Part 2 of 2: Apparently all Africans originate from Ethiopia – new discovery at MRG media training

Read Part 1: Team blogging – part of the media training in sunny Kampala

Farah Mihlar

We are championing on. I am still typing away as the 18 participants attending MRG’s Kampala media training add their comments to a blog we are attempting to write jointly. All of the activists represented at this training work with minority communities in some of the harshest political and socio-economic climates. They are almost always excluded and often discriminated against.

‘The Batwa are the first people in the Congo but the last in getting resources from the government,’ says Tuteene, who works with Batwa ‘pygmies’ in north Kivu, in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Tuteene wears the most colourful suits (today he is in orange) and has helped brighten up each of our sessions. The activists working with Batwa, in DRC and Uganda, have explained through the course of the training, how this community is marginalized and discriminated against. They face high levels of poverty and illiteracy and are stigmatized in society because of their specific physical characteristics, Peninah, explains. Peninah like Timothy also works with Batwa in Uganda.

‘The drought is so alarming and exceptional, it is having adverse effects on the livelihood of people and is causing starvation,’ Albert says. Many of the pastoralist activists have referred to the manner in which these groups of cow herders are struggling because of the prolonged drought and also due to the effects of climate change.

Mitiku, who works with pastoralists in Ethiopia highlights some of the challenges the participants may face in advocating their problems. ‘Even though we got this technical knowledge, it will be very hard and challenging to do advocacy and lobbying on the issues affecting our community,’ he says.

Whilst the training was specifically on how to use the media to promote issues affecting different communities, the bringing together of various different people, from different communities, helped to sensitise all of us, allowing the group to understand problems faced by minorities all across Africa. Many of the participants, mainly through the cultural evening, made new discoveries.

Apparently all Africans originate from Ethiopia. ‘How come no one knew this?’ I ask. ‘Some of us learnt it for the first time,’ says Joanna. I must clarify: this did not transpire based on any proper research. It just became apparent, as each activist referred to their origins that almost all of the communities represented at the training had originated from Ethiopia.

‘I didn’t know that Iteso are sons of the Karamojong,’ says Timothy. This is in reference to Albert’s historical portrayal of how the people of Karamoja and Teso came into being. The Teso, according to Albert, are a break-away group of the same set of pastoralists who moved to Karamoja. Both communities are in conflict over land and other resources in the region. ‘I think we just became stubborn and went away with the cows and never went back,’ laughs Ben, who is from Teso.

Samuel presents at a mock press conference

Samuel, who works with a Ugandan pastoralist community, says he was surprised to learn the different types of pet-names Banyoro people give each other. Drake, who is from Uganda’s Banyoro tribe, revealed to us how each person in the community has a pet-name, in addition to their real name. He has kindly named me Amooti, meaning flower (I really am not one). All of us picked up a few different ways to greet each other, the most popular was how the Karamojong do it.

‘Maata Angaatuk’ (I greet you in the name of cows, goats and all livestock), shouts Albert.

‘Maata’ we reply, in unison.

The participants also learnt about their own and others hidden talents. Samuel, for instance, discovered he is an exceptional cameraman, while Drake can easily start a career as a narrator (we hope he doesn’t give up his work with pastoralists).

Michael, the newfound reporter who apparently works for MRG TV (we don’t really have one, it was just a part of the video activity), says, team-building was good in the way we tapped into people’s professional skills. All of us had different skills. Penninah was very confident in responding to questions in the interviews and Albert was good in creating captions.

One of the most unique aspects of this training was that, whilst the entire team worked intensely for long hours throughout the day, no one was short of energy to party through the night. As we shift our focus to how much fun the group had, Sandra is unanimously asked to comment. Sandra is a local and took on a leadership role in pointing the rest of the participants to the ‘must visit’ night venues in Kampala. ‘This was not enough fun for me,’ she says laughingly… ‘Especially when we went out to my favourite hangout and the guys slept,’ she adds. This did happen. On the second evening, when we went out to a fancy bar (Sandra’s favourite), the girls all ganged up and chatted and the men looked bored to death. Some did go off to sleep. ‘It is not a human rights violation to sleep,’ quips Tuteene (no giving away who fell asleep!).

According to Albert on most nights they had so much fun they had to take a vote to decide the time to leave. I have to confess that I didn’t have enough energy to keep up with the continuous partying so wasn’t a part of these exceptionally fun nights. Faith, our Zimbabwean participant, who has unlimited energy to party, says the training was always ‘happening,’ but she insists the term has to be pronounced with a Nigerian accent (hapnin) to give it added kick.

Despite the fun, the participants re-emphasise how important the training has been for them. Drake sums up for us, ‘We have been having a barrier on how we can get our issues through to the international community, we buried our head in trying to find an answer. But this training has helped us to get an idea of how we can do this.’

