Latest news with #Bedoui
Global News
27-06-2025
- Sport
- Global News
‘No need for the punishment': Parents of Halifax soccer players upset by suspension
Parents are speaking out after a soccer facility in Halifax cancelled their children's practices for a week with no refund after allegations of 'aggressive behaviour' from players. It's an allegation the parents and volunteers of Ignite Soccer Club — an organization primarily made up of newcomer families — dispute. 'We were all very confused when we got this long email,' said Hadia Bedoui, a parent volunteer with Ignite Soccer. She says the club, which has more than 500 youth players, had all its bookings cancelled at the BMO Soccer Centre facilities. She adds Ignite was first told that the sweeping ban was because of 'aggressive behaviour' from players, before the club was presented with video footage. 'It turns out that it was a group of four to five and six-year-olds, who typically arrive early because their mothers rely on public transit to get here, who are from a different background,' she said. Story continues below advertisement 'And when they arrived early, the kids were on the sidelines of the turf playing before their time.' Get daily National news Get the day's top news, political, economic, and current affairs headlines, delivered to your inbox once a day. Sign up for daily National newsletter Sign Up By providing your email address, you have read and agree to Global News' Terms and Conditions and Privacy Policy She says it's unfair that the entire club was punished, especially since Ignite consists of many new Canadian and immigrant families whose kids rely on soccer as an extracurricular activity. Among the programs offered by Ignite, two are geared specifically for young newcomers: one is for children aged seven to 18, and another is focused on newcomer girls and women. 'The message that it sends is, 'They're the diverse group so, you know, we're just going to collectively punish them all' even though there was no need for the punishment,' Bedoui said. Parent Ibrahim Elayyat says his children, aged five and seven, broke out in tears when they were told they weren't allowed to play. 'It's important to make sure when you make a decision how this is a decision going to impact this whole community especially those communities all from diverse group, Black, African, Nova Scotia newcomers, people with different backgrounds, different cultures,' said Elayyat, who came to Canada from Egypt. In a statement to Global News, Soccer Nova Scotia's executive director, Lindsay MacAskill, says Ignite's field time has since been reinstated and that the temporary pause in bookings was to 'prioritize safety.' Story continues below advertisement She says the two groups have held a meeting and are 'committed to continued collaboration.' 'At the core of this matter is the duty of care and responsibility we jointly owe to all children and youth who use our (Soccer Nova Scotia) facilities,' a statement signed by Soccer Nova Scotia and Ignite Soccer Club reads. 'Soccer Nova Scotia and Ignite Soccer Club continue to work together collaboratively on solutions that uphold safety, mutual respect, and accountability, while ensuring youth continue to have access to the game they love.' The statement goes on to say that they will work on long-term solutions to uphold safety and mutual respect. Bedoui says she believes this has been a teaching moment, and a chance to show their children how to be part of a caring community. 'It's a collective thing, it's not just about diversity and inclusion. It's about teaching our children how to be community. The messaging that we're teaching them is a message that's going to build a stronger and healthier future and community for all of us, not just soccer players.'
CairoScene
13-06-2025
- CairoScene
This Tunisian Architect Makes Travel Videos for, Well, Architects
A 26-year-old architecture student from Tunisia, Ahmed Bedoui turned street photography into a career—one frame at a time. We've all fallen down that rabbit hole: the infinite scroll of candy-coloured Santorini balconies, Bali infinity pools, and cherry blossom tunnels that bleed into one homogenised daydream. Travel content has become a global hall of mirrors: same angles, same trending audios, same stolen sunsets. Some creators combat the sameness with increasingly outrageous stunts like handstanding on volcanoes or kissing cobras. Others disappear into AI-generated landscapes where even the dirt looks filtered. But a rare few understand that true discovery happens not when you chase novelty, but when you learn to see the ordinary through extraordinary eyes. Ahmed Bedoui, a 26-year-old Tunisian architect-turned-travel-influencer, treats Instagram not as a highlight reel, but as a forensic lab for place and memory. In his world, the cracks in cobalt paint on a weathered Medina door reveal generations of salt-laden winds; its iron studs map forgotten blacksmith techniques. While others frame Morocco's riads for their "instagrammable arches," Bedoui asks: How does this curvature trap cool air? Why does this shadow fall at 32 degrees in December? Whose calloused hands mixed this plaster? For Bedoui, content creation was never about fame or algorithms—it began with a love for beauty, culture, and the built environment. Born and raised in Tunisia, he's completing his architectural studies in Sidi Bou Said, the white-and-blue coastal village that shaped his visual sensibilities—and where, accidentally, he began telling a different kind of story… His Instagram handle, @ is both identity and manifesto. 'Bedouin' (from the Arabic badija, meaning desert dweller) historically signified nomadic Arab tribes traversing borders from Syria to the Sahara. Though Tunisia's first president, Habib Bourguiba, urbanised many Bedouins in the 1950s, their spirit persists: hospitality as sacred covenant, movement as birthright, community as survival. Bedoui reclaims this legacy. And so, what began as a 2020 hobby—photographing the streets of Tunisia—quickly gained traction, with viral videos shot in Istanbul and Egypt introducing him to the power of short-form content on TikTok and Instagram. 'We're often told that Tunisia, Morocco, Egypt are 'unsafe,'' Ahmed shares with SceneTraveller. 'That's why I started showing the doors left unlocked for strangers.' But it was Morocco that really launched his journey. 'The first time I went, I tagged the hotels in my stories. A month later, one invited me back for a free stay,' he says, still surprised at the memory. 'I didn't even know what a collab was.' That turning point opened his eyes to the world of professional content creation. Encouraged by friends and some early collaborators, he began charging for his work and building a thoughtful, sustainable brand. So, early on, he created his own 50/50 manifesto: half his work would showcase collaborators; half would spotlight the culture and the unseen—crumbling courtyard homes with sunken zellij fountains, hidden hammams behind unmarked doors, and the echo of footsteps in domes built to whisper. 'People always ask what camera I use—and they're shocked when I say my iPhone,' he says. 'But it's not the device—it's the eye. As an architect, you learn to notice light, shadow, and the meaning behind spaces.' He sees content creation not as a detour from architecture, but an extension of it, letting local design guide his lens. Visiting cities like Cairo and studying the work of architects such as Hassan Fathy helped him see how built environments reflect local culture and climate. This sensibility bleeds into every aspect of his work. His Instagram grid is carefully curated with complementary tones and textures, often highlighting intricate local craftsmanship. 'I only share what I genuinely believe in. I see it as a responsibility.' Still, despite the taxing nature of meticulously curating content, his audience often only sees the polished final product, not the effort behind it: long hours of planning, multiple visits to a location for better light, or even setbacks like having his phone stolen mid-shoot. 'People often don't realise the work that goes into a single 30-second video.' Eventually, Ahmed dreams of building something tangible—a guesthouse by the sea, maybe in Essaouira, infused with his aesthetic. But for now, graduation is just weeks away. And though his studies might hold his attention for a bit longer, someday soon the road will open up—and he plans to walk it with intention, and the eye of a true (and certified) architect of travel.
