text:
Istanbul Municipality is targeted by the Ministry of the Interior over questionable terrorism charges · Global Voices
Arzu Geybullayeva

A screenshot from a press statement by eleven CHP mayors on December 27, 2021.
Turkey’s Ministry of the Interior launched a criminal investigation on December 26 against the Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality (IBB) — the latest spat between the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) and the main opposition Republican People Party (CHP). The Ministry claims to have discovered links between some of the municipality employees and terrorist organizations.
On December 30, a court in Turkey accepted the indictment. The trial will begin on February 18, 2022. If found guilty, the defendants face anywhere between 3.5–15 years in jail. Although the Minister of the Interior, Suleyman Soylu, said the decision was not political and rather a matter of security, the Mayor of Istanbul, representing the CHP, Ekrem İmamoğlu, has criticized the motives and expressed public support for all 80,000+ staff employed within the municipality.
The Ministry of the Interior shared a tweet claiming it has identified over 500 municipality employees and related companies with connections to Kurdish militants, leftists, and other controversial groups.
Some observers, including the leader of the CPH, Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu, suspect the most recent probe is an orchestrated attempt by the ruling Justice and Development Party to replace İmamoğlu with a government-appointed trustee ahead of the upcoming general election in 2023.
“Government appointed trustees (kayyum in Turkish) are persons appointed by the government to manage institutions, usually publicly traded commercial entities, where corruption and abuses take place, until a new management is in place,” explains journalist Fehim Tastekin.
In the aftermath of the failed coup attempt in 2016, the trusteeship system expanded to include municipalities and other institutions, added Tastekin. Previously when the ruling AKP replaced elected Kurdish mayors (members of the Kurdish-oriented People’s Democratic Party, HDP), it also claimed the decision was not political but a matter of law. In addition, the government has tried and charged tens of thousands of people for terrorism since the failed 2016 coup attempt — among them numerous HDP mayors.
İmamoğlu is also considered a potential candidate in the upcoming general election and might pose a serious threat to current President Recep Tayyip Erdoğon’s candidacy.
Meanwhile, the Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) leader, Devlet Bahçeli, says İmamoğlu must be removed from his post if the investigations find him guilty. The MHP is in the coalition government with the ruling AKP. “If the allegations are true then the mayor has betrayed Istanbul. This treason can’t go unpunished,” Bahçeli said in an interview following the probe announcement.
Meanwhile, Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality (IBB), in a series of tweets on December 26, said it backed all its employees and that it would seek justice before the law. The municipality also said it was the Interior Ministry’s responsibility to identify individuals with links to terrorist organizations, not the municipality’s:
İBB ve 86 bin çalışanı sonuna kadar hukuk önünde haklarını arayacaktır.
— İstanbul Büyükşehir Belediyesi (@istanbulbld) December 26, 2021
IBB and its 86 thousand employees will seek justice before the law till the end.
“Terör bağlantılı” kişiler ortada gezip, kamu kurumlarında iş buluyorsa bu sorun İBB’nin değil, güvenlikten sorumlu İçişleri Bakanlığı’nındır. Devletin en önemli bakanlıkları, siyasi polemik yerine, elindeki bilgi ve belgeleri devletimizin kurumu İBB ile paylaşmalıdır.
— İstanbul Büyükşehir Belediyesi (@istanbulbld) December 26, 2021
If those affiliated with “terrorists” are free to roam around and find jobs at public institutions, this isn't IBB's problem but the problem of the Ministry of the Interior responsible for security. The state's most important ministries must share the information and documents they have with IBB instead of engaging in political polemics.
This is not the first time the mayor of Istanbul has found himself in the crosshairs of the ruling party.
In the 2019 mayoral elections, the AKP lost control of major cities, including the capital Ankara and the Istanbul Municipality, where the AKP held power for the last 25 years. When election results were announced in Istanbul, the ruling party called for reruns, insisting that there was fraud and irregularities. İmamoğlu won the reruns with 800,000 more votes.
Shortly after the election, İmamoğlu was accused of insulting Supreme Election Board members by saying that “the decision affected Turkey’s international standing, describing the ruling as foolish.” In May 2020, prosecutors’ indictment called for a 4-year sentence against İmamoğlu based on this accusation.
In April 2020, when Turkey saw its first coronavirus cases, the ruling party accused the mayors of Istanbul and Ankara of illegal activities after the two municipalities announced COVID-19 relief funding campaigns.
İmamoğlu’s campaign to distribute free masks was also barred. According to journalist Amberin Zaman, “Erdoğan has accused the CHP of behaving like organizations outlawed for terrorism for discrediting his government’s response to the pandemic in order to stir unrest. The crisis demands national solidarity, he said.” Last year, amid ongoing protests at Istanbul’s prestigious Bogazici University, President Erdoğan accused the CHP of “serving terrorism” and “provoking the youth.”
Speaking at a press conference with journalists on December 27, 2021, the Mayor of Istanbul once again condemned the recent probe accusing the ruling government of diverting attention from the ongoing economic crisis.


text:
Out of darkness, hope: A New Year chat with Jamaican artist Richard Nattoo · Global Voices
Emma Lewis

Artist Richard Nattoo. Photo courtesy the artist, used with permission.
Jamaican artist Richard Nattoo is unapologetic about his need to keep exploring different genres and collecting new ideas and inspirations. He keeps moving, no matter where his subject matter takes him.
Born in 1993 in Spanish Town, where he still lives and operates from his light-filled, 140-square-foot studio, Nattoo was drawn to art while at high school and began exhibiting in 2012. He graduated from the Caribbean School of Architecture at the University of Technology in Kingston and in 2017 completed a residency at the Vermont Studio Centre in the United States. He has participated in several exhibitions at the National Gallery of Jamaica, including the 2014 Jamaica Biennial, as well as the 2016 Young Talent and Digital (2016) shows. Since then, he has continued to exhibit, including Lost in the Echo (2016), Sensory (2019), Fragility (2019) and Fragility II (2019). He is a recipient of the 2020 Prime Minister Youth Awards in the Category of Arts and Culture.
I sat down for a chai with Nattoo in a tea room at Kingston's Devon House, to find out more about how his work has evolved, even in the midst of a global pandemic.
Jamaican artist Richard Nattoo. Photo courtesy the artist, used with permission.
Emma Lewis (EL): Did you really get started as an artist by doing [mini]bus designs?
Richard Nattoo (RN): When I was at Ardenne High School in Kingston, a friend of mine was doing graffiti types of designs, with a T-square. He showed me how to do it, and I started cutting my own designs out of vinyl, the same material my friend was working with. These were stick-ons. I went to a car tint shop, [asked] for a job and went there for the summer. I did a lot of buses there, [including] small decals and stickers, and tried selling them to the bus owners. They liked what I was doing.
A bus design by Jamaican artist Richard Nattoo. Photo courtesy the artist, used with permission.
They said to me, ‘I want you to do a design for that bus.’ At the time, the big designs were ‘bashment’ [dancehall slang for a party] and ‘Bashment Granny’ [the name of a very popular ‘roots play,’ a farcical theatrical production typically dealing with socially relevant topics].
Artist Richard Nattoo's design for the bus named ‘Liquid.’ Photo courtesy the artist, used with permission.
They were like a franchise really, with about five or six ‘Bashment Granny’ buses running. There was also a bus owner in Waterhouse who had his buses branded as ‘Liquid’. These were the ‘hype’ buses, where there was a lot of music and excitement, so passengers would wait for them.
It reached the point where I would get on the bus to go to school and the ‘ducta’ [conductor] would say to me, ‘I want you to do a sticker for this bus, can you do it for me by the end of the drive?’ So I would start doing a design while riding on the bus and finish it and they would pay me at the end of the ride and stick it on. These were on the body of the bus [and] were called ‘tattoos'—extravagant designs.
EL: What happened next?
RN: I had a rival, Michael Talbot. We’re best friends still—friendly rivals. We were invited to do a display of paintings at a creative event up at Hope Gardens in Kingston, organised by Antoinette Campbell of Speak Easy Jamaica. That was our first exhibition ever, in 2011. We were still at school, in sixth form.
EL: What were those paintings like?
RN: We did a lot of Tim Burton-esque paintings. A lot of my personal stories were in those paintings. I had a piece called ‘Pseudo Happy'—a man with a crooked smile, but inside was dark. I was going through different things in my life at the time.
A Richard Nattoo painting entitled ‘Regret.’ Photo by the artist, used with permission.
My work has an element of fantasy. I wasn't as good at drawing as Michael, though. I looked for a different style that was ‘me’ so that we wouldn't be compared to each other. While I was an intern at the National Gallery preparing for the 2012 National Biennial, I got to see the work of Jasmine Thomas-Girvan up close. Ever since, she has been the greatest influence on my work. It is powerful stuff! I even did a painting or two with the red strings she used in ‘Dreaming Backwards,’ which won the Biennial.
‘Teeth’ grid, by Richard Nattoo. Photo courtesy the artist, used with permission.
In my latest work, I have started looking at Francis Bacon. He has that darkness I first explored with Tim Burton’s work; I have taken it a bit further now. I've always been interested in exploring the human mind in my art. I have been reading Carl Jung: ‘The Human Shadow’ [and] started to wonder, ‘What does darkness look like?’ So in 2021, I did a virtual exhibition called ‘Teeth’—it was super-expressionist!—simultaneously with two other exhibitions, in September and October.
EL: Tell me about these three concurrent exhibitions.
RN: Recently, I have started painting figures. They have a melancholy feel. I tried to express that the darkness should not cloud your vision. It starts a conversation about fully accepting who you are.
So, I did a show about salvation, emerging from depression. It is a moving narrative, where you follow the figure and see where he is. The colours begin to get brighter as he reaches hope:
As I stepped further into the world I was engulfed by its messages. I paused to realize the depths I was under and it was then that a friend brought me the light. #silentecho #rabbit #cliff #art #pen #ink #illustration #darkness pic.twitter.com/7N27VabM6F
— Professor Richard Nattoo (@djsinista1) March 22, 2020
The last show was about my father taking us fishing [as children]. It was about the connection with water and nature.
EL: How did you get inspired by the animal world? Many of your earlier watercolours have depicted animals and birds.
RN: There is a simplicity about animals that I always enjoy. I still do paint them. A fox is just how a fox is—clean and pure. Peacocks are what peacocks are. It is about me trying to understand my own humanity, because humans are so emotionally complex. I have painted marine life in really swift strokes—I get the essence of them.
‘Blackbird Featherbed,’ a watercolour depicting various animals, by Richard Nattoo. Photo courtesy the artist, used with permission.
EL: In terms of humans, how do you see the current portrayal of Black people in art?
RN: There is so much of the Kerry James Marshall kind of imagery: people with very black skin—jet-black, not brown—it has been overdone. I want to do something different.
‘Tread,’ a painting by Richard Nattoo. Photo courtesy the artist, used with permission.
I am scared to death of being stuck in that one phase. That’s why I started painting figures, because that was the hardest thing for me. I stepped over that hurdle. People, collectors for example, want you to go back and paint what you were doing before; but I like to keep moving on and working on new things. You have to keep painting what makes you happy as an artist. I am happy that I have found that spark—not just painting what I know would sell and what is ‘working’ in the art world.
It has to be true; if it’s not, people will see through it, and then you can’t talk about it properly. It has to be you.
EL: What are your plans for the next stage of your artistic journey?
RN: I have been working on children’s books [and other work] to pay the bills, and I will continue doing that. There’s a certain whimsical nature about them. They are simply fun. I am working on another book, writing and illustrating.
‘Her Birth of an Echo,’ by Richard Nattoo. Photo courtesy the artist, used with permission.
I do quite a lot of digital work [like] logos and album covers. I separate that from what I do for exhibitions, which comes directly from my hand, with paint—magic stuff. I do watercolours—oil painting is scary stuff. I want to get some more work into international galleries and exhibitions. The art world is all about connections, so I keep working at it. With my art, I want to do things that others aren’t doing.
I have some more crazy ideas.