Contributors

• Agnes Ingwu, Abanbeke Development Association, Obudu City – Nigeria.
• Albert Lokoru, Karamoja Agro-Pastoral Development Programme (KADP), Karamoja – Uganda.
• Drake Nyamugabwa, Masindi Pastoralist Group, Masindi – Uganda.
• Faith Nzilani Musinga, Centre of Minority Rights and Development, Harare – Zimbabwe.
• Mohamed Matovu, MRG Regional Information Officer, Kampala – Uganda.
• Mohamed Mukhtar, Media and Rights Somaliland, Hargeisa – Somaliland.
• Mitiku Tiksa, SOS Sahel Ethiopia, Addis Ababa – Ethiopia.
• Mugabe Herbat Joram, Pastoralist Women to Break Cultural Chains, Kiboga District – Uganda.
• Niwagaba Joan, Mbarara Development Agency, Mbarara – Uganda.
• Omunga Benjamin, Katakwi Urafiki Foundation, Katakwi District – Uganda.
• Peninah Zaninka, United Organisation for Batwa Development, Kampala – Uganda. Rahel Negussie, Pastoralist Forum Ethiopia, Addis Ababa – Ethiopia.
• Sandra Nassali, UgaBYTES Initiatives, Kabalagala – Uganda. Samuel Kaweesi, Nakasongora Pastoralists Association, Nakasongora – Uganda.
• Tuteene Kusimweray, Action pour la Promotion des Droits de Minorites Autochtones en Afrique Centrale, Bukavu – D.R.C. Thomas Kiptiony Chepsoi, Endorois Welfare Council, Nakuru Town – Kenya.
• Mpalanyi Michael, Uganda Land Alliance, Kampala District – Uganda.

Part 1 of 2: Team blogging – part of the media training in sunny Kampala

Farah Mihlar

It didn’t take too long to warm up to Kampala. So much of the city felt familiar, reminding me of parts of my home country Sri Lanka. The tropical climate, dark greenery, papayas, mangoes and pineapples. The laidback, friendly, warm culture… sorry… I may be getting carried away here. I am at work, I must assert! (Just for the record and also as my bosses will read this.) I am in Uganda for a five-day media training for community activists, to help them to promote their stories in the international media. MRG has for many years worked with some of the poorest and marginalized communities in the world, who face constant issues of discrimination. They often share with us poignant and hard-hitting stories about the realities they face, but they have very limited means to get these stories across in the media. The training in Kampala is the first of nine trainings that we are conducting regionally, in Asia, Africa and Latin America – phew…. no pressure at all. ( I won’t say how stressed our Africa Regional Information Officer, Mohamed, looked on the first day.)

The activists were being trained to write press releases and news stories, film and edit video footage, edit audio and use the internet by creating their own websites and also using social networking sites to publicise their issues.

Five days on, as I write, I have to say the results have been exceptional. The motivation and interest from all of the team was always high – despite some of the sessions being very technical. Note the reference to a team – this is because, throughout the five days, all of the participants have both worked and played together (the latter I will explain later). Many of us have become friends. We have learned not just media skills but also about various different communities in Africa, and understood deep and challenging human rights issues affecting each group. Ten of the participants are from Uganda and eight from other African countries, including Ethiopia, Somaliland, Nigeria, the DRC, Kenya and Zimbabwe. Despite the diversity in origin, culture and nationality, the common characteristics of being from a minority community and having an interest in the media has connected everyone.

Group work on designing a webpage

Learning about blogging and how to write a blog was one of the final sessions in the training. As part of the whole learning experience, we thought we would try out an interesting experiment of blogging as a team. To avoid confusion let me explain a few basic points:

Technique – I am writing the blog. Participants comment and share views, all of which are typed out. The written content is projected onto a screen so everyone knows what is being written.

Structure – the blog appears in two parts.

Content – I will fill in the background and explain some comments where needed. The blog also includes some further commentary from me, which was added as we wrote together.

Contributors – See below the full names of all participants, the communities and organizations they represent. Anecdotal information on each of the participants has been added in, in the process of writing.

Let us begin… drum roll…

After five days of intense media training, the team first talk about what they gained from the training. Thomas, who works with a small pastoralist community called the Endorois in Kenya, is the first to respond:
‘The web,’ he says.
‘What about the web,’ I ask.
‘It is going to help me a lot in terms of creating our own website for the Enderois. The new editing software was useful to know.’
The Endorois have been evicted from their traditional homeland in Kenya’s Rift Valley to make room for a national park, which is visited by thousands of tourists from Europe every year. MRG has, for years, partly through its Trouble in Paradise campaign, advocated for the community to have access to their homeland and for a share of the tourism revenue.

Rahel, dubbed the Ethiopian beauty, says: ‘Writing a press release… it was very hard for me to do it earlier, I had to get two or three people to approve. Now, I am confident. I can write it on my own.’ Rahel works for an umbrella organization of pastoralist groups in Ethiopia.

Mukthar, who everyone sarcastically refers to as ‘shy guy’ (apparently he was for the first part of the training, until he transformed in the nights out) makes the following list:

• How to write a good press release.
• How to develop a blog.
• Edit audio video.

On the last evening, we organized a cultural event. All participants were asked to bring something that represented their culture and they were asked to speak a little bit about it. Mukthar, turned up in an ‘I love Somaliland’ T-shirt. Some of complained that it did not look very original, but then he explained the T-shirt had a picture of a camel, which is an integral part of the culture of Somaliland. Since he couldn’t bring the camel along, he wore the T-shirt.

Team photo at cultural night

Joan, who works with cow-herding communities in Western Uganda, was referred to as the Queen of Banyankore last night (see picture). ‘We used to write press releases, but I understand that they were not up to standard. This will help me better it,’ she says, in reference to how the training will help her with her work. ‘I never thought I would one day have this opportunity to learn video/audio recording, interviewing techniques, being behind a camera – it took me to the next level and I gained confidence out of the whole experience,’ she adds.

