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Why Are Students in Ethiopia Protesting Against a Capital City Expansion Plan? · Global Voices
Endalkachew Chala

Students mourning at Haromaya University. Photo shared widely on social media.
Over the past two weeks, students in Ethiopia’s largest regional state, Oromia, have been protesting against a government plan to expand the area of the capital, Addis Ababa, into Oromia. Reports suggest security forces used violence including live ammunition to disperse crowds of peaceful demonstrators in the compounds of universities in Oromia.
According to Human Rights Watch, at least three students were killed and hundreds were injured across the region as security forces used excessive force to disperse student protesters. Other reports put the number of students killed up to ten. Although protesters are primarily university students, in some instances, high school and primary school children were also reportedly involved in intense confrontations with government forces.
At least nine students were killed by government forces in May 2014 while protesting over the same issue.
The students argue that the controversial plan, known as “the Master Plan”, to expand Addis Ababa into Oromia state would result in mass evictions of farmers mostly belonging to the Oromo ethnic group.
It wouldn't be the first time the government has uprooted members of an ethnic group. Thousands of ethnic Amharas in western Ethiopia were expelled from the country's Benishangul Gumuz region in 2013 in what critics called “ethnic cleansing”.
The students have other demands such as making Oromo a federal language. Oromo, the language of the Oromo people, is the most widely spoken language in Ethiopia and the fourth largest African language. However, it is not the working language of the federal government.
According to Ethiopian Constitution, Oromia is one of the nine ethnically based and politically autonomous regional states in Ethiopia. Oromo people make up the largest ethnic group in Ethiopia. However, the group has been systematically marginalized and persecuted for the last 24 years. By some estimates, there were as many as 20,000 Oromo political prisoners in Ethiopia as of March 2014.
A 2014 Amnesty International report on repression in the Oromia region noted:
Between 2011 and 2014, at least 5000 Oromos have been arrested based on their actual or suspected peaceful opposition to the government. These include thousands of peaceful protestors and hundreds of opposition political party members. The government anticipates a high level of opposition in Oromia, and signs of dissent are sought out and regularly, sometimes pre-emptively, suppressed. In numerous cases, actual or suspected dissenters have been detained without charge or trial, killed by security services during protests, arrests and in detention.
The ruling elite of Ethiopia are mostly from the Tigray region, which is located in the northern part of the country.
Even as the Ethiopian drought and impending  food crisis makes a rare appearance in local—and some international—headlines, little attention is being paid to the student protests in Ethiopian media. But despite Ethiopia’s highly controlled online environment and the government’s firm grip on communications infrastructure, social media users are reporting on the issue, particularly on Facebook, with additional coverage coming from diaspora-based media.
Photo widely circulated on social media, taken from the Facebook page of Jawar Mohammed.
One Facebook user, for example, hoped for the world to hear stories of the student protesters’ inspiring actions:
The silence has truly been deafening. We need to see and hear the inspiring actions undertaken by huge numbers of #Oromo in #Ethiopia. Tell their story, enable the world to be swept up in their story.Considering the complete absence of freedom to criticize the government or report opposition stories from within the country, people around the world reading about it can help greatly by doing everything possible to amplify this story.
Another Facebook user, Aga Teshome, took note of the political power of Oromo youth:
…#OromoProtests a call for all oppressed people in #Ethiopia to support the ongoing protest against #landgrabing
….the Oromo youth are a powerful political entity capable of shaking mountains. This powerful political entity is hell bent on exposing the [ruling party] EPRDF government’s atrocious human rights record and all round discriminatory practices.
While Desu Tefera said:
We call upon the media to investigate the conditions that these students died trying to expose and resist, to draw attention to these concerns. Oromia needs a new kind of reporting by the international media, which gives voice to the voiceless Oromo people, who for a very long time have been killed, mistreated, abused, neglected and repressed in Ethiopia. Going forward with the current plan, which ends up displacing tens of thousands of poor farmers, destroying their livelihood and depriving their identity, is a tragedy. It deserves attention. These students put their lives on the line to draw attention to the farmers’ plight.#OromoProtests
Although social media reports are pivotal in letting the world know about the protests, they miss a huge chunk of nuance that would help observers understand how this dispute is unfolding. Notably, the fact that the student protests combine delicate ethnic politics, urban land grabbing and Ethiopia’s diaspora community’s involvement in home country politics.
Given Ethiopia’s highly controlIed environment, one might wonder how the students managed to get organized to express their grievance in the mid of highly controlled environment. Despite the firm grip on communication infrastructure there are constant update on Facebook and Twitter about the protest.
The story is unpleasantly familiar, as students are protesting for the second time in less than two years.
In April and May 2014, the protests began in response to the government’s plan to implement the “Integrated Masterplan for Addis Ababa”. As Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia, is an enclave within Oromia regional state, students primarily from Oromia state accused the Ethiopian government of attempting to take over land owned by local farmers in the name of integrating adjacent Oromia towns into the sprawling city of Addis. The students further alleged that if implemented, the Masterplan would result in Addis Ababa further encroaching into the territory of Oromia.
The government rejected the accusation, claiming that the Masterplan was intended only to facilitate the development of infrastructure such as transportation, utilities, and recreation centers.
When the protests began the students’ main demand was the complete halting of the Masterplan. In May 2014, the government did momentarily halt the plan in order to abate the protests after at least nine were killed and hundreds of ethnic Oromo students were imprisoned. But when the government decided to resume plans to implement the Masterplan in November this year resentment boiled over again, resulting in the currently two-week-old student protest leaving at least ten people dead and many injured.
Since the highly contested 2005 national election, forceful evictions and urban land grabbing have become frequent in Addis Ababa. The capital city’s rapid growth has resulted in increasing pressure to convert rural land for industrial, housing, infrastructure, or other urban use.
Diaspora-based advocates say the unrest in Oromia is just a part of the general unhappiness that prevails in the country. They accuse the government of working for the benefit of a few people at the expense of others. They even suggest that the Ethiopian government covertly encouraged informal settlement on the outskirts of Addis Ababa so that they could later find a way to intervene under the guise of rebuilding the slums and lease the land to real estate developers.
Ermias Legesse, a high profile government defector, traces the cause of the Oromo student protest to events that took place 15 years ago. In his book, “Addis Ababa: The Abandoned City”, Ermias notes that since 2000 the Addis Ababa city municipality, with the support of the federal government, enacted five different pieces of legislation to “legalize” the informal settlements, and then sold the “legalized” lands to private property developers.
Most informal settlers on the outskirts of Addis Ababa manage to establish themselves for a period of time until they are displaced by government. “Sometimes the informal settlers are given only a few days’ notices before bulldozers arrive on the scene to tear down their shabby houses and lay foundations for new investors,” Ermias said in an interview with a diaspora-based television channel.

author: Endalkachew Chala


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Netizen Report: Pro-Government Hackers and Constitutional Amendment Put Free Speech Under Fire in Ecuador · Global Voices
Netizen Report Team

Ecuador’s National Assembly introduced new constitutional amendments on December 3 that are causing alarm for free-expression organizations throughout the country. Among the 15 amendments adopted by the majority in the Assembly, one would re-define communication as “a public service.”
Although it may sound like a measure aimed at further democratizing communication and media structures in the country, it will effectively put control over the media into the hands of a government and ruling party that have shown no hesitation when it comes to controlling media messages and silencing critics both online and off. Just last month, authorities sentenced opposition party leader Sebastian Cevallos to 15 days in prison for a tweet that accused government leaders of nepotism.
The nonprofit organization Fundamedios called the amendment “a serious setback and a violation of the right to freedom of expression” and described the change as a move that will give the state “ownership” of this fundamental right.
Days after the amendment was introduced, Citizen Lab (a research group at the University of Toronto) published an in-depth study on a pro-government hacking and spyware initiative dubbed “Packrat” that has been targeting journalists, activists and opposition politicians in Ecuador, Venezuela and Argentina for as long as six years. Attacking their targets with malware and maintaining fake opposition groups and news sites used to distribute malware and conduct phishing attacks, the initiative shows signs of being linked to government efforts at silencing critics. Among those targeted were Ecuadorian journalist Janet Hinostroza and the popular social media critic known as Crudo Ecuador on Twitter.
Citizen Lab researcher John-Scott Railton told the Associated Press, “The breadth and brazenness of the hackers’ activity bear the hallmarks of state sponsorship….So do its targets.”
For over two weeks following a controversial Supreme Court ruling, the government in Bangladesh blocked access to Facebook, WhatsApp and Viber, among other websites. Officials said the ban was put in place in order to preserve security in light of recent attacks and local political violence, but there is concern that it’s part of a pattern of increasing censorship online. When citizens turned to proxy servers and other technical tools in an effort to circumvent the ban, officials threatened to ban these, as well. Telecommunications Minister Tarana Halim said in a public statement that the ministry is pursuing an agreement with Facebook that would help to prevent the posting of “objectionable” content on the site. Halim and other top authorities met with Facebook regional executives to discuss this and challenges related to the acquisition of user data in law enforcement investigations. It remains unclear whether this will bring about changes that affect Facebook users in Bangladesh.
Venezuela chose a new Parliament last Sunday, December 6, with voters turning out overwhelmingly in favor of the opposition. Ahead of elections, many feared a return of the country-wide Internet blackout that briefly took place during the 2013 presidential elections, following Hugo Chávez’s death. History did not repeat itself at this scale, but there were numerous local-level Internet outages in at least half of the country’s 24 states. These data were crowdsourced by NGO Acceso Libre, which documented issues with Internet access all through election weekend, with a particular focus on states where the political tendencies are traditionally against the ruling party, such as the western states of Zulia and Táchira.
Nigerian social media users and human rights advocates are speaking out against a proposed law that would criminalize “abusive” language on social media and messaging platforms. The bill could render two years’ prison time, up to $10,000 in fines or both for anyone who posts an “abusive statement” on such platforms. The bill’s opponents are expressing their concerns about its implications for free expression using the hashtag #NotoSocialMediaBill.
Kazakhtelecom JSC announced that it will begin intercepting all mobile communications in January 2016 by requiring citizens to install a new “national security certificate” on their devices. The certificate will function as an effective backdoor, allowing officials to intercept (and potentially block) a user’s communications and browsing of foreign websites. This model makes it cheaper for the company — which is the country’s largest, and is majority-owned by the government — to monitor mobile activity. But it also carries troubling security implications for users and foreign websites alike. Some critics speculate that it could also prompt companies like Google, Microsoft and others to blacklist the Kazakh certificate authority altogether, leaving Kazakh users without access to such major world platforms.
Syrian-Palestinian software engineer Bassel Khartabil, also known as Bassel Safadi, has not been seen since October 4, 2015. It is rumored that the Syrian government has secretly sentenced him to death. Over 37,000 supporters have signed an open petition urging Syrian authorities to inform Bassel's family of his whereabouts and grant him clemency. Supporters are now turning to the United Nations’ Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon and asking for his support to uphold international commitments to human rights and demand Bassel's immediate and safe release. Learn more.
Mary Aviles, Ellery Roberts Biddle, Hae-in Lim and Sarah Myers West contributed to this report.