source: news-globalvoices

license: Creative Commons - Attribution - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

author: Emma Lewis


text:
A year later, Boğaziçi University continues to resist · Global Voices
Arzu Geybullayeva

Screenshot from the video interview with one of the dismissed academics by Gerçek Gündem.
This month marks the anniversary of Boğaziçi University protests, which occurred after the appointment of a new rector by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. While the controversial government-appointed rector Melih Bulu has since been removed, the protests continue at the prestigious school.
Today is the first-year anniversary of the struggle at Boğaziçi University! Students and faculty continue to resist an unelected, government-imposed university president and the destruction of academic autonomy! #KabulEtmiyoruzVazgecmiyoruz #Boğazici1YıldırDireniyor https://t.co/slAT7JArie pic.twitter.com/kg5LvElgBO
— Kenan Sharpe (@kenan_sharpe) January 3, 2022
Boğazici University has been fighting to defend academic freedom & autonomy. Students have been protesting relentlessly, despite facing police violence, arrests & detentions, and they won't give up until they are heard.#Boğazici1YıldırDireniyor #KabulEtmiyoruzVazgecmiyoruz pic.twitter.com/hvuRFMlBzm
— Bahar (@AkmanImboden) January 3, 2022
The conflict began with the external appointment of a new rector on January 1, 2021, in what students and academics called another step in Turkey's democratic backslide, comparing it to the replacement of over one hundred elected mayors with government appointees in recent years. Over the last year, students had frequent clashes with police and organized sit-ins on campus. Meanwhile, the university's faculty members protested by turning their backs against the rectorate building every day since the protests began.
Then in July, the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) removed Melih Bulu through a midnight decree, replacing the former rector with Professor Naci İnci, previously the head of the university's physics department who served as deputy rector during Bulu's term as rector. The decision sparked further protests that continue to this day.
The school has an extensive internal election process, so the two external appointments were viewed as a “breach of academic freedom as it bypassed rectorate elections and was the first time a person from outside the university had been placed in the rectorial seat since the coup of September 12, 1980,” reported Gazete Duvar.
On January 3, 2022, academics at the school released a statement vowing to continue resisting the appointment of Inci as the rector, in what they described a “nontransparent” process that was “disregarding the will of the university.”
Can Candan was dismissed in July 2021 from the university's Western Languages and Literatures Department's Film Studies Certificate Program on the orders of the newly appointed rector. Tweeting from his personal account, he wrote:
Tam 1 yıl önce bugün, yani 3 Ocak 2021'de @UniBogazici akademisyenleri olarak ilk defa #KabulEtmiyoruzVazgeçmiyoruz! demiştik. 👇🏾#Boğazici1YıldırDireniyor İlkelerimizi ve üniversitemizi savunmaya devam ediyoruz, Türkiye’de özgür, özerk ve demokratik bir üniversite için! pic.twitter.com/gFfzRoMwR7
— Can Candan (@yunusunbabasi) January 3, 2022
Exactly one year ago today, on January 3, as academics of Bogazici University we said for the first time #WeRefuseToAcceptWeWontGiveUp. We continue to defend our values and our university, for the sake of a free, independent and democratic university in Turkey.
In addition to Candan, Inci also fired academic staff Feyzi Erçin, Özcan Vardar, and Seda Binbaşgil —despite objections by students and faculty members alike. Additionally, scores of university students were subject to police violence in the past year, and at least two Boğaziçi students, Berke Gök and Perit Özen have been in police custody since October 2021, according to Bianet. Also in October, Inci secured suspension of several students from the school who took part in protests against his appointment.
In her reflections of the past year, university Professor Ayşe Gürel wrote,
For a year, Boğaziçi University, which is one of the very few public universities in Turkey that is financially accessible to many young people and offers a world-class education, is being destroyed in a planned way. Like many of my colleagues who have dedicated their lives to this university, as a common value of this country, I regret what happened. I think that the administration that led the university to this planned destruction and all the people and organizations responsible for this will have to answer to this country and especially to the youth of the country. Regardless, we will continue to fight and say what we think is right so that this institution can survive these shocks.

author: Arzu Geybullayeva


text:
Fuel protests spill over into political demands across Kazakhstan · Global Voices
Paolo Sorbello

Protesters in the Mangistau region gather in the morning of January 4. Screenshot from Sputnik Kazakhstan's YouTube channel. Fair use.
Kazakhstan's President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev fired the cabinet and declared a state of emergency in the western Mangistau region and in the city of Almaty, after massive protests shook most cities across the country.
The reshuffle of government positions, as of January 5, includes the substitution of Prime Minister Askar Mamin with his former deputy, Alikhan Smailov, and the firing of state secretary and former Mangistau governor Krymbek Kusherbayev. Tokayev named political communication expert Yerlan Karin as the new state secretary.
The event that sparked the unrest was the sharp increase in the price of liquefied petroleum gas (LPG), the preferred fuel for cars in Kazakhstan's western regions. In Aktau, the capital of the Mangistau region, most automobiles are equipped with an extra LPG tank, which is kept in the trunk. LPG was much cheaper than gasoline and helped keep transport prices low. A taxi ride in Mangistau used to cost around half as much as in other parts of the country.
Poorly communicated by the government, the price hike brought people to the squares of Zhanaozen, an oil town near Aktau, on January 2 and 3. Nurlan Nogayev, the local governor and formerly minister of energy, addressed the protest, promising a review of the price reform. Yet, the anger of the population had already found an outlet in the squares of Aktau, Atyrau, Aktobe, and Uralsk to the north, and Shymkent in the south. On January 4, people in Almaty, the country's largest city, and in Nur-Sultan, the capital, as well as Karaganda, Taraz, and other urban centers, took to the streets. Reports from the Tengiz oilfield showed workers striking in solidarity with the protests.
The government's response was firm, as thousands of police and special forces were deployed as the crowds gathered. Unofficial accounts estimate that between 10,000 and 50,000 people went out to protest on January 4 across Kazakhstan.
Police arrests protesters in Nur-Sultan on the evening of January 4. Screenshot from Azattyq's video. Fair use.
The more prominent activists were swiftly arrested and some of them reported beatings. The son of an independent journalist was shot at. Plainclothes policemen visited the home of a citizen journalist. An editor at US-funded media Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty was detained for five hours. A correspondent for news outlet Mediazona was beaten by protesters as they vandalized a police car.
As tensions increased, especially in the streets of Almaty, the authorities used tear gas and stun grenades. The explosions could be heard into the night and the early hours of the morning of January 5 throughout the city center, residents told Global Voices.
In Almaty, the protest moved from Almaty Arena, a sports venue in the northeastern part of the city, to the Republic Square, which weeks ago was the theater of a much more modest gathering.
On December 16, Kazakhstan celebrated the 30th anniversary of its independence from the Soviet Union. That day, only around 100 people gathered on Republic Square in Almaty. Some came with flowers and prayed near the independence monument, paying respects to the students and citizens who rose up in protest against the Soviet leadership in 1986. The brutal repression of the protest resulted in several deaths, which were never independently investigated. The events of 1986 became known as Zheltoksan (from Kazakh, “December”). Zheltoksan Street now hosts the independence monument.
People gathered at the Independence Monument in Almaty on December 16, 2021. Photo by Paolo Sorbello, used with permission.
Another group gathered at noon under the slogan “Zheltoksan – Zhanaozen!” in reference to another dark page in Kazakhstan’s history. In 2011, after an eight-month strike, police and special forces opened fire on protesting oil workers in Zhanaozen, just as the city administration was readying the celebrations for the country’s 20th year since independence. Dozens were killed, and human rights organizations still demand an independent investigation of the events.
At the independence monument, another group of activists staged a brief performance to remember the state violence against students in 1986 and oil workers in 2011. Seven members of the youth group Oyan, Qazaqstan! dressed as white mannequins with targets on their backs and red paint on their hands and suits. Three members of the group had been detained ahead of the performance and were released shortly after.
The authorities had blocked the street that goes through Republic Square and controlled every corner in a 12-block radius. As people entered the circle, police asked for documents and plainclothes secret service officers interrogated members of the press on their accreditation. The atmosphere, however, was not as tense as the past two Independence Days. In 2019 and 2020, in fact, there were arrests and harsh forms of crowd control, such as kettling and preventive detentions.
Earlier on January 2, the Energy Ministry tried to explain that the new electronic trade system for LPG had caused the sudden hike from KZT 60 to 120 (from USD 0.14 to 0.28) per liter. The explanation, however, could not convince local residents, who had long suspected that the energy elites of the hydrocarbon-rich regions were fixing prices in an effort to garner higher profits.
Suspicions of corruption, diminishing purchasing power, and galloping inflation were all factors in turning the “gas protest” into a full-fledged mass unrest.
On January 4, residents across the country called for the end of the regime established by former President Nursultan Nazarbayev, the establishment of a parliamentary republic, and an end to widespread corruption. Kazakhstan ranks among the worst in Transparency International's Corruption Perception Index.
Political commentator Dosym Satpayev said on Facebook that this is a sign of a crumbling political system.
Политическая система, которая десятилетиями формировалась вокруг желания угодить одному человеку, трещит по швам. […] И власть больше всего в этой ситуации пугает та солидарность с жанаозенцами, которую проявили жители других регионов страны, так как это противоречит ее правилу “разделяй и властвуй”.
The political system, which for decades was crafted around the desire to please one person, is bursting at the seams. […] And in this situation the authorities are mostly afraid of the solidarity with the Zhanaozen people shown by the residents of other regions of the country, since this contradicts its policy of “divide and rule.”
One of the most-heard slogans at the protests was “Shal ket!” (Kazakh for “Old man go away!”), a not-so-veiled reference to Nazarbayev.
With inequality and poverty at the center, the protests gathered momentum and easily spread across various cities, despite internet blockages and travel restrictions. Most messaging applications and social media services were inaccessible near the protest sites. News websites that were reporting from the squares were also blocked (among them, Orda News and KazTAG).
In the afternoon of January 4, President Tokayev ordered that the price of LPG in Mangistau be reduced to KZT 50 per liter, below the previous KZT 60 threshold. In a stern televised statement, Tokayev later urged his fellow countrymen “not to succumb to internal and external provocations, which trigger euphoria at the rallies,” adding that “the government won't fall.”
That night, Mediazona reported that the emergency rooms in Almaty were filled with several dozen injured.
As the situation develops and the political environment in the country is affected by the shockwaves of the protests, Kazakhstan's leadership will have to find a way to grapple with its population's dire socio-economic problems.

