights and junk food.

"I like having a drink after work anyway, and this way I can casually check if something is wrong with me, while also holding onto a bit of wishful thinking ."

The bar's resident TCM practitioner, Ding, said the concept was not as contrary as it might seem.

"The combination of Chinese medicine and alcohol has a long history in TCM -- it was traditionally called medicinal wine," he told AFP.

He emphasised though that the bar targeted health awareness rather than treatment.

- 'Have fun, reduce damage' -

Against the backdrop of a sluggish economy, China's job market is highly competitive, and "996" culture -- working from 9 am to 9 pm, six days a week -- is a feature of many sectors.

A 2024 survey found that over 60 percent of young people consider themselves to be in a suboptimal health state.

In recent years, reports of young employees allegedly dying from overwork have spread online, triggering discussion around mental and physical health.

In "Niang Qing", Cici Song, a 41-year-old white collar worker, told AFP she felt that late evenings were her "only real 'me time'".

"On the other hand, you want to take care of your body," she said, sipping an amber-coloured drink designed to improve her diagnosed "phlegm-damp constitution".

"So this is a kind of balance -- having fun while trying to reduce the damage."

The approach seems popular.

"Niang Qing" was founded by students from Shanghai University of Traditional Chinese Medicine only last year, but has already expanded to five locations across the country.

"We've noticed that many young people are actually very interested in TCM culture, but the ways to experience it might seem dull," said 22-year-old co-founder Wu Siyuan.

The idea of the bar was born "to let people experience TCM culture through entertainment".

- 'Wellness for a new era' -

Analysts have noted a growing interest among young Chinese people in products that repackage traditional Chinese culture for modern times.

TCM in particular has seen a global spike in popularity.

On TikTok, the "Becoming Chinese" trend has seen overseas users brewing herbal infusions, drinking hot water or practising traditional physical exercises, garnering hundreds of thousands of likes.

Co-founder Wu said his bar was seeing more foreign customers.

TCM bars "draw people from online to offline, and the social experience it creates delivers emotional value", Hua Hui, a professor at Shanghai Jiao Tong University, told AFP.

"Young people are under great pressure and need new scenarios for relief," he said, describing this as "a worldwide issue".

"Today's TCM bars provide precisely this -- a new form of socialising and wellness for a new era."

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Ganvié, Benin-For decades a narrow waterway in Ganvie, Benin has been a discreet rendezvous point for young couples to meet -- safe under cover of darkness, far away from strict families and prying eyes.

Now the so-called "lovers' channel" in west Africa's largest lake city risks becoming a relic of the past, the once-adventurous secret meeting place rendered obsolete by loosening social norms and dating apps.

"It's a beautiful story, but today... we talk, we get to know each other without hiding," Anna, 22, a student and native of the city often billed as the "African Venice", told AFP.

"We don't need all that extravagance to find our soulmate. The channel isn't as essential as it used to be," agreed Roslin Dantin, a 30-year-old cattle farmer.

"We see the lovers' channel as something for old people. For our generation, there are better options. Technology and social media have replaced those symbols," added Augustin Gbenoukpo, a 24-year-old student.

-'Nowhere else to meet'-

Elise Avlessi, who met her tailor husband on the waterway about 15 years ago, acknowledges that times have changed.

"Today, even from his bed, a young man can make a move on a girl who's on the other side of the world," she told AFP.

But new technology can also mean less privacy and intimacy.

"Before, we did everything in secret, we let the relationship develop away from prying eyes," she said, a touch nostalgic.

"We had nowhere else to meet freely. In the past, our parents wouldn't allow us to go out," she said of her early relationship with her now-husband.

Without the meeting spot, "our relationship would have been very difficult to develop. It was practically the only way to flirt."

Her husband, Joseph Hougebe, remembers whistling into the night, eagerly waiting to hear a paddle tapping against the hull of a dugout canoe -- coded signals in the darkness.

"At night, you couldn't tell the men from the women in the canoes. So they used slogans, pre-arranged keywords," Jonas Zannou-Zoki, a tour guide, explained to visitors.

- Ritual -

Time may be marching relentlessly on, but for those who once listened for their soulmates' voices carrying across the dark water, the canal still holds a kind of magic.