source: news-globalvoices

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

author: Netizen Report Team


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Photographer Elyor Nematov Captures the Lives of Kyrgyzstan’s Russia-Based Migrants Left Behind · Global Voices
Akhal-Tech Collective

The wife of a migrant worker. She hasn't seen her husband in two years. Aravan village, Osh oblast.
All images in this post belong to Elyor Nematov and are used with permission. Some of them have also been featured on Meduza and the Guardian.
Produced over the course of several months in 2014 and 2015 photographer Elyor Nematov's photo project ‘Father Comes Tomorrow’ explores the lives of migrant workers’ families. It is the second chapter of “I am Foreigner”, a photo-documentary project depicting various aspects of labour migration from Central Asia to Russia.
Nematov was born in the Silk Road city of Bukhara in neighbouring Uzbekistan, but now lives and works in Kyrgyzstan where the ‘Father Comes Tomorrow’ chapter is set.
Besides Tajikistan to the south, tiny Kyrgyzstan is the Central Asian country where the highest proportion of the population live and work in Russia. In these countries with a combined population of less than 14 million people, the money migrants send home is equal to half and a third of GDP respectively, making them the two most remittance-dependent nations on the planet.
Family dinner. Chek village, Batken oblast.
“Father comes tomorrow” is a phrase millions of children in Central Asia hear when they ask the questions “Where is my father? When will he come back home?”
Those who stay behind to look after the children use this phrase over and over again. And no one knows when this “tomorrow” will actually be.
Nematov's photo story is about migrant workers’ families — mostly women and children — who mind the home and eek out a living while their loved ones try to save money in Russia. Many Central Asian children are growing up without their fathers in their lives, placing a huge burden of care on mothers, older sisters and grandparents in particular.
Due to excessive drought, a woman is digging small holes around apricot trees in order to accumulate rainwater. Apricots are the main, and sometimes only, source of income for many families in Batken. Djangigen village, Batken oblast.
Moreover, in the aftermath of the recent economic crash in Russia, prompting the massive depreciation of the ruble* against the dollar and other major foreign currencies, migrants are sending back less and less money, with some returning to their homes in desperation. In oblasts such as Osh and Batken, there are no jobs waiting for them when they arrive.
These places are the primary settings for Nematov's powerful images, which capture simultaneously the beauty and hardship of life outside Kyrgyzstan's capital city Bishkek, while emphasising its constant gnawing vulnerability.
* The fall of Russia's ruble has also had a strong impact on Kyrgyzstan's currency, the som. At the time these stories were collected the som was worth between 45 and 55 to the US dollar. Currently there are closer to 75 soms to the dollar. Pensions and wages referenced in the photo story may have since been adjusted.
Mahfirat, a 60-year-old woman, collects bricks for the restoration of a destroyed house. Osh city, Osh oblast.
An elderly woman shovels mud from a destroyed road near her house. Osh city, Osh oblast.
A man about to embark upon a long journey takes a bite of homemade bread. Residents of the Ferghana Valley believe that leaving the uneaten portion behind will cause the traveler to eventually return home. Until then, the bread will be hung on the wall of the house. Chek village, Batken oblast.
A boy addresses his mother. Chek village, Batken oblast.
Baysiya, 45-years-old, raises her three grandchildren. Their parents work as a yard-keeper and tractor-driver respectively somewhere in Russia. The youngest child is six months old, the oldest three years. Byasiya's sole income is selling butter, which she gets from her only cow. “Your parents work,” she tells her grandchildren whenever they lament about their vacant parents. “They will be back one day, when it is destined…” Djangijer village, Batken oblast.
Mazur, 55-years-old, takes care of his five grandchildren. Their parents are constantly working in Russia. Osh city, Osh oblast.
Mahfirat, 60-years-old, raises her three grandchildren. She receives a monthly state pension of 2,700 Kyrgyz soms [$40]. “'Look at the moon. Your parents are looking back at you from there,’ I say to the children. And then every time the moon is full, they look up…” Osh city, Osh oblast.
Tologon, 63-years-old, takes care of her two grandchildren, one six months old, the other two years old. “They often talk to their mother on the phone,” she says. “I say [to the children] that their mother will arrive in the summer. When summer comes, I say she will come in the winter, and she'll bring a lot of money…” Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
A 14-year-old girl takes care of her older sister's daughter. The older sister was divorced and went to Russia to find work. Karabag village, Batken oblast.
A six-year-old boy whose parents divorced after they both went to work in Russia. In fact, his father began a relationship with another woman and subsequently gave up on his mother. Chek village, Batken oblast.
A three-year-old boy whose father was imprisoned in Russia for three to five years for the unintentional death of a colleague on a construction site. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
In Karabag village there are no men left, except for elderly men and children. Karabag village, Batken oblast.
The children of migrant workers during a lunch break. Karabag village, Batken oblast.
A family dinner of migrant workers. Djangijer village, Batken oblast.
Laila, 70-years-old, is raising her four grandchildren. Their parents have been working in Russia for more than three years. Laila receives a monthly state pension of 3400 Kyrgyz soms (KGS). “Whenever a plane flies over us in the sky, the children ask me, ‘Maybe it's our parents coming back?’ And I tell them, ‘Your parents will come, be patient'…” Djangijer village, Batken oblast.
The son of a migrant worker. Karabag village, Batken oblast.
The children of migrant workers bath in an aryk (stream) near their house. Chek village, Batken oblast.
Tolokon, 53-years-old, has not seen her husband for over seven years. According to Tolokon, he went to Russia for work but has never been able to send money back. She has raised their three children alone. The eldest daughter herself divorced and moved to Russia, leaving behind a six-month-old daughter for Tolokon to raise. “My granddaughter often says, ‘Mom-Mom, Dad-Dad,’ and her father, although he lives in a nearby village, doesn't visit his daughter, he is already married again…” Karabag village, Batken oblast.
Manzura, 55-years-old, takes care of her five grandchildren. Their parents divorced because of the husband's alcoholism, and their mother went to work in Russia. Manzura receives a monthly pension of 3,000 Kyrgyz soms (KGS). “I tell them that their mom will come when she gets a vacation. They stopped asking about their father…” Osh city, Osh oblast.
A mother with an infant. It is very difficult to meet a working-age youth in a Kyrgyzstani village since most have left for Russia to find work. Chek village, Batken oblast.
Children of migrant workers collecting eggs. Left behind by their parents, children from an early age are often involved in household chores and low-level economic activity. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Oyimnisa, 60-years-old, raises her three grandchildren by herself. “The younger granddaughter doesn't remember her mother as she was only eight months old when she left them and went to Russia. So, she does not ask me about her mother.” Djangijer village, Batken oblast.
A 14-year-old girl takes care of her older sister's daughter. The older sister was divorced and went to Russia to find work. Karabag village, Batken oblast.
The children of a sanitation technician who lives in a small trailer somewhere in Moscow. His three children and wife wait in the family household for his return. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
The family of a migrant worker who was imprisoned in Russia for three to five years for the unintentional death of a colleague on a construction site. The mother, Mastura, earns a living by helping her neighbours with household chores and washing dishes at weddings. The youngest daughter was only one week old when her father left for work. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Laily, 70-years-old, raises her four grandchildren. Their parents have been working in Russia for over three years. Laily receives a monthly state pension of 3,000 Kyrgyz soms (KGS).
Children playing football in a yard. Students freshly graduated from the third to fifth class (ages eight to eleven years) are the most vulnerable to labor migration. Some children even begin planning their trip to Russia long before graduating. Isfana city, Batken oblast.
The children of a plumber who lives in a small trailer somewhere in Moscow. His three children and wife wait in the family household for his return. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Women cooking Sumalyak, a traditional Springtime dish. Osh city, Osh oblast.
The family of a migrant worker who was imprisoned in Russia for three to five years for the unintentional death of a colleague on a construction site. The mother, Mastura, earns a living by helping her neighbors with household chores and washing dishes at weddings. The youngest daughter was only one week old when her father left for work. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
A one-year-old child left by her parents and raised by her grandmother. Her grandmother has made a crib by installing a lattice around a bed. Because she is unable to take care of her granddaughter regularly, the grandmother devised this contraption to make sure the child does not wander away when she is not present. Karabag village, Batken oblast.
Savrinisa, 54-years-old, raises her three grandchildren. Because of the recent economic crisis in Russia, her children are unable to repatriate money. The family's only source of income now is cultivating a small field of tobacco leaves. Djangijer village, Batken oblast. “I tell them that their parents will come soon and will bring them many sweets, chocolates. They call their children once a week. Their mother gave birth to another son there, so they will bring another child [when they next return]. Previously, their parents sent money regularly, but lately I we must survive on my pension. The only way to make extra money is this tobacco garden…”
The mother of a migrant worker who had effectively been enslaved in Kazakhstan for nine years peels onions. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Tolokon, 53-years-old, bought a calf with money sent by her daughter in Russia. Only one week after the birth, the calf's mother died. Karabag village, Batken oblast.
Klara, 26-years-old. Her mother died from a stroke just before returning home from Moscow. One month later, her father died from complications due to alcoholism. Klara has dwarfism. She dreams to become a master cosmetician and get married. Osh city, Osh oblast.
Savrinisa's daughter in law, 23-years-old, repairs the house. All of the men in her family, including her husband, have gone to Russia to look for work. Djangijer village, Batken oblast.
Mastura, the wife of a migrant worker who was imprisoned in Russia for three to five years for the unintentional death of a colleague on a construction site, picks tomatoes for extra money. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
A choyhona, a traditional Uzbek teahouse, occupied by female Kyrgyz patrons. Normally, choyhonas are strictly male-only, but with so many men working in Russia, women have taken over the business. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
A woman walks through a small grove of trees cut down for winter firewood. Djangijer village, Batken oblast.
Mahfirat, 60-years-old, renovates a house that suffered damage when its old foundations began to decay. All of Mahfirat's sons work in Russia, and her husband is ill and unable to perform hard labor. Osh city, Osh oblast.
Sixty-year-old Ainysa and her grandson. All of her children work in Russia. Chek village, Batken oblast.
Akmal, 30-years-old, constructs a new house while raising his four children, as well as two children from a neighbor. Normally, it is the women who are left behind, but Akmal's wife is the one who has trekked off to Russia. She works as a waitress in one of the countless cafés of Moscow. Batken city, Batken oblast.
Batyr, 32-years-old, constructs a new house while raising his two daughters. Normally, it is the women who are left behind, but Akmal's wife is the one who has trekked off to Russia. She works as a waitress in one of the countless cafés of Moscow. Batken city, Batken oblast.
Anarbek, 27-years-old, was effectively enslaved in Kazakhstan for nine years. He left Aravan at the age of 17. In Kazakhstan, he was forced to live in a tiny enclosed space and performed hard manual labor without any compensation. He was even sold several times to different individuals. His parents searched fruitlessly for him, and eventually feared that he was dead. Fortunately, Anarbek was eventually able to escape, literally running away from the last place of his indentured servitude. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Anarbek's mother, 50-years-old. The woman who facilitated the arrangement that initially brought Anarbek to Kazakhstan lived – and still lives – in Aravan. Throughout the nine years of his oddyssey, Anarbek's mother tried unsuccessfully to get answers from this woman, who sometimes reacted violently. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Anarbek's mother, 50-years-old. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Anarbek, 27-years-old. With the help of a sympathetic driver from one of the sites in which he was forced to work, Anarbek was able to escape to the Kazakhstani-Kyrgyzstani border. However, since he no longer possessed his passport, the Kazakhstani border guards refused to let him leave the country. In desperation, he crossed the border illegally by swimming across the Chu (Chuy) River. It was winter. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Asylbek, approximately 30-years-old, holds a portrait of his brother who disappeared without a trace in early 2013, after thirteen years working in Russia. Their mother died in March 2013, and the family has no way of informing him. Batken city, Batken oblast.
A pregnant widow of a migrant worker, approximately 30-years-old. Chek village, Batken oblast.
Begimay, 16-years-old, takes care of her older sister's three children. Her older sister, brothers, and father all work in Russia. Djangijer village, Batken oblast.
The children of a sanitation technician who lives in a small trailer somewhere in Moscow. His three children and wife wait in the family household for his return. Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.
Begimay, 16-years-old, and her mother Baysiya, 45-years-old, take cares of the her older sister's three children. Her older sister, brothers, and father all work in Russia. Djangijer village, Batken oblast.
Aliya, 45-years-old. Two of her sons and her husband work in Russia. She has been building their house using the money they have sent to her. Aliya has directly managed the construction process. Karabag village, Batken oblast.
Tologon, 63-years-old, takes care of her two grandchildren, one six months old, the other two-years-old. “They often talk to their mother on the phone,” she says. “I say [to the children] that their mother will arrive in the summer. When summer comes, I say she will come in the winter, and she'll bring a lot of money…” Aravan rayon, Osh oblast.