author: Paolo Sorbello


text:
In Trinidad and Tobago, baby, it’s cold outside · Global Voices
Janine Mendes-Franco

Ambient temperature. Photo by Jeremiah Hoyet on Flickr, CC BY-SA 2.0.
Each new year in Trinidad and Tobago typically brings with it wonderful weather—bright, sunny days as the dry season draws closer, tempered by the tail end of cool, Christmas breezes—but from January 3 and beyond, temperatures dipped to such a degree that social media channels were quickly inundated with posts expressing shock at how chilly it was.
In a country accustomed to monthly averages of 26.5 degrees Celsius (78.8 degrees Fahrenheit), there were routine reports of lows of less than the typical 23°C (73.4°F).
While members of the Trinbagonian diaspora living in temperate climes found the reaction laughable, locals felt no shame whatsoever in bundling up, and advising others to do the same:
We could see temperatures tonight dip below 20°C in most areas of Trinidad.
Interior parts of the country could see temperatures as low as 17°C.
The record coldest at Piarco (Trinidad's climate reference site) is 16.1°C, which occurred on the nights of Jan. 21st & 30th, 1964.
— Kalain Hosein (@KalainH) January 5, 2022
The Trinidad and Tobago Weather Center explained that the chilly temperatures were caused by a North American cold front, noting:
Over the last several days, a cold front made its way across the entirety of the Eastern Caribbean and has since stalled over northern South America. A strong high-pressure system has also moved in behind the cold front, bringing brisk winds, dry air, and ultimately cooler temperatures to T&T and much of the Eastern Caribbean. […] This dry and cool airmass, originating over North America and made its way down to the Caribbean, due to the atmospheric circulations over the Atlantic.
While moisture and temperature increased on its journey to T&T, the conditions remained dry and stable enough to hinder clouds’ development. Situations like these are not frequent, but they tend to occur a couple of times during our dry season.
The post added that such low temperatures during this time of year are normal, given that the Northern Hemisphere is currently in the throes of winter. There were also other factors to which the Weather Center attributed the cooler temperatures, including sparse cloud coverage, northeasterly winds occurring at lower atmospheric levels, and low levels of moisture in the atmosphere. The Center confirmed that several areas in central and south Trinidad recorded temperatures below 20°C (68°F):
The coolest temperature recorded via a calibrated thermometer was in Penal [in the south of the island] at 17.63°C [63.7°F] while a thermometer (uncalibrated) recorded a minimum low of 15°C [59°F] in Lengua, Barrackpore [slightly north of Penal].
Via its Facebook page, the Trinidad and Tobago Weather Center also took the opportunity to contexualise the issue by reposting an article from January 2021, in which it noted that “temperature is relative”:
It seems that our ‘cool’ temperatures in Trinidad and Tobago are not enough to consider ‘cold’ to the Trinbagonian diaspora. Yet, we don’t hear our local crowd berating the diaspora when the sun makes an appearance in their temperate regions, claiming it’s too hot for temperatures that would be just another day in T&T.
Temperatures, whether it is cold or hot, is relative to the region it is recorded. 32°C (90°F) is a warm, but average daily maximum high in T&T but would be excessively hot in places like New York or the United Kingdom. Similarly, 18°C (64°F) is a very cold temperature for T&T, located in the tropics, while it would be a cool day in temperate regions of both northern and southern regions of the world, even requiring a jacket to head outdoors.
In Trinidad and Tobago, many people chose to stay indoors, some with a hot cup of tea, while a few Twitter users made light of the situation:
I supposed to have a tiny birthday eve lime tomorrow that I was gon have outdoors because of de rona and one friend say she coming in she winter jacket 😅
— caroline.n.t. (@carolineneisha) January 5, 2022
While it may not quite be winter jacket weather and weather experts agree that the likelihood of it ever snowing in Trinidad and Tobago remains “near impossible,” there is no doubt that—for a country that lies just about 10° north of the equator—it's cold outside.

author: Janine Mendes-Franco


text:
Indians give Chinese places hilarious names after China renames 15 places in Arunachal Pradesh · Global Voices
Rezwan

Indo-China border at Bum La Pass in the Zemithang circle in Arunachal Pradesh. Image by Tabish Q via Wikimedia Commons. CC BY-SA 3.0.
After China announced standardized names for 15 places in the northeastern Indian state of Arunachal Pradesh, India reacted strongly, saying that the state is an integral part of India and China does not have the right to rename places. However, Indians on Twitter rose to the occasion, naming Chinese places with Indian names in a hilarious engagement.
On December 30, 2021, the Chinese state-run Global Times reported that China's Ministry of Civil Affairs has standardized “based on sovereignty, history” in Tibetan, Chinese characters and Roman alphabet the names of 15 places in Zangnan (South Tibet) which consists of areas in Arunachal Pradesh. Among the changed names eight are residential areas, four are mountains, two are rivers and one is a mountain pass.
Indian journalist Ananth Krishnan said:
China's Ministry of Civil Affairs today in a statement puts out what it calls ‘standardised’ names for 15 places in Arunachal Pradesh, to be used on Chinese maps. This follows 6 places renamed in 2017, and ahead of a new border law coming into effect on Jan 1, 2022. pic.twitter.com/XoeWEWEoKR
— Ananth Krishnan (@ananthkrishnan) December 30, 2021
India considers that the legal national border with China is along the the McMahon Line in Arunachal Pradesh, which was decided by representatives of Tibet and British India as part of the 1914 Simla Convention. However, China does not recognize this, saying that Tibet was not independent of China and there was no Chinese representative at the convention.
In Chinese maps, around 65,000 sq km of the territory south of the McMahon line is shown as part of the Tibet Autonomous Region (South Tibet); the dispute has led to border skirmishes over the past few decades.
In 2017, China first unilaterally renamed six “official” names for places in Arunachal Pradesh, allegedly to reaffirm the country's “territorial sovereignty” to the region. This new move to change 15 names came ahead of the new land border law, which took into effect on January 1, 2022. Under this law, China is mandated to “take measures to safeguard territorial integrity and land boundaries,” among other things.
The Indian Ministry of External Affairs, however, stressed that China's actions do not change the fact that Arunachal Pradesh is an integral part of India. Indian journalist Sidhant Sibal tweeted:
India reacts to China renaming places of Indian state of Arunachal Pradesh. Says, “Assigning invented names to places in Arunachal Pradesh does not alter this fact” pic.twitter.com/JWqfE3S37q
— Sidhant Sibal (@sidhant) December 30, 2021
Reacting to the news, Indians took to Twitter to retaliate with made-up Indian names for Chinese places.
Twitter user Harpreet (@CestMoiz) shared the news with some renaming invention of a local Whatsapp community:
On one of my WA groups, folks have done some renaming of their own:
Beijing : भुजंग नगर
Lhasa : लक्ष्मणगढ़
Tibet : तिवतियानगर
😁🙏 https://t.co/kqHCOXxtwd
— Harpreet (@CestMoiz) December 31, 2021
Beijing as Bhujang Nagar, Tibetian capital Lahsa as Laxmangarh and Tibet as Tivatianagar!
Another user, Bhargavi (@smna17), chimed in naming Xinjiang Sivaganga Nagar. Harpreet's thread contained more hilarious naming such as New Chandigarh for Chengdu, Hanumangarh for Hubei and Gandhinagar for Guangzhou.
Twitter user Bishwa mentioned:
Shanghai : Sanghipur
Nanjing : Nandigarh
Yunan : Yananapuramr
🤣🤣🤣 https://t.co/Av3h1ZpXm4
— bishwa (@bishwa55900127) December 31, 2021
Meanwhile, Facebook user Sardhon Teron commented on a piece of related news on the Northeast Today Magazine's Facebook page.
If Arunachal is an integral part of India, forget about 15 names even 1000 names doesn't matter. It is us who give names not China. China is just playing (a) propaganda game.
Twitter user Purnima Andrade commented:
https://t.co/E6iUTf11wS
This is not a recent development. As for renaming it doesn't change anything. You cld rename places in China. Wll that mean those places belong to India?
— Purnima Andrade (@Pooh68_) January 2, 2022
User देशी छोरा (Country boy) from Hyderabad tweeted:
If China renames Places of Indian State Arunachal Pradesh then India must rename #Beijing as “BIJANPUR”.#ArunachalPradesh is, was and will always be an integral part of India.
But It's true that #Tibet is not #China.#FreeTibet #Tibetan pic.twitter.com/VsMgMOCYV8
— देशी छोरा (@Deshi_Indian01) December 31, 2021
User S. Vasudeva Rao tweeted:
A new attempt by China to rename some villages in Arunachal is yet another effort at trying to legitimise its illegal and immoral claims of extra territory from its neighbours. Its silence on giving back Aksai Chin to India, is however,deafening.#China#India#ArunachalPradesh
— S. Vasudeva Rao (@vasudeva57) December 31, 2021
Sudha Ramachandran mentions in The Diplomat that a similar tactic was used by Beijing on the disputed South China Sea. In April 2020, China announced the Chinese names of 80 islands and reefs in the South China Sea in addition to their coordinates to mark out claims. Ramachandran predicts that the Chinese government is expected to announce more lists in the coming months.