Albert, always subtly humorous and very colourful last night (see picture) says, ‘I learnt how media can be used to advocate for the rights of minority groups. I also learnt how to use some equipment – like a video camera and to write a press release that can be used for advocacy.’ Albert works with the Karamojong community, in northern Uganda. Karamojong are pastoralists, who are rich in culture and tradition but suffer from inequality, discrimination and are also affected by a conflict that affects the region.

Timothy works with the Batwa ‘pygmy’ community in South Western Uganda. For our cultural evening, he showed us some impressive dance steps practiced by his tribe and based on rhythmic jumping. As he speaks, the team comments that they would have liked to see him jump higher. Ben, another Ugandan participant, says he curtailed himself out of respect for the roof, which may have otherwise blown off. For Timothy, the plus points of the training were how to reach the media through press releases and press conferences and website development. ‘We already have a website, which is in poor shape, so we learnt to make it more user-friendly and use it to promote the situation of Batwa.’

Mitiku, Joan and Albert at the cultural evening

Agnes, our champion of women’s rights, who charmed all the men with her beautiful Nigerian attire, adds: ‘Everything about this workshop would put Bette women in the international scene. It makes me very excited that very soon a lot more people will hear about our community and women.’ Agnes works to strengthen women’s rights in the Bette community in Nigeria.

On that note I will end part one of this blog. I admit, it all does sound a little too positive. This is not because I was a trainer (even though I would love to believe that was the reason). It was just a cumulative positive experience for everyone– it is true!! As if not enough positivity, Mohamed adds: “This has been a great team to work with. There has been a super blend of team dynamics.”

I promise to highlight a few more of the contentious issues in the next part. See you then.

Read part 2 of this blog: Apparently all Africans originate from Ethiopia – new discovery at MRG media training

Contributors

• Agnes Ingwu, Abanbeke Development Association, Obudu City – Nigeria.
• Albert Lokoru, Karamoja Agro-Pastoral Development Programme (KADP), Karamoja – Uganda.
• Drake Nyamugabwa, Masindi Pastoralist Group, Masindi – Uganda.
• Faith Nzilani Musinga, Centre of Minority Rights and Development, Harare – Zimbabwe.
• Mohamed Matovu, MRG Regional Information Officer, Kampala – Uganda.
• Mohamed Mukhtar, Media and Rights Somaliland, Hargeisa – Somaliland.
• Mitiku Tiksa, SOS Sahel Ethiopia, Addis Ababa – Ethiopia.
• Mugabe Herbat Joram, Pastoralist Women to Break Cultural Chains, Kiboga District – Uganda.
• Niwagaba Joan, Mbarara Development Agency, Mbarara – Uganda.
• Omunga Benjamin, Katakwi Urafiki Foundation, Katakwi District – Uganda.
• Peninah Zaninka, United Organisation for Batwa Development, Kampala – Uganda.
• Rahel Negussie, Pastoralist Forum Ethiopia, Addis Ababa – Ethiopia.
• Sandra Nassali, UgaBYTES Initiatives, Kabalagala – Uganda.
• Samuel Kaweesi, Nakasongora Pastoralists Association, Nakasongora – Uganda.
• Tuteene Kusimweray, Action pour la Promotion des Droits de Minorites Autochtones en Afrique Centrale, Bukavu – D.R.C.
  
• Thomas Kiptiony Chepsoi, Endorois Welfare Council, Nakuru Town – Kenya.
• Mpalanyi Michael, Uganda Land Alliance, Kampala District – Uganda.

Breaking Turkey’s Taboos

Rising nationalist sentiments in certain circles in Turkey has put minorities in a vulnerable and compromising position. In Turkey ‘insulting the Turkish nation’ is a criminal offence, which someone can be arrested for. MRG’s Ara Iskanderian speaks to a young Turkish human rights campaigner working for DurDe, an initiative seeking to stop racism and nationalism within Turkey. Her name has been left out of the article for her protection.

After hearing about her work campaigning against racism at a recent conference in England, I managed to persuade a young Turkish activist to be interviewed.  After some convincing, she agreed to answer some questions while everyone else was at the closing party. She asked to remain anonymous: publicising one’s work on human rights doesn’t always go down well in her native Turkey.

I am Armenian: to break the ice we talk about shared favourite Turkish pop-songs and common dishes, translating the names into Turkish and Armenian. Gradually, I slip in some questions and begin interviewing the young, proud, twenty-something Istanbulite who passionately gesticulates as she speaks.

She begins talking about the Turkish penal code’s notorious Article 301, which criminalises any act seen as ‘insulting the Turkish nation’. The infamous article has led to charges being brought against over sixty Turkish intellectuals including Nobel literature laureate Orhan Pamuk. Pushing out her arms and opening her palms skywards she calls Article 301 racist and an attack upon freedom of expression, all too often used to silence political opponents. ‘You cannot make a law that privileges your nation, which is what 301 is’ she says referring to how 301 seemingly favours the Turkish majority at the expense of minorities. She adds angrily, ‘it’s ridiculous.’

Maybe because the book’s still fresh in my mind, I’m momentarily distracted by her resemblance to Turkish author Elif Shafak, another victim of 301. Shafak was subjected to a Kafkaesque trial because of certain comments made by a fictitious Armenian character in her novel, The Bastard of Istanbul. The book’s anti-heroine is a young Turkish girl called Asya: a secular liberal alone in the crowded city as she navigates awkward relationships with friends and history. The parallels between Asya and my interviewee, who tells me how onlookers give her dirty looks when she eats on the bus during Ramadan and how much she loved Shafak’s book, are remarkable, so I’ll refer to her as Asya from here on.
Asya looks uncomfortable about her last answer and explains her misgivings – she says she feels unqualified to talk, and worried about having her words used against her. She asks that we don’t continue, obligingly I fold my notes away. I can’t help wondering if fear of 301 causes her to clam up. Turkish-Armenian journalist Hrant Dink, tried and convicted under 301, talked of how the spectre of 301 made him feel ‘as scared as a dove.’ He was later killed by a Turkish nationalist.

