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Existential Threats and Trayvon Martin: The bumper sticker politics of fear.

April 14, 2012 By Firouzeh Afsharnia 4 Comments

The first season of the Trayvon Martin reality show is finally over. George Zimmerman is behind bars 45 days after the shooting of an unarmed African American teen-ager which snowballed into a national soul searching crisis as to whether Americans are closet racists.

Activists, celebrities and ordinary citizens stepped up to express their outrage and demand justice. Tweets from Justine Beiber and Spike Lee along with thousands of irate phone calls flooded the airwaves; and civil rights politicians like Reverend Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson came out to denounce the act as an egregious example of racial hate crime.  The Rainbow Push coalition held hands, singing “We Shall Overcome” and the “Million Hoodie March” rallied in cities across America.   In a short period of time, over 2 million signatures petitioned for the arrest of George Zimmerman who continued to invoke self-defense under the “Stand-Your-Ground” law, which expands the rights of citizens to use deadly force in any public space if they feel threatened – albeit by a small framed, unarmed, skittles chewing minor like Trayvon.

The law which has been promoted by the National Rifle Association and Republican politicians have now been passed in 25 States and since its enactment in 2005, “justifiable” murders have increased several fold – 36 in Florida, up from 12 just 5 years ago.  Had the other 24 been literally getting away with murder before the law, or are we getting jumpier as a nation?

Mayor Bloomberg says it is clear that the law has undermined the integrity of the justice system, made the country less safe, and that it is promoting a culture of impunity.  Others call it “kill at will” or “shoot first”.   The national debate is curiously timely considering the broader global context.

In the past ten years, since the attacks on the twin towers, the U.S. has been increasingly basing its foreign policy narrative on the concept of preventive and pre-emptive attacks.  Dick Cheney even went so far as to make a case for action with as little as one percent probability of a threat clearly ruling out leaving his house in case of encounter with a discarded banana peel – a fear many of us wish he had heeded. Over the course of the past decade what started as a deadly attack by a handful of non-state loosely aligned actors in New York City, has lead to the invasion of several countries, the death of hundreds of thousand, and the displacement of millions in the Middle East and beyond as America consistently “stood its ground”.

George Bush rightly stressed his war on terror was not anti-muslim; no more than the Trayvon Martin case is anti black.  Afghanistan, Iraq, Yemen and the proxy wars we wage in the horn of Africa and beyond are not about hate as much as they are about fear — fear that continues to get packaged and sold for political and economic gain by an increasingly violent America which uses violence as its principal currency as sure as it does its greenback.  We use violence as currency for entertainment, casually feeding it to our children in ever more brutal video games and demanding more of it in our movies — more than our European counterparts who seem to prefer sex – thanks to their Mediterranean DNA; and we use it as the prime currency to define ourselves as individuals whether at home, in our neighborhoods; or on the world stage by “standing our ground”, resolute and uncompromising no matter how asymmetric, intransigent and one sided our demands.

We nurture violence through the exploitation of fear by the right wing with links to a multi billion dollar arms industry which brings jobs to constituents who fund their Washington representatives to preserve their livelihoods; by the political machinery where each side postures as the more patriotic by being hardest on crime – hardest on terrorism; and mostly we nurture fear and violence by a disconnected public who gladly consumes the messages of a lazy and complicit media who mostly amplifies the conventional narrative of power without trying to reframe the conversation.

The Iraqi WMD wild goose chase quickly became “support our troops”; a multi billion dollar military expansion across the globe was sold as “peace through strength”; and the “war on terror” became the catch all phrase for the pursuit of all things evil by our heroic forces whose patriotism bars them from asking why.

The result is a polarized world with a clear “us” versus “them” narrative framed by fear, resolved through force. As the Trayvon Martin story plays itself on an endless loop on national channels, another round of “negotiations” to stop Iran from enriching uranium is taking place so that we may get over the election hump before bombing yet another country. Who knew election season could be so hazardous to your health.

As others more astute than myself have observed, and Mark Twain’s powerful reminder we choose to ignore, the rhetoric rhymes alarmingly with the argument for the Iraqi invasion – the mushroom cloud was it?  It is ironic how asymmetric “strength” can in fact lead to conflict rather than peace.  Even more ironic that the citizens of the strongest, most powerful country should be so ruled by fear that they should seek to eradicate even the smallest, most minute possibility of harm to the point that they would be scared out of their wits by a hoodie, or see a country with no evidence of a weapons program an existential threat to themselves and their ally who, between them, own over 8,000 nuclear warheads.

Barack Obama has successfully fended off an Israeli attack for the moment even as he embarks on non-starter negotiations, demanding the unreasonable even as he ratchets up “crippling sanctions” against 70 million Iranians.  Israel for its part is preparing for a strike by securing bases in Azerbaijan and unleashing AIPAC on the U.S. congress.

Following the tsunami of outrage against the injustice in the Trayvon Martin case, Mr. Obama finally broke his silence and offered this measured response:  “If I had a son, he would look like Trayvon Martin.”

Mr. president, in this election season as you walk the fine line between your Nobel Peace Prize and your second term, consider seeing beyond color – beyond borders, to see every child, every where, as your own.

Filed Under: Can We Talk?!!, Elections, Iran, Israel, Middle East and Beyond Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

Karibu Elections 2011

October 4, 2011 By Firouzeh Afsharnia 1 Comment
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“Good efternoon Madam, Mossieu; jumbo karibu and BON – JOUR!” The platinum blond, pudgy air hostess of the Soviet era Antonov charter welcomed aboard the assorted mix of ID dangling aid workers and peacekeepers as we walked up the rear cargo ramp, hauling our duffels and back packs.

“Good efternoon ladies and gentlemen; jumbo karibu. — and BON! JOUR!”. She clasped her hands enthusiastically, and with that last bit, dipped a dainty courtesy squeezing tighter in her polyester uniform.

This was my flight to Lumumbashi — 1,500 kms and two time zones later to South Eastern Congo, which means three stops, one plane change and two potential possibilities to get bumped off by someone more worthy on the U.N. roster list.

The U.N. flight from Kinshasa was Canadian owned and operated, starring a hip young male airhost with a slick hairdo and a stud in his ear. The Russian Antonov on the other hand, was to take us the rest of the way in the middle of the Congolese rainforest down close to the Zambian border after a delay of two hours on account of the weather.

“Jumbo Karibu …. No not there…..please to go all the way down…” She momentarily loses her hospitality grin and motions me unceremoniously down the narrow aisle. I look down the cramped walkway and low overhead where the rest of the passengers had been stuffed and instead point behind to several rows of open seats – one of them even with nice legroom.

“That — for VIP!” She snaps, somewhat to the delight of two Russian officers sitting comfortably in the roomy back and continues to usher me down the musty carpet where the co-pilot had now emerged to pack in the rest of the people and the luggage.

“I already looked down there. There is no room. I have a huge bag — see?” I hold up my oversized bag stuffed with the usual – camera, mosquito net, emergency light, first aid kit, rope, etc.

