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Tibet. Two Dalai Lamas.

The succession of the spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhism involves the search for his reincarnation. The current Dalai Lama was indicated in 1937. Beijing wants to have its say on the next leader, but the religious authorities (in exile) are not on board. The possible geopolitical implications.

Amdo region, in north-eastern Tibet. It is 1937, and little Lhamo Dondrub is approximately two years old. A group of monks led by the lama Kewatsang Rinpoche asks for hospitality in Lhamo family’s house. Shortly afterwards, the announcement: Lhamo is the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama. The monks pay a large ransom to Ma Lin, governor of the region on behalf of Chiang Kai-shek’s Kuomintang, and take the child to the Tibetan capital of Lhasa. Two years later, Lhamo was officially “crowned” the XIV Dalai Lama. From then on, he will be known as Tenzin Gyatso, literally “ocean of wisdom”. Almost 90 years have passed since the journey of those monks. 74 have passed since, in 1950, the troops of Mao Zedong’s People’s Republic of China arrived in Tibet after defeating the Kuomintang in the civil war. Again: 65 years have passed since that March 1959 in which Tenzin Gyatso left Tibet forever, fleeing to India after the repression of the Lhasa revolt.

Himalayas, on the southern rim of the Tibetan plateau. CC BY 3.0/ Dan-500px

Soon, the time may come when a new boy or girl will be identified as the 15th Dalai Lama. Indeed, in all likelihood, all this could happen twice.
On one side a group of monks, or Tenzin Gyatso himself, on the other the Chinese Communist Party: the boys or girls whose lives will change forever seem destined to be two.
One appointed by the Tibetan spiritual or political authorities in exile, and one by those in Beijing. Result: two Dalai Lamas.
The scenario is imminent, barring agreements which at the moment appear unlikely. Historically, when a Dalai Lama dies, a council of high lamas is formed to seek his reincarnation. In the selection process, known as the “golden urn”, the council consults various signs and oracles, as well as the writings and teachings of the Dalai Lama himself, to be guided in the search which usually ends with the identification of a child born around the time of the predecessor’s death.

Dalai Lama during the Long Life Prayer at the Main Tibetan Temple in Dhramasala. India. Photo: Tenzin Choejot/OHHDL

Once a potential reincarnation has been identified, the child is presented with a series of objects that belonged to the previous Dalai Lama and is asked to identify which ones belong to him. If the child passes the test, definitive confirmation from a political authority is then required.
And here comes the problem. Beijing claims it must certify the choice of the next Dalai Lama, as it has done in the past. A legacy inherited from the time of the imperial era until the beginning of the last century, when Tibet was governed by the Qing dynasty. A legacy that Tenzin Gyatso does not seem willing to recognize.
Also from this perspective, the separation of spiritual authority from political authority was carried out, when in 2011 the Dalai Lama resigned as head of the Tibetan government in favor of a successor elected by the Parliament in exile. It could, therefore, be this entity, not recognized by Beijing which considers it “illegal”, to certify the choice of the next Dalai Lama. At least the one indicated by the exiled Tibetan authorities. The Communist Party could respond with another name.

The ‘Vice Dalai Lama’
The signs of what could happen have been there since 1995, when a 6-year-old boy, Gedhun Choekyi Nyima, was chosen as the new Panchen Lama, the second most important figure of Tibetan Buddhism. Three days later he was taken into custody by the Chinese authorities and replaced with another candidate, Gyaincain Norbu. Since then, little Gedhun’s fate has remained uncertain. In 2022, on the 33rd anniversary of his birth, the US State Department reiterated its call for Beijing to “account for the whereabouts and well-being” of Gedhun.
Yet another clarification, if it were needed, is that the US will side with the Tibetan authorities in exile at the crucial moment of choosing
the next Dalai Lama.

Tibet. Lhasa. Young monks practicing the art of debate in a sunny courtyard of Sera Monastery. Shutterstock/Tatiana kashko

In the same 2022 statement, the State Department stated in black and white that Washington supports “the religious freedom of Tibetans and their unique religious, cultural and linguistic identity, including the right of Tibetans to choose, educate and venerate their own leaders, such as the Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama, according to their own beliefs and without government interference.” Not to mention that, in 2020, the then head of the Tibetan government in exile was invited to Washington for the first time by the Trump administration. A political, as well as spiritual, recognition that had infuriated Beijing and made new turbulence on the Tibetan dossier appear on the horizon.