author: Rezwan


text:
Justice elusive for murdered Indigenous Colombian reporter · Global Voices
J. Fernanda Sánchez Jaramillo

Illustration by Rowena Neme for the Fundación para la Libertad de Prensa (FLIP), used with permission.
Editor’s note: this profile is the last one of wider coverage of threats against Indigenous reporters in Cauca (Colombia).
The murder of José Abelardo Liz, an Indigenous reporter and Indigenous guard, is still remembered in the heart of his native community, the Nasa people. For members of his community, he helped protect his ancestral land in Corinto, Cauca, in southern Colombia, a region ravaged by Colombia's armed conflict. His killing has been classified as a homicide and not as a crime against journalists by Colombian authorities.
Nicolás Guerrero, ancestral Nasa authority. Photo by Willian Mavisoy, used with permission.
A few years ago, Abelardo joined the Nasa radio station where he took several trainings to be part of a generation of Indigenous communicators at the Corinto reserve. Wilmar Mosquera and Natalia Salazar remember his great attitude towards work.
On August 13, 2020, his colleague Wilmar asked him to report about a minga, a community-led collective action defending social causes, to free Mother Earth, and how Colombia's anti-riot unit (Esmad, for its acronym in Spanish) was responding to the community.
According to the Indigenous Regional Council of Cauca, an association of Indigenous authorities (Cric, for its acronym in Spanish), “Mother Earth liberation” is, among other things, a spiritual mandate aiming to protect the land from social actors that create disharmony, such as the guerrilla, paramilitaries, public force agents, mono-crop farmers, and so forth.
In Corinto, activities to free Mother Earth started six years ago, ancestral authority Nicolás Guerrero told Global Voices. Since then, six Nasa people were killed, including Abelardo. Other Nasa people are threatened because they do not allow illegal actors to control ancestral land that had been taken from their ancestors. Defending Mother Earth may come at a high price.
Abelardo Liz at the Radio Nasa Nation Photo by Natalia Salazar, used with permission.
Abelardo was shot while recording his community defending ancestral Indigenous land. When his friend Wilmar received a message telling of Abelardo's injury, he first thought it was nothing serious and believed they could joke about it later.
However, once he reached Abelardo, Wilmar saw fear in his eyes as Abelardo said: “Please don't let me die!” Community members asked for help, but police members and the Esmad blocked traffic. A similar issue happened with the killing of another Indigenous reporter Efigenia Vásquez.
Thirty minutes later, a car took Abelardo to a hospital in Cali, about two and a half hours away from Corinto. Unfortunately, it was too late. He died during the ride.
Angela Caro, a lawyer from the Foundation for Press Freedom (FLIP, for its acronym in Spanish), told Global Voices that there is no access to justice in this case. She says that Colombia’s Attorney General is “sentencing” this case to impunity because the investigation did not follow the standards for crimes against journalists. Instead, it is treated as a common crime. The Attorney General did not consider Abelardo's position as a reporter.
Abelardo was committed to Indigenous communication despite the risks he faced informing his community. Indigenous reporters like him are convinced of the importance of communication produced from the land they want to set free.
Indigenous reporters are critical for Indigenous peoples and their ancestral authorities acknowledge this. Nicolás Guerrero said:
They allow a permanent communication with the community and make visible the processes we carry out as an organization. They reach out to the territories, to the community members while they work and inform them about what the authorities are doing, so that they arrive informed when they attend an assembly.
Abelardo was also an Indigenous guard who protected the land without weapons. For his community members, he was always involved with his territory and defending people’s rights. He was a not very tall man but had a big heart, whose humility was appreciated by his community.
Abelardo's voice was silenced, but his memory is alive among his colleagues.
Natalia Salazar and Wilmar at the Nasa radio station. Photo by Willian Mavisoy, used with permission.
Wilmar, from Radio Nasa Nation and former colleague of Abelardo, explained:
As young people who like communication, we do it out of passion. It comes naturally to us. We are not afraid. We are aware of what can happen, and the community is aware of what we do.
Natalia Salazar and Wilmar at the radio station in Corinto (Cauca). Photo  by Willian Mavisoy, used with permission.
Natalia Salazar, another colleague, expressed that leaving this job is not an option. She emphasized the need to have Indigenous communication in order to confront journalistic narratives from external media that misinform about their people.
“They do not know what happens in our communities nor do they know that we do our own communication work. It is important to express within our own communication channels, through the radio station, what is really happening, the voices of the communities that live in midst of disharmony, armed conflict and violence [committed] by other entities. It is worthwhile to strengthen our own and alternative communication, to continue creating these links between other communities and peoples to make known what is happening in ancestral territories, to confront and mitigate the impact of the war.
This is the last one of five stories about crimes against journalists in Colombia, especially Indigenous reporters in Cauca province, supported by Justice for Journalists Foundation (JFJ), a London-based non-governmental organization. JFJ funds journalistic investigations into violent crimes against media workers and helps professionals and citizen journalists to mitigate their risks.
The first story covers impunity regarding crimes against reporters, and the second, the context of indigenous and their fight to report on community land struggles; the third, the murder of María Efigenia, a Kokonuco indigenous communicator; the fourth, the murder of Eider Arely, a Nasa indigenous communicator and indigenous guard at Caldono (Cauca).

author: J. Fernanda Sánchez Jaramillo


text:
The myth of a stable Kazakhstan is shattered within a day as neighbours watch anxiously · Global Voices
Filip Noubel

Screenshot from France24 YouTube channel showing police fighting back protestors in Almaty.
On the map of Central Asia, Kazakhstan occupies a dominant place. Not only is it the 9th largest country in the world, it also has a regional reputation as a stable and comparatively rich society, with large resources in natural gas and oil, and a diverse and well-educated population.
Yet on January 5, following demonstrations caused by a rise in prices of liquified petroleum gas, used by many to fuel their vehicles, the country dismissed its government, shut down the internet, and imposed a national curfew. People destroyed or took over key government buildings and even the airport in Almaty, the country's main port of entry in its former capital and largest city. The notion of a stable country was shattered in less than 24 hours.
Despite efforts by the government to impose a total blackout on information flows, news, including graphic videos of street violence, clashes between the police and the military and demonstrators, have managed to spread across the country and around the world.
Social media have become the primary source of information about events as state-controlled media is not covering protests, and many private news sites such as Vlast.kz were shut down during the day. International news services and specialty publications such as the Global Voices partner Eurasianet have some reporting capacity across Kazakhstan, but it remains difficult to verify information, including for example, stories of police siding with demonstrators in several regions and cities, as reported by the Telegram channel KazTAG.
Videos circulated by social media are sometimes difficult to verify but they clearly show a partial collapse of state power, the take-over and partial destruction of key government buildings and overall, and most importantly, the failure of the Kazakhstani government to react and engage in a meaningful dialogue with the protesters.
Widespread protests in Kazakhstan are exceedingly rare, yet images and news of such demonstrations and attacks on government symbols come from all parts of the country and are not limited to the southwest where the initial protest started on January 2.
While the initial demonstrations were directly related to the increase in prices of liquid gas, which is used as fuel for cars mostly in the southwest of the country, the slogans rapidly turned political, calling for leadership and systemic changes in the face of rampant corruption and the lack of a multiparty system and free and fair elections.
Based on what can be seen and analyzed thus far, the protest seems to be truly popular, and have no clear leaders. This apparent lack of leadership suggests an uncertain outcome for the protests. The current political regime, led since the last days of the Soviet Union in the late 1980s by Nursultan Nazarbayev, has managed to eradicate most forms of alternative political life, truly independent media or critical civil society. Regional leaders praised Nazarbayev as one of the few leaders who managed to maintain stability in his country. He stayed in power for some 30 years resigning in March 2019 but retaining power as head of Kazakhstan's Security Council, until he was dismissed today, together with the prime minister and the cabinet. Rumors suggest that Nazarbayev may depart the country.
The demonstrators have not yet presented a clear representative to start a dialogue with the current Kazakhstani leadership. Street violence is spreading, and remains unclear who is behind these acts, as it might be demonstrators, or opportunistic looters engaging in theft and destruction.
While Kazakhstanis are themselves experiencing something unprecedented, neighboring countries are watching anxiously as they have long regarded Kazakhstan as a symbol of political stability.
Kyrgyzstan, its southern neighbour, has experienced frequent political unrest, street violence and a brutal ending for three of its presidents. Kazakhstan's authorities often adopted a patriarchal attitude, labeling their smaller neighbour as a source of constant instability and a failed state, yet they are now offered help from Bishkek.
For China, the situation is alarming as Kazakhstan is a key player in its Belt and Road Initiative corridor, and a key provider of gas and oil. The current Kazakhstani president Kassym-Jomart Tokayev is considered a friend of Beijing and is fluent in Mandarin Chinese. The ethnic Kazakh opposition,  however, is known for its anti-Chinese discourse. Street violence could also lead to the destruction of Chinese businesses, as has been experienced in similar situations in Kyrgyzstan.
Tellingly, the Kazakh-language edition of the People's Daily, the newspaper that shapes the official line of the Chinese government, makes no mention of the unrest, and has shared only an announcement by Tokayev about the dismissal of his government.
Moscow is also likely to be closely watching the situation. Russia is currently in a state of war with Ukraine, a direct consequence of the 2004-2005 Orange Revolution and the 2013 Euromaidan protests that saw demonstrators overthrow the Ukrainian government for reasons similar to the ones affecting Kazakhstan today: corruption, a growing gap between elites and average citizens, and a lack of independent media. Russia's Putin took advantage of events in Ukraine to claim them as dangerous precedents that could affect Russia, giving him rhetorical cover to invade and annex Crimea in 2014 and mobilize and fund a conflict in eastern Ukraine. Currently Russia has gathered over 100,000 Russian troops at its border with Ukraine. Developments in Kazakhstan may influence Russia's decision-making about whether to intensify its existing occupation of Ukrainian territory, or invade other parts of the country.
At the end of January 5, Jomart-Tokaev turned to the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) for assistance. CSTO is a military alliance made of Russia, Belarus, Armenia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan that provides mutual support and conducts regular joint military exercise.
As Kazakh political commentator Dosym Saptayev writes on his instagram account:
К.Токаев запросил военную помощь у членов ОДКБ в наведении порядка в своей стране тем самым сделав первый шаг в сторону потери нашего суверенитета. Таким обращением не только показал всю слабость и недееспособность государственной власти в Казахстане, но и становится должником России.
Tokaev has requested military assistance from CSTO members to establish order in his country, thus making a first step in the direction of a loss of sovereignty. He has thus not only demonstrated his weakness, and the failure of the Kazakh government, but he now becomes a debtor to Russia.
According to Russia's TASS news agency, the CSTO has already given its green light to send peace-keeping forces to Kazakhstan.