“He said no room?” Apparently referring to the co-pilot. “Don’t pay any attention to him. I tell you, there is room.” She points to a single empty seat next to an oversized man in camouflage and beret, holding his duffel on his lap.

”No. I think I will sit over there.” I reply feeling instantly claustrophic. I turn decisively and walk back toward the cargo rear where the two officers are sitting; in the process revealing the bold print on the back of my vest: International Observer.

“I think over here.” I sit down, shove my bag under the seat and fasten my seatbelt.

“Yes. Ok.” She says, suddenly very agreeable “No problem Madam”

Then she leans down and whispers quietly “How about over there?” She points to the super VIP row with the nice leg room.

“Jumbo karibu fasten seat belt have a pleasant flight.” She recites on auto pilot, then pauses for a moment. “I come back with some nice coffee for you.” She winks at me and walks off.

I stretch out my legs, stow my bag away and lean against the window. The rain begins to pour.

It has been five years since the last elections in Congo. The major opposition party which had boycotted in 2006 is back in full force and they have many followers where I am going. I stared hypnotically at the double wheels as the plane picks up speed, splashing the rain furiously and then takes off.

“Madam, Mossieu, Good efternoon. Jumbo Karibu and Bon Jour. Please fasten seat belt and yourself read the card with safety features in seat pocket. Our flight to Lumumbashi is one hour and half. Jumbo Karibu — Bon Voyage and Safari Njema.”

Filed Under: Story Talk Tagged With: , , , ,

Autumn in Africa

September 25, 2011 By Firouzeh Afsharnia Leave a Comment
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Last night in Dar es Salaam — the electricity is out again. If I have to pick just one advantage to having a power outage, it is that the megaphone at the corner mosque is also out and the tone deaf mullah who has been wailing the praises of Allah in some unidentified key all month long and at all hours of day and night, can not interrupt the program on the TV which comes back on as the generator kicks in.

The 66th U.N. General Assembly is in session as the political congeniality pageant of 193 Heads of State make their ways up the podium taking turns to out brilliant each other. Some do it through substance, some through controversy, a few even via comic relief. On that third note, those of us who remember Mr. Ghaddafi’s incoherent ramblings last year, muttering and throwing his notes about up there, surely miss him. That just means Ahmadinejad had to perform for two this year which he obliged by delivering an abundance of largely recycled material from previous reruns, taking the snoozing half empty hall from the beginnings of humanity through slavery, colonialism and the Arab Spring; blaming the U.S. for everything since the time of hunter gatherers to today’s debt crisis, finally culminating with the brilliant conclusion that 9/11 was an inside job. Did no one tell this man that the people of the country hosting him just marked the 10th anniversary of this event with a thousand tears a few miles down the road? He did make some valid points however, among which was a show of support for Statehood for the Palestinian delegation, whose members were probably cringing by the time he was done. Do us a favor – don’t help!

To be fair, last year has been so saturated with disasters, both divine and man-made, that it is tempting to dish out blame, especially in light of the ongoing global economic crisis and the Middle East unrest – both of which beg to implicate the U.S. and the West. But it isn’t until Mr. Ouattara, the newly elected president of Cote D’Ivoire, takes the stand that one is reminded that away from the focus of the media, Africa is having one of its most challenging years with 27 countries going through some form of elections in 2011. Liberia, Zimbabwe, Tanzania, DRC….the list goes on. If you think of U.S. politics as Reality TV, starring fluff-brained Tea Party activists, penis texting politicians and shameless special interest lobbyists; African politics can play more like a Hollywood action blockbuster — the slightest election mishap risking a spiral into mass murder, serial rape and humanitarian disasters.

Mr. Ouattara himself succeeded the presidency only after a military intervention by the U.N. and French special forces; the Kenyans have three senior officials on trial at the Hague as we speak, as for the Congo — Elections are still two months away and one of the aspiring opposition candidates is already sitting at the International Criminal Court – has been for the past two years – for crimes against humanity.

So forget Ahmadi. He is a has-been. The only reason he is still in the news is because he looks funny and his name occupies the same sentence as the words “nuclear” and “Islamic”. The real powers are the infinitely less colorful Ayatollah and his extended Mafia network. But they are nowhere as entertaining I agree.

I wonder instead how Africa will emerge after its series of elections this year. The power shortages are not an anomaly in Tanzania and East Africa. Climate change, rising cost of living, and endemic corruption are systematically eroding livelihoods, and the election season is presenting infinite chances to divert badly needed state resources to campaigning and politics instead.

As my plane descends into Kinshasa, I see the capital city of 8 million largely swallowed in darkness except for a few clusters of light here and there – an incredible sight given it lies along a river capable of supplying electricity to the whole continent.

President Kabila is out of the country giving his own speech at the General Assembly, touting his accomplishments and hoping repeated broadcast of his appearance in the mother of all institutions would boost him in the polls back home. There have already been violent clashes with the opposition and campaigning has barely begun. Meanwhile, the logistical preparations of the election is seriously behind schedule and if it lapses the current government loses legitimacy in a matter of days potentially opening a free for all.

It may be premature to hope for an African Spring for fear that the cultural weather patterns may not yet allow for it. But if you find yourself overwhelmed with the mess in the northern hemisphere, tune south this Autumn and keep your fingers crossed that Africa will survive the growing pains and at the very least it will emerge no worse off than it did a year ago. Considering the present odds, that would be an accomplishment in itself.

Filed Under: Can We Talk?!! Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Ivory Coast: Sovereignty and the Price of Chocolate

January 1, 2011 By Firouzeh Afsharnia 5 Comments
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A shorter post this time – New Year present to my friend Ahmed who travels regularly from Alexandria, Virginia to Alexandria, Egypt; if only to confirm the obvious realities of globalization and to prove Thomas Friedman’s assertion that the world is indeed flat and crowded, even if not so hot this particular December.

It has been almost a month since the elections in Ivory Coast produced not one – but two presidents – one sworn in ceremoniously, wrapped in a regal sash, gushing in front of cameras at the presidential palace – the other hunkered down at the Golf Hotel where he took the wise precaution to retreat days before the election, just in case his adversary was to get any bright ideas. The French press is calling the latter, President of the Republic of the Golf Hotel on account of not been able to emerge since the results were declared that first week of December. The only thing standing between him and the army are 800 U.N. peacekeepers; each force behind their respective barricades allowing no one in or out, leaving no choice but to airlift food and provisions, not to mention a healthy supply of chocolate for the crepe stand in the lobby of the hotel where the grounds have been transformed into makeshift ministries and cabinet offices.

As incumbent President Gbagbo clings to power in Abidjan with the help of the army and state media, President elect Ouattara continues to consolidate his gains in the international community. The U.S and the French were among the first to recognize him followed by the European Union, the United Nations and the West African economic block – ECOWAS. The IMF and World Bank have withdrawn support and the EU has placed travel restrictions as well as targeted sanctions on Mr. Gbagbo and close circle hoping to make a dent perhaps by denying his two wives and entourage their regular shopping sprees in the left bank boutiques of Paris. Just last week as a final show of no confidence the General Assembly voted 192-0 recognizing Mr. Ouattara as the rightful head of the Ivorian state and sent the resident ambassadorial mission of Mr. Gbagbo packing. They left in a huff, taking all the computer and office equipment as consolation prize. Things can be so simple when states have fields of cocoa instead of oil.