Just a few paddle strokes away, a "Lovers' Square" has been created in tribute.

Emilienne Atoukou, the site manager, points to the "sacred canary" -- a kind of small, perforated jar -- placed in the centre of a dugout canoe, into which lovers throw cowrie shells, so that they fall through it into the canal.

"People come to write their vows on cowrie shells that they throw here," she said.

Then they go to the "promises corner" in the square. "It's an intimate space, dedicated to fidelity and love," she explained.

She said the square has been consecrated by dignitaries of all religious denominations in Ganvie, making it a respected place, both spiritual and symbolic.

"These are moments of peace and contemplation," Atoukou said.

It is not only residents of Ganvie who find the waterway enchanting.

Recently, "a French couple returned to testify that their vows came true after meeting and making promises on this canal," said guide Jonas Zannou-Zoki.

"They are still together, years later."

While the number of canoes has decreased over the years, some still meet there to seal their union.

Astrid and Pierre-Marie, a couple in their 30s, came a few days before Valentine's Day to "promise each other the most important things".

"Before the wedding, we wanted a place that had meaning. On this channel, our vows felt more genuine," said Astrid.

"We came out of curiosity and we're leaving with a promise. We're keeping our fingers crossed that the channel brings us luck," her future husband added.

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© Agence France-Presse

Dakar, Senegal- With exhilarating charisma, stage energy and impassioned lyrics, Senegalese musician Sahad has created a unique body of work from a kaleidoscope of influences, culminating in his new pan-African album.

At the heart of Sahad Sarr's ingenuity lies a quest for independence, his pride in being African and a deep connection to Senegal, where he leads a number of projects meant to show young people that it is possible to dream big in the country.

A songwriter, guitarist, singer and founder of his eponymous band SAHAD, the musician has been called the "Senegalese James Brown".

Even if some say there is a touch of Nigerian Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti in his trance-like rhythms or a hint of Mali music legend Ali Farka Toure, Sahad's sound is unique.

In his ten years of work, he has become a leading figure in Senegal's alternative music scene, demonstrating that not all of the country's hits have to be in its homegrown Mbalax style.

"The major record labels in Africa, Europe and the United States always have trouble defining my music", Sahad, 37, told AFP.

"I make jazz fusion mixed with Afrobeat, funk, and traditional rhythms from Senegal, Mali and the Serer people", he said, referring to the ethnic community from which he hails.

He says his music is influenced by Miles Davis, John Coltrane and James Brown, explaining that he considers his style "kaleidoscopic".

In recent years he has performed with his band around the world and will represent Senegal at the international jazz music event "jazzahead!" in Bremen, Germany in April.

His latest album "African West Station" is a remarkable work of "musical pan-Africanism", the culmination of four years of research into the archives of post-independence west African music from the 1960s to '80s.

- West African imagination -

"It was important to make an album that recounts the history of all these socio-cultural and political movements, these struggles that have brought us to where we are today", Sahad told AFP.

He emphasised that he wanted "to create a fusion to showcase west African collective imagination" with sounds from Guinea, Mali, Nigeria and Ghana.

The album is meant as a "decolonial plea and a project for unity, where music plays an essential role because it transcends borders."

At the end of January Sahad and his band, who are from Congo, Ivory Coast, Benin and Senegal, delivered a high-energy show at the Institut Francais in Dakar.

As a passionate bandleader, Sahad was not just on vocals but also guitar and percussion.

In "Ya Bon" he criticised current and past African heads of state who he says have maintained a "servile relationship with the coloniser".

In "We Can Do" he aims to inspire youth to build connections, and in his galvanising "Ndakaaru" he celebrates the city of Dakar.

- 'New generation' -

A few days after the concert AFP met with Sahad at his home studio in Dakar.

"There's a new generation in Africa, of which I'm a part, that's demanding a certain freedom, identity, and authenticity, and that also wants to rethink the image portrayed of Africa and Africans," he said.

In the album "we advocate for a youth free from hang-ups, a cultural reappropriation, a new relationship with the world" he said.

He added that he has often been offended by "people who have cliches about African music, who expect Africa to produce a certain type of sound" via instruments such as the kora or percussion.