A few weeks later and Asya sends me an email from Istanbul. Can we continue over the phone? Sure.

Following the murder and funeral of Dink in 2007, when crowds took to the streets declaring ‘we are all Armenian’ as an expression of solidarity with an ethnic minority, Asya and others like her took the initiative. They established an initiative that campaigns against racism and nationalism. ‘Nationalism is seen as a positive in Turkey, people are proud to be nationalists, but it’s often a negative in reality’ Asya says. She is quick to add that her organization is not ideologically motivated, saying that it reacts to incidents rather than pursuing an agenda.

In just two years, their support base is nearly 30,000 strong and includes young Turks and prominent intellectuals alike. Asya however, laments that this is not enough in a country of 75 million people, especially as their support base is almost exclusively within Istanbul and Ankara.

Asya tells me of an incident in January when in the Anatolian town of Eskishehir the director of a cultural foundation placed a sign up in his headquarters stating, ‘No Jews or Armenians allowed, dogs are free to enter.’ She describes such actions as ‘horrible’ and talks about the statement her organization released in response. ‘We work on hate speech and hate crime’ she says and identifies 301 as a major obstacle, saying that it must go.

The organization found a prominent ally in Baskin Oran, an academic who argued that the synonymy of ‘Turk’ and ‘citizen’ should be replaced with the term ‘citizen of Turkey’. Oran was also tried under 301. Asya tends to agree though, she says, ‘I’m from Istanbul or Turkey. I don’t say I’m Turkish or I’m a Turk, I go by geographical location’.

Given their activities it’s unsurprising that the organization added its weight to supporting the online petition (www.ozurdiliyoruz.com) ‘we apologise’. Asya helped organise a series of forums explaining why people apologised to the Armenians for the ‘Great Catastrophe’ of 1915.  The controversial petition led to suggestions of mass trials by certain nationalists. When I asked Asya why she added her real name to the petition, she makes it clear it was because she is a human being with a conscience. Asya doesn’t wish to be identified with either the modern day deniers or the historic perpetrators of the Armenian Genocide. She feels it’s important to make the distinction.

Asya’s dream is to see Greeks along the Aegean and Armenians in Istanbul, hear their languages spoken loudly, to have churches reopened and a multicultural Turkey accepting of its history and diversity. It’s a nice dream but Asya admits she’s a minority view before going silent again. Campaigners like Asya do important work and whilst some might consider their actions to be too little given the possible repercussions their bravery in breaking taboos is commendable and should be supported. Fear, though, shouldn’t be part of their doings and its fear of a backlash that has Asya reminding me again that she wishes to remain anonymous.

“Taking the Ogiek out of the Mau is like taking a fish out of water”

Chris Chapman, MRG’s Head of Conflict Prevention meets with Kenya’s hunter-gatherer Ogiek community who, in the face of a possible eviction, are fighting to stay back on their traditional lands.

In the Mau Forest Complex, which is home to the Ogiek community, we met Rose, the headmistress of the primary school in Mboroti village. According to the government-determined pupil-teacher ratio, there should be 14 teachers – in fact there are 8. Only 5 are Ogiek. As a result, class sizes vary from 70 to over 90. The school is located in idyllic surroundings among the pine-covered hills, but Rose tells us about her constant struggle to keep classes going in the face of government neglect; the classrooms, with their blackboards covered in trigonometry, broken windows and dilapidated wooden benches, are a vivid testimony to that struggle. Last winter, after heavy rains, the toilets sunk into the ground; she applied to an emergency government fund to rebuild them but has heard nothing since then.

Loggers in the Mau Forest

I had come to Mau to talk to the people about their future; they are under threat of eviction from the forest, their ancestral homeland. The Mau Forest is an important water catchment area and the government of Kenya is concerned that the residents of the forest are committing irreparable environmental damage and must be relocated. But the Ogiek are not the only current residents of Mau; in recent decades the forest complex has seen an influx of loggers, tea planters and other agricultural settlers.

The government accepts that the Ogiek are the rightful residents of the forest; however its latest proposal is to evict everyone from the forest, and then allow the Ogiek to return; this proposal, understandably, makes the Ogiek very nervous. They claim that they have lived in the forest for hundreds of years, in harmony with their surroundings. Their hunter-gatherer lifestyle, which does not involve either farming or livestock grazing, has a very low impact on their environment. They also practice bee-keeping, which actually aids the propagation of wild flowers and trees.

At an elevation of around 2,000-2,500 feet, the climate in the forest is very different from the low-lying plains; the heat is less intense and the air pleasant and cool. “If we are evicted we may not survive. We do not know what the climate will be like wherever they resettle us. Removing the Ogiek from Mau is like taking fish out of water.” They talk of two previous displacements, one in 1989 and one during the 1930’s, during the British colonial period; the Ogiek who were displaced lost all of their animals; some died of diseases such as jiggers, and some returned, destitute. The Ogiek have a very strong attachment to their land, it is part of their identity. As a small community – they number about 20,000 – they fear for the loss of their culture, and assimilation by more numerous neighbouring ethnic groups; in fact, the 1930’s displacement was a result of the Carter Land Commission, which recommended that the Ogiek be absorbed by neighbouring communities because of its small size.

