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Is the #ThisFlag Online Campaign Reshaping Political Activism in Zimbabwe? · Global Voices
Ndesanjo Macha

A screenshot of a YouTube video of Zimbabwean pastor Evan Mawarire launching his online movement #ThisFlag.
Frustrated by poverty and corruption under the leadership of the longest serving African president, pastor Evan Mawarire is leading an online campaign against 92-year-old Zimbabwean leader Robert Mugabe and his ruling ZANU-PF party using the hashtag #ThisFlag.
The hashtag, launched on April 19, a day after Zimbabwe's Independence Day, has become one of the key organising hashtags for internet-based activism against Mugabe's regime.
On that day, Mawarire, wrapped in a Zimbabwean flag, posted a video on YouTube and Facebook, asking:
This flag, this beautiful flag, they tell me that the green is for the vegetation and the crops. I don't see any crops in my country. The yellow is for all the minerals… I don't know how much is left. I don't know who they sold it to and how much they got for it. They tell me that the black is for the majority people like me and yet for some reason I don't feel like I am a part of it.
Since then he and other Zimbabweans at home and abroad have been posting videos and photos of themselves with the Zimbabwean flag online calling for change.
The authorities have dismissed the campaign, with controversial Higher Education minister Professor Jonathan Moyo saying that the pastor is funded by the US goverment.
He went on to launch the #OurFlag hashtag to counter #ThisFlag narrative:
It's #OurFlag, the #People‘sFlag, vs #ThisFlag campaign founded & funded by the #US & #EU Ambassadors. Handei tione! pic.twitter.com/iDntQmYE35
— Prof Jonathan Moyo (@ProfJNMoyo) May 14, 2016
Zimbabwe's economy is in a very poor state. It is estimated that unemployment in the country may be as high as 80 or 90 percent.
There is a severe cash crisis in the country where people have to queue for days to withdraw money from the banks. The government has decided to print its own version of the US dollar to lessen the crisis.
Zimbabwe has been using the US dollar since 2009 after its own currency became worthless.
The use of #ThisFlag to initiate a new citizen-based politics and discourse in the country has created a new non-partisan dimension to opposition to Mugabe's rule, Talent Chademana noted:
The wearing of the flag is very symbolic on many levels; firstly – it brings back the question of national interest as a project of all Zimbabwe instead of a clique of ruling elites. By wearing the flag Zimbabweans are reaffirming their commitment to the country and also the benefits of nationhood. Secondly, all the other parties including ZANU (PF) have their different party emblems and regalia but #thisflag has appropriated the symbol of the nation thus making it a more legitimate force than the political parties. In other words #thisflag equates to Zimbabwe and not a political party – so it’s a struggle for the nation by all. This partly explains even why the speaker of parliament was struggling with #thisflag. Thirdly and related to the above when #thisflag challenges political elites to perform as according to the electoral promise that they made it is not because of a potential contest for power which can be used to delegitimize these demands but rather it is saying [they] are failing Zimbabwe.
Chademana further explained why #ThisFlag movement has changed politics in Zimbabwe:
These are indeed strange times. They could be the worst of times or the best of times depending on your perspective. Our politics, for too long dominated by the public bickering, trading of insults and accusations amongst ZANU (PF) elites is slowly changing due to the entry of other unusual actors – #thisflag. Whilst previously it was easy to dismiss voices of discontent using the foreign sponsorship tag – this time those responsible for mudslinging will have to dig deeper. The new narrative is unusual and it starts off with the acknowledgement that there is a government in place but it has failed to deliver on its electoral promise. The accusation is not coming from an opposition party but from ordinary citizens who keep on making the refrain that they are not interested in entering into politics. They are not foreign sponsored NGOs as well. How do you delegitimize those demands – especially when the economic decline is very apparent to see? The shortages are back, it always starts with cash and you know the rest of the story. We have had since 2015 more companies closing down than opening – unemployment is at its highest since 1980 and preparations for mitigating the effects of the drought are moving at a very small pace. Allegations of corruption amongst the political elite abound-the environment is ripe.
The movement also represents a peak in social media mobilization in the country, said Mfundo Mlilo, Urban and Regional Planning Scholar at the London School of Economics:
Fueled by and exploiting spaces in social media and mobilizing a younger generation hitherto on the periphery of public participation, the campaign has attracted a great deal of attention. Predictably, some in government have shown their discomfort with the campaign, while others are already asking questions and expressing doubts abou the the campaign's endgame. I argue that this is a significant development, the likes of which has not been seen before in Zimbabwe. Thos who are doubting or questiong it are most probably informed by fear of the unfamiliar and unconventional, it is not the campaign they are used to or expect. It does not fit the template; hence, they are unsure.
The campaign, Mlilo argued, is challenging the “them” and “us” mentality in Zimbawe's politics:
There is also a related binary complex of “them” and “us” that has characterized our politics for a long time – that if you are not with us, therefore you must be with them and vice versa. The in-between does not exist. There is non-one outside them and us category – but this is a fatally flawed way of thing, which #ThisFlag campaign is seriously challenging. It is telling politicians and their supporters alike that there is a huge layer in between, and beyond, that does not belong to those categories or solely to those categories.
While some Zimbabweans are skeptical of any political change resulting from an internet-based campaign, Natasha, a Zimbabwean blogger and communication strategist, says the campaign has already justified itself, whatever it achieves:
If the #ThisFlag campaign ends as just being an anger-venting space, so be it. That is valid too.


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Oops! Facebook’s Flag Error Unintentionally Puts the Philippines in a ‘State of War’ · Global Voices
Mong Palatino

Facebook joined Filipinos in celebrating the Philippine Independence Day. However, it unintentionally inverted the country's flag.
June 12 is Independence Day in the Philippines. The Philippines declared independence from Spain on June 12, 1898 after more than 300 years of colonial rule.
In honor of this special day, Facebook greeted Filipinos by displaying the Philippine flag. However, the flag was inverted which is only done when the country is at war.
Philippine Star newspaper quickly noticed the mistake:
LOOK: In honor of Philippine Independence Day, Facebook's home page greets Filipino netizens with a banner of the Philippine flag—except that it's displayed with the red part at the top and the blue at the bottom, signifying the country is in a state of war.
Filipino Facebook users are laughing over this mistake although majority are grateful Facebook remembered to send its Independence Day greetings.
However, there are also netizens who criticized Facebook for incorrectly displaying the Philippine flag.
Below are some reactions on Facebook and Twitter:
Facebook user Berniemack Arellano asks if the error is a movie marketing ploy:
Dear Facebook,
Has the President and the Congress declared war on some country? Ano to, marketing ng Independence Day: Resurgence?
Dear Facebook,
Has the President and the Congress declared war on some country? What is this, the marketing of Independence Day: Resurgence?
Facebook says we're at war. Happy Independence Day, Philippines. May we truly be free. #Kalayaan2016 o #Kasarinlan pic.twitter.com/SktzRNSJMj
— Camille Conde (@Cam_Conde) June 12, 2016
Dear @facebook: It's not a happy Independence Day if our flag is like this. Like seriously. pic.twitter.com/fo8U4ffdYu
— Ethel (@econcepcion) June 12, 2016
This is the correct way to display the Philippine flag. In the country’s history, the red banner was last displayed at the top during the Second World War in 1941 to 1945.
Philippine flag. Image from the official website of the Philippine government

source: news-globalvoices

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

author: Mong Palatino


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Indian Court Condemns Film Board for ‘Censoring’ Movie on Drug Abuse · Global Voices
Vishal Yashoda Manve

Remix from Screenshots – via the official trailer of UDTA Punjab
Update: June 14, 2016: The Mumbai High Court on Monday finally cleared Bollywood film Udta Punjab with one cut and one modification after a week-long row with the censor board. The judge C.S Dharmadikari told the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC): “Do not act like a grandmother. Change as per the times now. The CBFC need not be over-sensitive in the matter of art.”
The movie will be released on 17th June and a certificate will be issued by CBFC according to guidelines recommended by the High court.
This is a major victory for India's film industry which has long complained about censorship affecting freedom of speech and expression.
The original article begins below:
With numerous instances of censorship and bans targeting ‘freedom of expression’, Indian filmmakers are up in arms in an attempt to see Bollywood film ‘Udta Punjab‘ released without major cuts on June 17.
The movie featuring Indian actors Shahid Kapur, Kareena Kapoor Khan, Alia Bhatt and Diljit Dosanjh deals with the Indian state of Punjab‘s drug menace and is directed by director Abhishek Chaubey.
It ran into trouble with the Indian censor board which earlier sought 89 edits before a revision committee settled on 13 cuts.
Universal Declaration of Human Rights-freedom of expression is the rite of evry individual to hold opinions wthout interference #UdtaPunjab
— Rahul Dev Official (@RahulDevRising) June 10, 2016
The film's producers including Phantom films and Balaji telefilms have agreed in court on Friday to cut one scene but are adamant that no other deletions are possible.
The producer of the movie, Anurag Kashyap, lashed out on Twitter against this indiscriminate censoring and dragged the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) to court.
There is no film more honest than UDTA PUNJAB .. And any person or party opposing it is actually GUILTY of promoting drugs
— Anurag Kashyap (@anuragkashyap72) June 6, 2016
Bombay High Court bench led by justice Dharmadikari strongly rebuked CBFC chairperson Pahlaj Nihalani and said, “The word censor is not anywhere in the act. Your power is to certify films for public exhibition.”
Journalist Shilpa Rathnam live tweeted from the courtroom as the case was being heard on Friday:
Judge: Why can't you beep the expletives?
Udta Punjab lawyer: This is a realistic film. That's how people talk in these parts.
— Shilpa Rathnam (@shilparathnam) June 10, 2016
Judge: It comes down to only one question, does the film glorify drugs?
CBFC: Yes
Judge: Then why have you not banned the film?
— Shilpa Rathnam (@shilparathnam) June 10, 2016
Judge: CBFC should only certify, not censor. The public is the biggest censor. CBFC doesn't need to censor.
— Shilpa Rathnam (@shilparathnam) June 10, 2016
Pahlaj Nihalani, known for his close proximity to the right-wing government of Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi had earlier censored various movies for not being in line with Indian culture and sensibilities.
For example, the CBFC, in 2015, blocked the release of a toned-down version of “Fifty Shades of Grey”.
It also labelled two James Bond kissing scenes unsuitable for an Indian audience which led to huge criticism on social media.
Actually, Pahlaj Nihalani ought to have a really good kiss before deciding if its length subverts Indian culture!! https://t.co/z5VcISZq4c
— Ajai Shukla (@ajaishukla) November 27, 2015
The bench inspected all the cuts suggested by CBFC on an individual basis and suggested only one cut, which the filmmakers agreed to.
Previously, the cuts proscribed included close-up shots of drug consumption, usage of slang language and words such as party workers, Parliament etc.
The court cleared all of these from potential censorship and noted their centrality to the film's theme and subject.
Meanwhile, the state of Punjab goes to the polls in 2017 and numerous political parties in India feel that the ‘row’ was manufactured for the benefit of ruling right-wing parties to stifle voices highlighting the drug problem that has laid waste to an entire generation of youngsters.
Various filmmakers, artists and politicians have condemned the censorship board's move to block the movie's release and labelled it ‘against the creative freedom of an artist’.
#UdtaPunjab brings out d unfortunate condition suffered by films.But fortunately reveals that strangers can stand up n unite 4 justice.Proud
— Hrithik Roshan (@iHrithik) June 10, 2016
The final verdict on the plea challenging the cuts is on Monday.
Gabrielle Parussini writes in The Wall Street Journal:
The debate about the movie has certainly sparked a large wave of publicity: the trailer on YouTube had been watched by more than 12 million people.
Nitin Pai wrote on NDTV:
Indeed, the very fact that you can exert political pressure to prevent the screening of something you find objectionable has opened the floodgates of competitive intolerance. Getting a film censored is almost always an attempt to demonstrate political power, and anything can be mustered to claim hurt sentiments. To rescue our creative industries from the clutches of competitive intolerance, the aesthetic decisions must be depoliticised and professionalised.