Thus in 2021 he created his independent label "Stereo Africa 432", which produces music for his own band as well as other emerging Senegalese artists.

He is additionally the founder of the major "Stereo Africa" festival in Dakar, dedicated to contemporary music from the continent and its diaspora, which also provides training to youth in the music industry.

Moka Kamara, cultural journalist at Senegalese newspaper Le Soleil told AFP that there was a palpable revival in the country "with the introduction of a reinvented reggae, a reinvented folk, all of which is thanks to Sahad".

Sahad also founded an eco-village meant to fight climate change, poverty and a rural exodus, in Kamyaak, in western Senegal, where he spends half of his time.

It's a place "for meditation, for reclaiming our culture and our multiple identities" said Sahad, who has been following a Sufi spiritual path for 20 years.

"We sense a wave of revolutions taking place in Africa and a break with this post-colonial trauma, but it cannot happen if we don't arm ourselves with knowledge, understanding and the responsibility of offering something", he said.

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Climate change may threaten the value of Bansko's prime ski slopes, but the Bulgarian resort has found an all-seasons solution to boost its economy, drawing in a cosmopolitan community of digital nomads.

Three centres offering hundreds of co-working spaces to online workers have sprung up in the town in recent years, supported by a fast internet connection and improved infrastructure.

"I read that this was the best place to start as a digital nomad," said Oscar Train, a 25-year-old Dane who since 2021 has worked remotely from Bansko for about six months of the year.

"I came here to kind of learn how to do it and meet like-minded people," he added. "You've got people from all over the world, all different kinds of professions."

Train, who grew up in Britain and works for an insurance company there, pays about 15 percent in taxes here -- including social contributions. If he was still in the UK, he said, it would be 45 percent, without social contribution.

The main draw for him however, is the lifestyle.

In winter, thanks in part to the one-hour time difference with London, he starts his day with two hours of skiing on Bansko's 75 kilometres (47 miles) of slopes, which have hosted World Cup races.

Then he can dust off the snow and go to work.

In summer too, he enjoys a cultural calendar including events specifically tailored to people like him, such as the week-long Nomad Fest that celebrates the "remote lifestyle" with community-led activities and networking.

- International arrivals -

Bansko sits among the Karst peaks of the Pirin range. Look up from your computer screen and you can see Mount Vihren, towering over the town at almost 3,000 metres (10,000 feet) high.

The 10,000-inhabitant town is surrounded by hot springs and is just two hours' drive from the capital Sofia -- and two and a half hours from the Greek coast.

Along with the relatively new co-working spaces, high-end restaurants and coffee shops have also popped up amid the resort's stone houses and cobbled streets. A bike lane is also under construction.

Bansko mayor Stoycho Banenski could not give an exact number of foreigners who have moved to the town, but their economic impact was "significant", he said -- especially given climate change was increasingly undermining winter sports.

Tourism helped the local economy bounce back strongly after the shutdown during the Covid pandemic, said a February report by the Sofia-based think tank Institute of Market Economics. The arrival of foreigners helped smooth out seasonal fluctuations in income, it added.

"But perhaps the most important thing is the change they bring," said Banenski, a mountain rescuer by profession.

"It is extremely important that people from all over the world live here and that we can exchange ideas, opinions and different perspectives on the world," he added.

- 'Gentrification' -

Many of those who first came to Bansko as travellers have settled there. Today, hundreds of families from all over the world live in the town.

French couple Anne Dupal, 47, and Christian Rudnicki, 53, both former graphic designers, have opened a micro-bakery since moving to Bansko in early 2022.

They find Bansko has changed from what they found when they first arrived, said Dupal: "Flashy lights, like a sex club, techno music, touts for the restaurants".

Today, Rudnicki welcomes the town's community spirit.

"It's wonderful having the grandmother from next door come over to bring me tomatoes or herbs and then meeting an Indonesian family at the bakery," he said.

The downside is the rise in the cost of living, which has also affected house prices.

"There is gentrification which is linked, unfortunately I think, to people like us, but also to many Bulgarians who are leaving the big cities," said Dupal.

Some locals however, are glad of the improved infrastructure and the vibrant atmosphere.