author: Filip Noubel


text:
Understanding monsoon culture in Nepal · Global Voices
Nepali Times

The Newar ritual of feeding frogs is immediately followed by the festive procession of the cow, which was actually the expected day for the monsoonal birth of the calves. Photo: Nepali Times Archive, used with permission.
This article by Gautama Vajra Vajracharya is based on a keynote address to the Madan Puraskar and Jagadamba Sri Award Ceremony in Kathmandu and was published in the Nepali Times. An edited version is republished by Global Voices as part of a content-sharing agreement.
Some monsoon- and cow-related Vedic concepts and rituals remain discernible in the annual religious observances of South Asia, particularly in the Indigenous Newar rituals and festivals of the Kathmandu Valley. This article explains my studies on the Vedic frog hymns, and the epithetic name of Vasudeva, father of the Hindu deity, Kṛiṣhṇa.
My investigation into the ancient Newar rituals and seasonal festivals, and particularly into the custom of frog worship, is related to my own life experience. Before I left Nepal for the United States in December 1974, I had never been outside of the monsoonal land of the Himalayan rimlands of the Subcontinent. While working with renowned art historian Pratapaditya Pal as a trainee at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, I became familiar with important art history books by Zimmer, Coomaraswamy, and Kramrisch.
Because these scholars frequently refer to Vedic literature to explain Indian art, I began to take an interest in Vedic studies. After finishing my job at the museum, I entered the PhD program of the Department of South Asian Studies at the University of Wisconsin–Madison.
Compared to Kathmandu and Los Angeles, Madison is extremely cold. Winter lasts almost half of the year here, and the trees appear dead. Many varieties of birds migrate south, and reptiles, squirrels, rabbits, and frogs hibernate under the frozen ground. Cows remain inside their stalls for at least four months.
Only after snowmelt around the beginning of May does hibernation finally come to an end. The vernal sun enlivens the earth. All of a sudden, the bushes and trees turn fresh and green, the frogs come out and within a week they start croaking, which is, in fact, their mating call.
In most parts of South Asia, including the Kathmandu Valley, creatures do not hibernate—they estivate. During the hot summer season, snakes, turtles, and frogs hide inside the ground.
Mist and mud in Nagarkot’s empty monsoon. Photo: Nepali Times Archive, used with permission.
Water buffaloes and elephants cover themselves with mud and spend plenty of time in the water. Frogs and other estivating creatures emerge from the ground immediately after the first monsoonal showers. In accordance with the ancient tendency to reverse cause and effect, it was believed that it rains when frogs start croaking.
Not only Newar farmers but also Vedic people believed that frogs were rainmakers. (Frog Hymns and Rain Babies: Monsoon Culture and the Art of Ancient South Asia, Gautama V. Vajracharya, Marg Foundation, 2013).
A careful study of the hymns also taught me of the existence of two different agrarian lifestyles in the world. In the regions in which frogs hibernate, planting begins after the vernal sun melts the snow and ice. This explains the prevalence of solar deities in these regions.
In the regions in which the frogs estivate, agriculture begins after the monsoonal rains, which is why in the Subcontinent rain gods rather than the sun god play the most significant role in cultural history.
This observation helped me to identify some of the great gods of Vedic Aryans, who originally belonged to a hibernation culture but gradually became the gods of monsoonal rain. According to the Atharvaveda, for instance, when the great god Varuṇa pours water from heaven, the frogs start croaking.
I quickly realised that Śrāvaṇī, the full-moon day of the month of Śrāvaṇa, is significant for many reasons. According to the Newar calendars, this is the day when the Himalayan river Sihlu, like the Sarasvati River, descends from heaven as a rain river.
Janai Purnima frog-feeding. Photo: Nepali Times Archives, used with permission.
This is also the day when the Vedic academic session of the rainy season begins and disciples are invested with the sacred thread, upavīta, and thus become blessed with their second or spiritual birth and are qualified to learn the Vedas by heart.
On this day, all over South Asia, Brahmins, even now, ritually change their upavīta. On exactly the same day, the Newars of the Kathmandu Valley worship frogs.
Therefore, in Ramayana, the Sanskrit epic from ancient India, the following month, Proṣṭhapada, or Bhādrapada, was understood to be the first month of the rainy season.
Although I was familiar with all these traditional concepts when I wrote about the frog hymns, I was not sure about the origin of this system of reckoning time. It was only a few years ago that I became familiar with the Vedic ritual called vṛṣotsarga (release of bulls) a practical annual ritual related to the autumnal impregnation of cows with the expectation of the calves being born at the beginning of the monsoons when plenty of green vegetation becomes available for the mother cows and calves.
Mha Puja in Nepal. Photo: Nepali Times Archives, used with permission.
This finding made it very clear to me that autumnal cow worship and the Newar custom of celebrating the New Year as the day of foetus worship and the monsoonal procession of calves are directly related to the Vedic custom of autumnal conception and monsoonal birth.
The Newar ritual of feeding frogs is immediately followed by the festive procession of the cow, which was actually the expected day for the monsoonal birth of the calves. Newar children participate in the cow procession by turning themselves into calves, wearing headgear decorated with the faces of cows.
Recently, however, I noticed that in the procession some children dress as baby Krishnas, as distinguished by the flutes they hold and the hairdos adorned with peacock feathers. The procession of the cows has gone through multiple changes over the centuries, but we have good reason to believe that the participation of the baby Krishnas in the procession is related to the original concept.
Gai Jatra in Nepal. Photo: Nepali Times Archive, used with permission.
The eighth day of Krishna, or Kṛṣṇāṣṭamī, which is believed to be the birthday of Krishna, takes place exactly eight days after Śrāvaṇī, seven days after the monsoonal cow festival. This is because, in ancient South Asia, the birth of a baby was not celebrated on the exact day of the birth, but only when the chief dangers for a child and mother were past.
Thus, in Vedic literature cloud and rain symbolism of the drum also began to appear, alongside the solar cult. For instance, Jaiminīya Brāhmaṇa relates that the sound of the atmospheric drum causing the aerial waterspouts to overflow.
Vāsudeva’s epithet, Ānakadundubhi, may suggest that Vāsudeva received this name because originally, he was a divinity of the thunder cloud. His real name, Vāsudeva, the god of vasu, “agrarian prosperity,” resembles Vasudhārā, worshipped by Buddhists as the goddess of the rice paddy. The Vedic version of Vasudhārā is vasor dhārā, symbolically identified with a cow. Her milk is rain flowing from her udders as clouds.
Krishna Janmastami in Nepal. Photo: Nepali Times Archives, used with permission.
Agrarian wealth is also associated with frogs. According to the Rigvedic frog hymn 7.103.10, the greenish-yellow frogs which croak at the beginning of the monsoon are the givers of vasu. Thus, the celebration of the birthday of Krishna (the son of the thundercloud at the very beginning of monsoonal rains) clearly indicates that baby Krishna was a rain child.
In accordance with my recent investigation, the eighth day of the dark half of the month of Bhādra, which is considered the birthday of Krishna, was actually the Vedic Ekāṣṭakā, the eighth day after the full moon.
This is the reason that on the day of the cow procession of the Kathmandu Valley, baby Krishna participates in the festival together with real calves and children representing the calves. Baby Krishna was, indeed, an auspicious rain-child representing all newly born offspring of the year.

author: Nepali Times


text:
Trinidad and Tobago loses three musical treasures at the start of 2022 · Global Voices
Janine Mendes-Franco