author: Vishal Yashoda Manve


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Safe in Germany, a Syrian Refugee Learns to Smile Again · Global Voices
PRI/PRX's The World

Hassan Jamous
A lot has been written about refugees in the last two years. But rarely do we hear from the refugees themselves in more than just soundbites. GlobalPost, an international news organization within the PRI family, commissioned essays from five young Syrians who all made the difficult decision to leave their homes — and undertake a menacing journey out of the country, to Turkey, to Greece and across southern Europe.
This essay by Hassan Jamous, 24, was originally published on PRI.org on May 31, 2016, and is republished here with permission.
Hurray! Finally, I am in Germany. “Out of the truck,” the smuggler shouted. “We are in Munich.”
I didn’t really care where we were. I just wanted to get out of that chicken truck fast. I took a long breath and I looked around. “Are we really in Germany?” I asked myself. It was the morning. I didn’t see anyone. The other 20 Syrians who were with me in the truck started to change their clothes quickly. I didn’t really have any good clothes. All I had was dirty jeans and an ugly jacket. I didn’t know what to do. I was expecting the police to come at any time and arrest us.
But for the moment I just tried to enjoy the quiet and the clean air after a long, noisy trip. I didn’t know any of the other refugees who were with me. We only met at the smuggler’s house back in Budapest. “Wait for 15 minutes and then go away from here,” the truck’s driver told us. Then he drove away. We waited. And then I decided to look for the first police officer I could find on the road.
“I am no longer in my house. I am not sitting in my kitchen with my family, waiting for my mother to prepare a nice meal. This is my new temporary life now.”
Then I noticed two guys and a little boy looking at me. They were Syrians from Damascus as well. “Where are you from?” asked the oldest one. “Damascus,” I replied. “Do you speak English?” I said I spoke a little bit. “We are going to a city called Saarbrücken. They say the people there are very nice and the procedures are faster there for refugees.” I thought, why not?
We stopped a cab and I told him in English that we wanted to go to the main bus station. “No problem,” he said. “But do you have money?” I answered with a big laugh, “Yes, we do.” It was like he knew that this was our first hour here in Germany. Maybe it was the color of our skin. In the cab, I stared out the window at this beautiful land. Can I build a future here? I wondered. Can I really call this land a second home? My thoughts were interrupted by the taxi driver’s voice. “We are here,” he said.
We took the first bus headed to Saarbrücken. It was a six-hour ride. I spent most of it sleeping like a baby. I was desperately hungry and tired. There was a camp for refugees in Saarbrücken. I saw a lot of nationalities at the camp, not just Syrians. There were a lot of lines and a lot of noise. They gave me some food and sent us to a room. I ate very fast and slept.
A television screenshot Hassan took of his home street in Syria. Hassan lived in a suburb of Damascus called Darayya, the site of intense fighting between the Syrian regime and rebel forces. (Hassan Jamous)
The first full day at Saarbrücken was very hard on me. I had to wait in lines for food and papers. But I had to just deal with it. I am no longer in my house. I am not sitting in my kitchen with my family, waiting for my mother to prepare a nice meal. This is my new temporary life now. After about a week they transferred me to another camp. I didn’t know why. I asked the administrator and she said kindly that this is normal here in Germany. You will be transferred to another camp in Treir, she told me. She had a very beautiful smile.
They gave us train tickets and a map. During the trip I was looking at the German people’s faces in the train and wondering, “Is it really OK to be here?” I didn’t feel comfortable. Everything was new and I felt weak. The Treir camp was smaller and it contained about a fifth of the refugees that the other camp had. There were no places to sleep. We spent the first night in the hallway. Then we were transferred again. This camp just didn’t have enough space. I was so tired of traveling. I just wanted to be in one place. Everyone treated us nicely. There were big smiles everywhere. They do really have a difficult job. I thought the people would hate us here.
I always had to wait a long time to get on a bus, or to get food, or to get into the shower. You can’t make any real friendships in the camps. You don’t know who will go or who will stay. You just wait to get transferred to a house if you’re lucky.
By my 28th day in Germany, I was used to being in the camps. I had developed strategies to get food. People tried to forget and move on. They played sports to amuse themselves. I thought the children were really happy. They were playing all the time, running and fighting. It was a scene that is hard to see in Syria anymore. I was sleeping in a tent with 200 other people in it. The most difficult part was sleeping. There was always someone doing something loudly — a kid crying or a drunk laughing. It wasn’t a perfect life but we could be patient. At least it was safe.
Finally, they transferred me to a house in a small town called Stadecken-Elsheim. I didn’t really care about the place name, I just wanted to be out of the camp. Already I was thinking about a nice room and maybe cooking myself a good meal. Those were my dreams for the moment. On the day of the transfer, I woke up at 6 a.m. happy for the first time in months. They told us goodbye at the camp in a very nice way. The bus came and I said goodbye in my mind to the camp, hoping I wouldn’t have to come back here again.
Hassan stands in front of a whiteboard during German language classes in his new hometown. Credit: Hassan Jamous
They drove those of us who were moving to Stadecken-Elsheim to the municipal office first where we registered our names. The employees were very nice and smiling again. They said in English that six people would live in the house until we got our three-year residence visas. That was OK, five is better than 200. They drove us to the house. I didn’t see anyone in the streets but I had the feeling that everyone knew we were coming. Day after day my trust became stronger. I helped my roommates when they wanted to go to the doctors and dentists. At first I was really shy about speaking with the Germans. But wherever I went I saw smiles.
“It occurs to me that everyone here is smiling at us, but we are not smiling. It seems like we forgot how. It seems that in the end I didn’t need food or money or even a safe country. All I needed was a good honest smile.”
One day, a volunteer came to us to help us with everything. She’s teaching us German and we call her Migy. I call her my German mother in my heart. I owe her a lot of things. It occurs to me that everyone here is smiling at us, but we are not smiling. It seems like we forgot how. It seems that in the end I didn’t need food or money or even a safe country. All I needed was a good honest smile.
After 10 months of waiting, I received my residence visa. I am allowed now to stay for three years to work and study. I still have to work on my language skills.
It’s a long road for the future. I don’t feel weak anymore, although I feel in pain each time I hear the news. We did create some problems in Europe. I feel pain when I see new political parties take advantage and get stronger because of us. On the TV we are big in numbers. They are saying that most of us are not educated enough. Or that we are radicals. It’s a price we have to accept for the things that happened in Syria.
But I am a human with big dreams. I will work hard to prove them wrong.

author: PRI/PRX's The World


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Talk of Spanish as an Official ‘Second Language’ Has Jamaicans Asking, What About Patois? · Global Voices
Emma Lewis