As I was talking to the villagers, I saw a large cloud of dust rising up in the distance. It was the third lorry, stacked up with logs, that I had seen that day. I quickly whipped out my camera and took a snap, it was a flat-bed affair with a second flat-bed hooked up behind, carrying what must have been 50-60 fully grown trunks, being shipped out of the forest by commercial loggers. As the NGO Survival International points out, the destruction of the Mau Forest has escalated in recent decades in direct correlation with the invasion by outsiders, whether loggers, tea planters or agricultural settlers, as demonstrated by satellite imagery.

The Kenyan government is using environmental arguments to support its push to clear out the residents of Mau. But when lorries are trundling out of the forest everyday loaded up with logs, in full view of everyone, it is possible to cast doubts on the seriousness of the government’s intentions. Community members confided to me that they suspect the government itself of selling franchises to the loggers. The Ogiek Peoples Development Programme (OPDP) a partner organisation of MRG, whose staff accompanied me to the Mau, is working to fight the eviction of the Ogiek; they say the loggers and other recent settlers should be evicted, but claim that they as original inhabitants and stewards of the forest, have the right to remain.

Small steps towards peace in Jonglei state

Chris Chapman, MRG’s Head of Conflict Prevention, is in South Sudan running a conflict resolution workshop with communities from the region.

It took us 7 hours to drive the 100 miles from Juba, the capital of South Sudan, to Bor in Jonglei state. With Paul from our partner organisation, Pibor Development Access, I am due to run a workshop on resolving conflicts between different ethnic minorities over land and other natural resources.

The subject could not be more topical; during the previous week, the Murle and Lou Nuer ethnic groups had clashed, with a death toll of 185, mostly women and children. Earlier this year, 700 Murle were killed by Lou Nuer. The clashes centre around access to the toc, an area of marshland between Akobo, a Lou Nuer town, and Lekwangole, where the residents are Murle. The toc belongs to the Murle but, as Paul explains, the two communities share access; in the dry season it is needed by both communities for grazing their cattle. When drought strikes, one community will write to the other and ask for a meeting to come to a new agreement. However problems are caused by spoilers; young men with guns who do not respect the agreements and raid the other community’s cattle.

The workshop participants are mainly young civil society activists. Their attitude is a mix of enthusiasm, good humour and resigned fatalism. I am still trying to get to grips with the complexity of the conflicts these people are trying to deal with and the appalling logistical problems they face; the participants from Boma, in the East of Jonglei, have taken two days to get here, and had to come via Juba. However, and most importantly, the community organisations lack resources.

During the workshop our trainer, an experienced Kenyan who seems to speak most of the local languages of South Sudan, plus a couple of Ugandan ones, runs a mock mediation session. I am surprised that they choose the recent conflict over the toc; both Lou Nuer and Murle are represented. But it goes without incident; they even mix up the two communities, having them play at being in the opposing camp. They enjoy acting out mutual accusations; ‘I was abducted by you when I was 9 and grew up with you; that is my “father” sitting over there’, says one (he gets a laugh for his creativity). They reach a mock agreement to bring the fighting to an end, return abducted children, punish those responsible, and set up a committee to ensure the agreement is respected.

On day two, news comes in of further clashes between ethnic groups in Twic East, a county in the North of Jonglei. This was Paul’s fear – if clashes happened during the workshop participants would go home to try to deal with it; but luckily this time it did not involve the communities we had brought together.

The trip back to Juba takes an extra hour, because it has rained heavily in the meantime. The road alternates between dry compacted mud and rutted sludge, with the occasional military style metal bridge. At one point we drive at a crawl through what must have been 1000 head of cattle; beautiful white cows with long, curved horns typical of South Sudan. The bulls, or mabior, are revered and are ritually slaughtered to mark important peace agreements. My companions tell me the cattle probably belong to about 10 Dinka families. A number of men with AK 47s are guarding them; the Dinka around Bor are often at war with the neighbouring Mundari, and cattle rustling is a continual problem.

With land being such a focus for conflict in South Sudan, I am trying to understand how we can be passing through mile after mile of green, fertile land, seemingly unused. Surely there is enough to go around? The cattle rearing communities that dominate here are uninterested in farming, but it is clear that some of this overgrown jungle is not being used for grazing either. Paul assures me that it is not unclaimed land; it all belongs to communities. If another community moves in, conflict will quickly ensue. At one point we passed through an area of flat, fertile land, ideal for grazing; but my companions explained that it is a kind of no man’s land on the border between the Dinka and Mundari; neither dare venture into it.

Back in Juba, I smiled a little as I bought my mobile top up from a six foot by six foot corrugated iron shack advertising itself as Office Automation Technologies; photocopies were among other services offered. But I also had to stop to admire the optimism. After 30 years of civil war, the owner, like our Jonglei peacebuilders, was trying to build a better future through sheer force of will.

Powell vs Picasso

Picasso’s Guernica was created to publicise an atrocity committed during the Spanish Civil War, so that the international community would never allow a similar incident to happen again. Yet in a speech given last month, MRG’s Executive Director Mark Lattimer discussed how the painting is even more relevant in today’s politics than it was at its last instalment in the same gallery 70 years ago. Patrick Bodenham, an intern with the media department of MRG, discusses.