"The town has changed -- it has become international," said Nikola Kalistrin, 29, a ski mountaineering racer born and living in Bansko.

"Young people are benefiting from this," he added.

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Libreville, Gabon - 

Strands of raffia dry outside in the sun at the studio of Gabonese fashion designer Chouchou Lazare, who has made a name for himself using the natural fibres to craft his award-winning garments.

The natural material derived from palm leaves -- and traditionally reserved for Gabon's nobles and village chiefs -- gained international attention on the runways of the world's fashion capital last week.

"This is raffia from Gabon, it's special, it's woven very finely, it's a textile that deserves to be shown," the self-taught designer told AFP at his workshop in the capital Libreville.

Whether braided, sewn or glued to bustiers or skirts, nearly all of Lazare's dresses incorporate raffia.

Lazare was only nine years old when he began helping out his mother with her sewing to make ends meet.

He went on to organise his first fashion show in high school and has never received formal training in fashion.

Now in his 50s -- he chooses to keep his exact age under wraps -- Lazare says he learnt his craft by designing dresses for the two most important women in his life: his mother and grandmother.

"She was very tall; to me, she was like a queen," he said of his mother.

And in readying his latest collection for the show in Paris on February 28, she remained his inspiration.

"When I prepare my shows, I want to see queens, women who fully own who they are," he said.

Although the signature material is used throughout his collection, the natural fibres are never dyed.

In the central African country, raffia has special significance.

"It's a traditional fabric that is part of the spirituality of our country, that speaks to the ancestors," the designer said.

- Like 'diamonds' -

Nowadays no longer just for nobility, raffia features at Gabonese traditional weddings and Indigenous bwiti spiritual ceremonies.

"Raffia represents a natural resource to be preserved, contributing to the influence of Gabonese and African cultural heritage," the ministry of sustainable tourism and crafts said on social media earlier in the year.

But that does not mean it should only be worn by Gabonese or African people, Lazare said.

"It's for everyone," he stressed, checking whether a bunch of the fibres laid out on his balcony were dry.

In 2002, Lazare won first prize for fashion at the Saint-Etienne International Design Biennial in France.

More than two decades later, he presented his creations to French President Emmanuel Macron during a state visit to Gabon in November.

A photograph of Lazare with Macron and Gabon's President Brice Oligui Nguema now proudly hangs in his workshop, a reminder of "a great moment", he said.

While raffia may seem a familiar textile to people in Gabon, Lazare said that upon seeing the presidents' reactions to his creations, "I felt like they were diamonds."

Glittering in his "diamonds" -- a raffia-decorated hat and tunic with a gold suit jacket -- Lazare picked up an achievement award in Paris at last week's Fashion Annual Show, which for more than 25 years has been honouring African designers.

As the president of the Association of Gabonese Stylists and Creators, he is also paving the way for other designers through teaching and mentorship.

Lazare said he hoped to see raffia recognised "as a treasure for Gabon".

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Kinshasa, DR Congo - 

Dancers stoked on music and alcohol sway each weekend to the old hits on the decrepit rooftop terrace of Kinshasa's venerable La Creche bar like little has changed in the Congolese capital since the 1980s.

The beer flows freely and the party goes on into the small hours while the band keep alive the traditions of Congolese rumba, a genre of music whose origins experts believe lie in the time before European colonialism.

Yet rumba is so much more than the soundtrack to a good night out on the town. Having made UNESCO's intangible cultural heritage list in 2021, rumba stands as a source of intense national pride in the Democratic Republic of Congo, as well as across the border in Congo-Brazzaville.

"If you feel nostalgic and wish we could go back to the good old days, come to La Creche," singer Albert Diasihilua cheered before taking to the stage.

As midnight nears with the party in full swing, the waitress joins the throng on the dancefloor, swept up by the tunes -- until a power cut brings the music to a halt.

A generator thrums into life and the dancing begins anew.

Since 1984, La Creche's legendary orchestra has passed down the rumba tradition, performing covers of the great classics by legends like Franco Luambo, Tabu Ley Rochereau and Grand Kalle.

"This is the home of authentic rumba," insisted Diasihilua.

But despite the UNESCO listing, many fear for the future of the genre given its relative neglect by the younger generations.