Some Patois phrases being proudly displayed on a bus in Jamaica. Photo by Jason Gullifer, used under a CC BY-NC 2.0 license.
What is Jamaica’s true “official language”? Does it have two? Should it acquire a “second language” and if so, what should it be? These questions have had Jamaican commentators tied up in knots for the past week, ever since Prime Minister Andrew Holness remarked in Parliament that he would like to see Spanish as Jamaica’s “second language”, along with compulsory Spanish teaching in schools.
The prime minister made his comments on his return from a meeting of the Association of Caribbean States (ACS) in Cuba, referring to plans for enhanced cooperation on language learning with that country. His remarks plunged Jamaicans straight into the unresolved and sometimes fierce debate over the use — and acceptance — of Jamaican Patois versus the English language. The discussion continues to reflect considerable divisions in Jamaican society and culture, as well as perceived inequities in its educational system.
If you were to hop from one Caribbean island to the other, you might be surprised at the number of tongues the region speaks. The official languages of Caribbean territories are English, Spanish, Dutch and French, reflecting the region’s colonial legacy, as well as Haitian Creole (Haiti's official language — along with French — since 1987) and Papiamento (which became the official language of Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao in 2003, alongside Dutch). There are also several forms of Creole — including Jamaican Patois/Patwa — and languages such as Garifuna, spoken by indigenous minorities in St. Vincent.
So, some territories do have two official languages, while others, like Jamaica perhaps, have one official and one semi-official language. The debate as to whether Jamaican Patois is a language quite separate from English is an old one, but the argument that Patois should be recognized as Jamaica’s official language has not gained traction in officialdom. Yet, many argue that most Jamaicans cannot (and do not!) communicate in “standard English” — which would mean that Patois is the de facto first language for many of its citizens, with English coming in a fairly distant second. Is there really room for Spanish too?
Many Jamaican commentators — especially those in academia — have not shared Prime Minister Holness’ new enthusiasm for the Spanish language. Patois is regarded as the natural oral expression of the Jamaican people. The much-loved dramatist, poet and cultural icon Louise Bennett-Coverley was a champion of the native language, dragging it out of the shadows in the post-independence era. Professor of linguistics and coordinator of the Jamaican Language Unit at the University of the West Indies, Hubert Devonish, in a letter to the new Education Minister Ruel Reid earlier this year, pointed out:
For the government, the media and for those with social, political and economic influence, the issue of mother language/mother tongue does not arise since, ‘unlike those benighted countries in Africa and the Pacific, thank God, we speak English in Jamaica?’ But, do we?
Well, in a nationwide survey conducted by the Jamaican Language Unit in 2006, 36 per cent of the sample surveyed demonstrated no ability to describe a simple everyday object using spoken English. By contrast, 83 per cent were able to do so using the Jamaican language, 47 per cent demonstrating the ability to use both languages.
Blogger and educator Wayne Campbell tweeted:
The government's proposal to make #Spanish #Jamaica ‘s official ‘second’ language should not diminish the status of Patois #language #Patois
— Wayne Campbell (@WayneCamo) June 11, 2016
Columnist Louis Moyston wrote in support of Patois, the people’s language:
There is a tradition to reject Jamaican culture and its products. There were rejections of ska, rocksteady and reggae in their early stages of development just because it ‘came from below’. In latter years the acceptance to the modern music form was overwhelming; but in the issue of the Jamaican language there is a case of self-denial.
One of the major problems concerning crime and development is rooted in the failure of the educational system. The central feature of these problems is grounded in the problem of language — the teaching of our students under the assumption that they are English speakers. This practice, indeed, is a crime against humanity. English language must be taught as a second language. Let us take care of home before we look abroad.
Nevertheless, many Jamaicans are more than a little confused as to what the prime minister actually meant by “second language” — which is, by definition, not the speakers’ native language, but is used in the area where they live (such as parts of the US city of Miami, for example, which are virtually bilingual). This does not apply to Jamaica.
Leading broadcast journalist Dionne Jackson Miller declared bluntly on her Facebook page:
What a piece of foolishness. How can a language the population does not speak be declared a second language?
She qualified this by saying:
I would be first in line to say we should all be fluent in Spanish. It's on my bucket list! Once we are, or a certain percentage of the population, we can talk about official second languages. Right now, it's a ridiculous suggestion.
Yet, most men and women on the street in a quick “vox pop” expressed an interest in learning Spanish, citing its usefulness.
Much of this argument reflects on the state of Jamaica’s education system. Patois is not currently taught in schools, and the performance of Jamaican students in English language is generally weak. Was Prime Minister Holness in fact merely suggesting a stronger focus on the teaching of Spanish in schools? Spanish is not taught in state primary schools, but it is taught in private preparatory schools — prompting Wayne Campbell to tweet about the divide in the school system:
@Petchary All the students in my grade 7 class who attended preparatory schools were able to speak Spanish. The teacher called on them more.
— Wayne Campbell (@WayneCamo) June 12, 2016
He added:
@Petchary There is an urgent need for the Jamaican society to have an official foreign language given the global context we operate.
— Wayne Campbell (@WayneCamo) June 12, 2016
So, many like Dawn Campbell Douglas believe Jamaica should focus first on the quality of its English teaching, before concerning itself with Spanish:
What is wrong with us? Our education system needs fixing…now! Annual [Caribbean Secondary Education Certificate] results indicate that high school leavers are struggling with English which is our official language. We can go off on a lark when the basics are covered.
Stephen Gunter tweeted:
@WayneCamo @Petchary to a very large portion of Jamaican society, English IS a foreign language.
— Stephen Gunter (@stephengunter) June 12, 2016
Should Jamaicans stick to their beloved Patois, the expression of their culture, as their first language? Or should they focus on raising standards of teaching and learning English, while stepping up Spanish language teaching in primary schools? Should Jamaica adopt two official languages, like Haiti, Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao?
UNESCO concludes in a February policy paper appropriately titled “If you don't understand, how can you learn?”:
By one estimate, as much as 40% of the global population does not have access to an education in a language they speak or understand.
Could this apply to Jamaica and indeed, to other Caribbean countries where Creole is not fully recognized? One thing is certain, however: Jamaicans will continue the Patois debate for some time to come.

author: Emma Lewis


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What It Means to Reclaim Indigenous Knowledge in a University Setting in Bolivia · Global Voices
Gabriela García Calderón Orbe

Students of the Aymara Indigenous University of Bolivia “Tupak Katari”. Photography used with permission.
This article has been adapted from its original version published on the La Pública website. It is reproduced here as part of a content sharing agreement. The Aymara version can be read here.
In classrooms, they speak about decolonization and respect for Mother Earth. They study food engineering, veterinary medicine, agronomy or textile engineering, while recovering ancient technology and innovating with new natural products. They go on to support the creation of community businesses.
Welcome to the Aymara Indigenous University of Bolivia “Túpac Katari”, also known as Unibol, based in the town of Warisata near La Paz, which brings together indigenous students from Bolivia with the aim of combining formal academic education with traditional knowledge of the indigenous communities.
In the following testimonies, some Indigenous University students share their impressions, experiences, and what it has meant for their personal growth to belong to this educational project. For many of them, studying at the Unibol means recovering ancestral knowledge, enriching a decolonial thinking and developing an inclusive and intercultural mode of knowledge production.
Noemí Campos Yarari, a textile engineering student, says about the university:
Soy de la provincia paceña Muñecas, de la segunda sección Ayata, comunidad Huancarani […] Considero muy buena [la universidad] porque acoge a estudiantes que en su mayoría provienen de las provincias, del campo, de hogares con pocos recursos.
I am from the Muñecas province of La Paz, in the second section Ayata, of the Huancarani community […] I think this is a very good [university] that welcomes students who mostly come from the provinces, the countryside, and the households with few resources.
José Luis Atanacio Maraza, Guido Mendoza Quispe, Maria Apaza Condori and Teodora Yanaguaya Pillco are four Food Engineering students. They talk about the importance of their faculty and review its history:
La Universidad Indígena Boliviana Aymara Tupak Katari existe gracias a la lucha de nuestros abuelos en muchos sentidos, por ejemplo en la siembra de alimentos. Ahora, desde la carrera de Ingeniería de alimentos (las otras tres son Veterinaria, Agronomía e Ingeniería textil), que ya tiene seis años, nos toca recuperar la tecnología ancestral, dar valor agregado a la materia prima e innovar con nuevos productos naturales, así como apoyar en la creación de empresas comunitarias en nuestras comunidades. Todo para el vivir bien de los bolivianos.
La Unibol fue fundada el 2 de agosto de 2008 (DS Nº 29664) en honor de nuestro líder indígena Julián Apaza Nina, alias Tupak Katari. Con su nacimiento se ha salido al paso de la discriminación que había en el país para el ingreso a las universidades.
The Aymara Indigenous University of Bolivia “Tupac Katari” exists thanks to the struggle of our ancestors in many domains, for example in food cultivation. In the food engineering field of study (the other three fields of the university are veterinary medicine, agronomy and textile engineering), which is already six years old, we have to recover the ancient technology, add value to the raw material and innovate with new natural products, and support the creation of community businesses in our communities. Everything for the well-being of the Bolivians.
The Unibol was founded on August 2, 2008 (DS No. 29664) in honor of our indigenous leader Julian Apaza Nina, aka Tupac Katari. Its founding represented a move against the discrimination found in the admission to the universities throughout the country.
Ruben Castillo Quispe, an agronomy student, talks about how he came to Unibol:
Nací en la comunidad de Ispaya Tocoli, en el municipio Ancoraimes de la provincia Omasuyos (La Paz), que se encuentra a orillas del lago Titicaca.
Estudié en la escuelita de la comunidad y tuve que enfrentar la dura caminata diaria de seis horas (ida y vuelta). Era el colegio más cercano a mi comunidad, así que no tuve otra alternativa.
Con todo y dificultades pude terminar el colegio y luego fui a prestar mi servicio militar. Al retornar a mi casa luego de un año, tenía muchas ganas de seguir estudiando. Quería ir a la universidad y sobre todo me gustaba el estudio de lenguas.
Ahora estoy estudiando en la Unibol, donde no hay la carrera de Lingüística; pero avanzo […] y ya estoy en sexto semestre.
I was born in the community of Ispaya Tocoli in the Ancoraimes municipality of the province Omasuyos (La Paz), located on the shores of Lake Titicaca.
I studied at the small community school and daily I had to face the harsh six-hour walk (round trip). It was the closest college to my community, so I had no choice.
Despite all these difficulties, I finished school and then I went to complete my military service. Upon returning home after a year, I really wanted to continue studying. I wanted to go to college and I especially liked the study of languages.
Now I am studying at Unibol, [and despite the fact they don't have] a linguistics faculty […] I make progress […] and I am already in the sixth semester.
Meanwhile, Claudia Colque Aquino, a food engineering student, explains how the studies at Unibol take place:
En la Universidad Túpac Katari se inculcan conocimientos descolonizadores a los estudiantes de las cuatro carreras. Nos enseñan lo que es el trabajo comunitario, el que se practica en las clases para que nosotros que provenimos de grupos con una identidad cultural, un origen aymara, veamos que las prácticas de nuestra formación no siempre requieren de tecnología moderna, también necesitan de instrumentos ancestrales. Al elaborar las tesinas y emprendimientos productivos, se busca y se utiliza alguna técnica ancestral que se podría aplicar a la investigación universitaria. La defensa se hace asimismo con una vestimenta originaria y a los tribunales se les ofrece la hoja de coca.
A los representantes estudiantiles les llamamos irpiris y sullka irpiri y entre nosotros nos llamamos hermanos, tal cual hacemos con los docentes, sean licenciados o ingenieros.
La forma de vestir en la Unibol es también variada y hay quienes portan la ropa que se usa en sus comunidades y provincias. Por todo esto, diría yo, ésta es una universidad distinta de las otras en el país.
At the Tupac Katari University decolonizing knowledge is taught to students in the four faculties. We are taught about community work, which is practiced in classes for those who come from groups with a cultural identity, of Aymara origin, and we see that the methods of our training do not always require modern technology, they also need ancestral tools. In developing the thesis and productive enterprises, an ancient technique is sought and used that could be applied to university research. In courts the defense is also made wearing traditional dress and offering coca leaf.
The student representatives are called ‘irpiris’ and ‘sullka irpiri’ and among us we call them brothers, and the same we call our teachers, graduates or engineers.
The dress style at the Unibol is also varied and there are those who are dressed in the clothing specific to their communities and provinces. This is why, I would say, this is a university different from the others in the country.
According to many inside the institution, the project is progressing slowly and needs time and work to expand and grow. However, its students, which are the main energy that sustains the university, consider that there are many possibilities for improvement ahead. In a previous piece, Rising Voices presented other students of the university and their stories.
There have been many challenges for Unibol. The academic traditions, the material problems and the impact of the Indigenous University on its environment have been issues encountered by its students. Felix, a student in the Faculty of Agronomy, highlights the role of professors in the clashes of different university cultures. Through these differences it becomes clear how models promoted by institutions such as the Indigenous University may collide with academic traditions inherited from Europe:
Algunos estudiantes de la carrera de Agronomía de la Unibol aymara tuvieron problemas el anterior semestre con algunos docentes de tiempo completo. [Los profesores] se habían parcializado con unos alumnos que trajeron costumbres de otras universidades [y que menospreciaban] las costumbres del pueblo aymara que son parte de los principios educativos de esta [Universidad]. Gracias a la inteligencia de la Dirección de la carrera se solucionaron los malos entendidos y se pudo seguir.
In the previous semester some agronomy students of the Aymara Unibol had problems with some full-time teachers. [The teachers] were biased towards students who brought the customs of other universities [and disregarded] the traditions of the Aymara people which are part of the educational principles of this [University]. Thanks to the intelligence of the faculty board, the misunderstandings were settled and it was possible to continue.
Gabriel Serrano López, also an agronomy student, talks about the importance of taking care of the Earth, the Pachamama:
Los desechos de plástico y otros derivados del petróleo abundan en los predios de la Unibol. Si bien en las aulas se habla de descolonizar y de respetar a la madre tierra, la Pachamama, los llamados a poner en práctica esos principios son los que contaminan el entorno con productos sintéticos. La basura de este tipo se acumula porque los estudiantes, administrativos y docentes compran refrescos, alimentos y otros productos en envases que se tiran por ahí, que llegan al río y luego llegan al lago Titicaca, agravando su grave contaminación. Ocurre que estamos en la comunidad lacustre de Cuyahuani, municipio Huarina de provincia paceña de Omasuyos.
Plastic waste and other petroleum products are everywhere on the Unibol campus. While speaking in classrooms about decolonization and respect for the Mother Earth, the Pachamama, those responsible to put into practice these principles are also those who pollute the environment with synthetic products. Such trash accumulates because the students, the administrators and the teachers buy soft drinks, food and other products in containers that are thrown out there, they reach the river and then Lake Titicaca, making the pollution worse. We are located in the lakeside community of Cuyahuani, in the Huarina municipality of the Omasuyos province in La Paz.
In a similar way, Emilio Mamani Chino and Ivan Ali, agronomy students, refer to the water shortage and how it affects them:
En la Unibol TK hay problemas con los servicios básicos, especialmente con el agua, que es escasa y a veces se seca del todo. Por eso mismo, tampoco hay duchas y el aseo personal se hace difícil. Así es desde el inicio de las actividades académicas de esta universidad. Creo que es importante que los estudiantes presenten su reclamo y que las autoridades implementen las soluciones.
In the Tupac Katari Unibol there are problems with the basic services, especially water, which is scarce and sometimes the supply dries up completely. For this reason, there are no showers and personal hygiene becomes difficult to maintain. This situation starts at the beginning of the academic activities of the university. I think it is important that students submit their complains and that the authorities implement solutions.
Although the limitations make it difficult, the project is still going on. Similarly, students at the Unibol continue to establish and help the development of an institution based on a philosophy of great singularity. For many of them, these limitations are temporary and will come to an end. Ultimately, as in many other universities that develop and have challenges, what works well will continue and what does not function will change.