Photo of Clifton Ryan (The Mighty Bomber) and Kenwrick Joseph (Kenny J), by Mark Lyndersay at lyndersaydigital.com, used with permission. Photo of Clive “Zanda” Alexander by Joseph Yearwood, used with permission.
The new year has barely begun, yet—with the deaths of veteran calypsonian The Mighty Bomber, soca parang performer Kenny J, and pianist Clive “Zanda” Alexander—Trinbagonian cultural enthusiasts have already seen the end of three proficient musical careers.
Clifton Ryan, who was much better known by the shortened form of his calypso moniker, Bomber, passed away at the age of 93 on New Year's Day. He was, according to the Trinbago Unified Calypsonians’ Organisation, the oldest living calypsonian, and was ranked among the Top 50 calypsonians of the 20th century.
Bomber began singing calypso at an early age in Grenada, where he was born (his mother was Grenadian) winning a national competition there when he was just 12 years old. At 28, he migrated to Trinidad and Tobago, where his father was from, and had his first hit, “Gloria,” two years later. He soon became the protégé of The Mighty Spoiler, learning the craft of calypso from one of the best.
By 1960, he became part of The Mighty Sparrow‘s Young Brigade calypso tent, a performance venue that featured the most popular calypsonians and their annual Carnival season offerings. It was a move that catapulted him into the spotlight and allowed his work to be heard and appreciated by much larger audiences, who were entertained by his skilful use of humour in his songs.
In 1964, Bomber won Trinidad and Tobago's coveted Calypso Monarch title with the songs “Joan and James” and “Bomber’s Dream,” which hinted at his conviction that he might have had more of an impact in the calypso arena had he been born in Trinidad and Tobago. Nevertheless, he defeated Sparrow in that 1964 competition, which was quite a feat. At different points in his career, he also performed at Lord Kitchener's Revue, another well-patronised tent headed by calypso royalty.
Even though he retired from the world of calypso in 2007, Bomber remained respected by his peers as a master of the art form. In 2021, fellow calypsonian Hollis Liverpool (The Mighty Chalkdust) praised his mentorship of younger artists.
You can check out The Mighty Bomber's discography, here.
On January 2, Kenwrick Joseph, more popularly called by his stage name, Kenny J, died of complications from COVID-19. He was 69 years old.
A calypsonian himself, he found his niche in the soca parang genre, which melds soca music (a hybrid known as the soul of calypso) with parang, a Latin-influenced music genre traditionally sung during the Christmas season in Trinidad and Tobago.
A former police superintendent, Joseph won the National Police Service Calypso Monarch title in 1987, and this prompted him to venture out into more mainstream competitions such as the National Calypso Monarch, for which he qualified on four occasions, winning the crown in 1990 with the tunes “Addicted To Sweet Soca” and “Leave She Alone”.
Three years later, his first soca parang offering, “The Paint Brush”—a clever double entendre that parallels the Caribbean custom of giving houses a fresh coat of paint at Christmas time with “brushing”, a slang term for having sex—became an instant seasonal classic.
Prior to his death, he had been a national spokesperson encouraging citizens to get vaccinated against COVID-19. Though fully vaccinated himself, as at the time of publication, only 48 per cent of Trinidad and Tobago's population has been fully vaccinated.
A musical autodidact, Clive Alexander—known by his nickname “Zanda”—was one of the pioneers of a unique type of extemporaneous, calypso-infused jazz music dubbed kaiso jazz, a perfect blend of local cultural expression rooted in wider musical traditions.
Born in south Trinidad in 1939, he began his musical experimentation at the age of 10, with drums that he built out of cardboard on which he would create calypso rhythms while scatting—improvisational singing that is common in jazz—over them. At 15, after he started classical lessons, his instrument of choice became the piano. A natural-born artist, he soon started to incorporate what he was learning into his own compositions, and his teacher left him to freestyle at will. His passion for building also remained with him, as he qualified as a registered architect after studying in England.
During his time in the U.K., Zanda immersed himself in jazz music and took lessons to improve his skills, thereafter forming his own musical group—The Dez Alex Combo—where he played calypso/jazz fusion. The band often performed at London's famous Pigalle Club, doing curtain calls for artists like Shirley Bassey and Sammy Davis Jr.
Once he returned home, Alexander formed the Zanda Gayap Extempo/Kaiso Jazz Workshop in order to delve more deeply into the innovative musical fusion he was so passionate about—to create, research and archive it. In an interview with journalist Peter Ray Blood, he explained, “I have been documenting my Kaiso Jazz compositions for the purpose of leaving behind a legacy for my children and the community at large. When I pass on I hope to also control the music from my grave. The classical composers did this and that is why they are still alive through their music.”
Zanda was a beloved staple at regional jazz festivals and was a valued mentor to many younger musicians.


text:
Disputed reality: ‘Bombtrack’ and Peru’s internal armed conflict · Global Voices
Zoila Antonio

Rage against the machine. Flickr (CC BY 2.0)
This article is part of our special coverage of controversial and banned music around the world.
In the 1990s, the song “Bombtrack” by Rage Against the Machine was being played on global networks such as MTV and was gaining popularity among English-speaking rock fans. Like most of Rage Against the Machine's material, the song's lyrics are about social protest, with a music video supporting the Peruvian Maoist revolutionary organization Shining Path (Sendero Luminoso in Spanish) and its leader Abimael Guzmán. However, many Peruvians question the story the U.S. band wanted to tell about the armed conflict in Peru. Polls show that today most citizens consider the organization to be a terrorist group. The song remains controversial.
The video clip for “Bombtrack” (1993), featured on Rage Against the Machine‘s first album, shows the band members inside a cage similar to the one that was used during the public appearances of Guzmán, leader of the Shining Path organization, declared a terrorist organization by the Peruvian government, the United States, Japan, Canada, and the European Union. As the video plays, words and images appear to tell the story of what, according to the band, was the confrontation between the “bad guys and the good guys:” the Peruvian government and the terrorist movements. Only four years had passed since the end of the Cold War.
In the 1960s, Latin America was going through military dictatorships and the rise of guerrilla insurgencies. Peru was no exception. In the 1980s, the country suffered political instability, inequality, and a severe economic crisis. In those years, a war broke out between the State and a guerrilla group led by the Shining Path, based on Marxist-Leninist-Maoist principles enforced with violence. “Guzman believed communism required the waging of a ‘popular war’ and criticized members of the [Communist Party of Peru – Shining Path (PCP-SL)] who merely wanted to organize the workers,” Insight Crime writes.
Rage Against the Machine is an alternative metal band from California, United States. The group is known for its political messages of leftist political ideology. It is led by Zack de la Rocha, an activist and poet of Mexican descent, and guitarist Tom Morello, considered one of the 100 best guitarists in history, according to Rolling Stone magazine. Morello still plays during performances on a Fender Telecaster with a sticker with the words “Sendero Luminoso” on it.
They romanticized the actions classified as terrorist in Peru, as well as the personality cult of Guzman, leader of the Shining Path, who died in September 2021. Guzman was captured and sentenced on terrorism charges in 1992.
However, many Peruvians do not share the view that the group spread. During the Internal Armed Conflict, the Shining Path committed attacks and assassinations that generated instability and anxiety in the country, causing the death of 30,000 people. According to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, of the 46 percent of the total deaths of the conflict, 30 percent are attributed to agents of the Peruvian State, and 24 percent were caused by other agents or circumstances.
Néstor Ríos Peralta writes in the specialized magazine El Club del Rock:
Sendero Luminoso is not a terrorist group because they rose up against the “Yankee capitalist system”, but because they were the protagonists of the darkest history of a country where people woke up every day afraid of not returning home.
Their actions began in 1980 in Ayacucho, in south-central Peru. Despite the human rights violations against vulnerable populations, the centralized government did not show much concern. However, this changed a short time later when Guzmán, who was also called “Presidente Gonzalo,” and his followers arrived in Lima. There, they assassinated military and police chiefs, congressmen, political and popular leaders, as well as mayors, and they exploded car bombs in the main streets of the capital, leaving wounded and dead in their wake. For all these reasons, Guzman is remembered as a perpetrator of genocide and a terrorist by 80 percent of Peruvians, according to one of the country's main pollsters.
A user named Jose Antonio Saldivar Carrasco wrote a comment under the official Rage Against the Machine video on YouTube:
I am a fan of Rage against the machine, since I first knew them…. But I don't share this idea… Sendero luminoso killed too many innocent people in a horrible way… My uncle lost his 8 brothers and sisters and [they killed] a lady, all tied up in a square, my uncle was saved because he was a child and only worked in the municipality carrying letters…
The Shining Path is still active to this day, as it has created an alliance with drug traffickers in central Peru (VRAEM), but it is on the decline. On May 23, 2021, 16 people were allegedly killed by the Shining Path before the second round of the presidential elections scheduled for June 6.

author: Zoila Antonio


text:
Jordan’s sole refuge for people with disabilities risk closure as COVID-19 dries up donations · Global Voices
Tina