- 'Under threat'  -

In Kinshasa's hip bars, the rumba of yesteryear has given way to a modern fusion of Afropop and RnB, a style notably popularised outside the country by Congolese artist Fally Ipupa.

"We cannot lose this music as we are on the way out," pleaded Diasihilua, who has already spent 50 of his 73 years on earth gigging.

To help preserve the genre, a national museum of rumba officially opened its doors to the public in the capital in December. The museum is housed in the former home of rumba star Papa Wemba, who died in 2016.

For Glodi Nkiadiasivi, the museum's assistant director, Congolese rumba is "under threat" of being forgotten.

"Young people do not understand its richness, they're more and more influenced by American, Nigerian and French songs," Nkiadiasivi added.

Besides displays of clothes from Papa Wemba's famously flamboyant wardrobe and traditional Congolese instruments, the museum hopes to attract visitors through guided tours, conferences and concerts.

But just a hundred or so guests have come so far, according to Nkiadiasivi.

- 'Cramping the style' -

With less than one percent of the government's budget devoted to culture, little help is expected from the Congolese state.

Yet at the National Institute of the Arts (INA) in Kinshasa, founded shortly after independence from Belgium in 1960, teachers are striving to train the next generation. Since 2022, students can take classes in the history of Congolese rumba and the basics of musical theory.

"There are lots of very talented artists in the city, but they don't know how to read music because they learnt on the job," said Michel Lutangamo, a professor and conductor at the INA.

Ethnomusicologist Jean-Romain Malwengo, who also teaches at the institute, pointed out that "rumba, like our other traditional music styles, is based on the oral tradition and therefore very fleeting."

"It could disappear at any moment. So the best way to preserve it is to write it down," he added.

For around 15 years, the researcher has worked with students on a project to transcribe music broadcast by television and radio or on vinyl. Between 300 and 400 songs have been preserved so far.

"It's our identity, it's a part of us," Malwengo added.

In his third year of a music degree, 26-year-old guitarist Daniel Lukusa reminisced about how much better the rumba played on repeat in his family home was.

"Pure rumba is starting to get lost," he said.

"Young people think they're adding special effects, when in fact they're cramping the style."

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© Agence France-Presse

Rapolas Micevicius' life was flipped upside-down in 2021 when a freak kitesurfing accident shattered his left leg, leaving doctors no choice but to amputate the lower half.

Now less than five years later, the Lithuanian is competing at the Milan-Cortina Paralympics in the men's snowboarding and living his dream of being a professional athlete in the winter and a kitesurf instructor in the summer.

After his accident, Micevicius learnt to adjust to living with a prosthetic limb and quit his comfortable job in Vilnius to roam the rugged mountains of Italy and hone his snowboarding skills.

"I quit my office job to do this (snowboarding) because we don't have mountains in Lithuania," 35-year-old Micevicius told AFP on Sunday after he missed out on a semi-final spot in the men's snowboard cross event.

"We live in Italy, but there's a lot of training camps, so I'm barely home, even though my girlfriend is also in Italy with our dog, she sometimes travels around with me, but mainly we're on the road."

And that gamble has paid off, with Micevicius becoming the first Lithuanian to qualify for a Winter Paralympics since 1994.

He explained that three years ago, he set himself "this goal to be in Paralympics".

If he has achieved that, he still hoped for more after coming into the Games on the back of a fine season, which garnered him many of the yellow-clad supporters cheering him on from the sidelines of the San Zan course in Cortina.

"During the year I had really good results, so I had confidence that I can actually go far, not as far as this (quarter-finals), but way further, maybe even big finals or something," he said.

"I need to go back three years ago where my initial goal was, because, you know, you can chew sometimes bigger than what you can chew, so I think that's the case, but it is what it is."

Micevicius still has the men's snowboard banked slalom to look forward to but admitted next Saturday's event is "not (his) strong suit".

Until then he said his aim is to "chill, relax, be with the family, friends, analyse what happened, maybe not too early, but take a couple of days off".

However, Micevicius already has one eye on his next "big goal": the 2030 Winter Paralympics, which will take place in the French Alps.