Looking for other means of practical resistance, the West African Central Bank has ceded control of the state funds to Mr. Ouattara in an effort to choke the life line of President Gbagbo who will soon be running on fumes if he does not play ball – preferably in someone else’s country. It will be interesting to see how loyal his ethnically stacked army will be once he runs out of money. History is full of lessons on the urgent merits of keeping armed young men well paid and well fed.

In further attempts to isolate Mr. Gbagbo, the African Union has suspended his membership and regional allies are now considering use of “legitimate force” to remove him. That sounds a lot like military intervention to me.

Some of my African friends shake their heads in disgust and say “pitoyable!” — lamenting the crisis as yet another example of Big Man politics, typical of the sad state of democracy on a continent that has given us the likes of Taylor, Bashir, Bongo and Mobutu. Others – echoing the nationalist refrains of Mr. Gbagbo are denouncing the impasse as yet another proof of foreign meddling in what they see as a sovereign matter. The U.N., the French and all the rest of them should get out, they say — Ivorian solutions for Ivorian problems. How convenient in this case, to be the ones picking and choosing who is a true Ivorian? Moreover; what exactly is it to be “sovereign” if not upheld by peer member states, or mandated by your citizens, half of whom were disqualified in this case.

All this talk of intervention raises the question: in an increasingly global and interdependent world where actions have far reaching consequences often implicating those who had no part in the decisions with enormous financial and social burden, and where world bodies are tasked to pick up the pieces, is the sovereign nation destined to become a relic of the past, to be relegated to text books along with medieval walled cities and moat floating feudal states?

For the world’s largest cocoa producer, accounting for 40% of global supply, if you think that the price of chocolate is the only thing to consider, think again.

In the past month UNHCR has logged almost 20,000 refugees, mostly women and children fleeing the crisis to neighboring Liberia – itself a fragile state newly emerging from conflict and struggling to consolidate its peace dividends. Youth militia loyal to Gbagbo are mobilizing and if the nightly raids, abductions and torture in the opposition neighborhoods of Abidjan are any indication, the country could relapse into large scale violence with considerable human and economic costs spilling into the whole region which relies on this country’s commercial port. Fear of a $30 million interest default has already made the international bond markets jittery.

The last century witnessed the creation of global institutions — the International Criminal Court, the International Court of Justice, the World Trade Organization and the many UN agencies; all supra-national institutions with global mandates, yet subject to sovereign whims of national or personal interests. Consequently — Omar Bashir remains free in spite of the ICC indictments; the West Bank is fast becoming an Israeli colony in spite of the ICJ rulings; the West continues to push for agricultural subsidies that favor their own to the detriment of the poorer nations; and the U.N. in spite of the billions it spends in peacekeeping remains handcuffed by the narrow mandate it is given after the big five settle on the lowest common denominator on the security council.

And yet the stakes are higher than ever as the world is shrinking tighter. Forget the price of chocolate and consider the global financial Tsunami unleashed by the Sub Prime defaults and financial deregulation in the U.S – events that may not have come to pass had international institutions had a vote in the matter.

Better yet — Bush Junior may not have been given a carte blanche, averting two disastrous terms and two costly wars that effectively defeated the empire better than Bin Laden could have ever in his wildest dreams imagined. Palestinians might have had their state long ago; Bashir, Blair and Cheney would be behind bars and eastern Congo would have been taken into receivership by international trustees long ago under the principles of Responsibility to Protect.

So, as the world connects tighter in a knot, sovereignty may be the last sacred cow offered at the altar of the juggernaut of globalization once it is clear that we can’t have our cake and eat it too. In the meantime – as we witness our first test case in challenging sovereign identity in Ivory Coast — for now we may have to settle for cheese instead of chocolate.

Filed Under: Africa, Can We Talk?!!, Cote D'Ivoire, Elections, United_Nations Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Cote D’Ivoire 2010: a tale of two presidents

December 5, 2010 By Firouzeh Afsharnia 2 Comments
Gbagbo!

Three continents, two connections and one day later I finally land at the Abidjan International Airport as an International Observer for the second round of presidential elections between the incumbent Laurent Gbagbo and opposition leader Alessane Ouattara – elections designed to end the decade long civil unrest which effectively split the country over questions of ethnic identity and voting rights. That’s the short version.

The chaos and humidity feels instantly liberating in spite of the disorienting cross continental shifts in time zones and culture. Bold campaign ads run along the sweeping bridges connecting this sprawling coastal city once known as the Paris of Africa, highlighting the political stakes.

A large billboard of a woman in her thirties with a troubled face and only one arm comes into view over and over again as we round the beautiful lagoon and the lush vegetation that sets off the modern skyline in the distance. It says she is a war victim and the caption reads: “Between my baby and my arm, I chose my baby. For Peace I choose Gbagbo” – somewhat manipulative but I get the point.

Ouattara is an economist and ex-Africa Director of the IMF, rallying under a Houphouëtist alliance to evoke the post-independence days of plenty under President Houphouët-Boigny. His main liability is to be born to a Burkinabe mother therefore of questionable Ivorian identity; a point conveniently manipulated by political adversaries to infuse mistrust and create alliances where tribal networks often take the place of democratic institutions and ethnic cleavages are exploited for mobility.

Mathias, my Observation team mate is also from Burkina Faso — laid back, familiar and completely unperturbed by time and protocol, appearing and disappearing as he pleases, making calls in the middle of meetings where the sandal wearing attendees talk over the continuous ring of their own mobiles and calmly ignore the squeaky doors that keep opening and closing.

He chit chats freely and flirts randomly as a matter of sport. He says all Burkinabe’s are like that. Friendly. For the most part it generates a few giggles from the ladies and brings an easy flow to our otherwise rigorous and packed schedule. I wonder if his nationality could pose a problem considering his country is viewed by some as a French proxy supporting Ouattara.

A few nights before the elections I watched a televised debate between the two candidates moderated by a character best described as a cross between Felix the Cat and Larry King in terms of his unusually large head on a small upper body. The incumbent desperately struggled to distance himself from the last decade of violence and economic hardships promising new beginnings; a transformation of national industry of largely cocoa and coffee production, combined with a strong focus on social programs.

Ouattara in contrast presented himself as a modern man; one who is running on a liberal platform bolstered by massive help from the IMF and increased foreign investment. One does not need to be an expert to pick the candidate of choice for the West, but Gbagbo passed up the opportunity to point out his counterpart as a potential agent for further debt and possible foreign influence, instead focusing on Ouatarra’s part in the conflict. Remarkably, the Larry King character resisted any attempt to sensationalize, showing more elegance than his American counterpart — a reminder that the commercial synergies of news and entertainment have yet to be discovered in Africa.