author: Gabriela García Calderón Orbe


text:
What It’s Like to Be a Lesbian in Russia, the Day After the Orlando Massacre · Global Voices
Kevin Rothrock

Flowers left outside the US embassy in Moscow. Photo: Will Stevens / Twitter
For about a year, between the springs of 2013 and 2014, LGBT rights in Russia were a major theme in international news reports. These were the months that sandwiched the Sochi 2014 Winter Olympics, when Western audiences suddenly took an interest in Russia’s domestic goings-on. Russian lawmakers gave the world something to talk about, too, when President Vladimir Putin signed a federal law in June 2013 banning so-called “homosexual propaganda” in the presence of minors. The vague legislation made it illegal for anyone to do anything in public that might be deemed to “promote” homosexuality.
When the Winter Games wrapped up on February 23, however, foreigners quickly lost interest in Russia’s gay-rights question.
Google users’ interest in Russia and LGBT-rights issues, according to Google Trends.
Today, June 13, people around the world are sharing their reactions to the deadly massacre that occurred in Orlando this past weekend, where nearly 50 people were gunned down at a gay night club. For many supporters of LGBT rights in Russia, the bloodshed has been a reminder of their own vulnerability in the face of what they say is a resurgence of anti-gay violence in Russia.
Elena Kostyuchenko. Photo: Andrei Blinushov / Facebook
Elena Kostyuchenko is an investigative journalist for the Russian newspaper Novaya Gazeta, and a longtime LGBT-rights activist in Moscow. One of the first reporters to write about Pussy Riot, Kostyuchenko has been assaulted and detained on several occasions while doing her job and while participating in political demonstrations. When it comes to LGBT issues, hers is one of the most prominent voices in Russia.
Kostyuchenko has written two viral Facebook posts since the massacre in Orlando. Her texts address the attack on the gay night club, but they’re not limited to expressing her grief about that single tragedy. On Sunday, June 12, she shared the story of how she learned about the attack in Orlando while spending the day with her mother in Moscow. The text has attracted more than 2,100 reactions and 74 shares on Facebook:
Время от времени меня спрашивают, каково быть лесбиянкой. Ждут, как я понимаю, описания чудес лесбийского секса, или силы влечения женщины к женщине, или особенностей восприятия собственных сисек. Но я никогда не смогу объяснить, каково это, правда.
Провести счастливый день с мамой, которая приехала в Москву выбрать лучшие ирисы и пионы. Гулять с ней по саду (похуй, что мерзнут ноги), разруливать интриги с цветочными продавцами, подбирать литературу, прятать чеки, кормить ее пастой в любимом кафе и чувствовать себя взрослой-взрослой.
А потом сажаешь ее на поезд. Сидишь рядом, держишь в руках план дачи, споришь, куда высадить белые астильбы. И тут звонит бывшая – приезжай к посольству, 50 человек убиты, стрелок в гей-клубе, возьми, пожалуйста, цветы. И ты спрашиваешь: “50 человек? Точно стреляли или бомба? Какой гей-клуб?” И вдруг видишь, как у мамы отливает кровь от щек. Она становится белой-белой. Говорит: где? И я говорю: США. И тут мама говорит спокойно очень: Лена, поезд отходит через три минуты, беги давай, и не бери розы, возьми белые цветы.
Знаете это чувство? Нет? А это единственное реальное различие между мной и вами. Единственное.
From time to time, people ask me what it’s like to be a lesbian. As I understand it, they’re hoping to hear about the wonders of lesbian sex, or the power of attraction one woman feels to another woman, or how we feel about our own tits. But I’ll never be able to explain what it’s really like.
Spend a lovely day with your mom, who’s come into Moscow to get some fresh irises and peonies. Walk around the garden with her (who gives a shit, if your legs are freezing), listen to all the flower vendors’ gossip, get her some new books, hide the receipts, buy her some pasta at her favorite place to get lunch, and feel like a bona fide adult.
And then put her on the train back home. Sit down beside her, and with the landscaping plans for her cottage in hand argue a bit about where to plant the astilbes. And then an ex-girlfriend calls you on the phone, and says, “Come to the [US] embassy. Fifty people were killed. There was a shooting at a gay night club. Bring flowers, please.” And you ask, “Fifty people? They were definitely shot? It wasn’t a bomb? What gay night club?” And suddenly you see how the blood drains from your mom’s cheeks. She goes white as a ghost. She says, “Where?” And I say, “The US.” And then mom says very calmly, “Lena, the train is leaving in three minutes. You make a run for it. And don’t take roses. Take white flowers.”
Do you know this feeling? No? And that’s the only real difference between you and me. The only one.
The following day, Monday, June 13, Kostyuchenko wrote again on Facebook, this time taking on people who prefer to downplay the Orlando attacker’s decision to target the gay community. So far, in about five hours, the post has attracted more than 1,000 reactions and 214 shares on Facebook:
Получила много комментариев, оценивающих мою состоятельность как женщины и как дочери, много традиционного «чтоб вы сдохли», «вы не люди». Ладно. Но есть еще кое-что, что я хотела бы обсудить.
Когда вы пишете «террористам нужен только повод», «нет значения, какая ориентация у убитых», «я тоже скорблю, так чем я от вас отличаюсь» – вы закрываете глаза на причину убийства.
А эта причина – гомофобия.
Я не люблю это слово, оно абстрактно, но оно хотя бы примерно объясняет то, что за последние два года 19 моих знакомых подверглись нападениям, две были изнасилованы, а двое были убиты. Что более 20 человек вынуждены были покинуть страну. Это мой круг общения, он не такой уж широкий. Против нас принимаются законы, мы неравноправны и официально признаны «неравноценными» (ст 6.21 КоАП), мы не имеем права на брак и на совместную опеку над детьми, мы не имеем права навещать друг друга в тюрьме или в больницах. В регионах третий год существуют и действуют неонацистские группы, которые охотятся исключительно на ЛГБТ. Телевизор активно подогревает атмосферу ненависти и страха, был годовой перерыв на украинскую войну, но теперь мы снова враги государства №1, просто посмотрите новости.
Я рада, что вы можете жить, не замечая этого. Что это вас не касается. Я бы тоже была рада не знать всех этих подробностей, как пуля из травмата входит в глаз, с каким звуком, или каково писать заявление на парня, которого привел твой отец, чтобы ты «исправилась», как набирать номер 911, потому что кто-то пытается открыть твою дверь, а менты не приезжают. И ты сидишь до утра с ножиком в руке и слышишь, как ковыряются в замке. А потом, утром, когда возня стихает, выходишь из дома, закрываешь дверь и не возвращаешься туда никогда. Это то, что пережили люди, близкие мне. Может быть, что-то из этого пережили ваши коллеги и друзья. Даже наверняка.
Я знаю, как долго зарастает сломанный нос (я даже посравнивать могу, носы ломают часто), каково, когда в тебя кидают камень, бутылку, кусок асфальта, каково, когда твою подругу находят задушенной в машине, когда врачи говорят, что тебя ждет глухота, потому что слуховые нервы отмирают после удара в висок (это я могу подробно, это я пережила сама), каково, когда тебя обливают мочой и снимают на камеру, когда тебя вызывают к директору и увольняют, заставляют менять школу, университет, место службы. Я знаю даже, как это, когда твои одноклассники насилуют тебя за гаражами. Я знаю, как это, когда мент плюет тебе в лицо, пока его коллеги душат твоего друга, а ты ничего не можешь сделать, потому что руки скручены – и все это под ликующие вопли «пидарасы!» Я знаю, каково это – мечтать купить участок земли, огородить трехметровым забором и в этой клетке растить своих детей, потому что только так ты можешь гарантировать их безопасность.
Любой разговор на эту тему приведет к «не выпячивай». В дни массовых убийств это приведет к «какая разница, какая ориентация».
Нет, вы действительно не знаете, что чувствует моя мама, когда узнает о расстреле гей-клуба. Что чувствую я, когда понимаю, что мне нечем ее успокоить. «Все будет хорошо» – да ладно?
Ориентация убитых – важно.
Если вам не важно – вам похуй на причину убийства и на то, почему эти убийства повторяются, повторяются, повторяются.
I’ve received lots of comments assessing my validity as a woman and as a daughter—lots of the usual “Go and die,” and “You people aren’t human.” Whatever. But there’s something else that I want to discuss. When you write, “Terrorists only need a reason,” “The orientation of those killed doesn’t matter,” and “I’m mourning, too, so how am I any different from you?”—you’re closing your eyes to the cause of these murders.
And that cause is homophobia.
I don’t particularly like this word, “homophobia.” It’s abstract, but at least it roughly captures why, in the past two years, 19 of my friends have been attacked, two friends were raped, and another two were killed. And more than 20 people [I know] have been forced to leave the country. All this has happened just within my circle of friends, which isn’t all that big. They pass laws against us, we’re [treated as] unequal and officially labeled as “worth less” (see Article 6.21 of Russia’s Administrative Code) [the so-called ban on “gay propaganda” in the presence of minors], we don’t have the right to marry or to joint custody of children, and we don’t have the right to visit each other in prison or in hospitals. For three years now, there have been active neo-Nazi groups preying exclusively on members of the LGBT community. The TV actively inflames the atmosphere of hate and fear. For a single year, [the media] took a break and focused on the Ukrainian war, but now we’re back to being the number one enemies of the state—just take a look at the news.
I’m glad you get to live your life without noticing any of this—that none of this affects you. I’d be glad, too, if I didn’t know all these details, like the sound of a bullet from an air rifle entering someone’s eyeball, or how to file a police report against the guy your father brought to you, trying to “fix” you. Or how to dial 9-1-1 because someone is trying to open your front door, and the police aren’t coming, so you stay awake until morning with a knife in your hand, listening to someone trying to pick the lock. And later that morning, when things have quieted down, you walk out of your home, close the door behind you, and never come back ever again. This is what people I know have endured. Maybe some of your friends and colleagues have experienced similar things. In fact, it’s highly likely.
I know how long it takes for a broken nose to heal. (I can even speak from personal experience, as I’ve had my nose broken often.) I know how long it takes [for a broken nose to heal] when they throw rocks, bottles, and chunks of asphalt at you. I know what it’s like when they find your girlfriend strangled in a car, when doctors say that you’ll go deaf from the blow you received to the head (I can say more about this, as it happened to me personally), when they pour piss on you and film it on camera, when you’re called in by your boss and fired, and when you’re forced to change schools, universities, and jobs. I even know what it’s like when your classmates rape you behind the parking garage. I know what it’s like when a cop spits in your face, while his buddies are strangling your friend, and you can’t do anything about it, because your arms are twisted behind your back, and everywhere around you there’s a crowd screaming triumphantly, “Faggots!” I know what it’s like to dream about buying a small plot of land, fencing it off with a 10-foot wall, and raising your children inside this cage, because it’s the only way you can think to guarantee their safety.
Any conversation on this subject leads to advice like “Don’t stand out.” On days where there are mass murders, it leads to people saying, “Who cares what their orientation was.” You really don’t understand what my mother felt when she heard about the shooting in the gay night club. You don’t understand what I feel when I realize that I’ve no way to comfort her. “Everything will be okay”? Please.
The orientation of the people killed is important. If you don’t think it’s important, then you don’t give a fuck about the reason for these murders, or about why these killings keep happening again and again and again.
Russians have surprised many in the West by mourning together with the world the dead in Orlando. Vladimir Putin was one of the first world leaders to contact the White House with a letter of condolences, and the spokesperson for Russia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs has sharply criticized those who make homophobic statements about the people killed and injured in the night-club massacre. Dozens of Russians (like Kostyuchenko) brought flowers to the US embassy in Moscow, leading the embassy’s spokesman, Will Stevens, to write on Twitter that the display of sympathy was “deeply moving.”
According to the website MediaZona, however, Moscow police detained two men who tried to display a sign that read “Love Wins” outside the US embassy. In posts on Facebook, the two men said they intended to stage a picket, and were detained without any explanation.