Al Hussein Society has for decades been the sole institution caring for children with disabilities in Jordan, and is now risking closure. Image provided by Al Hussein Society.
Situated within a residential cul-de-sac in west Amman, Jordan, a sloping path leads to the colourful sliding doors of the Al Hussein Society. For more than forty years, the Society has been dedicated to serving individuals with disabilities across the Kingdom. Today, it faces the threat of closure due to the economic challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic.
“Al Hussein Society for Child Welfare” was founded in 1971 by Her Royal Highness (HRH) Princess Majda Raad to provide services for, and empower, Jordan’s orphaned children. When a well-renowned centre catering to children with physical disabilities closed down, desperate beneficiaries approached the Al Hussein Society for support. In 1978, HRH decided to redirect the Society’s mandate to serve children with physical disabilities and expanded it to include a small primary school and a modest physiotherapy department.
The Society was soon overcrowded, and HRH noticed a great need for a larger and more professional rehabilitation centre.
Over the years, the Al Hussein Society transformed from focusing exclusively on child welfare to ministering all individuals with differing disabilities regardless of age, gender, or nationality. It became the only organisation in Jordan to assist beneficiaries without requiring any form of personal documentation. It was built by the public, for the public.
According to literature, disability prevalence in Jordan as of 2018 is estimated to be between 11 and 15 percent of the kingdom's population of over 10 million people. This means at least 1.1 million people rely on the support and services of the society.
The Society’s Executive Director Anni Mazagopian told GV:
Al Hussein’s history represents the history of the concept of disability in Jordan as a whole. It developed from a medical model into a social model.
Anni added to Global Voices: “We are not providing a complimentary service to individuals with disabilities. Our services are fundamental to facilitate their inclusion within their communities. It is our duty and their basic human right.”
The Al Hussein Society provides comprehensive rehabilitation services for persons with disabilities and their caregivers, at both an institutional and field level – reaching people who cannot reach them. It is a national resource centre for mobility aids and environmental adaptation, equipping beneficiaries with assistive devices and making their environment accessible.
Furthermore, inclusive education is at the heart of the institution, with a primary school built for differentiated learning and meeting the specific needs of each child. The Society also offers clinical training for university students in physiotherapy, occupational therapy, and inclusive education.
International support was soon garnered, and the Society formed partnerships with highly regarded international non-governmental organisations and private sector companies.
The modest physiotherapy department grew to include occupational therapy, psychosocial support, speech therapy, and hydrotherapy. Beneficiaries ranged from newborn babies to the elderly.
Demand for rehabilitation swelled as the Syrian crisis unfolded in 2011, with the prevalence of disability among refugees reaching more than 20% of the total population. The increased demand was soon followed by increased support, and the Society began offering partner organisations capacity building to help meet the growing needs.
By mid 2019, the Al Hussein Society was actively serving over 4,000 individuals across the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, through both its headquarters in Amman and its roving mobile clinics.
The 2019 peak for the Al Hussein Society fell with the arrival of the COVID-19 pandemic. Travel restrictions, numerous lockdowns, and the redirection of major donor funding, meant that the Society was facing its most challenging financial year yet.
In an interviewwith Jordan News, Jordan’s Minister of Social Development, Ayman Mufleh, stated that the “economic uncertainty caused by the pandemic caused many donors to reduce or even stop their support, which consequently affected the work and support the local charitable organizations do.”
“The Society’s survival heavily relies on development and income-generating projects. COVID-19 forced our donors to redirect their funding towards humanitarian relief efforts and all of our programmes came to a staggering halt,” says Ms. Mazagopian. “Over 100 employees’ livelihoods were threatened and we were unable to reach our beneficiaries, particularly in hard-to-reach areas where the need is greatest.”
An award winning organisation – the leading expert in the field of disability and rehabilitation in Jordan – was left unsupported.
The Al Hussein Society is still recovering from the economic fallout of the pandemic.
“If urgent support is not offered to the Society in order to sustain its programmes, then it is at an extreme risk of closing down. The closure of this national institution would mean the termination of the only available model in Jordan that provides comprehensive and integrated rehabilitation services, which work towards attaining and maintaining the independence of persons with disabilities,” says Ms. Mazagopian.
The threat of closure looms ever closer, and thousands of beneficiaries stand to lose access to critical services, including specialised education and rehabilitation. Not only that, but organisations and partners working in the rehabilitation sector will also miss the opportunity of gaining half a century’s worth of knowledge and skills, which are on par with internationally recognised standards.
“Closing down the Society will heavily affect students academically,” said a parent of a child who benefits from Al Hussein Society’s education and rehabilitation services. “We cannot find better services for our children elsewhere, from both an education and rehabilitation standpoint…the teaching methods used at Al Hussein Society cater to and develop my son’s abilities,” said the parent.
A third grade student at Al Hussein Society told GV: “If the [Al Hussein Society’s] school closes, I won't be able to study or do anything. I love the school so much and if the school closes, I'll be so upset. They love and respect me so much. Please, don’t close my school.”
Overcoming this financial crisis, however, is still within reach, Ms Mazagopian said, but it demands the combined efforts of all the Society’s stakeholders and members of the wider Jordanian community.

author: Tina


text:
‘The king is passing’: Narrie Approo, Trinidad & Tobago’s oldest Black Indian masquerader, dies at 94 · Global Voices
Janine Mendes-Franco

Okenaga—Black Indian culture bearer Narrie Approo at Victoria Square, Port of Spain, Trinidad, in 2009, taken by Abigail Hadeed as part of her outdoor backdrop project, through which she documented masmakers like Approo and the costumes they made. Used with permission.
To put on face paint and a costume in the context of Trinidad and Tobago Carnival—especially within the realm held by the characters of traditional mas—is to be transformed, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually. It was a routine metamorphosis for Narrie Approo, the country's oldest “Black Indian” masquerader, who passed away at the age of 94 on the evening of January 6, leaving behind a legacy of creation and performance that is hard to match:
Narrie Approo… The oldest Black Indian mas player at 91.#traditionalmas #narrieapproo #trinidadandtobago #carnival2018 #intricate #localtalent #passdownthetraditions #keepthetraditionalive #youthpower #respect #photojournal #capturinglife #whatisee #… https://t.co/RXTEzSmJn5 pic.twitter.com/CnXiAvZmlb
— howsiett (@howsiett) February 8, 2018
Portrait of Narrie Approo by Abigail Hadeed, used with permission.
Black Indian mas, which celebrates the many ways in which Indigenous people and Africans banded together throughout the horrors of colonisation, dates back to the 19th century. Through his annual portrayal of this tradition, Approo and his troupe, “Warriors of the Black Tribe”, did yeoman's service in preserving this unique aspect of Trinidad and Tobago's cultural heritage. As a consummate “masman,” he was also skilled at the craft of Carnival creation, making intricately beautiful costumes and papier-mâché masks, some of which are displayed at the Toco Folk Museum on Trinidad's east coast.
Writing for Caribbean Beat magazine, academic Dylan Kerrigan noted that Black Indian mas, “the fiercest of the traditional Indian masquerades,” may well have had roots outside Trinidad and Tobago, with Approo himself suggesting links with runaway slaves in the United States who were taken in by Native American communities in the early 1800s—a “cultural intermingling” that came to fruition in New Orleans’ famous Mardi Gras.
Okenaga—Narrie Approo portraying Black Indian in the band ‘The Warriors of Huracán,’ led by Patrick Anderson. This was Approo's last performance at Port of Spain's Queen's Park Savannah, in 2018. Photo by Abigail Hadeed, used with permission.
To be an authentic Black Indian, though, was not a matter of external trappings. An integral part of Black Indian masquerade is its own language, sounds and songs, evolving from Indigenous and African languages, the languages of the Spanish, French and English colonisers, and even Hindi, post-emancipation, when plantation owners introduced East Indian indentureship to fill the labour gap. Approo once said this aspect of the mas required commitment and practice: “We always went to the yard to rehearse our performance before we hit the road, and we chanted a prayer in black Indian language asking for strength.”
In photographer Maria Nunes’ book “A World of Their Own,” which is an ode to traditional mas, fellow Black Indian masquerader Darlington “Boysie” Henry said, “Narrie Approo was the Flying Agitan…he's a high grandmaster of language!”
Another key aspect of the mas is its hierarchical structure, with the Okenaga (king of the band) and Malerao (queen) in the leadership positions. Then, almost in military fashion—as documented by Nunes—are the Flying Agitan, Wagadaraja, Jeppetok and Jeepnafagna, with the Jeeps being the lowest ranking warriors.
Okenaga—Narrie Approo (front) trailed by another member of the Black Indian band ‘Warriors of Huracán,’ on stage at the Queen's Park Savannah, Port of Spain, Trinidad, 2018. Photo by Abigail Hadeed, used with permission.
Photographer Abigail Hadeed, who has been documenting Black Indians for decades, is most captivated by the fact that the portrayals have a deep spiritual link with the once-banned Orisha faith as masqueraders “dance and chant through the streets […] rituals of a spiritual nature, wearing mostly black costumes handmade from local corbeau feathers, river beads, chip-chip or snail shells, and cow horns.” Though marginalised, she says, by the ever-increasing commercialism of the national festival, practitioners like Approo routinely “reclaim with apt ceremony what was denied during slavery and post-emancipation: the freedom of the individual, and of a people, to choose and celebrate their own spirituality, and to express themselves culturally.”
Okenaga—Narrie Approo, Victoria Square, Port of Spain, Trinidad, 2009, as he embodies the invaluable connection between a tradition that is as old as the society itself and an unknown future. Photo by Abigail Hadeed, used with permission.
Born in San Fernando, in south Trinidad, on April 22, 1927, Approo moved with his family to the capital, Port of Spain, when he was five years old. Living in John John, in an area of Laventille known as “behind the bridge”—a community rich in the creativity of all things Carnival, including the steelpan—Approo first participated in Carnival in 1934, playing his first Black Indian mas at the age of 11.
Inundating himself in every aspect of the festival, he also played tenor pan with a steelband called “Cross of Lorraine” (now known as “All Stars”). Back in those early days of the instrument finding its footing, the steelband movement garnered a reputation for being explosive, and violent clashes between different pan sides were not unusual. Approo experienced one of these scuffles when Cross of Lorraine got caught in the crosshairs of a fight between two other pan sides—”Invaders” and “Tokyo”—on Carnival Monday, 1946. But Black Indian mas was where his heart was, and Approo described it as “fighting mas,” which began with battles of language and skill and occasionally transmuted, just as the steelband wars did, into physical altercations.
Narrie Approo behind one of his exquisite papier mache masks. Photo by Abigail Hadeed, used with permission.
Approo realised the importance of preserving his life's work in order for such Carnival traditions to be handed down. On February 12, 2021, he donated his extensive Carnival collection to the Alma Jordan Library at The University of the West Indies’ St. Augustine campus in Trinidad and Tobago. Kathryn Chan, who curated the collection, said on Facebook:
What a relief that Narrie Approo's work will be in a safe location and preserved (away from the threats of mildew, floods, fire etc). I now see that this is just the beginning. It was a very small and short gathering to honour Narrie, to take him to see The Alma Jordan library where his works will live on […] After Covid times, the universe willing, maybe I can take him back to see the actual collection. […]
This collection is only possible because Narrie was the chief archivist. He would have photographs taken every year, hunt down and collect any of him and his fellow mas players and place them in chronological order in multiple albums that date back to the 1960's. He saved articles and movie posters that he studied to make his own costumes. It is truly due to his own meticulousness that all of this has survived.
Okenaga—Narrie Approo, Queens Park Savannah, Port of Spain, Trinidad, 2018. The photo, by Abigail Hadeed, shows Narrie in costume (second from right), prior to performing on the Queen’s Park Savannah stage, the largest competition venue in Trinidad and Tobago Carnival. Approo came out of retirement to celebrate his friend, fellow Black Indian and the Flying Agitan, Dalington ‘Boysie’ Henry, who had recently passed away. Used with permission.
In 2018, Approo received the Hummingbird Medal, a national award, for his significant contribution to Carnival culture. It was also the year he would make his last public appearance as a Black Indian, coming out to pay tribute to his friend “Boysie” Henry who had recently died.
Upon learning of Approo's death, Maria Nunes shared some of her photographs on Facebook, saying:
Narrie Approo – Masman Extraordinaire. Gone to the Ancestors now. […]
‘Okenaga highway daseena
Okenaga highway daseena
Sa ta na, sa ta na highway daseena’
Black Indian chant which translates as – the King is passing. This chant is sung while Black Indians are going down the road during Carnival.
Narrie Approo after crossing the stage with ‘The Warriors of Huracán’ on Carnival Monday, 2018. The former Okenaga, who was initiated into Black Indian mas at 11, was the oldest living Black Indian. Photo of him through his headdress as he waited to be driven home, is by Abigail Hadeed, used with permission.
Rapso performer Wendell Manwarren summed up Approo's passing this way:
End of an era. […] Thank you for the example and your profound wisdom. 🙏🏽 You once said to me, quite simply and with much certainty in response to my question what is Mas? ‘Mas is Dance + Fight’.💥
Every molecule in my being reverberated and I was humbled and grateful and honored to be in your presence and felt empowered and blessed by your generosity of spirit and inherent humility and profound wisdom. Walk Good Masman 🖤🔥✊🏾