- 'Good vibes' -

When the weather turns and snowboarding is no longer a possibility, Micevicius returns to his native Lithuania to teach at the kitesurfing school he founded last year.

"It's an open kite school, we train kids, adults, everyone from around the country, some foreigners come over too," Micevicius said.

"I love seeing people enjoying the sport, it gives a lot of good vibes."

Micevicius added that one of the main pleasures he takes from his work is seeing "how people change" when they do something outside of their norm.

"They get confidence, they accomplish new things while kitesurfing," he said.

Asked which he prefers between wintering in Italy with his snowboard or summering at Lithuania's Curonian Lagoon, Micevicius refused to be drawn.

"Both seasons, I love it," he said.

"It's different, this is sport, professional, so, you know, healthy lifestyle. Lithuania for me is a little bit more relaxed."

He added he planned to spend a bit more time in his home country as he is in the process of building a home near his kitesurfing school for himself, his girlfriend and their poodle, D'Artagnan.

"We see our future there, and during the summer, I mean, I'm an athlete from winter, so I need something to be busy with during the summers," Micevicius said.

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San José, United States - 

Black Eyed Peas star will.i.am is putting artificial intelligence agents to work in three-wheel vehicles tailored for modern urban life.

The musician turned tech entrepreneur demonstrated a so-called autocycle called Trinity at Nvidia's annual developers conference that ends Thursday in the heart of Silicon Valley.

"I'm an artistic creator because of tech," will.i.am told AFP.

"Creating with musical teams is great, but hopping into a different realm and being hyper creative with full-stack developers, electrical engineers, mechanical engineers, world builders -- that is the ultimate level of creativity."

His Trinity startup is named for an alignment of human, vehicle and agentic AI.

The single-passenger electric vehicle, which shares its name with the startup, lets a human do the driving but is infused with an AI agent that acts as a virtual assistant for conversation-based collaborations on the move, he will.i.am said.

"When a human has an agent of their own, a company has a super employee," he said of brainstorming and delegating tasks to Trinity AI agents conversationally while commuting.

"Their vehicle that got them to work is a part of their tool set; and it's working in the parking lot while they work," he added, referring to Trinity as "brains on wheels."

The vehicle, designed to accelerate quickly from zero to 60 mph (96 kmh), uses an Nvidia graphics processor to power built-in AI that can interpret and reason about the world around it, according to the startup.

The vehicles are to be made in a Los Angeles facility that will also serve as a school for robotics and agentic AI systems.

"I was ambitious, audacious and a little bit of naive," will.i.am said of pursuing the project.

"That's a good combination, because if you don't have that little bit of naive and everything is skeptical, you probably wouldn't take crazy risks."

An initial production of run of 500 units is planned, with an aim to begin deliveries in August of next year, and to keep the vehicle's price at less than $30,000.

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© Agence France-Presse

Jinja, Uganda- Giggles and songs ripple across a field in rural eastern Uganda where elderly women swing cricket bats as a way to reshape what ageing, health and sports can look like in later life.

The so-called "cricket grannies" are bound together by a growing love of a game they initially knew nothing about but is now helping them manage age-related health conditions, stress and loneliness.

Clad in floor-length dresses and mostly barefoot, the women, aged 50 to 90, gather weekly at a playground in Jinja district, about 80 kilometres (50 miles) from the capital, Kampala.

Each swing draws cheers from teammates as the women turn Saturday morning practice into a lively spectacle.

"With the exercises I've been doing, my legs used to hurt, but they no longer do," Jennifer Waibi Nanyonga, 72, told AFP.

"I spent the whole of last year without seeing a doctor for my back, yet it had previously been paining me," added the grandmother of 29.

The initiative began in 2025 with just 10 grandmothers in the remote village of Kivubuka and has since grown more than tenfold.

The programme was initially aimed at children, but when cricket coach Aaron Kusasira realised their caregivers had little knowledge of the game and often kept them from joining, he decided to involve the elderly women, too.

"We come here, we jog, we move around, we do some stretches," Kusasira, 26, said.

They "unknowingly have to run because they have to compete," he added.

Physical inactivity is a leading risk factor for deaths from noncommunicable diseases and, according the World Health Organization, it is more common among women globally.