The pre-elections atmosphere is one of intense mistrust, at times bordering on paranoia. Stories circulate that the pens provided at the polling stations are rigged with disappearing ink, effacing the votes for your candidate. How the pen determines where the voter crosses seems irrelevant. After all, Africa is the land of myth and magic where fetishes are omnipresent, ancient tribal chiefs are more important than corporations who would bank roll their favorite candidates; and rebels and machetes are part of the political process.
As we interview the officials at the Local Commission about the elaborate cross check procedures for the final results, the lady president of the center arrives breathless in her long ruffled skirt, whisks us away into her private office and informs us she is being chased by opposition partisans.

“They blocked me at the airport,” she lays out all three of her cells phones, takes out a white handkerchief and delicately dabs the sweat around her neck and chocolate décolleté; “They confiscated the staff salaries I had in the pouch and threatened me with bodily harm.”
“They. who?” Asks Mathias.
“They! The militants. The youth!” Her gold bracelets jingle as she talks.
“How many were they?” I scribble away.
“Beaucoup. Beaucoup.”
“A lot?! Like how many? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She waves away the heat and a couple of mosquitoes. “A lot!” She says with a definitive nod.
“Liar!” Mathias mumbles under his breath as we leave. “What was she doing at the airport with all that money anyway?”

Another official says he has information from a very credible source that one agent in every voting station has been bribed one thousand dollars a day to change the results.

“Who is this source?”
“Well. Madame. I can not say.” He leans back in his plastic chair and smiles cryptically, revealing the yellow buildup of years of bad hygiene around the margins of his teeth that matches the color of the sunflowers on his shirt. “But he is very reliable.”
“Ah oui?” Asks Mathias

Anticipation steadily builds. Candidates and their respective spokesmen issue press releases pretending a veneer of calm, each magnanimously promising to uphold the final results, more likely signaling how the other should behave when he loses. Meanwhile, Mr. Ouatarra and entourage have taken over one wing at my hotel. He startles me as he says “bonsoir Madame,” and passes by in the hallway, then disappears among the guards and the blue helmets. Like any high class hotel de luxe in Africa, The Golf doubles as an opposition hideout and evacuation center on account of its convenient location by the lagoon and coveted helipad. After all, last time there was political unrest Mr. Outattara’s house was burnt down.

One more thing. As a last minute tactic, Mr. Gbagbo declares a curfew in spite of the pleas of the U.N., who rightly insists it would further complicate the logistics. Many wonder whether this is an attempt to short circuit the turnout since the security instruments who would enforce the curfew are also Gbagbo loyalists. What is certain is that the combination of transportation challenges, mistrust and the elaborate manual tabulations means only one thing – delays.

Predictably, on Election Day polls open late. Mathias and I walk past the long lines of voters growing under the large canopies of the avocado trees outside a primary school turned polling station. We sit staring at the sealed box of ballots which is to be opened only in front of the party representatives. They finally arrive after 45 minutes. “Curfew. Taxi problems;” they say sheepishly and squeeze behind their tiny wooden desks.

The polling finally starts: Stickers — registration list – ballots — signature — indelible ink – stamp – all ok.

As the sun rises up in the sky to smolder and burn off the shadows throughout the day, the steady stream of voters mark their candidate of choice in the cardboard isolation booth that stands in a corner. Many come prepared with their own pens and find their suspicions confirmed when Mathias repeatedly tries to talk them into using the “official” ones in the stations. “He is only teasing.” I would smile and say.

As we randomly pick stations, observe the day and mark the scores, we appreciate the depth of the economic crisis in the neglected residential neighborhoods and feel the frustration of those who want to put the last ten years behind them and to once again shine as the star of West Africa. We discuss nuances of identity; listen to the indignant few who claim they have identified neighbors of “questionable” origin and counter with stories of our own to demonstrate that identities do not have to be static if you keep an open mind and extend justice throughout society. At the end, it is the umbrella of the economic system that needs to include and align the interests. Regardless of who wins, it is incumbent upon him to hold out his hand to the vanquished, who must in turn negotiate the limits of his love for his country.

As the polls finally close and the ballot box seals are cut, a heavy set woman in long flowy purple-wear is chosen at our station to read the results. The observers, representatives and agents all take their places as she opens each ballot, patiently reading and holding up the name for all to see. A young girl marks the results in plain view on the blackboard. I don’t see how the supposed undercover agent we were tipped off about by the “credible” informant, could possibly earn his $1,000 keep. If the party representatives moved up any further in their chairs, they would surely keel over.

Gbagbo Laurent……Gbagbo Laurent…..Alessane Ouattara….The girl at the blackboard makes neat little rows of squares and strikes them through in batches of five.

Gbagbo Laurent…..A cell phone ring with a festive African beat breaks the intensity of the room. The purple lady puts down the ballot and waddles over calmly, reaching into her purse.

“Aaaah?”

The various agents, all four party representatives and the two of us hold our positions and wait in silence. What sounds like a single gunshot in the distance momentarily distracts us. We all throw a quizzical glance at each other, shrug and once again fix our gazes back on the lady who is still on the phone.

“I will be late,” she says. “No, I can’t. I am counting votes now.”
She hangs up and waddles back unhurried. No excuses. No sign of impatience from anyone. She picks up where she left off.

Gbagbo Laurent…..more squares continue to fill the rows underneath the two names before the same party music once again breaks our concentration. This time the chief of the bureau gets up and brings over the happy bag. The lady opens it and reaches in elbow deep to produce the bouncing contraption.

“Alo!”
Once again everyone freezes like an old children’s game.
This time she switches into dialect but I understand the word pommes-de-terre; something about potatoes.

“….and the charcoal is where it always is – look in the green basket.”
“You’ve made us all hungry now,” says Mathias as she hangs up.

Everything is relative and urgencies take on a different form depending on the context. Maybe we, in the West could use a little serving of “pomme-de-terre” here and there within our serious institutions.

The little squares rapidly fill up on Gbagbo’s side of the blackboard. But this is Abidjan — the loyalists’ stronghold. The North is sure to be a different story judging by the first round, why else would they need to send reinforcements to “secure” the area.

The lobby at the Golf Hotel is filling up by the hour. All flights have been cancelled and the curfew continues. The results should have been declared, first by last night – then by this morning and now planned again for later release at midnight no doubt for maximum control. Gbagbo is already contesting the results calling foul play in some of the regions and earlier this morning one of his supporters snatched the ballot results in plain view of the cameras as the officials prepared to make an announcement.

A large man is twirling a carved wooden figurine with tresses that swing back and forth every time he rolls it between his palms. He says it is to awaken the powers.

Mr. Ouattara’s spokesman sits at the adjacent table. As one of the main figures of the party walks into the lobby, he is swallowed whole by a circle of journalists and cameras who scramble for a statement. I make my way over and squeeze through.

“I proclaim Mr. Ouattara, the President of the Republic of Ivory Coast.” He says the results leave no doubt. Mr. Gbagbo is contesting the results of four regions in the North, “These regions went to Mr. Ouattara on the first round. We have worked ten years for this moment. It is time for Mr. Gbagbo to leave.”

Gbagbo!

This morning I wake up to two sets of official results.