In April, Picasso’s controversial Guernica returned once again to the Whitechapel Gallery in East London. This time however the piece is a tapestry copy of the genuine article, commissioned in 1955 by Rockefeller, and, since the 1980s, permanently displayed at the UN Security Council in New York.

Guernica at the Whitechapel Art Gallery

A primal expression of sorrow, anguish and torment, the tapestry’s fragmented symbols are woven in dull tones of brown, cream and black – the colour of the rubble of the Basque city of Guernica, razed to the ground in history’s first example of the saturation bombing of a civilian population. It is a graphic depiction of the impact of war – specifically aerial bombardment – on innocent bystanders.

Goshka Macuga, the artist behind the exhibition, brings Guernica into its modern context by setting it alongside symbols of the UN’s failure to stand up to pressure from the USA and UK about the necessity to invade Iraq. The space is lined with the kind of corporate upholstery you find in UN boardrooms: a light blue carpet and a polished, round mahogany table in the centre of the room.

Bust of Colin Powell

A bust of Colin Powell, based on a famous photo taken of him as he brandished a test tube while making his case for the invasion of Iraq, rises from a pile of rubble. Minutes after he made this speech, Guernica became the centre of another controversy as journalists discovered it had been covered up by a blue curtain during the subsequent press conference. The excuse officials made was that the weave of the tapestry would interfere with the cameras. I found looking Powell in the face in the presence of Guernica a powerful and unsettling experience.

A quick glance across Whitechapel High Street shows what was in store for the civilians of Europe – and indeed the world – in the years following Guernica’s last visit. Situated in the heart of the most heavily bombed district during the blitz, it is a surprising the gallery remains intact at all.

Since the UN was founded there has been a dearth of binding legislation relating to aerial bombardment. The Hague Convention of 1907 addressed the issue of bombardment, but there were no clauses specifically on aerial attack. Despite various diplomatic attempts in the lead up to WWII, there were no amendments to the convention. Protocol I of the Geneva Conventions – developed in 1977 – does address the issue, but the bombardment of targets which could endanger the lives of civilians becomes legal provided it complies with three ideas of ‘military necessity, distinction and proportionality’. These parameters however, can easily be manipulated by careful legal consultation. The United States, Israel, Iran, Pakistan, Turkey, Afghanistan, and Iraq have not ratified Protocol I.

As armies become more professional aerial bombardment is increasingly endemic within modern warfare. In a political world highly influenced by public relations, decision-makers are less prepared to send out a force on the ground and risk the deaths of their own people, as this demoralises the army and incurs the wrath of the national media. Their main goal, therefore, becomes minimising their own casualties. Aerial bombardment allows one side to inflict maximum damage while remaining in an external and safe position.

Since the amendment of the Geneva Conventions in 1977, it appears lessons from history have not improved anything. Other than a few restrictions on cluster munitions, the only real factor that has prevented widespread use of the most lethal weaponry has been the threat of ‘mutual assured destruction’ under which the Cold War took place. Other than this, humans have killed one another as efficiently as the technology they developed allows. As time goes on and tactics change, the ratio between the number of civilians killed compared to the number of tonnes of bombs dropped becomes slowly less and less favourable to the innocent human being.

What is even worse is the poor judgement with which these countries justify aerial bombardment. In a table charting the most dangerous countries in the world for minorities, MRG’s recently published report Peoples Under Threat found Pakistan to be the fastest rising country on the list. As the campaign in Afghanistan spills over the border, U.S attacks by unmanned aircraft on Pakistani territory have intensified. According to the LA Times, at least 40 drone attacks have hit tribal areas since August.

The consequences of such attacks are not the ‘winning of the hearts and minds’ of the local population, instead, militants are portraying the attacks as an invasion of Pakistan.

However any impulse to assign blame to Powell or the Bush administration, I quickly realised, would have been a misreading of Macuga’s intentions. Her naming of the exhibition ‘The Nature of the Beast’ illustrates how political and ideological misrepresentations are a theme running through all wars. Encased in the circular table are various documents which tell us about the various mistaken readings of Guernica. Macuga discusses having discovered the piece was originally brought to Whitechapel to inspire a ‘Communist spirit’ in the East London community. Vandalised in a 1974 protest against the Vietnam War, the image has also appeared on murals in Belfast, and more recently been associated with the destruction of Fallujah in Operation Shock and Awe.

Aligning two sets of atrocities in this way – one committed by the fascists in the Spanish Civil War and the other by the US and UK more recently in Iraq – Macuga leaves you to make your own mind up about political legitimacy. The ‘Nature of the Beast’ to which she refers is the nature of the international system not to learn from the mistakes it has made in the past, but to repeat them. And I couldn’t help leave without wondering what lessons we will still have to learn next time Guernica returns.

“La Cour”

Daisy McCabe-Lokos, who is interning with MRG’s dynamic Legal Cases Programme, reports back from a trip to the European Court of Human Right.

Sitting in the front row of the ultra-modern, ultra-Euro styled, Grand Chamber, I couldn’t help but agree with what another legal intern sitting next to me exclaimed, “When they say Grand, they’re not messing around!”. The panel of seventeen judges, each from a member state of the Council of Europe, entered in through double doors to our left in what seemed like an endless procession of dark blue robes and stark-white collars. They were preceded not only by a man who had been charged with the duty to declare “La Cour!”, but also by a jarring primary school recess bell indicating that it was time for us to rise for the Justices.