International health data estimates that sedentary lifestyles are costing public health systems roughly US$27 billion per year, and will continue to rise if activity levels are not improved.

- Fresh start -

Beyond physical activity, cricket has also fostered a sense of community among the Ugandan grannies.

"When at home, you have no company and spend your time buried in your thoughts," said an elderly woman who only gave her first name, Patriciah.

For others, the weekly meetings have proved cathartic.

"When I arrive here and see my friends, we get together and talk about our problems, we counsel each other," said Jennifer Waibi Nanyonga.

"By the time we return home, everyone is lighter and with a fresh start," she added.

For coach Kusasira, training the women has been a win-win, giving him the opportunity to coach children in the area without opposition.

"From the kids to the elders, provided I see the smiles... it's enough. I know that is a day well spent," he said.

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© Agence France-Presse

New Delhi, India - 

Once the grand residences of Mughal-era nobility, the Indian capital's haveli homes now stand at a fragile crossroads -- a handful lovingly restored but many more sliding quietly into ruin.

Across Old Delhi -- the 17th‑century walled city founded as the Mughal capital Shahjahanabad -- cracked facades, shuttered gateways and sagging balconies tell the story of a heritage under siege from neglect, inheritance battles and relentless urban pressure.

Only a few restored pockets provide a glimpse of what once was -- airy courtyards, carved sandstone pillars and homes built around a deeply social way of life.

Inside one restored mansion that now houses a cultural centre, sunlight filters through stained glass onto carved sandstone arches, the air infused with freshly polished wood and rosewater.

Musicians tune their instruments in a frescoed courtyard, where nobles may once have entertained guests, offering a rare peek into Old Delhi's rich architectural past.

But outside in the narrow lanes of Old Delhi's Chandni Chowk district, the contrast is stark.

Many havelis are abandoned or on the verge of collapsing, their carved facades fading beneath peeling paint.

The contrast reflects two futures -- one of careful restoration and the other of gradual decay.

- 'Who will pay?' -

The Kathika Cultural Centre's founder Atul Khanna said his initiative hoped to create an immersive cultural space inside a restored structure.

But he admitted that conservation in Old Delhi remains a huge challenge.

Many havelis are split among multiple heirs, with no single stakeholder willing or able to invest in costly upkeep.

"When there are multiple ownerships, that becomes a challenge," he said.

"If the haveli is decaying, who is going to spend the money?"

Khanna also blamed bureaucratic hurdles for discouraging restoration.

"There should be some kind of a single window for anyone who is working with heritage," he said, arguing that easing red tape would be more effective than offering subsidies for restoration.

Another prominent restoration is the 18th century Haveli Dharampura, now converted into a heritage hotel.

"Restoration in Old Delhi is still isolated unless there is sustained support and awareness," said Vidyun Goel, whose family owns the property.

Residents say family disputes and the push to convert properties into shops or apartments have led to rapid decline.

In nearby Roshanpura, only a scattering of old homes still stand. Among them, the century-old Mathur ki Haveli is a rare example of a lived-in heritage home.

- Showpiece projects -

"We are in love with this house," said Ashok Mathur, a fourth‑generation resident who continues to live in the ancestral property despite mounting challenges.

Wooden ceilings are deteriorating, floors are wearing thin and doors require constant repair, he said, walking through rooms that bear only traces of intricate craftsmanship.

Still, he said he has never considered leaving -- although he can only imagine the social world that once defined haveli life.

"There is no community left," Mathur, 56, said. "We are living in a cocoon."

Conservationist K. T. Ravindran said that while Old Delhi is economically vibrant, its havelis suffer from unclear titles and multiple claimants.

"Often buildings that look intact from outside conceal deeper damage," he said, noting that the condition was worse in the inner lanes hidden from public view.

Ravindran said revival was still possible, but only through neighbourhood‑level regeneration rather than isolated showpiece projects.

Oral historian Sohail Hashmi said each haveli once formed part of "a larger social ecosystem of neighbourhoods, crafts and traditions", with architecture and community deeply intertwined.

As Khanna put it, the loss goes beyond architecture.

"When you lose a haveli, you are not only losing the structure," he said.

"Every element in it is a piece of art."

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© Agence France-Presse