author: Akhal-Tech Collective


text:
Russia Sentences First Activist to Three Years in Jail for Peaceful Protest · Global Voices
Tanya Lokot

Ildar Dadin being detained at a protest rally. Image from Anastasia Zotova on Facebook.
A Moscow court has sentenced a protester to three years in prison for peaceful protests under a new law regulating unsanctioned protest activity introduced last year. Human rights activists believe the law is yet another means of repressing dissent in Russia.
Ildar Dadin, who took part in several single-person pickets in 2014, became the first Russian citizen jailed for participating in more than two unsanctioned public events in 180 consecutive days. Investigators claim he took part in four unsanctioned protests during 2014.
On December 7, the court found Dadin guilty of “repetitive violation of the regulations on public events,” and delivered the sentence the same day. Dadin has already spent 10 months under house arrest. He has also previously received administrative sentences for human rights-related activity, spending 7, 10 and 15 days in detention.
Speaking in court, Dadin pleaded not guilty and called the case against him a “shameful persecution based on an unconstitutional law.”
Я готов сесть за свои убеждения. Я боролся и буду бороться за свои права.
I am ready to go to jail for my beliefs. I have fought and will continue to fight for my rights.
A video from the courtroom shows the moment the verdict was read and the outcry immediately after.
Russian journalists, civil society, and political activists posted about Dadin's sentence on social media, with reactions ranging from shock to outrage.
In case you guys missed it, a Russian court went ahead and jailed a non-violent protester for three years. Three. Goddamn Years.
— Natalia Antonova (@NataliaAntonova) December 7, 2015
Охренеть. Дадину дали три года реального срока за проведение нескольких одиночных пикетов
— Alexey Navalny (@navalny) December 7, 2015
Holy crap. Dadin got three years—a real prison term—for holding several single-person pickets.
Первый срок за несанкционированный митинг, сразу 3 года дали Дадину. Дико жесткий приговор, просто максимально
— Смирнов (@sssmirnov) December 7, 2015
First jail term for unsanctioned meetings, Dadin quickly gets three years. An extremely harsh sentence, the maximum.
Other users saw harsher sentences for peaceful protest as a logical development of Russian state cracking down on free expression and civic activism.
Одна беда в стране осталась – люди неправильно одиночные пикеты проводят. В тюрьму их. Гребаный стыд. https://t.co/UOW6avpSeG
— Stepan (@AndrianovStepan) December 8, 2015
One problem left in this country—people incorrectly holding single-person pickets. Let's jail them. F*cking shame.
Human rights defender Pavel Chikov was almost resigned in his reaction and said suspended sentences for protesters were fast becoming a “positive outcome.”
Давно говорю, кто общественной деятельностью занимается сегодня в России, тому на три года колонии надо быть готовым.
— Pavel Chikov (@pchikov) December 7, 2015
I've long said that those engaging in civic activity in Russia today should be prepared for three years in a penal colony.
Human rights organizations, including Memorial, Freedom House, and others, have also spoken out against the verdict. Amnesty International called the sentence a “shocking and cynical attack on freedom of expression.”
Ildar Dadin at a single-person picket in Moscow in 2014. Poster reads: “Putin is the downfall of Russia.” Image from Facebook.
Dadin's fiancée Anastasia Zotova, in a blog post about his activism and his personal life, described him as a kind, caring person and denounced the sentence.
Он всегда требовал, чтобы полиция исполняла закон. Это человек, который искренне хочет сделать лучше страну, в которой он живет. А его любимая фраза — «честь и человечность превыше всего».
He always demanded that the police adhere to the law. This is a person who sincerely wants to make his country better. And his favorite phrase is “honor and humanity above all.”
Three other Russian activists, including Mark Galperin and 75-year-old Vladimir Ionov, have been charged with a similar crime for peaceful dissent and single-person picketing.
In a January 2015 interview with Open Russia, Dadin talked about becoming a civic activist and said his dream was to build a “lawful state” in Russia.
Всем, кто интересуется моим мнением, передайте: «Россия должна быть свободной. Я не уверен, что будет, но должна».
To everyone who wants to know my opinion, please say: “Russia must be free. I'm not sure it will, but it must.”

author: Tanya Lokot


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Bangladesh’s Censor Board Blocks the Country’s First Chakma-Language Film · Global Voices
Pantha Rahman Reza