author: Kevin Rothrock


text:
A Joint Photo Exhibition Between Greece and Turkey Brings These Neighbors Closer Together · Global Voices
Artemis Touli

The photo exhibition's poster. Image shared online.
Photographers in the capitals of two Greek islands in the Northern Aegean Sea, Chios (in Chios Island) and Mytilini (in Lesvos), and two Turkish cities on the Asia Minor coast, Bergama and Izmir, are uniting their camera lenses in a common summer project.
Mytilini Photography Association alongside Izmir Photography Group, Chios Photo Club and Bergama Photography Group are co-hosting a collective exhibition titled “Neighbor's Light” (Fos Geitoniko in Greek, Komşunun Işığı in Turkish). The aim is to exchange ideas, knowledge and experiences, and photographers are free to shoot whatever they like, from nature landscapes and portraits of people to still life.
These four cities’ photo clubs have developed a stable friendship and cooperation throughout the years. They believe that peace and friendship is the best way to overcome problems and that art, especially photography, is a medium that can bring people closer together. That's an important sentiment, given the tangled history of war and occupation that exists between Greece and Turkey.
The exhibition kicked off in Bergama, Turkey on May 28. Bergama Mayor Mehmet Gönenç inaugurated the exhibition, and Izmir Greek Consul General Argyro Papoulia also sent a greetings message, according to a brief report by Turkish newspaper Hurriyet.
People participating in the exhibition have shared photos online from their trip to Bergama; check some out on Facebook here, here and here.
The exhibition's last stop will be Izmir, a significant location for many North Aegean islanders, who are the descendants of refugees who fled from there during the Great Fire of Smyrna (now Izmir) during the 1920s.
The exhibition will travel to the other two cities as well. So, if you happen to be around the Aegean Sea coast, don't miss it: July 2 at Chios, August 20 at Mytilini and September at Izmir!

author: Artemis Touli


text:
A San Francisco Vigil for Orlando Shooting Victims Promises To Combat the Hate With More Love · Global Voices
Sana Saleem

Thousands gather in San Francisco to pay tribute to the victims of the June 12 mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida. PHOTO: Tim Redmond, 48hills.org, used with permission
Like many others, I woke up yesterday and heard the news of the shooting in Orlando. I heard the words “club”, “shooting” and the shooter's name.
I am not sure I will ever be able to describe the magnitude of the pain, anger and frustration I feel each time an attack is carried out by an individual with a Muslim name. It's like being punched in the gut repeatedly, with no time to breathe. I want to grieve as part of a community, but instead I'm fearful even in mourning. I'm fearful of the repercussions this will have on people who have nothing to do with the incident—people who are so far removed from the mindset of the attacker that they too are targets for this kind of violence. I've seen and lived it all, so have so many of my family and friends. From being ‘high risk’ to ‘collateral damage’, we've heard and lived it. We are told complaining makes us idealistic, and we shouldn't ‘play the victim card’. So instead we just use it as fodder for morbid jokes. It never helps.
An attendee at a vigil in San Francisco for the victims of the mass shooting at Orlando's Pulse nightclub. PHOTO: Sana Saleem.
Yesterday, as the news of the attack unfolded, the comments trickled in. How do I share my condolences? What would be appropriate coming from a Pakistani Muslim woman like me? The first thought that came my mind was: why the hell did this lunatic have access to guns? But if I post that I'd be told I'm making excuses for religious extremism. Condemn religious extremism, and I would be told to apologize for the sins of others. Apologize for the sins of others, and I'd be told that I'm pandering to Islamophobia. Say nothing, and I'd be told that I'm complacent too.
Tongue-tied, grieving and frustrated I left my home to join thousands in the streets of San Francisco. The mood in the Castro, the heart of the LGBT movement, was vividly colorful, yet solemn.
I stood with thousands of others as one after the other, people spoke out about their fear, their pain. They spoke about knowing how it felt to be hated and marginalized. But most of all, even in their grief each one of them stood firmly against the targeting of another community. “Not in our name,” they said. Each one of the speakers committed to not let this incident be used to further target Muslims in America and around the world.
I saw an older man break down, holding his head between his hands as his partner sang “We Shall Overcome” in his ear to calm him down. I saw people people holding hands, lighting candles and hugging strangers. In the crowd of thousands, each one of us had a story, a reaction, and it was okay to share it. It was okay to be who I am, to be in my skin and not be made to prove myself before I was allowed to mourn just like everyone else. I saw people promise to respond to this murderous hatred with even more love, even more acceptance, and so much more compassion.
Last night I saw a city like no other. Ah, San Francisco, even in mourning you're stunning, courageous and committed beyond belief.
‘… even in their grief each one of them stood firmly against the targeting of another community. “Not in our name,” they said.’ PHOTO: Sana Saleem.

author: Sana Saleem


text:
‘HiviSasa’, a Kenyan Citizen Media Project for Mobile Web · Global Voices
Ndesanjo Macha