Independent Electoral Commission:
Gbagbo – 45.9%
Outattara – 54.10%

Constitutional Council:
Gbagbo – 51.45%
Ouattara – 48.55%

Gbagbo is refusing to concede. The head of the Constitutional Council, close to Gbagbo and contrary to the results of the Independent Elections Commission has sided with him, voiding the polls from all the contentious regions in the north. They say it is good to have friends in high places. Gendarmes have broken into the opposition’s headquarters and killed some of the members. Angry riots are breaking out.

As the international community, Obama and Sarkozy extend their congratulations to Ouattara, Gbagbo is asking the United Nations to leave and denounces foreign intrigue behind the support for his rival.

Both men are sworn in as Presidents. So much for reconciliation.

Power is intoxicating – painful to relinquish. For all the patriotic sermons that politicians deliver for public consumption whether in Washington, Tehran or Abidjan, love of country is a worthless currency stamped with the face of its people, bartered and manipulated for a far more tangible asset.

Hold off on making those travel arrangements for the Paris of Africa. The shining star is having electrical problems.

Filed Under: Africa, Can We Talk?!!, Cote D'Ivoire, Elections Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Of Rapes and Reports: With friends like this….

August 30, 2010 By Firouzeh Afsharnia Leave a Comment

Last week was eventful for avid Congo watchers like myself. First – a story about the violent rape of almost 200 women in Walikale, a contentious territory where Congolese battalions and ex-genocidaire FDLR compete over control of local tin and gold mines. What was curious about this episode was that the gang rapes took place over a four-day period a scant 20 miles away from a U.N. base, which only learnt about the incidents ten days after they happened.

Also interesting was that the day the rapes began, U.N. alerted the humanitarian groups operating in the area to the presence of armed rebels in the precise location where the attacks took place implying they should have known and secured the area. So this further confuses me. Were they scared and stayed away? Or did they simply not care? This would not be the first time. When General Nkunda marched into Kisangani in 2002 and massacred over a hundred and sixty people; and then again in 2004 when Bukavu was practically handed over, hundreds of peacekeepers were present but remained in their barracks. There are other examples.

Predictably, the familiar expressions of “outrage” and “concern” filled the airwaves followed by the usual demands that “all parties in the conflict immediately cease all forms of sexual violence and human rights abuses against the population in the Democratic Republic of Congo;” – not that anybody ever cares or listens to these declarations. If there is any reception, the rebels are more likely listening to the lively sounds of Soukous on Radio Okapi to set the proper mood as they go about their daily pillages. This must be especially frustrating considering the U.N. recently redubbed its Mission a “stabilization” force, implying that the worse was over.

And then – the explosive U.N. mapping report was made public detailing gross human rights violations between 1993 and 2003 in eastern DRC. The report focuses on a ten-year period that includes an alphabet soup of violations against many different groups – Katangans against Kasaiians; indigenous versus immigrants; soldiers against citizens — but what has been singled out are allegations of gross human rights violations perpetrated by the Rwandan Army against the Hutu population in the Congo in 1996-1997. And it uses the G-word. It goes like this: “ …the systematic massacres of Hutus on Congolese territories which could be constituted as acts of genocide….only if proven before a court.” It’s non-committal – but just enough to be trouble.

Kigali is incensed to say the least, in light of the fact that nobody bothered to interview or get their side of the story, and have threatened to pull their troops from various peacekeeping forces like the Sudan. Hutu groups still in exile since the genocide and not able to return – for good reason I may add – are ecstatic! Finally, they say, the real victims are identified and the Tutsi hoax is revealed!

Notwithstanding the rightful pursuit of justice, and the need to avenge every man, woman and child who has been murdered in this greatest of all African wars, I wonder if the wider impact of this report on the ongoing efforts to bring peace and stability to the unfortunate people living in the region who happen to be still alive was considered.

That the RPA murdered thousands as they marched on, consolidated their power, then raided and closed the camps is no secret. The story was not given oxygen in international media in an effort to present a clear picture of good versus evil, to mobilize international aid and assuage the guilt of bystanders who failed to act in the fateful 100 days of the Rwandan Genocide and now needed to make amends. But the use of the word genocide to describe the ongoing aftermath of the hostilities in Congo, when according to its own admission, the report is “not based on the same standards of evidence as needed in an international court;…..lacking sufficient admissibility,” questions its wisdom and wonders if all the elements needed to contextualize such a conclusion has been taken into account.

The report refers to AFDL/APR/FAB, which includes a myriad of Ugandan, Rwandan and Burundian forces. Yet the Rwandan Army stands out as the main perpetrator. Furthermore, an allegation of genocide necessitates proof of a command structure with the intent to destroy in whole or in part an ethnic group – namely the Hutu population in the Congo. Was there in fact a master plan backed by the RPA to annihilate the Hutus in the Congo in 1996-1997? If so, how do we account for the peaceful resettlement of hundreds of thousands more with the help and facilitation of the RPA as attested by UNHCR and relief organizations at the time. Indeed if identification of Hutus and their extermination was part of the retaliation plan, why the subsequent push to eliminate all ethnic classifications from identity cards?

The Rwandan genocide happened under the watch of the resident U.N. Mission who failed to act due to incompetence, negligence and political expediencies of its member states.

As over a million fled the violence across the border, international relief agencies under the umbrella of the U.N. failed to act to prevent the replication of Hutu Power in Zairian camps blindly following mandates that treated refugees and criminals alike.

As Hutu Power slowly resurrected in the refugee camps under the loving care of the U.N. and international NGOs, they regrouped and mobilized into a new military force – the FDLR, who continued to terrorize and massacre the local population, frequently targeting Tutsis.

By 1996, FDLR and the Hutu government in exile were conducting routine raids across the border, mining roads, attacking genocide survivors, murdering witnesses and those willing to be repatriated all the while presenting themselves as the real victims and denouncing the 1994 Genocide as a Tutsi lie. Kigali’s repeated pleas to dismantle the camps fell on deaf ears. The relief mandate continued blindly for all the displaced, including murderers fleeing persecution for crimes of genocide.

“Dismantle the camps, or we will” — It was in part due to yet another in a series of failures of the international community that the Rwandan forces finally invaded.

After sixteen years and billions of dollars spent, FDLR continues to be a menace in the region, arming and replicating, forming alliances with local warlords, militia and Congolese soldiers; making a living by killing and displacing civilians in order to maintain control of lucrative mining territories all the while presenting themselves as the victims of a Tutsi conspiracy and demanding to negotiate with Kigali.

At a time the U.N. is fixing to leave the Congo, this report comes to them as god sent, inadvertently providing much needed leverage to present the FDLR as the protectors of the displaced Hutus and as viable negotiating partners to Kigali – imagine — war criminals newly legitimized as victims by an official report of a respected international organization.

Going back to the recent rapes, the U.N. spokesman mentioned they were not informed; they did not know. It appears that the U.N. patrols twice passed through the main village where the mass rapes took place and still no one told them anything. Congo’s top U.N. official, Mr. Meece said he “could not explain the villagers’ silence” perhaps it was cultural shame, perhaps a fear of reprisal.

I think that after so many years of let downs by local and international authorities, perhaps they thought, what’s the point.