Promo of My Bicycle
‘Mor Thengari’ (‘My Bicycle’) is the first feature film made entirely in Chakma, an indigenous language spoken by the Chakma ethnic minority in Bangladesh. Directed by Aung Rakhine, the film centers around indigenous people, particularly the Chakma community. However, ‘My Bicycle’ will not see a commercial release inside Bangladesh because it did not make it past the country’s censor authorities.
Although about 98 per cent of Bangladeshis are of the Bengali ethno-linguistic group, there are more than 45 indigenous and minor ethnic groups with different languages and cultures in Bangladesh. Their lives and languages are rarely represented in Bangladeshi film and national broadcasts. In part, this is because the country’s film industry is regulated by a censor board that only seems to have the capacity to review Bangla and English films.
The censor board could not be reached for comment, but local commentators surmise that even if the board had the capacity to review films in other languages, a film like ‘My Bicycle’ would not have made it past the board’s security laws.
‘My Bicycle’ was conceived of 10 years ago and finally produced by Pandolipi Karkhana, who managed to find 30 financiers. Filming began in 2012. The film tells the story of an indigenous man named Komol who is fired from a job in a city and returns to his native village with only a bicycle. Komol tries to make a living by using the bicycle to ferry passengers and goods, but runs into trouble with others in the village.
Promo of My Bicycle
The 63-minute-long independent film was entirely shot in the Chittagong Hill Tracts, where most Chakmas live. Rather than using professional actors, Chakmas were cast in all leading roles. Komol Moni Chakma’s portrayal of the lead character and Indira Chakma’s role as his wife Devi were highly acclaimed by viewers and critics alike. The film draws attention to people’s language, cultural and political rights, highlighting the fact that the indigenous languages are struggling for their existence.
Almost 300,000 people speak Chakma language in Bangladesh. But the language is dying because it is not being used. In this context, Chakma king Debashish Roy praised the making of the first Chakma language film, saying:
It is a great attempt, particularly in the present time as the Chakma language is dying and the government is doing nothing about it.
The Bangladesh Film Censor Board was established in 1978 as an organisation for the reviewing of feature films and for issuing certificates for their release. The board examines locally produced films of all categories, as well as all imported films for commercial purposes and non-commercial use. The board follows the laws and principles of film censorship, namely the Censorship of Films Act 1963. The fifteen board members from across different sectors are nominated by the government.
According to blogger Marzia Prova, the censor board only approves films made in Bengali or English. “They do not issue any certificate for films of other languages,” Prova writes. “I have never heard this kind of strange rules. It is only possible for Bangladesh. Our neighbour India releases each year films of many languages including Hindi, English, Tamil, Malayalam and Bengali.”
Dana Barua confirms this language discrimination in a post on Banglamail:
Hindi language movies get released in our country but this movie was censored only because it was made in Chakma language. It is alleged that there is a policy that Censor Board only gives certificate to Bengali and English language films. They do not issue any certificate for others language films. If language is the only barrier to release this film, it is a weakness of the policy.
However, it is likely that language was not the only barrier. Prova writes that censor certificates are only granted if the director is a member of the directors association and the producer a member of the producers association—requirements that may not have been met because membership is often prohibitively expensive.
Another report suggests that the original censor screening was postponed and a rescheduled screening never held at all. Still others speculate that ‘My Bicycle’ was censored due to its unfavourable portrayal of the army.
After the film was shown in several festivals, the armed forces took notice and lodged a 14 page long complaint that the film showed the activities of the army. “The issue of armed forces rule in the hill tracts is a sensitive issue, people may know the truth,” writes Prova. “People may discover a lot of things. It is a big problem, so stop the film.”
In representing the lives of the Chakma people, ‘My Bicycle’ also touches on the human rights violations committed by the army in the Chittagong Hill tracts, where the Chakmas have historically made their home.
The Chittagong Hill Tracts have long seen presence of armed forces due to the political conflict and armed struggle between the Government of Bangladesh and the Parbatya Chattagram Jana Sanghati Samiti (United People’s Party of the Chittagong Hill Tracts). Although things are peaceful now as the Chittagong Hill Tracts Peace Accord is in effect since 1997 occasional human right violations by insurgents and the armed forces are reported.
Security laws censor films that are at odds with state interests, for example, by unfavourably portraying the police or other law enforcement officers, or conflicting with foreign relations by being either in favour of a state that is in conflict with Bangladesh or against a state that Bangladesh has a friendly relationship with.
Without the approval of the censor board no film can be screened inside Bangladesh. However, they can still be screened abroad in different festivals, and the film has received some international recognition once it was screened at the 2015 Religion Today Film Festival on 9-19 October 2015 in Italy and at the 16th Rainbow Film Festival in the United Kingdom.
Although local film festivals are also required by law to obtain clearance from the censor board for their programming, ‘My Bicycle’ has been screened at a couple of local film festivals inside Bangladesh: at the South Asian Documentary Film Festival in Chittagong, and the 13th International Short and Independent Film Festival in Dhaka, Rakhine, citing a loophole in which censor certificates are not required for non-commercial screenings.
Blogger Mortaza praised the director of ‘My Bicycle’ for making the film in Chakma language:
I hope, the state will come forward to patronise directors like Aung; the audience will encourage them to screen it to many places and make more films like this. Best wishes for Aung Rakhine. ‘Mor Thengari’ will secure its place.
Here is the trailer of the movie:

author: Pantha Rahman Reza


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Chinese Authorities Think Internet Companies Should Reward Netizens Who ‘Spread Good News’ · Global Voices
Oiwan Lam

“Spread positive energy and build the China Dream” is a propaganda strategy under the leadership of Xi Jinping. Image from online banner generator tupian.
Since 2014, “spreading positive energy among society” has become a major propaganda strategy advocated by Chinese President Xi Jinping. The Chinese Web now counts the presence of millions of “civilization volunteers” pushing Chinese Communist Party-friendly messages.
But positive energy can only do so much in the face of depressing news dominating the headlines, such as toxic smog blanketing Beijing and parts of the north.
To combat this, Jiang Jun, the spokesman of China's State Internet Information Office, is urging IT and Internet companies to allocate part of their funds meant for charity to those who “spread good news.”
In a meeting attended by major online portals, news outlets and Internet businesses such as Alibaba, Baidu and Sina, at end of November, Jiang criticized the IT and Internet sectors for their lack of commitment to charity work. “Deer Murmur,” a blogger from Watching CN paraphrased and quoted Jiang's suggestion during the meeting:
互联网不但是信息集散地，也是知识集散地，也越来越多地成为商品和服务的集散地，同时，它也是大众情绪集散地，这其中，就有戾气、怨气。怎样平复呢？比如，可以通过公益活动，“让网民存善念、发善贴、行善事、助善行，有的国外的网站仅仅是转发一个善行的帖子就奖励，转发就会给予补贴。” […] 我们要打扶贫攻坚战，现在网民有多少呢？有6亿多，没有脱贫的人有七千多万，比例差不多是九个网民对一个穷人，我们希望理想的结果是：让九个网民来帮助一个穷人。
The Internet is not just an information platform, but also a knowledge, business and service platform. It also distributes public emotions, feelings such as anger and resentment. How can we resolve emotions like resentment? We can make use of charity work “to encourage netizens to cultivate goodness, forward good news, do good things and be a good Samaritans. Some overseas sites give awards [to netizens] if they spread good news, some sort of subsidy.” […] We can treat this as a campaign to lift people out of poverty. Currently, we have 600 million netizens and more than 70 million of them are living in poverty. The ratio of the better off to poor is about nine to one. We can let the nine who are better off help the one who is poor.
Currently, most IT and Internet giants have dedicated charity departments to raise awareness of issues and collect funds for organizations that, for example, help the disadvantaged or undertake disaster relief work. However, funneling resources toward subsidizing those who “spread good news” implies that these companies would shoulder the expenses of the government and party's propaganda paid online commentators (commonly known as the 50-Cent Party).
The very definition of “good news” is also in question. China Digital Times recently spotted one particularly upsetting example of how state-owned media twist bad news into good news.
The news presented a suspected case of abduction and rape of a mentally disabled woman as a touching story of a poor man raising his young child alone. The story was tagged #positiveenergy on Weibo, a popular Chinese social media platform:
张保勇说，自己家庭贫困，跟哥哥一把年龄了还没有结婚。10年前，他在外捡垃圾的时候，碰到一个智障女子，三年后，女子怀孕并生下一名女婴，因为害怕别人知道，他一直不敢出门，就在孩子刚满三个月的时候，孩子母亲偷跑出去，他一心照顾孩子，也没再寻找。“我身体残疾，没有劳动能力，我哥哥每天都去东阿县城捡垃圾，一个月也就收入六七百元钱。”
[…]虽然有外债，但到了上学年龄，张保勇还是送女儿上了幼儿园，“半年学费一两千块钱，我们俩省吃俭用也得供孩子上学。”张保勇说，因为自己跟智障女没有结婚证，孩子在东阿县医院出生时，没法办理出生证明，所以女儿到现在还是黑户。“没有户口，连一年级都没法上。” […]
Zhang Boyong said his family is poor. Even though he and his brother are old, they remained single. Ten years ago, he met a mentally disabled woman while he was picking up recycling items from the rubbish. Three years later, the woman gave birth to a baby girl. He dared not go out as he was worried that others would find out. When the baby was three months old, her mother ran away. He did not look for her as he had to take care of the baby. “I have a physical disability and cannot do hard work. My brother would go downtown to pick up recycled items and earned about 600-700 yuan [approximately 100-120 US dollars] a month.
[…] Though he had to borrow money, he sent his daughter to kindergarten. “The school fee was about 1,000-2,000 yuan for six months. We had to eat less and save money for school,” Zhang said. He did not have a marriage certificate with the women so the child did not have a birth certificate. The girl still does not have household registration. “Without household registration, she cannot even attend primary school.” […]
Party mouthpiece People's Daily repackaged the news as a heartwarming story of a lower-class single parent, highlighting the five-year-old girl's care for her disabled father. Yet many netizens spotted the gaps in the narration and retold the story on Weibo (via China Digital Times):
看吧，小姑娘的智障母亲是怎么来的￼为了一己私欲，强奸拘禁智障女性成孕；现在又让才5岁的小姑娘承担原不属于她这个年纪该承担的重担。现在再出来演演孝感动天的戏码，呵呵
Look, where did the little girl's mentally disabled mother come from? To satisfy [his] animal desire, [he] raped the mentally disabled woman and made her pregnant. Now [he] lets the little girl take up such a heavy burden. Now playing: the theater of Chinese piety LOL.
母亲是跑了还是被弄死了？生过孩子就失踪了？她生孩子前怎么没跑？赶快安置好孩子收押这罪犯吧
It's a question, did the mother run away or was she murdered? Why did she disappear after giving birth? Why didn't she run away before the child was born? Take care of the kid and arrest the criminal!
把这个强奸智力障碍妇女的王八蛋哥俩送进监狱，再找有能力抚养的好心人领养这个小女孩才叫正能量，现在制造舆论，不懂法律的蠢货真是漫山遍野。
Putting the rapist in jail and finding the little girl a good foster family is positive energy. So many stupid people with no legal sense are taking up propaganda work.
我去。。。。强奸智障妇女，生下一个孩子忍受悲惨的人生，还成正能量了？小编你要不要也只有正能量一个？我保证不报警[拜拜]
WTF…. raping a mentally disabled woman and giving birth to a kid who has to live in misery and you call this positive energy? Perhaps the editor would like to experience this kind of positive energy. I promise that I won't report it to the police. Bye-bye.
Judging from the above case, if Internet giants are to subsidize those who spread positive energy as suggested by Jiang Jun, the line between good and bad, right and wrong might become thinner than ever.

author: Oiwan Lam


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Debunking Rumors About Japan’s Supposed Anti-Muslim Restrictions · Global Voices
Nevin Thompson