The logo of HiviSasa.
HiviSasa, Swahili for “right now”, is a Kenyan digital media project publishing news and photos from citizen reporters who are paid via M-Pesa, a mobile payment system, for every article published. Some citizen reporters, according to the site, earn up to about US $85 per week.
The project also awards writers whose articles attract the highest number of pageviews with cash prize every week.
The website currently covers 10 counties in the country: Nakuru, Kiambu, Machakos, Kisii, Nyamira, Kisumu, Uasin Gishu, Garissa, Mombasa and Kibera.
HiviSasa as seen on a mobile phone. Creative Commons image by Jakobbarnwell.
HiviSasa explains its ethos on its website:
Accessible, diverse, transparent information empowers both governments and citizens. Better informed citizens make better decisions about their lives and their government.
Registration to be a contributor for the site takes less than a minute and one does not need to be a trained journalist to write for HiviSasa:
You can be a professional, an organisation, a student, a government officer, a politician, a concerned citizen, a cartoonist, a businessman, a bystander… etc. Also, many trained journalists also contribute, which increases their skills and online exposure.
Write a 200-words news story (or submit a new photo with a short description) answering the questions: What event? Where and when did it happen? Who was involved? How did the event occur? Why is it noteworthy?
The site has identified three examples of good local stories for new writers. One of the stories is about a Kenyan man, Lawrence Gekonge, who buried his wife in the kitchen after she passed away because she used to spend most of her time there.The man says that he should be buried in the sitting room of the main house when he dies.
The second story is about citizen reporter, Dickens Luvanda, who has managed to consistently publish over 50 stories a week. The third one is about 1,200 title deeds lying uncollected at the Lands Registry.
The project's lead editor Enoch Nyariki told Global Voices in an email conversation that the site has so far published 61,000 stories. He said that one of the main challenges the project is facing is having citizen reporters take advantage of free HiviSasa Academy they have set up to empower reporters with basic news writing skills.
The YouTube video below is an introduction to the academy in Sheng, a mixture of Swahili and English:
The academy offers various free lessons such as How To Interview, How to Report Court Stories, Writing Lawfully – Plagiarism/Accreditation, Writing Lawfully – Defamation/Libel, Hate Speech, etc.
Piloted in 2012 with the support of 88mph, which invests in start-ups, the project was launched in January 2014. Other investors in the project are Omidyar Network and Novastar Ventures.

author: Ndesanjo Macha


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Israelis React With Outpouring of Support for LGBTQ Community After Orlando Massacre · Global Voices
Maya Norton

In solidarity with the city of #Orlando (photo by @idanscohen)
A photo posted by @telaviv on
In the early hours of Sunday, June 12, United States authorities say Omar Mateen entered a gay nightclub in the Florida city of Orlando and opened fire on the densely packed crowd, killing 49 and injuring an estimated 53 more — making it the largest mass shooting in US history.
Israelis reacted immediately with an outpouring of love and support. Their solidarity came only days after a shooting by two gunmen in Tel Aviv's Sarona Market that killed four people and injured 18.
Avi Blecherman posted photos of the crowd gathering in Tel Aviv, Israel's cultural center, with signs reading, “No to LGBTQ-phobia,” “No to Islamophobia,” and “LGBTQ lives matter.”
LGBTQ stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer.
Now in Tel Aviv: LGBTQ Lives Matter. We are all #Orlando. No to LGBTQ phobia. No to Islamophobia. #Loveislove pic.twitter.com/DnGl0ZWC8T
— Avi Blecherman (@Yomgashum) June 12, 2016
Countless Israeli citizens and residents posted photos of Tel Aviv's city hall, which lit up in solidarity with the LGBTQ community, in three variations: with the United States’ stars and stripes, the rainbow pride flag of the gay community, and Israel's blue and white Star of David motif.
From the official account of the mayor of Tel Aviv, Ron Huldai tweeted:
In solidarity with #Orlando #TelAviv City Hall is lit up with the #USA flag and the flag of the #LGBTQ community pic.twitter.com/ULKR0BeR7N
— Mayor of Tel Aviv (@MayorOfTelAviv) June 12, 2016
The tweet has garnered 2,000 retweets and 2,900 likes at time of writing, but photographs posted from smartphone cameras by individuals are also being widely posted, decentralizing the image across Israeli social media platforms.
A video of Tel Aviv's City Hall lights can be seen here:
בניין עיריית תל אביב – הערב#Orlando #TelAviv pic.twitter.com/kS8qYShI2p
— Time Out Tel Aviv (@TimeOutTA) June 12, 2016
Mayor Huldai has posted 11 times since opening his account on June 2, 2016. Following his announcement tweet, his first official post was a celebration of Tel Aviv's pride parade, tagged #LoveWins:
I am proud to launch the 2016 #TelAvivPride parade #LoveWins pic.twitter.com/5gIjwQi0ne
— Mayor of Tel Aviv (@MayorOfTelAviv) June 3, 2016
It is important to note Tel Aviv's status as one of the world's “gay-friendliest cities,” cited as “The Gay Capital of the Middle East,” and “The Gayest City on Earth.” It hosts one of the world's largest gay pride parades, which reported 200,000 participants this year.
Although same sex couples cannot legally get married in Israel — marriage is under the rigid jurisdiction of the religious court system — same-sex marriages performed abroad are legally recognized. Other hallmarks of acceptance include the ability of gay parents to adopt children and openly gay soldiers serving in the military.
Like a myriad of other countries across the world where gay culture is embraced in urban cultural centers but meets limited tolerance elsewhere, there is little social acceptance for expressions of sexuality outside of Tel Aviv. Religious and cultural conservatism as well as a lack of social exposure still prejudice people against the LGBTQ community.
Talleen Abu Hanna was crowned the first Miss Trans Israel in June 2016. Photo credit: Yariv Fein and Guy Kushi, via contest's official Facebook page.
Yet, there has been a growing openness toward gay issues in the public sphere over the last decade. Professor Uzi Even became Israel's first openly gay Knesset (parliament) member in 2002, followed by journalist Nitzan Horowitz, who joined the Knesset in 2009. Both are members of the left-wing Meretz party. Horowitz also ran for mayor of Tel Aviv in 2008 (losing to Mayor Huldai, quoted above), which would have made him the first openly gay mayor in the Middle East.
In 1994, Israel's Dana International, a transgender male-to-female performer, won the title, “Female singer of the year,” followed by a 1998 win of the Eurovision Song Contest with her song, “Diva.” And 2016 saw the crowning of Miss Trans Tel Aviv, whose first winner, Talleen Abu Hanna, is an Arab Catholic, born and raised in Nazareth. (See a video profiling her here, in Hebrew with English subtitles.)
Elizabeth Tsurkov, a vocal human rights activist across Israeli social media and a Global Voices contributor, remarked that Tel Aviv's municipal representation is composed of an unusually high number of LGBTQ members:
Building of the Tel Aviv municipality tonight. Over 10% of TLV's City Council are members of the LGBT community https://t.co/SjQoP6h4WH
— Elizabeth Tsurkov (@Elizrael) June 12, 2016
While The Camel's Nose, who frequently posts about Israel and the Middle East, rejected the notion that Tel Aviv's support is a nod to “pinkwashing” — a term used by critics positing that Israel's promotion of gay rights is meant as a diversion from other controversial issues.
Israel's response to the Orlando attack should raise major skepticism about the validity of the “pinkwashing” claim https://t.co/0cuNyrAI00
— The Camel's Nose (@TheCamelsNose) June 12, 2016
Omar Mateen's identification as a Muslim led many on Israeli social media to comment on traditional Islamic views toward the LGBTQ community. Hen Mazzig, educational director of the outspoken pro-Israel advocacy group Stand With Us, for example, cited a 2013 Pew Research poll that found “widespread rejection in predominantly Muslim nations and in Africa, as well as in parts of Asia and in Russia.”
In that poll, Israel led the Middle East in acceptance, with 40% of the public saying society should accept homosexuality and 47% saying it shouldn't. Meanwhile, 97% in Jordan, 95% in Egypt, 94% in Tunisia, 93% in the Palestinian territories, 80% in Lebanon and 78% in Turkey said society shouldn't accept homosexuality.
To compare, 60% of the US public surveyed responded “yes” to the question if society should accept homosexuality and 33% said “no.”
Others pushed back against the focus on religion.
Dahlia Scheindlin, a political consultant specializing in strategic analysis of public opinion, remarked:
those feasting over Islam connection:where is ur humanity 4Americans killed in mass shootings every single day?If u have none, just b silent
— Dahlia Scheindlin (@dahliasc) June 12, 2016
Writing in independent magazine +972 in an article entitled, “Straight Terrorism,” Yael Marom and Ma'ayan Dak contended:
It doesn’t matter if the murderer in Orlando was Jewish, Christian or Muslim — the same hate crimes keep targeting us [the LGBTQ community], over and over again, across the world… We’re not going to address the ethnic origin of the murderer in Orlando, or the question of ISIS or whether he visited radical Islamist websites before he decided to go and massacre a club full of LGBTQ people. It doesn’t matter exactly which religion made him hate us to death. Sometimes it’s Christianity, sometimes it’s radical Jewish extremists, sometimes it’s Islam. It’s always the fear of those who are different, those who challenge the existing order.
In conclusion, Rena Bunder Rossner spoke of the “circles of influence” from which this great and tragic loss will resonate:
50 people???? And every one with family, with friends and circles upon circles of influence and futures…my heart is shattered.
— Rena Bunder Rossner (@renarossner) June 12, 2016
To honor those lost, please refer to the City of Orlando's record of names, which is being updated as more people are identified.

author: Maya Norton


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Japan’s Love Affair With Capybaras · Global Voices
Nevin Thompson

Capybaras relax at a zoo in Saitama Prefecture, north of Tokyo. Image from capybarahp YouTube channel.
Japan is experiencing a bit of a love affair with the capybara, the large, hamster-like rodent with a gentle disposition and a preference for hot spring baths.
For example, the YouTube channel “capybara lover's page” has more than 6,000 subscribers and six million views. The YouTube channel's mission? “To introduce capybaras with the highest-resolution video possible.”
The video “scratching many capybaras” has so far racked up more the 1.2 million views:
There's also I Love Capybaras (カピバラ大好き), a website devoted to the world's largest rodent. There is a blog, a YouTube channel and a Twitter account, but most of the action happens on a Facebook page that has 33,000 followers and is frequently updated.
The main attraction of the website is a “capybara navigator” that shows where to find the hamster-like rodent in prefectures all over Japan.
The page's Twitter account has some amusing images as well:
レオマリゾートのカピバラ達（3頭）も会って来ました。今から飛行機に乗って帰ります。ちゃんとブログに訪問記書きます〜少しブログさぼってたからね。 pic.twitter.com/1hr44JGIPt
— 渡辺克仁◎カピバラ写真家 (@capybarahp) April 27, 2016
I went and saw the capybaras at Reoma Resort (in Kagawa on the island of Shikoku), and I'll be flying back home today. I'll provide an update on my blog.
The most popular video on the YouTube channel shows a capybara jumping from a pool:
Capybaras, which are native to South America, are well-known in Japan thanks to the popular cartoon character Kapibara-san.
【TRYWORKSより】
カピバラさんが大人気ゲーム「LINEポコパン」とコラボしました！
カピバラさんたちが召喚動物や友だちランキングに登場したり
内容もりだくさん♪
詳細はこちらhttps://t.co/MSX5rqFzkY pic.twitter.com/lJKJqCJ6kt
— カピバラさん by TRYWORKS (@FROM_TRYWORKS) May 27, 2016
From TRYWORKS: Kapibara-san is collaborating with LINE Pokopan in a hit new game! Kapibara-san ranks against other animals and friends for loads of fun. Details here: https://t.co/MSX5rqFzkY pic.twitter.com/lJKJqCJ6kt
The love for capybaras is not limited to Japanese people.
Umami Dearest, a member of American online community MetaFilter, has also created a guide to animal cafes in Japan, and her website includes where to see capybaras in that country.
Capybaras are big at Japanese animal-petting spots #capybara #gianthamster #wetcapybara http://t.co/8Re8C0LM49 pic.twitter.com/1lNZpHtFVC
— Animal Cafes (@AnimalCafes) August 7, 2015
For those who are interested, Umami Dearest has also posted some handy FAQ's about animal cafes in Japan.