From Mongolia the one in third position
Another preview of what may happen in the near future came in March 2023, when the appointment of the tenth Khalkha Jetsun Dhampa, the third position of Tibetan Buddhism, emerged. He is an eight-year-old boy from Mongolia. The news was greeted with mixed feelings in Mongolia: joy for the choice of one of their compatriots, and fear of China’s reaction. In 2016, the Mongolian government received strong complaints from Beijing over the visit of the Dalai Lama, which, not surprisingly, was the last in the country. The new Khalkha Jetsun Dhampa, heir to the Altannar family (one of the most influential in Mongolia) was also born in the United States. There are those who could read a subtle (geo)political message in it.

The 10th Khalkha Jetsun Dhampa making the Mandala offering to H.H. the Dalai Lama on March 8, 2023. Photo: Tenzin Choejor/ OHHDL

Meanwhile, Tenzin Gyatso has already hinted several times that his reincarnation could emerge outside Tibet to avoid Beijing’s interference in the selection process. The successor could be from one of the territories where Tibetan Buddhism is practised, in particular Nepal, Bhutan or, indeed, Mongolia. The Chinese Communist Party has so far remained silent, but has no intention of giving up what it considers its right to nominate. A few months ago, the current leader of the Tibetan government in exile, Penpa Tsering, declared during a trip to Australia that, if Beijing maintains its intention to appoint its own Dalai Lama, there will soon be two.
The first issue that Beijing should address is the management of the post-double appointment on its territory. Particularly in the Tibet autonomous region, where some might be tempted to follow the instructions coming from the authorities in exile rather than those of the Communist Party. All this would risk reopening a dossier that Chinese officials are convinced they had archived after the repression of the protests in 2008, in the months preceding the Beijing Olympic Games.
Perhaps this is also why the two-track policy with which Tibet’s integration has been strengthened has been intensified in recent years. The first track is the economic one. In the space of just over 70 years, around 255 billion dollars have been invested in the region in infrastructure and other projects. In the 14th five-year plan (2021-2025), another 30 billion have been allocated, especially for projects related to the transport sector.

Lhasa town and surrounding mountains in Tibet. “Project of the century”, a new railway which, when completed will connect Lhasa (in Tibet) to the capital of Sichuan, Chengdu. Shutterstock/Arnaud Martinez

Work is underway on the so-called “project of the century”, a new railway which, when completed (expected in 2030), will connect Lhasa (in Tibet) to the capital of Sichuan, Chengdu, in just 12 hours: a third of the time currently needed to travel by road. The second track is the cultural one. Alongside investments, Beijing has promoted the settlement of ethnic Han Chinese in the region and domestic tourism towards Tibet, which between 2016 and 2020 brought over 160 million tourists to the region from other Chinese provinces. Sensational numbers if you consider that in 2005 Tibet received less than two million visits a year.
In addition to Tibet, also Xinjiang (a Muslim majority province) and, to a lesser extent, Inner Mongolia. Communication is also important in this strategy. It is no coincidence that from 2022 onwards the Chinese authorities and media will increasingly use Tibet’s Mandarin name, Xizang (often translated into “treasure of the West” due to its position on the map of the People’s Republic). Above all, it is no coincidence that they do so in press releases or content in English. The message to the outside is clear: “The Tibetan issue is purely Chinese”, for which Beijing therefore expects compliance with its famous diplomatic principle of “non-interference in the internal affairs of other countries”.

India is not just an onlooker
In reality, India, which hosts the Tibetan authorities in exile on its territory, has also been involved in the issue for some time. In New Delhi, ample space is given to the Dalai Lama’s manoeuvres, especially when he goes near the endlessly disputed border between India and China. In the summer of 2022, Dalai Lama “deployed”, with the assistance of the Indian government, to Ladakh, near the disputed territories, where he gave a speech critical of the Chinese government. The territorial dispute is precisely grafted onto that of Tenzin Gyatso’s succession. The Buddhist leader in fact lives in exile not far from a border that remains hot.
In June 2020, there were several casualties caused by clashes between the militaries of the two sides. Several other incidents were also recorded in subsequent years. A situation that remains volatile after several rounds of talks produced no significant agreements. Beijing and New Delhi continue to reiterate their respective claims of sovereignty over a highly strategic area also for its water resources, another element that will become increasingly crucial in the future.