Mosque in Kobe, Kansai, Japan. Photo by Flickr user Aidan Wakely-Mulroney. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
A list of supposed restrictions that Japan has placed on Muslims has gone viral following the attacks in Paris in November and amid the ongoing United States Republican presidential nomination campaign, in which candidates have consistently used Islamophobia and racism as a political tool.
According to an image image shared widely across English-language social media over the past few weeks, Japan enforces strict laws on Muslims:
Out of Japan’s nearly 127 million occupants, only 10,000 of them, less than one hundredth of a percent, are Muslims. Part of that has to do with their ban on Islamic evangelism but perhaps even more so on their ban of Muslim immigrants.
The problem? Every bullet point on this list is false.
Posted on the official Steve Reichart Facebook page. Reichart is campaigning to join the board of the National Rifle Association.
Even so, reality-challenged blogs such as Infowars and the Conservative Tribune have reported the bulleted list as fact.
The viral meme in turn generated an Internet debate about whether or not it was true.
Independent media outlet SNA Japan noted that Japan is no stranger to politically or ideologically motivated violence, and that Japan is the only country that has experienced an attack carried out by a non-state actor utilizing “weapons of mass destruction”—the Aum Shinrikyo sarin attacks in the mid-1990s.
The rumor reference site Snopes declared the “Japan keeps Islam at bay” meme as false, while fact-checking site Politifact thoroughly debunked the meme point-by-point after consulting with experts from Japan who explained that nothing about it is true at all.
Popular Japan vlogger Kanadajin3 (aka “Mira”) posted a spirited rebuttal about Japan's “anti-Islamic rumors” that has so far attracted 65,000 views.
Japan's tolerant attitude towards Islam compared to the misinformation spread by the original meme may have more to do with the fact that there are relatively few Muslims living in Japan.
Indeed, some of the comments left on Kanadajin3's video can be considered fairly indicative of anyone or any cultural practice considered “not Japanese.”
For example, a YouTube commenter called shi taka says:
どこの国でもそうだと思うけど、帰化したいなら、その国の文化やルールに従い、自分勝手な行動を止め、秩序を乱さなければ誰だって歓迎されるでしょ。 ただ、自分勝手に、あれもくれこれもくれという移民に対しては、すごく嫌いになる。 日本は外国人の知らないようなマナーが多いからね。日本人でも分からないことだらけなんだ。来るなら、それを学んでから来てほしいね。
[If people want to live in a foreign country] they should abide by the rules and customs of that country, and should stop imposing their cultural practices on others. Japan will welcome anyone If they come here and avoid upsetting the existing order of things. However, we Japanese really hate it if people come here and demand special exceptions to be made for them. We Japanese have a lot of customs that the rest the world is unaware of. Japan is full of customs that are totally unique to our country. If you come, make sure you study our special customs before you get here.
While Japan's history of interactions with Islam dates back at least 150 years to the end of the country's long period of isolation, today it's estimated about 100,000 people in Japan identify as Muslim.
About 10 per cent of these people are from Japan. The remainder are immigrants or long-term foreign residents of Japan who came to the country as students, trainees or foreign workers from countries such as Turkey, Iran, Nigeria and Malaysia.
While many Muslims settle in Tokyo, other “international” cities in Japan such as Yokohama, Nagoya and Kobe are home to mosques that serve a vibrant Muslim community.
For the time being at least, Japan's official stance on Muslims in the country appears to be more nuanced compared with anonymous Internet commenters.
For example, in a 2008 online English-language article from the English-language Dispatches section of Japan's Ministry of Foreign Affairs website, there is an article by noted Japanese anthropologist and Middle East specialist Katakura Motoko that adopts a tolerant tone about Muslims living in Japan and Islam in general:
This is in contrast to the West where Islamic headscarves have become a political issue. Many researchers have taken note of the fact that although Japanese can be counted among the victims of the September 11th attacks, there has been no wave of anti-Islamic sentiment here. No newspaper in Japan published a satirical cartoon lampooning Islam.
Although the number of Muslims in Japan is rising dramatically, there are no complaints from neighboring residents about the construction of mosques. There is only a normal sense of curiosity. A local resident will notice that strangers are building something, and simply wonder what kind of people they are. But the sight of Muslims delivering “soba” noodles to neighbors, a Japanese tradition when moving house, has reassured neighbors and affirmed a sense of community.
Notably, in the article Katakura says, “[In Japan we] should turn a gentle and sensitive awareness towards such everyday aspects, rather than let atypical events guide our opinions.”
Japanese Prime Minister Abe Shinzo has also repeated nuanced perspectives about Islam since Katakura's 2008 article. Abe, while hosting a delegation from Arab Gulf States in 2014, said:
I have found that a fundamental aspect of the spirit of Islam is harmony with and love for others. I believe therein lie points of commonality with the Japanese spirit, which is founded on co-existence.
So, while it could it could be difficult to argue Japan is a pluralistic, multicultural democracy, at the same time Japan has imposed no special restrictions aimed at limiting Muslim participation in Japanese daily life, and the country seems to be more at home with its Muslim subculture than Western democracies, including the United States.

author: Nevin Thompson


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First Sustainable Crowdfunding Platform Launches in Ecuador · Global Voices
Gabriela García Calderón Orbe

Photo: LendingMemo.com. (CC 2.0.)
Last month witnessed the launch of the first crowdsourcing platform of the United Nations Program for Development in Ecuador—a project called the Small Grants Program, which was designed in collaboration with AlliedCrowds. According to organizers, the project is built on “thinking globally and acting locally“:
The program provides grants of up to $50,000 directly to local communities including indigenous people, community-based organizations and other non-governmental groups for projects in Biodiversity, Climate Change Mitigation and Adaptation, Land Degradation and Sustainable Forest Management, International Waters and Chemicals.
The crowdsourcing platform is called GreenCrowds. According to its website, the project seeks to conserve and restore the environment, among other things:
All greencrowds.org projects are part of the Small Grants Program (SGP), which was born during the Rio Summit in 1992. This is a corporate program of the Global Environment Facility (GEF), implemented by the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) and executed by the United Nations Office for Project Services (UNOPS).
By providing financial and technical support to projects that conserve and restore the environment while enhancing people's well-being and livelihoods, SGP demonstrates that community action can respond to human needs while addressing global environmental problems.
GreenCrowds.org will support communities with innovative and sustainable projects that preserve the environment, providing support to thousands of families living in rural areas. The platform was launched on November 20, and hopes to raise $80,000 to support the dreams of eight communities until January 2016.
The communities that will benefit from the initiative are located in Chimborazo, Manabí, Pichincha, Intag, Chontapunta, Pastaza, and El Tambo.

author: Gabriela García Calderón Orbe


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From Celebration to Repression: São Paulo Students Keep Protesting for Better Education · Global Voices
Raphael Tsavkko Garcia

Rapper Criolo performs at #ViradaOcupação. Photo by Caio Tendolini/Não Fechem Minha Escola. Free to use.
After São Paulo students pressured Governor Geraldo Alckmin to back down on his “reorganization” policy that would have closed 93 schools across the state, they celebrated with #ViradaOcupação: 28 hours of musical concerts by several popular Brazilian musicians, who volunteered to perform in occupied schools over the weekend of December 6 and 7.
The student movement had been protesting the plan for two months, demonstrating in the streets and occupying almost 200 schools throughout the state.
The concerts happened with the help of NGO Minha Sampa, who recruited the artists and organized the event. Even award-winning chef and presenter of TV show Master's Chef Paola Carosella showed up to cook a feast for students at Fernão Dias school.
Mashup of some of the artists who performed and #ViradaOcupação based on material disclosed by the Facebook profile of Não Fechem Minha Escola (Don't Close My School).
According to alternative news agency Democratize:
A participação desses artistas em um movimento totalmente espontâneo protagonizado pela juventude em São Paulo é mais uma demonstração de que os últimos dias ficarão para a história.
Foram poucas as vezes em que a classe artística vestiu de forma tão objetiva a camisa de uma mobilização como a feita pelos secundaristas. Mesmo em junho de 2013, quando protestos tomaram conta de todo o país, não houve uma participação tão ativa assim.
The participation of these artists in a completely spontaneous movement, whose protagonists were São Paulo's youth, is another demonstration that the last few days will enter history. It's not often that the artistic class joins a mobilization such as this one so passionately. Even in June 2013, when protesters took to the streets across the country, there was no such active participation.
But not long after, the students’ celebrations were tainted in a violent way. On the evening of December 9, an estimated 10,000-15,000 students marched through São Paulo to the Department of Education not only to celebrate their victory, but also to demand better public education and show the governor they are still mobilized against any budget cuts. Alckmin only suspended the reorganization proposal for one year — it will be debated again in 2016.
According to the students, police officers in plain clothes infiltrated the demonstration and started a conflict with the military police — notorious for their brutality — which then surrounded the Department of Education building and began to aggressively break up the gathering using stun grenades.
Similar tactics were called out by protesters who participated in the June 2013 protests, in which officers would allegedly infiltrate demonstrations to trigger confrontation with the police, who would then have an excuse to attack.
The Twitter profile of Movimento Pró Corrupção (a progressive Facebook group jokingly called the “Pro-Corruption Movement” as a spoof of right-wing anti-corruption groups) tweeted:
[Horário Marcado] As 21hrs em ponto uma bomba estourou no meio da manifestação. À partir disto, choque começou a repressão. #P2 #OcupaEscola
— Pro Corrupcao (@procorrupcao) December 9, 2015
Scheduled Time: At 9 pm a stun grenade exploded in the middle of the demonstration. After this, police began the repression #P2 #OcupaEscola
The Facebook pages O Mal Educado (The Poorly Educated) and Não Fechem Minha Escola (Don't Close My School) posted photos of the demonstration before the crackdown began.
Students take the streets in São Paulo. Photo py Daniel Cunha/O Mal Educado. Free to use.
Henrique Carneiro, a professor, posted a video of the moment the first stun grenades started exploding:
And the leftist Facebook page Território Livre posted a video of students running from the stun grenades:
They posted another video of students trying to escape police violence and a video of two students being approached by armed police. The Jornalistas Livres collective also published footage of the students trying to escape police violence.
Students arrested by the Military Police. Photo by collective Passa Palavra.
About 10 people were arrested and many were wounded, and there are reports of violence against underage students:
Dois dos menores detidos foram covardemente agredidos pelos policiais. Outros tantos foram agredidos nas proximidades do ato. #OcupaEscola
— Passa Palavra (@passapalavra) December 10, 2015
Two of the arrested underage students were cowardly attacked by police. Many others were beaten in the vicinity of the demonstration. #OcupaEscola [#OccupySchool]
About the importance of the student's mobilization, professor Pablo Ortellado wrote on Facebook:
A manifestação dos secundaristas de hoje a noite que saiu da Paulista e se dirigiu à República terminou com muita violência, com bombas de concusão, abuso policial e barricadas espalhadas pela São Luis e Consolação. Essa vai ser a manchete dos jornais e o destaque da TV, mas não é, de forma alguma, o que aconteceu de mais importante. Os secundaristas mostraram grande força política e esse episódio terá consequências importantes no desdobramento da luta.
The demonstration of the high school students tonight, which left Paulista [Avenue] and headed for the República Square ended with a lot of violence, with flash bombs, police abuse and barricades scattered around the São Luis and Consolação avenues. This will be the headline of newspapers and the highlight of TV, but it is not, in any way, the most important thing that happened. The students showed great political force and this episode will have important consequences in the unfolding struggle.
After the success of the occupation in São Paulo, the movement seems to be spreading. In the city of Goiânia in central-western state of Goiás, students occupied the José Carlos Almeida school to protest Governor Marconi Perillo's proposal to increase the number of schools administered by the military police, as well as outsourcing the management of 25% of state schools.
Não Fechem Minha Escola posted a video of the occupation. Click the screenshot below to watch the footage on Facebook:
Students occupied the José Carlos Almeida school in Goiás state. Screenshot of video published on Facebook by Não Fechem Minha Escola.
So far three schools have been occupied by students in Goiás state and the first school in the state of Espírito Santo was occupied on December 10 at the city of Colatina.