author: Nevin Thompson


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Singapore Plans to Pull the Plug on Internet Access for Public Servants · Global Voices
Mong Palatino

An estimated 100,000 computers in Singapore's government offices will be affected by the proposed ‘Internet surfing separation initiative.’ Image from the Facebook page of the government's Infocomm Development Authority
In the coming months, Singapore will begin a somewhat novel approach to improving cybersecurity in government offices. Instead of installing security systems or better securing infrastructure, the government plans to simply restrict Internet access in government offices. The plan, which is called ‘Public Service’s Internet Surfing Separation Initiative’, will be fully implemented by June 2017.
The government’s Infocomm Development Authority (IDA) said 100,000 computers used in public service will be affected by what some people are calling an “Internet ban”. Many Singaporeans expressed doubt about the practicality of the proposal. They fear it will undermine the government’s Smart Nation program which in turn seeks to improve the country’s Internet connectivity.
The government clarified that Internet terminals will be installed in offices if public servants need to access the web.
Government workers will also be allowed to forward unclassified work e-mails to their private accounts. They can also use their personal devices to connect online. Schools are exempted from the Internet ban.
Over the past year, the IDA monitored 16 cases of cyber attacks against government networks.
In numbers: Cyber threats and the risk to Southeast Asian governments. #cybersecurity #security pic.twitter.com/F5dh4sw3ru
— IDA (@IDAsg) June 10, 2016
Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong insists the proposed Internet ban is an ‘absolute necessity.’ In order to highlight the urgency of the situation, he became the first public servant to disconnect his work computer from the Internet. He urged the public to understand the rationale of the proposal:
We have become completely dependent on our IT systems… and we have to make sure that our system is secure. We can't get infiltrated, data cannot be stolen, somebody can't come in and wipe out your data or cause some other mischief.
We’ve reached this point, we’ve decided to do it. Are we happy? I don’t think so because it will slow us down in terms of day to day productivity. But in terms of security, safety of our system, safety of our citizens and information concerning them, it’s absolutely necessary.
To ensure the safety of the government’s IT infrastructure, there is a need for strong security interventions. But some netizens see the proposed Internet ban as drastic, unnecessary, and unwise.
Our civil servants will have the Internet cut off from their computers next year. Because we Smart Nation. pic.twitter.com/hyhuzmhblw
— mrbrown (@mrbrown) June 8, 2016
Tech blogger Dr Ashley Tan reminds the government that improving computer security is possible without banning the Internet in government offices:
The powers-that-be might not have embraced the fact that the Internet is a socio-technical system. The clampdown is an attempt to minimise stupid human behaviour like security leaks by addressing the technical component. This will still allow ignorant people access to limited terminals and their own “smart” devices.
Computer security is important in the modern workplace, but it should not be an excuse to revert to dumb or blind practice. The very people that security policies seek to control are the same assets it needs to inform and educate instead.
IT architect Zit Seng countered that giving security trainings might be more effective than simply cutting public servants’ machines off from the global network:
But this is the modern age of the Internet. However hard you try to block the Internet, people will find a way. I’m not sure how successful the government is going to be.
I personally would have thought that education would be more effective, or at least worth a shot. Unless, that’s already been tried and flopped.
Facebook user Bilahari Kausikan thinks it is inaccurate to describe the proposal as an Internet ban since “what is being cut off is only the government's internal communication system and public officers will still have separate access to the Internet.”
For its part, the IDA assured the public that it is not completely removing Internet access in government offices and that public services, especially online transactions, will not be affected. To allay public fears and correct the misconceptions about the proposal, the IDA uploaded this infographic:


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‘There Are Increasingly More and More Positive, Strong and Motivating Representations of Black Women’ · Global Voices
Rian de la Torre

Beti Ellerson. Image courtesy of www.londonfeministfestival.com
Beti Ellerson is passionate about helping African women tell their stories through their cameras so they can talk about a different Africa than the one we are used to seeing in traditional media.
And who is Beti Ellerson? Well, she is an American filmmaker, scholar, and activist as well as the director of the Centre for the Study and Research of African Women in Cinema, work that she combines with editing the African Women in Cinema blog, teaching, and other film projects.
Beti produced a film entitled Sisters of Screen and the series Reels of Colour that aired from 1997 to 2000 in the United States. She also holds a doctorate in African Studies with a minor in African Film Studies and Women's Studies. She is a fervent feminist who has published and spoken widely on the subject of African women. In 2011, she was awarded the “Distinguished Woman of African Cinema Award” by Zimbabwean female filmmakers.
Without further ado, here I leave you with the interview I had the pleasure of conducting with Beti.
Global Voices (GV): Why are you interested in African cinema?
Beti Ellerson (BE): Porque encuentro en el cine africano una forma directa de conectar con los asuntos africanos de una forma más realista y profunda. Académicamente ha sido un instrumento de enseñanza y de aprendizaje que he sido capaz de emplear usando un enfoque interdisciplinario: estudios de la mujer, historia, lenguaje, literatura y cultura, sociología, antropología e incluso ciencia y filosofía.
Beti Ellerson (BE): Because in African cinema, I find a direct way of connecting with African affairs in a more realistic and profound way. Academically, it has been a teaching and learning tool that I’ve been able to employ using an interdisciplinary approach: women's studies, history, language, literature and culture, sociology, anthropology and even science and philosophy.
GV: What is your definition of feminism?
BE: Hablando en general, veo el feminismo como una forma de pensar, una lógica a través del cual uno puede vivir y experimentar su vida en cuanto a como se relaciona con la igualdad de género y también veo el feminismo como concepto que puede ser empleado teóricamente para enmarcar cuestiones sobre género, posicionalidad e identidad. He sido feminista por mucho tiempo, así que ha sido un proceso político y personal para mi.
BE: Generally speaking, I see feminism as a way of thinking, a logic through which one can live and experience life in terms of how it relates to gender equality and I also see feminism as a concept that can be used theoretically to frame questions about gender, positionality and identity. I've been a feminist for a long time, so for me, it has been a political and personal process.
GV: Since the Centre for the Study and Research of African Women was founded in 2008, do you think that female African filmmakers have achieved greater visibility and recognition?
BE: Yo diría que sí, pero no por la fundación del Centro. He observado una una evolución en el discurso de la representación de la imagen de la mujer de color a nivel universal en la pasada década. Esto también es resultado de la ubicuidad de las nuevas tecnologías, especialmente de internet y las redes sociales, el trabajo de la mujer africana ha experimentado una mayor prominencia y apreciación. En términos de investigación y estudio, me gustaría pensar que el Centro y mi trabajo de la mujer africana en el cine ha supuesto un impacto en las becas, el discurso en los campos de los estudios del cine africano, del estudio de la mujer y de la crítica de cine feminista.
BE: I would say so, but not because of the Centre. Universally, I have seen an evolution in the discourse surrounding the representation of women of color in the past decade. This is also a result of the ubiquity of new technologies, and especially because of the internet and social networks, the work of African women has experienced greater prominence and appreciation. In terms of research and study, I would like to think that the Centre and my work on African women in film has had an impact on scholarships and discourse in the fields of African Cinema Studies, Women’s Studies, and Feminist Film Criticism.
GV: Is there enough support for African women to become filmmakers?
BE: Mientras que podría haber más, debo decir que hay un fenomenal incremento en el interés y en el apoyo de las prácticas cinematográficas de las mujeres africanas local, continental y globalmente. Vuelvo a señalar la emergencia de las nuevas tecnologías en el siglo XXI como el mayor factor en el brote de este apoyo. Ahora muchas mujeres tienen acceso a la promoción y a estrategias para alcanzar una amplia audiencia que permite que sus voces sean escuchadas alrededor de todo el globo. ¡Y de hecho la gente las está escuchando!
BE: While there could be more, I must say that there has been a phenomenal increase in the interest and support for the filmmaking endeavors of African women locally, continentally, and globally. Again I point out the emergence of new technologies in the 21st century as the major factor in the surge of this support. Now many women have access to advocacy platforms and strategies to reach a wide audience allowing their voices to be heard around the globe. And, in fact, people are listening to them!
GV: What advice would you give to an African woman or a woman of African descent who wants to start a career in the film industry?
BE: Con una cultura visual en constante evolución, extendería “la industria del cine” para que incluyera los nuevos medios que están redefiniendo el “cine”. Además, ya he declarado esto antes: es importante enfatizar el significado de aquéllos que han llegado antes, prestar atención a sus palabras y aprender las lecciones vitales de su camino. Al escuchar sus palabras, escuchamos muchas de las razones por las cuales llegaron al cine: contar historias, reflejar una imagen realista de África, dar la vuelta a la mirada que ha presentado a África de forma estereotipada y unidimensional.
BE: With an ever-evolving visual culture, I would extend “the film industry” to include the new media that are redefining “cinema.” Also, as I have stated before: it is important to emphasize the significance of those who have come before, to pay attention to their words and learn vital lessons from their paths. By listening to their words, we hear many of the reasons why they arrived at film: to tell stories, to show a realistic image of Africa, to turn the stereotypical and one-dimensional depiction of Africa upside down.
GV: Where do you get the motivation to carry out your projects?
BE: La motivación la saco de mi deseo de compartir el conocimiento, de dar apoyo y de promocionar historias, trabajos y experiencias de las mujeres africanas de la pantalla, de los ancianos y de las mujeres pioneras.
BE: I get motivation from my desire to share knowledge, to support and promote the stories, works and experiences of African women, the elderly, and female pioneers on the screen.
GV: Does the fact that more African women are involved in the film world change female body image and stereotypes that have been projected onto the black female body?
BE: Este ha sido el gran objetivo desde hace un tiempo aunque los resultados están un poco mezclados. Del lado positivo, hay un aumento de imágenes realistas que contrarrestan los estereotipos. Aunque por otro lado, con la proliferación de contenidos y medios para diseminar esa imagen, hay aún más trabajo que hacer para asegurarnos de que dichos estereotipos están siendo corregidos. Pero sí, de hecho cada vez hay más y más representaciones positivas, fuertes y motivadoras de mujeres negras.
BE: That has been the big goal for some time although the results are somewhat mixed. On the plus side, there’s been an increase in realistic images, which counter stereotypes. On the other hand, with the proliferation of content and media to disseminate that image, there is still more work to do to ensure that such stereotypes are being corrected. But yes, in fact, there are increasingly more and more positive, strong and motivating representations of black women.