Once the bench sat down in the “UN Blue” upholstered office chairs that filled the room, we did too. Immediately I surveyed the members of the bench. To my dismay my Xeroxed seating chart did not match up to their real life seated positions. I knew this because as I made my initial survey I noticed that out of seventeen judges only four were women, and I was pretty confident that one of them was not named Egbert. I also noticed that there was a shortage, in fact a total absence, of visible minorities on the bench.

Having come from University of Windsor Faculty of Law in Canada, a school whose flagship phrase is “Access to Justice”, I have studied, queried and debated the existence (or lack thereof) of both formal and substantive equality in the Canadian legal system times over. The first female appointee to the Canadian Supreme Court, Madam Justice Bertha Wilson, asked in 1990: “Will women judges really make a difference?”. In the case of the ECHR bench this is a question that could be extended to include many minority group members who may feel underrepresented at the highest Court in Europe.

Considering the substance of the case at bar on June 3rd, equality was a pertinent issue in the court that day; not only for me. It is our hope at MRG that the work has paid off, that the intense collaborative efforts made by all those involved will heed the optimum outcome. Sejdić and Finci v. Bosnia and Herzegovina holds promise to spur the amendment of an entire state constitution; to condemn discrimination and embrace real formal and substantive equality in the highest decision making bodies of the state. The question remains, can the Court do the same?

Blatant discrimination in Bosnia and Herzogovina challenged at European Court

John Thompson, who is interning with MRG’s Legal Cases Programme, visits the European Court of Human Rights to observe a landmark case.

Today, I attended the hearing of Sejdić and Finci v. Bosnia and Herzegovina (no. 27996/06 and 34836/06) before the Grand Chamber of the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR).  It was an incredible experience to see the Grand Chamber in action.  Mr. Finci and Mr. Sejdić are Jewish and Roma respectively, and, under the current constitution of Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH), the applicants do not have the right to stand for political office in some of the highest positions in the country.  These positions are reserved for Bosniak, Croat, and Serb ethnic groups under the power-sharing agreement of the 1995 Dayton Peace Accords.

The international community has unanimously spoken and condemned it as systematically discriminatory.  One thing that strikes me about the case is how incredibly blatant the ethnic/racial discrimination is.  It is hard to imagine how it has persisted for so long.  Even American Vice President Biden recently stated in a speech delivered to the BiH people that the country “requires an electoral process that does not exclude any ethnic group.”

It was a true pleasure to be able to visit the Court.  I am a firm believer in the missions of European institutions and in the need of the entire world community to support them.  However, there seems to be a large disconnect between the European institutions and the citizens of Europe.  Many individuals do not even consider themselves European, and some feel that the EU and the ECtHR are sapping national power and creating a wealthy bureaucracy that contributes little to member state’s prosperity.  I acknowledge that European bodies must address the top down, rubber stamp approach that alienates many citizens, but, at the same time, I ardently believe in the utter necessity to improve and promote these institutions, despite their weaknesses and the cultural and social differences between member states.

Although a Londoner and a Slovak citizen might feel as if they have nothing in common, on the contrary, they face an interconnected future and they depend on one another.  This continent has seen too much bloodshed over the last century, and it is up to the institutions of Europe to promote the ideals of democracy, justice, and dialogue in order to avoid the mistakes of the past.  It was a blessing to visit a Court that is making progress towards a better future for the whole of Europe.

Durban Review Conference – Geneva

Paul Mulindwa, MRG’s Africa Project Officer based in Kampala, Uganda, reports back from the Durban Review Conference in Geneva

Having come from Uganda representing Minority Rights Group and the work they do in Africa, I was especially excited to attend this conference because it was obvious how significant it could be. Many other NGOs clearly felt the same – the amount attending the event in total reached 417. Accreditation was made much simpler than usual for the UN, the loose vetting procedure being testimony to the non-discriminatory ethos of the conference. There were also over 80 national human rights institutions and the attendance of most respective member states, apart from a select few (Italy, Netherlands, Poland, German, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, USA, and Israel) who snubbed the event from the outset.

There was a general feeling of optimism during the opening ceremonies and speeches, the Secretary General’s words particularly resonating: after decades of advocacy across the world, racism still persists. Less welcome was the subsequent speech of President Ahmedinejad in what seemed an attempt to hijack the universal nature of the Durban Review and turn it into a dispute about relations between Israel and the Middle East, a trend highlighted by Minority Rights Group identified in 2001. This controversy meant that the following two days were somewhat dominated by issues to do with Israel and the Middle East, this in turn having an effect on the Western press coverage of the event. While after time the conference gained perspective and focus, it wasn’t until much later that I heard any substantial discussion on the Durban Declaration and Program of Action (DDPA) – the conference’s most action-orientated document that proposes concrete measures to combat racism, discrimination, xenophobia and related intolerance. The DDPA addresses a wide range of issues and is especially important because it embodies the firm commitment of the international community to tackle racism. It also recognizes, like the Secretary General, that no country can claim to be free of racism, that racism is a global concern and that tackling it should be a universal effort.

The conference was organized in such a way that there were many side events, performances and plenary taking place at the same time. MRG’s Mark Lattimer introduced an event 9 addressing discrimination against Muslims in counter-terror measures, alongside various other cultural events, shows and displays. The most significant of these for me was a forum called Voices 9 that provided a platform for individuals from diverse backgrounds to share their experiences and give a human face to issues addressed by the conference. Listening to the testimonies of these people the magnitude of the discrimination across the world became tangible, as I listened to the individual stories of Albinos, women in Nigeria, Aborigines in Australia…

The general outlay of the conference and the presentations and documents available showed that the conference was indeed overdue and necessary. It was clear that the Human Rights Council – its special procedures, mechanisms and relevant treaty bodies –thoroughly incorporated the 2001 Durban Declaration and Program of Action into its work. Although the DDPA is not legally binding, it has a strong moral value and serves as a basis for advocacy efforts worldwide. So probably the most important dilemma now will be making the three follow-up mechanisms it created more effective.