author: Raphael Tsavkko Garcia


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Hungary Adds a Flashy Website and a Lawsuit to Its Anti-Refugee Arsenal · Global Voices
Sara Heltai

Image by hvg.hu. The text reads: “The compulsory resettlement quota INCREASES THE RISK OF TERRORISM! On average one illegal immigrant arrives to Europe every 12 seconds. We don’t know who they are or what their intentions are. We don’t know how many are undercover terrorists.”
Throughout 2015, unprecedented numbers of refugees have flowed into Europe. Relying on informal channels and sheer luck, those fleeing war and persecution are finding either helping hands and warm welcomes or barbed wire fences and insurmountable bureaucratic obstacles upon arrival.
The European Union has shown itself to be largely unprepared to adequately deal with influx, and proposed solutions have come up against leaders who prefer to do nothing or drum up fear and xenophobia in their own countries to gain political leverage. Hungary has been particularly vocal about its anti-refugee stance, misleading the public with a national consultation that equated migration with terrorism and a nationwide fear-mongering billboard campaign.
But Hungarian authorities aren't done yet. The government of Prime Minister Viktor Orban and his Fidesz party have announced plans for its next billboard campaign, this time specifically against the EU-proposed plan to resettle refugees in so-called frontline countries like Italy and Greece across the continent. The first billboards of the campaign, which will cost around 380 million forint (around 1.2 million euros) of taxpayers’ money, are up, and full-page adverts pushing the government's arguments have already run in large national dailies.
On December 3, 2015, Hungary also launched a legal challenge to the EU’s refugee relocation plan. Last month, it debuted an aggressive petition against the EU's proposed measures as well. Stands have popped up on the streets, run by ill-prepared activists promoting fabricated numbers and racists opinions (video in Hungarian). According to official sources, around 900,000 to 1 million signatures have been collected so far.
The petition can also be signed online via an official government website rife with factual inaccuracies. Here is a selection of the statements with clarifications and corrections.
“The compulsory resettlement quota would mean the resettlement of nearly 160,000 people into our nation.”
In fact, under the EU's resettlement scheme, Hungary is assigned 1,294 refugees, not 160,000 as the government claims. Even with family reunifications, this number is not expected to exceed a few thousand.
“Over 900 “no-go” zones in European metropolises: The “no-go” zones are parts of a city that authorities can’t or struggle to keep under their supervision. Within these areas the written or unwritten norms of the receiving society barely prevail. In European metropolises, such as Paris, London, Stockholm or Berlin, where migrants live in large numbers, there are 900 such ‘no-go’ zones.”
The idea of “no-go” zones is a debunked myth that is often cited in right-wing and anti-immigration circles, and it's unclear where the 900 number was pulled from.
The EU resettlement plan outlines that beneficiary member states will receive 6,000 euros per refugee. This, in fact, has been an EU resettlement policy since 2008. During the summer months, the Hungarian government appealed to the EU for financial support and was promised an emergency fund of 4 million euros to help the country deal with the influx of refugees. This amount allegedly was not allocated, because the influx of refugees ceased and the country closed its borders.
“The compulsory resettlement quota costs a lot: The introduction of the compulsory resettlement quota would have significant financial consequences. A migrant's provisions even based on the current regulations cost 130,000 forint [470 euros] per month. The European Union has not made it clear from where we should take the sum for the migrants. However, it is a fact that as of the end of November Hungary has not received a cent from the 1.2 billion forint [4 million euros] that the European Commission promised as emergency relief for the easing of the migratory pressure. On top of this, there is a danger that the most developed western nations will take in the most educated migrants, while the rest of the member states will have to take in masses of unskilled people.”
The excerpt fails to mention the over 60 million euros allocated to the country under the EU's Asylum, Migration and Integration Fund and Internal Security Fund for the period of 2014-2020. Almost needless to say, the resettlement initiative does not operate on a pick-and-chose basis for various member states.
“The compulsory resettlement quota endangers our culture: With the compulsory resettlement, our nation’s ethnic, cultural and religious make-up would change. Illegal immigrants don’t respect our laws and don’t want to share our common cultural values. The mass resettlement of people from other continents and cultures therefore poses danger to our culture, way of life, habits and traditions. If we don’t act, in a few decades we will not recognize Europe.”
And finally, there's no evidence that refugees as a whole, as the government asserts, “don't respect our laws and don't want to share our common cultural values.”
Given the dubious claims and alarmist language, the Hungarian Helsinki Committee pointed out in a recent post that the Fidesz government must take the Hungarian people for idiots.
For many refugees arriving by boat to Greece, Hungary was a stop-over on their journey to more “friendly” countries such as Germany or Sweden. In early September, the Hungarian government barred refugees from getting on trains to Germany, forcing many to make the 170-kilometer journey on foot to the Austrian border. Human rights groups condemned the handling of the increasingly fraught situation as falling short of the country’s international obligations.
This culminated in the total shutting down of Hungary’s borders in mid-October. Although the flow of refugees into the country ebbed as a consequence, the government turned against the proposed EU emergency relocation plan to divide 120,000 refugees from members states on the front lines of the crisis among all EU countries.
Image by Marian Kamensky. Used with permission.
Initially, the plan aimed to resettle 15,600 refugees from Italy, 50,400 from Greece and 54,000 from Hungary. But Hungary “does not wish to be included as beneficiary of the emergency relocation scheme,” which would have meant that Hungary received 500 euros for every refugee relocated, notes the European Commission’s press release. Prime Minister Orban objected to the principle of the plan and also took issue with Hungary being categorized as a frontline country, maintaining that most of the refugees it received entered through Greece first. Czech Republic, Romania and Slovakia also opposed the scheme.
Recently, EU ministers have reportedly begun discussing the suspension of the Schengen zone — an agreement allowing for passport-free movement among member countries — for a two-year period. This would primarily affect Greece, but leaked documents suggest that the measure might be extended to other member states, including Hungary. The Hungarian government is appalled, and has even helped found a “Friends of Schengen” initiative with other Eastern European countries. However, it is unlikely that such pressures will have an affect on the government's anti-refugees and anti-EU rhetoric.

author: Sara Heltai


text:
Syria’s Most Vulnerable Live a Hard Life in Jordan’s Refugee Camps · Global Voices
Noon Arabia