text:
Bahamian-American actor Sidney Poitier, whose representation of Black people in film helped change racist perceptions, dies at 94 · Global Voices
Janine Mendes-Franco

Sidney Poitier at the 38th Charlie Chaplin Award gala, held at the Alice Tully Hall at the Lincoln Center in New York City on May 2, 2011. Photo by Tamara Dunn on Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Hollywood royalty and elder statesman of the silver screen, Bahamian-American actor Sidney Poitier, whose trailblazing work in the 1950s and '60s helped break colour barriers, shifting the lens through which Black people were perceived and paving the way for other Black actors to make their mark, died on January 7 at the age of 94.
BREAKING: Beloved Bahamian actor and former ambassador Sir Sidney Poitier has died. He was 94. A Broadway play about the trailblazing career of the visionary actor was announced last month. Sir Sidney's death was confirmed by Minister of Foreign Affairs Fred Mitchell. pic.twitter.com/WVJFlog3tC
— Eyewitness News Bahamas (@ewnewsbahamas) January 7, 2022
On learning of Poitier's passing, Prime Minister of The Bahamas Philip Davis addressed the nation, saying, “Even as we mourn, we celebrate the life of a great Bahamian, a cultural icon, an actor and film director, an entrepreneur, human and civil rights activist, and latterly, a diplomat.”
Poitier was all those things and more, but Davis also praised who the man was at his core—”his strength of character, his willingness to stand up and be counted, and the way he plotted and navigated his life's journey.”
The youngest of seven children, Poitier was born prematurely in Miami on February 20, 1927, to Bahamian parents–farmers who traveled regularly to the States to sell their produce. Though an American citizen, he grew up in the Bahamas, only moving to the United States when he was 15. After working as a dishwasher and thereafter at a veteran's hospital in New York during World War II as part of the U.S. Army, Poitier eventually joined the Harlem-based American Negro Theater and found his calling.
Sidney Poitier in “A Raisin in the Sun”, New York, 1959. Photo by Gordon Parks via bswise on Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
His first major film role was “No Way Out” (1950), in which he played a doctor attending to two white racist patients; one dies, prompting a race riot. The film was banned in the southern United States. Poitier followed this up with the breakthrough role of a high school student in the 1955 film “Blackboard Jungle” (1955). He also won critical acclaim for his work in “Porgy and Bess” (1959), and “A Raisin in the Sun” (1961).
Poitier was pushing through in such roles during the turbulent civil rights movement in the United States. In 1958, Poitier and Tony Curtis played escaped convicts in “The Defiant Ones”, which earned them both Best Actor Oscar nominations (in Poitier's case, the first for a Black male actor). He didn't win, but the nomination alone was groundbreaking, and the excellence of his performance was acknowledged by the British Academy Film Awards when he won the BAFTA for Best Foreign Actor that year.
His recognition across the pond made him a natural choice for his role in the British film “Cry, the Beloved Country”. Shot in South Africa during apartheid, Poitier became even more resolute in his activism, using his fame to press for the equal treatment of Black people, even calling out the press for its unidimensional portrayal of him—and by extension other African-Americans—as simply Black.
“I'm a relatively intelligent man,” he told them. “There are many aspects to my personality that you can explore, I think, very constructively—but you sit here and ask me […] questions that fall continually within the Negroness of my life. You ask me questions that pertain to the narrow scope of the summer riots [of 1967]. I am artist, man, American, contemporary…I am an awful lot of things, so I wish you would pay me the respect due.” The rebuff was in keeping with the dedication with which, throughout the course of his long career, he strove to bring life, dimension and humanity to the characters he portrayed. Prior to Poitier's time, the representation of Black characters in Hollywood films was problematic, being primarily portrayed as either servants or criminals.
In 1963, Poitier starred in “Lilies of the Field”, for which he won the 1964 Academy Award, the first Oscar ever presented to a Black actor in a leading role. By 1967, towards the end of the U.S. civil rights movement, he did three pivotal films—“To Sir, with Love”, “Guess Who's Coming to Dinner”, and “In the Heat of the Night”, that examnined the issue of race and the prejudices Black Americans were faced with on a daily basis.
Having been voted the top box office star of 1968, by the 1970s Poitier spread his creative wings and ventured into directing. The accolades, both in the world of the arts and beyond, kept coming and would continue throughout the course of Poitier's life. He was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II in 1974, and in 1982, received the prestigious Cecil B. DeMille Award, which recognises outstanding contributions to the world of entertainment.
In 1997, The Bahamas appointed Poitier as its ambassador to Japan, a position he held for a decade, concurrently acting as the country's ambassador to UNESCO. In 2000, he received the Screen Actors Guild Life Achievement Award, and in 2002, an Academy Honorary Award, to be followed in 2016 by a BAFTA Fellowship celebrating his lifetime achievement in film.
Sidney Poitier hugs then president of the United States Barack Obama, after receving the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Photo by Embajada de Estados Unidos en Bolivia on Flickr, CC BY-ND 2.0.
In 2009, under the Obama administration, he was presented with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the United States’ highest civilian honour.
Upon his death, Poitier's family put out a statement, paying him tribute as “not only a brilliant actor, activist, and a man of incredible grace and moral fortitude, [but] also a devoted and loving husband, a supportive and adoring father, and a man who always put family first.” The statement continued, “He is our guiding light who lit up our lives with infinite love and wonder. His smile was healing, his hugs the warmest refuge, and his laughter was infectious.”
Poitier's impact naturally extended to the Caribbean region, where he spent his formative years. Trinidadian D Gerome Boucaud, who works in the regional film industry, said on Facebook:
I can’t remember at what age I saw ‘To Sir with Love’. But I do remember it being the first time I became aware of what racism was and how weird it felt to watch it so openly displayed on television. I might have been 7 or 8. I also remember the impact this man had on me which I can’t adequately describe or quantify. […] I’ve avidly followed his career since then and my early worldview was patterned around the example he set for what it meant to be a strong proud black man. Mr. Tibbs was my first on screen hero […] This gentleman knew how to walk tall and I loved and respected him as an actor and a person. Rest well Sir Sidney Poitier. Thank you for everything you represented to a young boy from the Caribbean and many many others around the world.
Other regional social media users also paid their respects:
RIP Sidney Poitier, Bahamian-American actor, film director + activist. 🇧🇸🖤 pic.twitter.com/eBA7wzDLFQ
— Tenille. (@tenilleclarke1) January 7, 2022
Trinidad-born, UK-based activist Jason Jones said:
There can be no doubt about the ENORMOUSLY powerful & positive impact of Sidney Poitier on the Global image of Blackness. He not only broke the glass ceiling for Black actors, but he used his success to promote Black empowerment, civil rights, and was a shining inspiration for Black people everywhere (of special note is the impact he had on the great Nelson Mandela). Mr Poitier was a titan in a World that still treats Black people with discrimination. Rest in Peace Sir. You are truly a hero beyond measure. ✊🏽🙏🏾🕊❤
From Jamaica, Wayne Chen added:
Sidney Poitier […] was a big deal; an integral part of our growing up. His films were big events in Jamaica and he was a powerful role model; new and different; a smart, confident, accomplished, proud Black man, where few had starred before. Lest we forget.
On Facebook, Bahamian filmmaker Maria Govan posted a photo of herself with Poitier, saying:
Thank you Sir Sidney. You were so incredibly generous and supportive! Called me cold while I was walking in Brooklyn to talk about “Rain,” and gave me so much encouragement on that call. I'm so grateful!
Journey on Sir! May it be wondrous, your next chapter!
The Third Horizon Film Festival, which screens and distributes films from the Caribbean and its diaspora, paid its respects via Facebook:
Rest in peace to legendary Bahamian-American actor Sidney Poitier […] Born right here in Miami, and raised a stone's throw across the ocean in Nassau, his family believed they descended from Haitian maroons who escaped to the Bahamas, thus explaining their French surname. So much is made of him being the first Black male actor to win the Oscar for Best Actor in 1963, a historic moment to be sure, but his legacy is so much greater, striding through the pressure cooker that was America in the 1960s to devote himself to civil rights activism and advocacy for his fellow Black actors while blazing his own path across the screen. He will be missed.