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi. India hosts the Tibetan authorities in exile on its territory. Photo. Pres. Office.

In September 2023, on the eve of the G20 summit in New Delhi which Chinese President Xi Jinping did not attend, the Beijing government presented a new map of the borders of the People’s Republic with the various territories disputed with India. Several places in what China calls “Southern Tibet” and now part of the Indian state of Arunachal Pradesh, were renamed with Mandarin names. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi saw it as an insult, coming just as he was hosting the event that he had presented as the flagship of his second mandate.
In the background, but not too distant, is the United States which, with the war in Ukraine, is trying to strengthen military ties with India, also providing satellite and defensive technology potentially useful in a scenario of confrontation on the border with China. Washington will most likely be in the front row in supporting the Dalai Lama whom Beijing will deem “illegal”, forcefully returning Tibet (or Xizang) to the top of the agenda of the most delicate dossiers of relations between the two powers. (Open Photo: Dalai Lama. Ven Tenzin Jamphel/OHHDL)

Lorenzo Lamperti/MC

 

Namibia. The green hydrogen puzzle.

Rich as it is in renewable energy sources, the country aims to become a world leader and has already signed agreements with international companies and the EU. But the asymmetries of power risk blurring the horizons of growth.

An immense desert dotted with granite mountains, the Tsau Khaeb National Park, in southern Namibia, boasts one of the most important biodiversity oases in the world. Flamingos, leopards, oryxes and numerous endemic plants populate an area covering approximately 24 thousand km². Here, where at the dawn of the twentieth century German colonists kicked off the diamond rush, today a new resource promises to transform the country: green hydrogen: the longed-for “fuel of the future” on which industrialized economies are betting to clean up highly polluting activities such as steel or maritime transport.

President of Namibia, Nangolo Mbumba. To become a world leader in renewable energy, the government has launched a $20 billion plan – almost double the current gross domestic product. Photo: Namibian Presidency

With abundant sources of renewable energy, Namibia aims to become a world leader. To realize this ambition, the government has set up a 20-billion-dollar plan – almost double the current national gross domestic product. The European Union, which last year signed a one-billion-euro agreement with the Windhoek government, says it is ready to provide capital and technical support. Brussels’ objective is to guarantee itself a privileged position in the race for supplies.
“Together we can further decarbonise our economies, create jobs and guarantee a more prosperous and greener future for our societies,” said recently the President of the European Commission Ursula von der Leyen. But all that glisters is not gold. Numerous issues still need to be resolved, including currently prohibitive production costs and logistical obstacles. And if it ever materialises, the green hydrogen boom risks having a cost for native communities and delicate ecosystems.
The online newspaper Climate Home News carried out a long investigation into the Namibian dream of green hydrogen, visiting the site of the flagship project and collecting testimonies. It found a community largely unaware of the implications of the project and worried about the possible repercussions on fishing and tourism. Experts have expressed frustration with the lack of transparency and scepticism about the real job prospects for Namibian citizens.

The future of Lüderitz
Perched between the Namib Desert and the Atlantic Ocean, Lüderitz takes its name from the German settler who put down roots in this land in the late 19th century. Today this town made up of colourful art nouveau buildings seems destined to become the nerve centre of the green hydrogen industry.

Bird’s eye view of Lüderitz. CC BY-SA 4.0/Hp.Baumeler

A stone’s throw from here is the Tsau Khaeb Park, where the Namibian government has granted large portions of land to private companies for the green hydrogen supply chain. Among these, Hyphen Hydrogen Energy stands out. Driven by German and South African investors, the company aims to produce 300,000 tonnes of green hydrogen per year starting in 2026. Green hydrogen is formed through an electrolysis process that splits water into its constituent elements, oxygen and hydrogen gas. The latter is captured and stored or transformed into liquid ammonia to facilitate its transport. To be “green” the process mentioned must be powered by renewable energy. To guarantee energy for its plants, Hyphen plans to cover the area with wind turbines and solar panels. To supply fresh water, a luxury in this arid region, a massive desalination plant will be needed. Once converted into ammonia, the green hydrogen should then be loaded onto cargo ships that from the yet-to-be-built deep-water port near Lüderitz will take the final product around the world. To carry out this pharaonic work, Hyphen plans to involve 15 thousand workers, approximately doubling the current population of Lüderitz.