Filed Under: Africa, Can We Talk?!!, Congo, Rwanda, United_Nations Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

TORA KAGAME!

August 14, 2010 By Firouzeh Afsharnia 4 Comments

Well. The elections have come and gone; and the winner is – (drum roll) – I know… I know…. No surprise.

Independent press, human rights organizations and political activists are all crying foul play, alleging that serious opposition never had a chance. They were either killed, exiled or under house arrest; tens of media outlets were banned during the run up to the elections; a journalist and a human rights lawyer investigating the incidents shot dead or jailed — Other than that, everything was just perfect.

The next day, headline news on The Independent read: “The UK has influence in Rwanda. We should use it.” British government is demanding to know what is going on and David Cameron is urged to withhold UK’s kindly favors until Rwanda’s ruling party faces up to its civil rights obligations. Foreign donors, journalists and activists alike are calling on President Obama to bring pressure on Rwanda for democratic change and to lean on Kagame to make him more accountable.

Judging by the 97% registered voter turnout who started lining up before dawn to hand Kagame another seven-year mandate, it appears that those who need to hold him accountable have already spoken.

Hence, Kagame’s response to his critics and the international community was that they should mind their own business and “not tell us how to shape our country.”  As for me — I thought how ironic that the same folks who criticize the constant meddling of foreign patrons in the developing world are so quick to jump in and ask for intervention at the first sign of trouble.

“TORA KAGAME — IMVUGO NYO NGIRO” the signs read – on T-shirts, on shiny billboards, on banners … I asked Clementine, my Rwandan friend what they meant as the bus rattled through downtown Kigali, in full campaign swing on our last day.

“Choose Kagame!”  She said. “What he says, is what he does.”

“Where are the others?”  I asked referring to the opposition slogans.

“Oh, they are around – somewhere — I will show you when I see one.”  She never spotted one. Not that it bothered me.  Having lived over thirty years in the West I have considerably toned down my own idealistic take on Democracy and no longer see it as an essential building block to progress.  In fact, I confess at times I wish for a benevolent dictator myself as I see Democrats and Republicans banter endlessly about the obvious, touting American democratic values even as they discuss the merits of “enhanced” interrogation techniques and ponder whether an enemy combatant merits the same fundamental rights granted by the Geneva Convention as a human being in uniform.  Yes; we in the US also muzzle dissent, suspend civil liberties when it suits our purpose and stomp on human rights when we feel justified.   We do it by carefully framing our position in a controlled and corporate owned mainstream media; we do it by extraditing violators to offshore territories; we do it by scaring our constituents and buying off our representatives into passing new laws with loopholes big enough to stuff our agenda through.

It is all done in the interest of “national security”.  So the question is — what is in the interest of Rwanda’s National Security?

The 1994 Genocide was not a single event.  It came as a culmination of uprisings and aggressions by a Hutu majority against the Tutsi minority –  in 1959, 1963, 1964, 1973, 1974 and through to the early 90s hundreds of thousands of Tutsis were massacred or forced into exile in neighboring countries.   This majority is still in effect.  It is not inconceivable that premature openings without tackling the radicalized atmosphere of race could once again shift the centre of gravity towards its natural demographic comfort zone.

Secondly, it is common knowledge that the media had a crucial role in the propagation of hate ideology and the orchestration of the Genocide machinery.  Radio Rwanda, Radio Television Libre des Mille Collines, Kangura newspaper and other print media played the lead in the run up to the massacres in disseminating targeted messages designed to eradicate the Tutsi “problem” once and for all. After the genocide, the same outlets resumed operation across the Zairian border in militarized camps of over a million refugees, where the genociders and Hutu extremists among them regrouped and mobilized to conduct cross border raids into Rwanda. Thousands still remain armed and dangerous in the Eastern Congo, harboring dreams of reclaiming their Hutu homeland.

Lastly, the role of intra ethnic factors is a constant reality in African politics.  Throughout the post colonial decades of emerging states, even as state politicians have relied on ethnic allegiances and patronage to rise to power, they have seen their most imminent threats coming from within their own rank and file by way of coup d’états and assassinations — the promotional path of choice, should one desire a career in politics in Africa.  The internal fractures within the inner circle have been forming. The renegade General Nkunda who was finally reeled in through a joint operation with DRC; the unfortunate VP of the Democratic Green Party who was found dead with his head severed, and the estranged General Nyamwasa who fled to South Africa after being accused of plotting a coup were all once prominent RPF members and as such, now in the unenviable position of being targets without the protection of their own base.

The assassination attempt in Johannesburg could more likely be credited to extremists sworn to avenge the blood of their Hutu brothers. A simple internet search on opposition sites yields links to articles captioned: “The Slaughter of Hutu Refugees in DRC”; “The Humanitarian Horror of Hutu Refugees in DRC” and “A Story of how Rwanda Manufactures Genocide and Exports it to Hunt Intellectual Hutu Refugees in USA and the UK”.  Sites are also flooded with threats against high ranking RPF members, promising to exact a painful revenge for crimes committed – among them, General Nyamwasa.

There is no question Kigali is clamping down on opposition, but the road map of the intrigue points to a fracture within the RPF ranks and a struggle for Hutu supremacy rather than to widespread grievances of a poor and marginalized mass.

“Tutsi mothers beat their children from the first day they cry.”  A Congolese friend once told me. “That is why they are so cold blooded.   Their humanity is crushed at childhood.”

“There was no genocide.” A Hutu colleague explained. “Every Rwandan has a machete at home.” He explained. “When the plane was shot down in 1994 there was chaos and things got out of hand.”   Incidentally, the other side is convinced that the RPF was behind the shooting down of the plane in 1994.

“When the RPF finally won the war and marched into Kigali, everybody went out to watch.” Clementine was just eight at the time. “We had been told they were not human, so we wanted to see for ourselves whether they had tails.”

These are anecdotal encounters but they reflects what simmers underneath among a generation that lived through the genocide and was marked by it.  In spite of state mandates and reconciliation courts, the hard etchings of resentments and divisions still persist in some circles.

“We all know who is who and what happened.” I am told over and over again after the initial feel good tourist spiel is delivered.

In spite of all the good intentions, a democratic opening a la West may well back fire. Kagame walks a precarious tightrope, balancing his long term national interests on the fine line that divides the ethnic and historical realities of his country while preventing new resentments from forming into a time bomb. Taking an inclusive stance toward peaceful opposition like Frank Habineza of the DGP who has publicly committed to non-violence could help him.

At the end, the jury is still out as to who shot the plane and how much of the conspiracy theory can be credited.  Was the RPF victory the result of a colonial Hutu – Tutsi struggle; or was it a neo imperialist battle for hegemony in a strategic resource rich territory between the Francophonie and Anglo axis. For the time being regardless of how Kagame came to power he is intent on asserting his sovereignty while pursuing a strong development agenda albeit at the expense of political freedoms.  Some say the policy creates resentment and violates democratic principles. Many more agree that it is a small price to pay.

I am inclined to think that if the international community turned its back during the worst time of need, it has no right now to make demands and declarations at a time Rwanda’s independently acquired peace and stability is consolidating into social and economic gains.  Conversely, if it is with the support of the West that Kagame sits where he does, we have made this bed ourselves.  We had best let him sleep in it for now.