The conference was encouraging and I am optimistic that if similar conferences could take place more often, with member governments respecting and fulfilling the obligations stated in the outcome document, in particular adopting the legislation ensuring the right to equality and non-discrimination, and providing adequate remedies and reparations for the victims of racial discrimination, a real difference could be made.

This land is ours. Well, one day it will be!

Paolo Gerbaudo

Paolo Gerbaudo, ex Production Coordinator at MRG, takes us back to his days as a media trainer with communities in Honduras and tells a story that is relevant for many indigenous people today.

“Our territory is under threat. Whoever lives here knows that they will have to live in a condition of permanent struggle”, says Marcelino Miranda, of Montaña Verde, an indigenous village in Honduras, after the INA (National Agricultural Institute) has once again turned down the villagers’ request for collective ownership of their land.

“We won’t stop now. We are used to this. It’s always the same old story. We will continue to fight.”

Two and a half years have passed since I visited Montaña Verde, an isolated village on the high-plains of the Intibucá region of Honduras and home to the Lencas, the largest indigenous group in the country. I was in the region working as volunteer media trainer for COPINH (Popular Committee of Indigenous People in Honduras) and was organising a journalism workshop for young people in the community. It took us over four hours of walking along narrow mountain paths to reach this remote land of lush woods and carefully cultivated fields overlooking the surrounding plains.

Montaña Verde has been home for more than a century to a settlement of Lencas. These indigenous people, who, during the 500 years since the arrival of Columbus, have been progressively chased away from more fertile low-lying areas, hoped to find refuge in remote locations like Montaña Verde. Unfortunately, the isolation of the region has not proved a sufficient obstacle to avert the greed of big landowners, who often continue to dominate the rural areas of Honduras as though nothing had changed since the colonial times.
Montaña Verde has become an area dominated by illegal logging activities, theft of agricultural products, and invasions by cattle. In particular, a powerful local farmer, based in the nearby city of Gracias, and well connected with the local authorities, has become a real problem for the community. Every year on Christmas day he pushes his huge herd of cattle into Montaña Verde, spelling disaster for the villagers. Their crops are eaten away, their gardens torn down and their houses damaged by the herd.

Lenca milling sugar cane

One day (or at least that’s how the story goes), inspired by the inflamatory sermons of a radical priest, the Lencas of Montaña Verde decided that it was better to expose themselves to violence and repression than to continue to live in misery and despair. They formed an indigenous council to manage their community and organise

self-defense. They dug a deep ditch at the narrow entrance of the valley leading to Montaña Verde and erected a fence on the inner side. They built a bridge and kept a continuous guard at the entrance, to prevent people and cattle from entering their territory without permission.

That winter the people of Montaña Verde could finally celebrate Christmas without the fear of a herd of cattle ravaging their land. Unfortunately, the days of quiet did not last for long. On the night of January 8th 2003, a troop of Cobras – the special forces of the Honduras Army – raided the community. They fired their machine guns against the houses of the village, and ferociously attacked anyone they encountered.

Marcelino Miranda

Before leaving the village they detained Marcelino and Leonardo Miranda, two brothers who had been particularly active in organizing the community against the land invasions. The two brothers were brutally tortured and almost drowned in the river which runs along the path from Montaña Verde to the city of Gracias. They were eventually jailed, with the preposterous charges of murder and land invasion.

The Miranda brothers remained in jail for three years and were soon joined in captivity by three other inhabitants of Montaña Verde, who were arrested in a following raid in April. It was only because of the unwavering support of COPINH and the resonance produced by a campaign for their release waged by Amnesty USA, that the judges would eventually be forced to admit the lack of evidence and release all the prisoners.

When I arrived in Montaña Verde, the community was preparing for a big celebration: the return of Marcelino and Leonardo Miranda from jail. When the local radio spread the news that the brothers had been released from jail and were heading back home, the people of the village decided to prepare a welcome parade. I joined them on their way to a mountain pass where we waited to greet the two brothers with traditional songs and rituals. The night was approaching and looking at the menacing sky we prayed that it wouldn’t rain. It didn’t work.

By the time Marcelino and Leonardo arrived, there was little time left for celebration. A torrential downpour suddenly kicked off and we were soon wading in water up to our knees. Only the light from the fires burning on our pinewood torches allowed us to continue walking through the night without slipping off the track. No amount of wind or rain seemed able to extinguish the flames.

When I think back to the time I spent in Montaña Verde, I am still astonished by the resistance of the torches that tempestuous night which somehow seemed to mirror the perseverance of the Lenca people. Threatened, beaten, unjustly jailed, discriminated against by an unfair bureaucracy; yet convinced that one day the land they inhabit will be theirs, not only symbolically but also “officially”, written in black and white on a collective ownership title sealed by the Honduran state.

The INA, which in Honduras is responsible for assigning land ownership titles, may continue for some time to pull bureaucratic tricks out of its hat and prevent the Lencas defending their land from the greed of big landowners. But the people of Montaña Verde are ready to keep up the pressure, aided and abetted by their proverbial indigenous patience, as well as pinewood torches to illuminate their path in times of tempest.