Children at play in an informal tented settlement in Jordan. PHOTO: Noon Arabia
Imagine waking up without your bed, finding yourself sleeping on the floor instead. Imagine if there was no ceiling or concrete walls to shelter you, only a tent or a caravan if you are fortunate. Imagine having lost everything you own, including all or some of your family, relatives or friends. This is what millions of Syrians have experienced since the uprising began in their country in March 2011. Syrians, who lost their homes and means of livelihood, were forced to flee the war in their homeland crossing into neighbouring countries to seek safety and shelter and have since become refugees.
Three friends and I travelled to Jordan on the first week of November 2015 to work as volunteers supporting Syrian refugees, and to witness first-hand the conditions in which they live.
According to Amnesty International, more than 4 million refugees from Syria (95 per cent) are in just five countries: Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan, Iraq and Egypt. Jordan hosts about 650,000 of them, which amounts to about 10 per cent of the country's total population. This is in addition to the large numbers of refugees from Palestine and Iraq Jordan has been hosting over the past several years, despite its own socio-economic challenges.
UNHCR Report on Registered Syrian Refugees in Nov. 1, 2015
Approximately 80 per cent of Syrian refugees in Jordan live in informal tented settlements among host communities in urban areas in the north of the country. The remaining 20 per cent live in the Zaatari (considered to be the second largest refugee camp in the world), Marjeeb al-Fahood, Cyber City and Azraq camps, built on land provided by the Jordanian authorities.
The UN humanitarian appeal for Syrian refugees is only 45 per cent funded. Due to the shortage in funding, the most vulnerable Syrian refugees in Jordan receive approximately JD20 a month, the equivalent of US$28—less than $1 a day. This means that more than 80 per cent of Syrian refugees in Jordan are living below the local poverty line. Syrian refugees also struggle in Jordan to find jobs to help them survive, since it is illegal for most of them to work under Jordanian law. So they accept low-paying and odd jobs that Jordanians usually would not fill. If they are caught, they risk being deported back to Syria. Some children have also been forced to work to secure food for their families.
Since visiting the formal gated Zaatari and Azraq camps required government permission, we were only able to visit the informal tented settlements in both camps. Our itinerary was arranged by Catherine Ashcroft, resource mobilisation specialist, consultant to Mercy Corps and founder of Helping Refugees in Jordan (HRJ), with whom we have been collaborating with for the past year. Catherine is also a mother of three and above all a humanitarian who has dedicated her time and effort for this cause. Her motto is “if a child needs shoes, it doesn't matter where they are born.”
Catherine has transformed her garage into a deposit point for donations such as clothing, shoes, blankets, mattresses, heaters and wheelchairs, and her living room has become a small bazaar where she sells handicrafts, scarves and carpets to raise funds. Last year Catherine's projects raised almost half a million dollars. 102 one-ton trucks, each carrying blankets, clothes and shoes, food boxes and school furniture were transported to refugees across Jordan, without any administrative charges.
Catherine Ashcroft's garage has become a deposit point for donations. PHOTO: Noon Arabia
On our first day we travelled to Azraq in Northern Jordan, and visited a school built with the help of donations collected by HRJ and Mercy Corps, which is being run in collaboration with the Azraq Women Association. It comprised four caravan classrooms housing grades 1 to 4, a small playground, and a fifth caravan that serves as a sewing training center. The students attending the school were Syrian refugees living in the village, as well as some Jordanians. New donations allowed for the construction of a library and workshop hall on a floor above an existing office building.
We then went to visit a new site which was being prepared for more tented classrooms and caravans. The head of the Azraq Women's Association told us the area would be used on mornings as a school, and in the afternoon for workshops and a training project that would create job opportunities for Syrian refugees. Jobs such as selling homemade food and traditional handicrafts would generate income and help improve the living standards of Syrian refugees.
“. . . . as we sat in a tented school that was being prepared we felt the children’s eagerness to resume their educations. Many had been out of school for the past four years, but excitedly recounted what they still remembered.”
Later that afternoon we visited an informal tented settlement in Northern Azraq. There were a few tents sheltering several families each, and we were all alarmed at the miserable living conditions. There was an obvious lack of sanitation and medical care and some of the children's growth was stunted due to malnourishment. Yet as we sat in a tented school that was being prepared we felt the children’s eagerness to resume their educations. Many had been out of school for the past four years, but excitedly recounted what they still remembered. UNICEF was able to provide them with only two teachers only who visit them twice a week, as the distance and off-road journey makes this area harder to access. We left that camp heavy-hearted, feeling that the support provided by our donations was just a drop in the ocean.
A caravan classroom in a camp in Azraq, Jordan. PHOTO: Noon Arabia
Early on our second day we stopped at Catherine's house and loaded one of the cars with jackets, shoes, heaters and powdered milk and headed to Zaatari village. When we reached the village, we stopped at a local organization called White Hands for Social Development and were briefed about its activities in support of Syrian refugees and the local community, such as micro-loans for small businesses and awareness workshops. The organization’s head accompanied us on our visit to some of the settlements there.
The first tented settlement we visited was in the middle of nowhere, with a tank the only water source for all the families living in the tents scattered around it. Despite the difficulty of their living conditions, the children greeted us with a smile, and in a classroom we visited we saw their colourful drawings on its walls. As we drove away, we saw the men being dropped off by a truck after a day's work in the fields. How much had they had earned that day, I wondered.
“I had. . . wondered why some families would choose to leave the established gated refugee camps set up by the Jordanian government and UNHCR, and opt to live in the informal tented settlements with barely any support. I learned that life in the gated camps wasn't much of a life either.”
Then we visited another informal tented settlement in a private gated farm. We delivered some heaters and checked on the progress of another school. The children wore winter clothing yet didn't have either socks or shoes to protect against the cold weather. The tents didn't look like they would survive a heavy rain, let alone the harsh winter ahead. As we headed back to Amman we heard on a weather forecast that a storm would hit the area in the next few days. We were daunted by that thought, but were later comforted by the news that the tented schools we had visited had all been all waterproofed with extra tarpaulins and ropes before the storms hit.
Before going to Jordan, I had been following news about the Syrian refugee crisis and was familiar with accounts of the hardships. But what we witnessed there during our short visit was truly devastating. Syrian refugees in the informal settlements were in need of proper shelter, food and clothing. What struck me the most was the condition of the children, Syria's future generation. They not only needed proper homes, but health care and formal education. Many of the children had been out of school for years, imposing serious limits on their possibilities for the future.
Shahd is one of many children growing up under difficult circumstances in Jordan's refugee camps. PHOTO: Noon Arabia
I had also wondered why some families would choose to leave the established gated refugee camps set up by the Jordanian government and UNHCR, and opt to live in the informal tented settlements with barely any support. I learned that life in the gated camps wasn't much of a life either. They were overcrowded, offered only limited job opportunities and were generally not safe. Those living in them often feel trapped, unsafe and desperate—though by moving outside the camps they were mere exchanging one set of hardships for another.
As the Syrian conflict enters its fifth year, and as the situation deteriorates and becomes more desperate for Syrian refugees, their hope of returning to Syria is starting to fade. After my time among Syrians who have sought refuge in Jordan, I understood why some choose to risk everything and cross hazardous waters to find better living conditions in Europe. The driving force is job opportunities and an extra income that they could send to their relatives back in Syria, and, moreover, the hope of a securing a better future for their children.
For more information about Catherine Ashcroft's work with Syrian refugees in Jordan, visit the Helping Refugees in Jordan Facebook page.

author: Noon Arabia


text:
How Culturally Sensitive Mental Healthcare Helped One Somali-American Teenager Stay Resilient · Global Voices
PRI/PRX's The World

Fatuma Ibrahim at her high school graduation in August 2015. Credit: Jeb Sharp. Used with PRI's permission
This article by Jeb Sharp for The World originally appeared on PRI.org on December 8, 2015, and is republished here as part of a content-sharing agreement.
Fatuma Ibrahim doesn’t remember anything good about life in Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya. The 19-year-old was born there after her family fled the civil war in Somalia.
“I remember poverty, feeling really hungry and eating from the floor,” she told me when we met for the first time. “And going to school just for the food.”
She would hide the cookie she got for showing up at school under her shirt on the way home so the older kids wouldn’t steal it from her. Then she’d split it with her little sister.
“It tasted really good. When you don’t have any food, everything tastes good.”
Fatuma spent the first eight years of her life in the refugee camp. Then, in 2004, her family was resettled in the US.
Not surprisingly, her first memories of America also revolve around food.
“I remember eating chicken for the first time,” she said. “I remember the feeling. I remember what it smelled like.”
The family started out in an apartment in Lynn, Massachusetts, north of Boston. Her father found a job as a dishwasher. Fatuma and her siblings went to school. A couple years went by.
But then, for reasons Fatuma doesn’t entirely understand, her parents could no longer afford the rent. She remembers driving around in the car, going into offices, watching her parents sign papers.
“I remember my Dad saying, ‘I have my kids in the car. We don’t know where to go.’”
They lived in a hotel for a while. Then they were sent to a shelter in Holyoke, in western Massachusetts. Each move meant a new school for Fatuma.
“It was kind of good because I didn’t have any friends,” she said. “I didn’t speak at all, so moving was just like a new start for me, every time. I was just looking for something: To not be shy, or to have some friends.”
After a few months in Holyoke, the family moved to a new shelter in Boston. Fatuma started middle school.
Saida Abdi got to know Fatuma and her family during this period. She is a social worker with the Refugee Trauma and Resilience Center at Boston Children’s Hospital and originally from Somalia herself. At the time she was running a group for Somali girls at Fatuma’s school. She could tell Fatuma was hurting.
“Imagine this family,” she said. “They came here looking for permanency, looking for safety. They find that they have a house, the kids are going to school, there is this sort of moment of hope, but then all that gets yanked away and now you’re being thrown from one city to another to another, four cities within a few months. That takes away the sense of safety and can become a trigger for all that has gone past.”
Helping the family find permanent housing became an urgent priority.
But there were other issues as well. Fatuma was starting to struggle with her identity.
The first decision Fatuma had to make at her new school was whether to dress “Somalian” or “American.” She agonized over whether to wear a skirt or pants, a headscarf or no headscarf.
She opted for a skirt and headscarf. That felt right at first. She was placed in a class with other kids from her particular Somali Bantu ethnic group. But then she tested out of that class, and into a hostile one.
“Nobody wanted to sit next to me,” she recalled. “I stood out from people, I guess. They would always pick on me. It would be boys and everyone else would laugh. I skipped a lot because of that. I hated school because of that. It made me hate it because of the bullying.”
The kinds of problems Fatuma was experiencing were familiar to Heidi Ellis, the director of the Refugee Trauma and Resilience Center at Boston Children’s Hospital.
She started working with refugees almost by accident, 15 years ago. She was an intern in psychiatry at Boston Medical Center. She started seeing a lot of Somali boys being referred for mental health evaluations because they were acting out in school.
When she started talking to them, she realized they had incredible trauma histories, both from the war back home and from the violent streets they were encountering here in Boston.
Ellis got curious. She secured some research funding, and started studying Somali youth. Two-thirds of the kids she interviewed had significant post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, symptoms. And hardly any of them had sought or received any kind of mental health service.
Her colleague Saida Abdi understood why.
“When people are not of this culture they don’t understand the cultural context,” she told me.
“They expect you to come and talk, and that makes no sense in my culture. Why would I go and talk to someone who has no idea where I come from? We do religion and we do culture, but we don’t do mental health. We don’t say ‘depression.’”
Instead, Somali families went to community leaders. So Ellis and her colleagues started working with those leaders to create services that made more sense.
“We needed to hear from those community leaders what they thought we needed,” she said. “To bring them in as central partners to building the program, so at the end of the day they would want kids using the program.”
“We also realized we couldn’t start with the mental health problem,” Ellis continued. “We needed to start before that. We needed to start with skills building, and addressing what family and community leaders were pointing to as the real problem, which is that our kids are coming here and trying to acculturate to a whole new world and they need the skills to do it. That stress of what it means to be in a family of one culture and go to school in another is central to the problems that we’re seeing.”
Ellis found that the more trauma the kids had experienced, the more PTSD symptoms they showed. But she discovered something else startling. The discrimination the kids felt here in the US was as powerful a predictor of PTSD symptoms as their trauma history was.
“We couldn’t change the trauma, which for the most part they’d experienced before coming here,” she told me. “But the discrimination was happening in our own communities on a day-to-day basis. So we built into our program work with the schools around school climate and how could we make the kids feel like they were a genuine, valued part of our communities here.”
By the time she reached high school, Fatuma was tired of feeling different. All she wanted was to fit in. So she decided to dress American, and start wearing pants to school.
“And my parents didn’t like that at all,” she said. “They were never OK with me dressing American. Whenever I came home I had to wear my scarf or whatever. I felt the pressure. And then I started hanging out with people … different … bad kids.”
At school, Fatuma started lying about who she was.
“No one knew that I was Muslim,” she said. “I didn't know what to tell people I was. I couldn't tell them that I was Somalian. I couldn't tell them that I was Muslim. I was like oh I'm this, I'm that. But I was not that. I was only telling them that because of the reactions that I got from middle school. When I came to high school I wanted to change into a new person.”
But it backfired. Lying made her miserable. She lost friends. One day a teacher asked if she was OK. She said no, that she hated life and wished she were dead. Fatuma was hospitalized with depression, the first of three hospitalizations during her high school years.
It was a terrible period, but also a fruitful one. Fatuma worked with counselors and mentors, and she reconnected with social worker Saida Abdi. Abdi worked with Fatuma, and also with Fatuma's parents.
Abdi says some of the most important work she does with families is simply explaining to parents that their child is in pain. And that battles over things like clothing can be counterproductive.
“It’s engaging in a fight that you will never win,” Abdi says. “It's symbolic of a bigger fight, because you're really fighting about, ‘Is my child still in my culture, does my child still hold the same values as I hold?'”
Abdi calls herself a cultural broker. She translates between Somali culture and American culture, between parents and schools, between parents and their children.
Fatuma credits Abdi with helping her understand her parents, and helping her parents understand their daughter.
“She was able to speak from both sides of being Somalian,” Fatuma said. “Being Somalian in this world, being Somalian in America, and also being American and a teenager.”
Fatuma says she figured out a lot about herself in those years.
“It's hard because you feel like two different people,” she said. “When I'm with my American friends, I want to dress American. When I'm with my Somalian friends or my family, I want to dress Somalian.”
Gradually she learned to let the two sides of herself coexist. And her parents became more accepting of her need to be American as well as Somali. She stabilized. She finished high school late, but she finished, striding proudly across the stage to collect her diploma. Now she’s applying to college and figuring out her future.
“It's easier to figure out now, you know? Like it helps a lot to come this far. I've overcome a lot. I'm not going to say I'm not still going through it, but now I'm just like, I feel free. I'm at a good state in life and it's good to say that.”
It's good to hear it too.