author: Rian de la Torre


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Blood on Campus: How the Killing of a Student Sparked Nationwide Protests in Sudan · Global Voices
Nuba Reports

Sudanese university student Mohamed Al-Sadiq was shot by suspected security agents at a student protest on April 27, 2016. PHOTO: Al-Tareeq. Used with permission.
This article is published as part of Global Voices’ collaboration with Nuba Reports.
Mohamed Al-Sadiq, a 19-year-old student at Omdurman Al-Ahlia University in Sudan, was in a rush. He refused his mother’s pleas to eat something before he ran out to attend a public function on campus in the country’s economic capital, Omdurman. It was April 27, the same fateful day news reached Al-Sadiq’s mother, Saadia Al-Ahemer, that her son had been shot near his heart.
“They didn’t have to tell me that he is dead, no one survives a bullet to the chest,” Al-Ahemer said, wringing her hands as she sat in her humble home in an Omdurman suburb. “He was studying for his exams and was soon going to be in his third year of university.”
“They didn’t have to tell me that he is dead, no one survives a bullet to the chest.”
Student protests erupted nationwide in Sudan involving at least ten universities, in reaction to the shooting, by suspected security agents, of Al-Sadiq, and also the April 19 shooting, by security agents and students affiliated with the ruling party, of University of Kordofan student Abubakar Al-Sideeg. Al-Sideeg was shot in El-Obeid, North Kordofan State, after he and and other opposition party-affiliated students attempted to file their list of candidates for student union elections.
A Political Forum Turns Tragic
The meeting Al-Sadiq attended on April 27 was a forum organized by the Nuba Mountains Student Union to discuss the assault of the Union’s cultural secretary by students aligned with the ruling National Congress Party (NCP). Less than half an hour into the forum, clashes erupted between NCP-aligned students—supported by security agents—and the Nuba students. The NCP supporters were better armed, and the Nuba students were forced to relocate outside the university campus. Once outside, a gunman shot Mohamed Al-Sadiq dead, according to Khalid Abdullah*, a member of the Student Union.
“We think they had a target, because the first shots were aimed at a student who was the speaker at the forum and they missed him by a few inches,” said Ahmed Yasin, a leader in the Union.
Al-Sadiq was the eldest of five children. His father is a former professional football player and his mother is a “tea lady” who works long shifts selling tea and coffee at Banat Market in Omdurman. Neither parent had the opportunity to attend university, but were determined their son would. “He was not only my son, he was my hope,” Al-Sadiq’s mother said. “I struggled all my life to see him enter university, and when he did, I still struggled to pay his fees.” Al-Sadiq had made a pledge to his mother to assist his siblings to reach similar educational levels.
“I struggled bringing him up, his mother and I struggled so much,” recounts his father, Al-Sadiq “Wee” El-Houli. “My aim was for him to study so that he can help himself and set a good example for his siblings.” Shocked by his son’s death, Weew says he found it hard to believe this could happen. “So I ask the government, just tell me who killed my son. If there is justice, just let me know.”
Instead of seeking the assailant, authorities arrested two members of the Nuba Union, Kamal Aris and Faris Hussein, who attempted to assist Al-Sadiq after the shooting, Yasin said. Aris and Hussein are now facing rioting, disturbing the peace and “public nuisance” charges.
“We managed to get an order to have them released on bail the next day, but the order was overturned and their detention was renewed three more days. Now they face charges that could lead to a five-year sentence,” said a lawyer working on the case who asked not to be named as the case is ongoing. Sudan recently modified its criminal code through an amendment that provides five-year jail sentences for “rioting” offenses. Aris and Hussein have been released, but the charges still stand.
The plight of Nuba Students
The Nuba Mountains Student Union was formed in 2007 by university graduates from the region. It has branches in most Sudanese universities inside and outside Khartoum.
“Our activities are mostly cultural, we want to spread awareness of our rich cultural heritage. We are not a political body nor do we support a political body, but even with this, we continue to be targeted,” Yasin said.
“The event was supposed to take place at Kiga, a club that caters to Nuba in Omdurman. Instead the organizers found themselves detained overnight at a local police station, charged with breaching public peace.”
On June 4, security forces arrested 14 youths associated with the Nuba Mountains Student Association after they attempted to hold a commemorative event for Al-Sadiq, 40 days after his death. The event was supposed to take place at Kiga, a club that caters to Nuba in Omdurman. Instead the organizers found themselves detained overnight at a local police station, charged with breaching public peace. A court dropped the charge the next day. “We will hold another event for Mohamed Al-Sadiq. That day they arrested almost all of the executive committee of the Nuba Student Association, leaving noone to go through with the memorial,” said Salih,* a Nuba activist and part of the executive committee of the association.
Students from Sudan’s conflict-affected Darfur and the Nuba Mountains remain under the microscope, as they are seen by the authorities as a support base for rebel groups.
Mohamed Murjan, a respected member of the coalition and a graduate of Al-Neelein University, told Nuba Reports that he has witnessed many cases of violence and discrimination against Nuba students. “A few years ago, I witnessed the beatings and violent arrest of Aris,” said Murjan at a memorial event held for Al-Sadiq two days after he was killed. “The reality is, going to university for a Nuba student is a difficult task. You could be subjected to violence. They also target you academically, they fail you for years until you give up.”
Last year, a Nuba student was hospitalized after he was beaten almost to death at Al-Zaem Al-Azhari University. “He had just finished his studies and was at the university to finish administrative procedures to graduate when he was attacked during a bout of student violence. They thought he was from Darfur,” Yasin said.
Although the Nuba Mountains Student Union is apolitical, Nubas are seen by default as supporters of the rebel movement fighting in Blue Nile and the Nuba Mountains. In 2013, the minister of higher education issued a decree banning the activities of student groups that are viewed as loyal to rebel groups such as the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army – North (SPLM/A – N).
Since 2011, the government has sought to rout rebels that once fought alongside South Sudanese secessionists and now demand greater autonomy in their remote border region. The conflict started after the government reneged on a popular consultation designed to provide the region greater political autonomy, and insisted on what the SPLM-N considered a premature disarmament of their forces.
“They usually come to arrest us after any big fighting. I was arrested after the Abu-Kershola and the Um-Rowaba clashes between the SPLA-N and the government’s army. They arrest Nubas regardless of their political affiliation,” said a teacher from the Nuba Mountains who lives and teaches in Southern Khartoum, and who spoke on condition of anonymity.
Mass Protests
“The death of a student is the death of a nation,” protesters chanted as they carried Al-Sadiq’s body down Al-Arda Street, one of the largest streets in Omdurman, towards Hamid Al-Neel Cemetery. The procession started with about 100 students, with more and more citizens joining, and culminating in a crowd of thousands attending the young man’s funeral.
A student protest in Sudan. PHOTO: Sudan Forum. Used with permission.
Opposition parties, quick to capitalize on the situation, attended the funeral. A statement by National Umma Party, the largest opposition party, claimed the assassination represents a new “critical stage” in confronting the ruling party, stating that “The Umma Party rejects the violence at Sudanese Universities carried out by the ruling party, its students, agencies and militias that turned universities from knowledge forums to venues for murder and violent acts.”
“Few could have expected such an outpouring of outrage at the death of a young student, especially one from the marginalized Nuba Mountains region.”
Few could have expected such an outpouring of outrage at the death of a young student, especially one from the marginalized Nuba Mountains region. The death of Al-Sadiq led to the indefinite closure of his university and triggered a brimming sense of frustration. At least ten universities have erupted in protest since April, demonstrating against local grievances and government-triggered violence used to control university politics.
Al-Sadiq’s death came at an important time, as students at the University of Khartoum, Sudan’s oldest university, were already on the streets protesting against the alleged selling of their campus to an investor. Their campaign “Just not the Beautiful”, which is a reference to the university’s nickname, saw dozens of students arrested and led to the closure of the university.
Student movements and revolutions
Sudan’s student movement played a lead role in the two contemporary revolutions in Sudan in 1964 and 1985 to overthrow dictatorial governments. The 1964 revolution was triggered by the murder of a student from the University of Khartoum, Al-Gorashi, whose name is memorialized in many songs and poems. According to Wala Salah, the first female president of the Khartoum University Student Union, “This is why this current regime works to break down the student movement as one of its primary goals.”
Salah said that the government’s strategy to control campus politics started in the 1990s, after student protests over poor accommodation and a spike in tuition fees. They used divide-and-conquer tactics, whereby pro-government students were armed by the government and provided other incentives.
Since then, dozens of students have been assassinated and hundreds detained. While all Sudanese students have been affected, those from Darfur and the Nuba Mountains have been affected the most, especially in terms of access to education. Protests at universities routinely lead to closures and indefinite suspensions, preventing students from completing their studies.
Abdelrahman Adam, a student at the University of Zalingei in Central Darfur, was recently suspended for three semesters along with 13 other students for holding a forum to protest a December 2015 decision to ban political events at the university. Adam said that no investigations had taken place to assess the validity of the suspension. “This has a great impact on the students and the families. Some families stigmatize their children as a delayed degree means a delayed future,” he said, as many Sudanese families rely on their children to support them.
Currently 17 Khartoum University face suspensions, six of which are indefinite. Most of those university students are currently in detention, and dozens of others have been arrested since March 2016. It remains unknown how many students remain in detention.
Al-Sadiq is not the first Nuba student to be assassinated by the government, but his death continues to echo across Sudanese universities. But just like the deaths of other students over the years, there has been limited public engagement in the protests.
“Students continue to mobilize regardless of the security crackdown, but the public on the streets are not as convinced or prepared [to fight] for change as the student body. They need more outreach work,” added Yasin.
In Ombada, inside the house where Al-Sadiq was raised, his family remains hopeful that their tragedy will continue to resonate across the country. “I want the Sudanese people to stand by me. I want them to help me get retribution for my son and find justice,” his mother said.
*Name changed upon request due to security concerns

author: Nuba Reports