Filed Under: Africa, Can We Talk?!!, Congo, Elections, Rwanda Tagged With: , , , , ,

Finally; Kigali!

July 13, 2010 By Firouzeh Afsharnia 4 Comments

Finally; Kigali!  I step out the plane and onto the tarmac and right away the familiar smoky scent of Africa fills my lungs.  Malin and I clasp at each other, thrilled to be back once again.   She is a new friend who works in Goma, DRC — a gender specialist. God knows the Congo needs one; although at this point, a miracle worker or a fairy god mother with a magic wand may be more in order. 

The English caption — “Kigali International Airport” gives away the new reality of this tiny central African country sixteen years after the French fought tooth and nail to keep it in the Franco zone.   I look around and note the difference in the mix of visitors from what I am used to across the border in the conflict ridden Congo.   I am traveling with my niece and a group of privileged teenagers from a Swiss boarding school on a summer community service project — and if that doesn’t tell you something about this county, I don’t know what will.  Aid workers, tourists and wealthy Rwandans wait patiently in the orderly claim area and I find myself unconsciously sizing each one up.  A very tall and pointy man with miniature versions of himself running around, patiently eyes the carousel as the baggage slowly trickles in.   I remember him onboard buying a bottle of black label whiskey.

“Sorry sir, I can’t give you a bag.  Plastic is forbidden in Rwanda.”

His features are practically text book Tutsi – the way Speke so meticulously measured and documented — long features, prominent and spear like; with a razor thin physique.  Another woman, equally tall, with narrow features, carries a rather large and round midriff – I wonder.  Is she a Hutu? With Tutsi mixed blood? I can’t help it.   To me, Rwanda is all about race and identity. Barely thirty minutes on the ground and I am already sorting and separating.

Our lovely guide Cecile tells me it is not ok to ask.  Rwanda is trying to move beyond race and recreate the olden days when it was a land of one people; long before the Europeans arrived with their measuring tapes and catalogue grids to tabulate and institutionalize previously porous identities. 

”If you are a Hutu and think your people have been marginalized, be quiet!” She tells me.

“If you are a Tutsi and think you are going to have power and position because your President is Tutsi; be quiet!” 

“But if you think you are Rwandan and you are proud of what your country has achieved in the past sixteen years then speak loud.” She calls Ingabire, the detained opposition leader, stupid for creating waves at a time when everyone must pull together. “She deserved to be arrested.”  And with that, she changes the subject. 

Driving on the clean paved roads of this tightly packed country, neatly terraced with homes and plastered with new business advertising and development projects, I see her point.  Before leaving London, I posted a question online: 

“Is economic progress worth the price of democracy?”  
The response came: “If you are traveling to Rwanda, it is best not to ask such questions.”

I asked Claire, a Tutsi university graduate.  I know she is a Tutsi not only because she is long and narrow, but a lost father and a houseful of orphaned cousins was a dead give away.  She says her story is “Tom & Jerry” compared to others who have lost everyone, been raped, or are settled with permanent mutilations. She says she is embarrassed to share stories with others — as though her trauma isn’t deep enough to grant her access to this club. There is hardly anyone in that generation left intact. She says she does not care for democracy and freedom of speech.

“What is Democracy anyway?”  She speaks in long extended paragraphs, agitated streams of conversation seamlessly flowing into each other, recounting with the urgency of someone who has much to say but who keeps it under lock and key.

“For me, democracy is to live with security in your own country.   If there is no war; if you can work; if you have peace – then for me that’s democracy.”   She says if freedom of speech means anyone can say anything they wish and can create conflict, then she doesn’t want it. “I want them to go to prison.  I don’t want democracy.” 

Mr. Aimable, one of the many returnees from the 1959 diaspora calls President Kagame le dictateur eclairé – the enlightened dictator – and thinks it would be a disaster if next month he does not win.    “I hope he rigs the elections. He has to win.”  I am startled! If Mr. Kagame is doing so well, why would he need to rig anything?  A simple math of ethnic realities quickly yields an answer. 

My small sample size of contacts has been all praise.   They attribute the grenade attacks and the incessant harping on this human rights nonsense to power struggles and the betrayal of the first commandment of patronage politics — “Thou shalt look out for your own kind.” It appears that this African Big Man is not playing business as usual and he has come down hard on those who least expect it – for corruption of all things.  

 In town as I buy a new battery for my African phone, the small TV flickers in the shop with images of the president at a UN summit in Geneva.  I stand to a side and make a grand gesture towards a group at the counter:  “Your President!” I signal my respect at the high level panel as Kagame makes a speech.

Then I ask in English whether they will vote in the elections.  No response.  I repeat my question in French and they nod “Oui.” I ask them who they will vote for.  They look away and ignore me with a smirk.   Ok.  So it’s nobody’s business. Or else they are part of those Cecile says had better keep quiet.

I pass a group of men dressed in bright orange uniforms on the way to town.  They are manned by a uniformed armed guard marching alongside the road.  Genociders — I am told. Doing community service.  As part of the nationwide restitution and reintegration program, they must not only serve a prison term, but they must contribute back to society – finally a viable response to impunity in a continent where murderers and perpetrators of atrocities are routinely rewarded with government posts and seats at the negotiating table.

Theophile, our translator checks yet another shop to find a battery for my Nokia. He says he knows his president loves his people.  Well that’s a new one! I have heard of mobs of adoring fans for a populist leader, but every once in a while it is good to be loved back – even if it means you must keep quiet at the dinner table. Just so long as you get a healthy serving of whatever is being dished out. Near eradication of Malaria and Universal health care at 2 dollars a year could be that promising start.  He says this president, for once tells the truth.   If he tells you he will do something, you know it is going to get done.  And on freedom of speech he has clearly spoken.  It is not up for discussion.  Whether he will change the constitution to reflect that will be the real test.

As we walk back through the main village road, the sun is sinking fast, tempting my overactive imagination to try and picture what this innocent rural road may have looked like on April 6th, 1994. As darkness descends I can see it as the conveyor belt that it was for organized murder; for doomsday check points, military road blocks and the interahamwe youth militia, delirious with power on a carnival rampage of death.  

Tonight however, the road is safe. Hundreds of rural men, school children and women in colorful wraps return home after a long day. Tonight the biggest threat lurking in the shadows as the cover of dark extinguishes the red glow of the countryside is just the periodic hum of vehicle engines as they approach, hoping not to run into anything unintended.   Should Mr. Kagame make it to this part of the country, they should remember to ask for lights.

Filed Under: Africa, Can We Talk?!!, Elections, Rwanda Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Happy Birthday to Lady DRC

July 2, 2010 By Firouzeh Afsharnia 1 Comment

The main avenue running through Kinshasa is called Boulevard 30th June in loving memory of the day of the independence from the nasty Belgians exactly – oh – fifty years ago.   It runs straight from the thieves market next to the dilapidated central train station; cuts through Gombe where all the embassies, NGOs and aid agencies are; and ends up at the other end as you make your way up the hills to Binza, home to those able to parcel out the privileges of post colonial Africa while keeping away from its perils.  An Italian gigolo who ran some sort of lumber business by promising bicycles and soap to the tribal chiefs had his residence at a fabulous compound just past the Presidential palace. He was always careful to stress that his villa was the most beautiful second only to that of the president’s – just in case the walls had ears.