author: PRI/PRX's The World


text:
Meet the Man Chronicling Macedonia’s Twitter Community · Global Voices
Filip Stojanovski

Igor Bojadziev, known on Twitter as @I999y. Photo provided by Igor.
Igor Bojadziev, widely known by his Twitter handle @i999y, serves as the unofficial chronicler of the Macedonian Twitter community.
He regularly publishes interviews with prominent Twitter users and curates a selection of funny tweets. So far, he has published 249 interviews and 197 selections on his Macedonian-language blog.
With over 14K followers on Twitter, I999y is an influential social media user in his own right. He often offers witty comments on trending issues. Igor's tweet about the controversial Skopje 2014 project's “ship-shaped buildings,” constructed within a river bed, got over 625 re-tweets:
Скопјани ! Бродот може лесно да отплови! Треба само да ги пуштите казанчињата у исто време
— i999y (@i999y) January 16, 2013
Citizens of Skopje! The ship can easily sail away! All you need to do is flush water in your toilets at the same time.
For his interviews Bojadziev uses a basic and standard format that enables his readers to see a snapshot of the person he is interviewing through a mix of general and specific questions. We decided to use Igor's format to start the interview with him here on Global Voices.
Global Voices: What's the story behind your Twitter name?
Игор Бојаџиев: Нешто морав да турам шо би рекол Штулич: „Док сам као мали дошао у град, морао сам себи дати надимак.“
И као требаше од Игор нешто да биде па испадна Иги Иџи Игац тој со деветките …
Igor Bojadziev: I had to put something, or as Štulić said “When as a young kid I came to town, I had to give myself a nickname.” I used as a base my name Igor, which then came out as Iggy, Igee, Igac and then used 9-s instead of the g-s.
GV: Describe yourself (in 140 characters)?
ИБ: Тежок човек (на карактер). али испод е душа(памук) шо да ви кажуам. Знам да биам и врло забавен (чак што више на граница до Глупи Август).
IB: A heavy man (not a heavy character), who is all soft beneath (like a cotton ball). I can also be quite entertaining (even borderline clown).
GV: Why are you on Twitter?
ИБ: Па… терапија, Здраво јас сум Игор и јас сум ….количар.
Не стварно, прекрасно е тука, со некои твитерџии и се запознав, се дружиме,најдов роднини тука,супер е,ептен
А терапија даааа, твитер ќе те насмее така добро (некои шо викат,упс мочнав)
IB: It’s a sort of therapy. Hi, I am Igor and I am an …holic. No, really it’s wonderful here, I met some tweeps, we hang out, I even found some relatives here, it’s really great. And as for therapy, Twitter can make you laugh (some people even wet their pants).
GV: What does your avatar represent?
ИБ: Дирекно сликање у фаца од страна на ќерка ми (со мобилен к750 далечната 2009).
IB: A close-up photo of my face by my daughter. She took it with a k750 mobile phone back in the day, in 2009.
GV: Who brought you to Twitter and did that mess you up?
ИБ: Балдската, паааа поприлично. Прво бев скептик, гледајќи ја како со телефон у рака се смее, сеа ја бетер сум.
IB: It was my wife’s sister, and it did. I was skeptical at first, seeing her laughing with the phone in her hand. Now I am even worse.
GV: If you can tweet your first tweet now, what would it be?
ИБ: Здраво угнетени, обесправени, очајни, немажени, неженети, гладни…
IB: Hello all you oppressed, disenfranchised, desperate, unmarried, hungry…
GV: What’s your birth place?
ИБ: Неготино, и ваљда тука ќе си останам доколку не емигрирам.
IB: Negotino, and I suppose I’ll stay here unless I emigrate.
GV: Where would you like to go for a month? And where for a honeymoon? (This is a pun. In Macedonian, month is “mesec”, and honeymoon is “meden mesec”.)
ИБ: На еден што подалеку, медениот помина.
IB: As far as possible. And my honeymoon has been over a while ago.
GV: Marriage?
ИБ: Прекрасен, еве веќе 15 години. Резултат? Син и ќерка.
IB: It’s wonderful, 15 years in the making. Result: A son and a daughter.
GV: If you reincarnate into an animal, what would you like to become?
ИБ: Тасманиски ѓавол.
IB: A Tasmanian devil.
Igor near the Ilinden/Macedonium monument in Krushevo.
Now we are breaking from Igor's format to ask a few in-depth questions.
GV: What motivates you to interview Twitter users? What do you get out of it?
ИБ: Јас немам ништо од сево ова, инаку се роди како идеја со @necovski и е обид за отворање на некои твитерџии. Прашалникот е начин да дознаеме повеќе за твитерџиите кои секој дневно ги сретнуваме на ТЛ. Низ низа на прашања ,обид да дознаеме што повеќе за нив.
IB: I get nothing in particular; I developed the idea with @necovski as an attempt to help some tweeps open up. The questionnaire is a way to get to know more about the people we meet daily on our timeline. It’s just an attempt to get to know more about them through a series of questions.
GV: Three tweets from other Twitter users that impressed you most?
IB: Here's five:
Жените што се као „Јас не готвам“ не се модерни, него неспособни!
— Tom is Love (@egodollaric) December 29, 2012
Women who brag “I don’t cook” are not modern, they are incompetent.
тие шо немаат твитер мислат дека ние тука пишуваме “лежам. се бањам. пеам. се чешам итн”, уствари поима немаат дека држава управаме.
— Проданов (@bprodanov) April 5, 2013
People who don’t use Twitter think that we only write stuff like “I lay down. I have a bath. I sing. I scratch etc.” They have no clue that we’re running the state.
Мувата е најмакедонскиот инсект. Ем јаде лајна, ем трие раце у стилу ‘добро е, добро е!’
— G33x0n (@jocoska) June 27, 2013
The fly is the most Macedonian insect. While forced to eat crap, they rub their hands as if saying “It’s OK, it’s OK!”
Те имам на твитер. Те имам на фејсбук. Те имам на скајп. Те имам на вајбер. А те немам.
— Ljubiša (@Sulimanovic) January 21, 2014
I’ve got you on Twitter.
I’ve got you on Facebook.
I’ve got you on Skype.
I’ve got you on Viber.
But I don’t have you.
-ШТО СМЕ НИЕ? -Пензионери! -ШТО САКАМЕ? -Бесплатни лекови за склероза! -КОГА ГИ САКАМЕ? -Што тоа? Кој сака? Кој е овој што се дере?
— Бени (@Shushmula) July 8, 2013
- WHO ARE WE?
– Pensioners.
– WHAT DO WE WANT?
– Free sclerosis medicine!
– WHEN DO WE WANT THEM?
– What was that? Who wants what? Who’s shouting?
GV: How can Twitter users contribute to positive social change in Macedonia?
ИБ: Досега имаше неколку примери каде од твитер тргнале некои акции кои резултирале со конкретни резултати. Твитер како каписла за социјалните мреќи во Македонија, Евровизија, поплави Србија, Мартин, На точок и други (а можеби и за овие грешам).
IB: We had several examples of actions that started on Twitter, with concrete results. Twitter served as initial charge for social network uproar in Macedonia in the cases of Eurosong, the floods in Serbia, the revelation of the cover up of Martin Neshkovski’s murder, Macedonian version of critical mass (#НаТочак) and others. Or I might be wrong about these ones…
GV: Does the Macedonian Twitter community interact with people outside Macedonia? Is there some sharing of content?
ИБ: Многу малку или воопшто,и доколку има тоа се со луѓе кој на некој начин се поврзани со Македонија. Прелевање на информации има во вид на шерување, но и „преведување„ на твитови од странски автори се со цел поголем рејтинг
IB: There’s very little communication, and if any, it’s with people who had ties with Macedonia from before. There’s some information seeping through sharing, and there’s also “translating” of tweets by [unattributed] foreign authors in order to increase one’s rating.

author: Filip Stojanovski