The last Independence Day I spent in Kinshasa was June 30th, 2005.   I checked the entry in my journal: “Today there is nobody on the streets except for U.N. tanks, riot police in full Rambo gear and an extra generous helping of Congolese military in fake Raybans,”

According to the power sharing agreements, national elections were supposed to be taking place on that day, but things were running a bit behind schedule, which is normal in Africa, but folks were getting so jittery that a complete curfew had been imposed to keep everyone from becoming – uhm — overly “jubilant”.

Uniformed police and armed riot guards lined the Boulevard and U.N. staff were sequestered at home or in their offices. Reports of machete bearing gangs called “Kat Kat” roaming the inner neighborhoods, demanding the resignation of the authorities circled the security alerts. I wondered — did they mean, “Cut! Cut!”? At any rate, it baffled all of us that the elite zones had been so nicely secured while the rest of the city was left to fend for itself. I saw it as a metaphor for many things.

This week Congo celebrated her Independence again – this time she’s turned 50; a real transformational milestone for any fifty-year-old girl who has been through the wringer  — this one being “the rape capital” of the world. But in contrast to the austere celebrations of a few years ago which left me watching a small audience of barefoot and ragged boys dancing in the garbage strewn main square next to open sewers, this year the government spared nothing in anticipation of the multitude of dignitaries and heads of states, among whom were Ban Ki-Moon and King Albert II of Belgium, who descended for the occasion. But many were wondering what exactly was being celebrated; and judging by the 21-gun salute lavished on Mr. Mugabe of Zimbabwe, the message was confusing to say the least.

After a decade of peacekeeping and billions of dollars spent by way of international donors, peace and democracy seem elusive as ever; and in spite of the optimism generated around the 2006 elections, President Kabila is being criticized for his governance, economic record and human rights policies. He has also asked the U.N. mission to leave in a year, so we can safely assume that this time around international observers will not be on the guest list for the 2011 elections.

One week after the body of a prominent human rights activist was found dead in Kinshasa, an increasingly authoritarian president spoke of the future as he stood by a large banner that read: “The Giant Awakes”; and presided over a grand military parade of 15,000 men and 400 army vehicles. My first thought — with all the raping, looting and massacres – then who the heck was minding the store in the East? But following the multi million dollar preparations which paved the way from the airport all the way to the site of the celebrations at the Boulevard Triomphal — part and parcel of the $9 billion infrastructure aid pledged by the Chinese in return for mining concessions — I had little doubt as to who the “Giant” was.

So where are we on this 50th milestone?  Standing in a Chinese financed project and playing host for the biggest party in decades after kindly asking the UN to start packing; Congo continues to be one of the poorest countries in the world, its inhabitants wanting for basic security, food and shelter, its fabled minerals ravaged by friends and foes alike; now under new management: an emerging patron with an insatiable appetite for resources and deep pockets, as well as a strict non-intervention policy laid along pragmatic economic interests — hands off from such mundane issues as human rights and domestic governance. Now – that’s what I call don’t ask, don’t tell!

I have been singing the famous 60’s song written by the great composer Joseph Kabasele all week:

Independence cha cha, we’ve won it
Oh!
Independence cha cha, we’ve achieved it!
The round table cha cha, we’ve pulled it off!
Independence cha cha, we’ve won it Oh!

Filed Under: Africa, Can We Talk?!!, Congo, Elections, United_Nations Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

Elections and Gorillas!!

June 25, 2010 By Firouzeh Afsharnia 3 Comments

Two weeks from now I will be en route to Kigali with my very special niece on her first ever trip to Africa.   Having spent some time in the region as part of a United Nations peacekeeping force, I have decided to take this opportunity and accompany her not only as an incurable Afrophile, but also to share this extraordinary experience as she takes her first steps through the gates of this magical place.

The first reaction of her mother was a slight case of panic attack. After all, to any first time tourist, Genocide is to Rwanda what kissing lovers and accordion music is to Paris.  I told her not to worry, that was then, and this is now –  that our most fearsome foe across the lush rolling hills of Rwanda would likely be Plasmodium Falciparum and not the machete wielding rebels howling in the wind.

“Plasmi-What?!”

“Malaria!” I explained.

“Oh! But what about the elections…” she insisted.

“Well that’s not until way later in august.” I said it dismissively as though referring to a vague event on a defunct archaic calendar.

Indeed the upcoming elections in Rwanda are on everyone’s minds these days.    After the 1994 genocide which witnessed the murder of 800,000 Tutsi and moderate Hutus in a matter of 100 days, and which destabilized the Great Lakes region leading to multiple state implosions, Rwanda, under the leadership of Paul Kagami has emerged victorious to position itself as an African success story.

Since the end of the civil war, in contrast to its neighboring DRC, Rwanda has consolidated its peace dividends to rebuild a relatively crime free and stable oasis of peace thriving on liberal trade policies, privatization principles and an eco friendly tourism industry advertised on glossy color photos of congenial fuzzy gorillas.

All of this has delighted the West and endeared this tiny republic to the international donors who seem happy to throw money at anything captioned “liberal” and “privatized”, making foreign aid a sizable source of income for Kigali to the tune of $500 million a year.

But some talk of hidden costs — costs that have steadily translated into a shrinking of democratic space and crowding out of opposition groups through intimidation and arrests seemingly designed to preserve the fragile ethnic cohesion of a post genocidal society.  The crackdowns have been progressive and steady in spite of the 95% majority garnered by President Kagame in the contentious elections that took place in 2003.

Last April one of the Presidential contenders, Victoire Ingabire of the United Democratic Forces (UDF), was arrested on charges of Genocide denial, her party disqualified along with the Democratic Green party, both barred from registration in the upcoming elections.  This has come on the heels of other measures, like banning newspapers, arresting journalists and denying visas to human rights workers on technicalities; all part of a concerted effort to choke off the oxygen to anything which could pose a threat to incumbent power.

Just this week a high ranking member of the close circle of Kagame turned dissident was the subject of an assassination attempt and now recovering from a bullet wound in a Johannesburg hospital. The identities of the assassins have not been revealed but President Kagame is denying any knowledge or responsibility. Whether or not this particular incident can be pinned on Kigali, the gradual tightening of the screws on political expression is undeniable, creating an atmosphere of tension and uncertainty ahead of the elections, the outcome of which remains to be seen.  My bet is that things will come to pass safely and quietly, albeit uncomfortably.  After all as one human rights activist said, Rwanda is an Army with a State.

For our part, all we can plan for is an adequate supply of anti-malarial drugs, a crisp digital camera for my lovely niece to catch Mommy Gorilla in action, and a return date on our ticket clearly ahead of August 9th.

Filed Under: Africa, Can We Talk?!!, Elections, Rwanda Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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