Hyphen Hydrogen Energy plans to employ 15,000 workers. Many doubt the feasibility of this promise. Courtesy of HHE

The company’s goal is for 90% of these jobs to go to Namibians. But many in Namibia raise doubts about the feasibility of this promise. The trade associations highlight how there is a huge gap between the necessary competences and those currently available in the country. They also underline how orders for the construction of large public works often end up in the hands of international groups.
Bärbel Kircher, director of the Construction Industry Federation, says that, “due to the conditions imposed by external financiers”, local contractors are largely cut off from foreign operators. Hyphen says the company will implement “targeted training interventions at various levels” including “specialized masters, internships and apprenticeships”. But Kircher doubts that Namibian construction companies can benefit much from green hydrogen projects.

An opaque horizon
In Lüderitz, there are strong concerns about the negative effects that the maxi project could have on the lives of the population. Some of Hyphen’s infrastructure will reduce public access to the long peninsula that extends from the town along the coast. Hyphen leaders say this was “inevitable” because it was “the only feasible location for a deepwater port.” But residents fear that this could have serious repercussions on lobster and shrimp fishing, important sources of income.
Environmentalists are also shining a spotlight on the risks to biodiversity in the national park that will host the work. Here there are dozens of specimens of vegetation unique in the world such as Lithops Optica, a rare purple succulent plant, as well as hyenas, histrions and hundreds of bird species. A marine biologist interviewed by Climate Home News also fears the impact that the construction of the port and desalination plants could have on the populations of flamingos and dolphins.

Environmentalists have highlighted the risks to biodiversity in the national park where the work will take place. File swm

“The damage to environmental integrity, biodiversity, the landscape and tourism will be immense, all in the interests of meeting the short-term energy needs of some parts of the EU,” said Chris Brown, head of the Namibian Chamber of Environment.
Hyphen says it has commissioned a consultancy firm to prepare a report on the environmental and social impact. “No green energy project can be implemented without some environmental impact, and Hyphen’s goal is to minimize this to the greatest extent possible,” said Marco Raffinetti, the company’s CEO.


Prime Minister Office. The Namibian government claims that the tender was “conducted with the utmost transparency and fairness”. File swm

But what also foments discontent is a perception of lack of transparency that has crept in since the origins of the project. Hyphen was awarded the contract following a closed selection process based on special tourism regulations in derogation of standard public tenders. Neither the content of the offers nor the reasons for choosing Hyphen were made public. The company said this is standard practice, as the offers contain commercially sensitive data. The Namibian government claims that the tender was “conducted with the utmost transparency and fairness”.
But many have doubts. Among them Patrick Neib, unemployed and living in a settlement near Lüderitz. The job prospects tempt him. But he says that the secrecy of the projects, hidden behind technical jargon, make it impossible to understand what the opportunities are. “There is just no public discussion about the benefits for ordinary people like me or the price we have to pay for the development of green hydrogen,” he says. (Open Photo: Sign from the Sperrgebiet, Tsau- Khaeb National Park. Shutterstock/gg-foto)

Matteo Civillini

 

Sister Rosita. Four Decades of Refugee Advocacy.

When asked how a farmer’s daughter who became a Catholic nun ended up as one of Brazil’s most influential refugee advocates, Sister Rosita Milesi, 79, offers a simple answer: determination. Sister Rosita was awarded the Nansen Prize by the U.N. High Commission for Refugees for her exceptional work with refugees and migrants
over the past 40 years.

“I have always been a very determined person, ever since childhood. If I take something on, I will turn the world upside down to make it happen,” she said on a sultry afternoon in the northern Brazilian city of Boa Vista, where the organization she leads – the Migration and Human Rights Institute (IMDH) – supports refugees and migrants from neighbouring Venezuela and other countries.

Sister Rosita’s determination is not fuelled by personal ambition but by a profound faith and commitment to helping others. These values were instilled from a young age by her Italian-speaking parents, who ended each working day by praying with their 11 children. Despite having little to spare, they also provided work, food and a bed to people
in need who came asking.

At the age of 9, Rosita left the family home in the southern state of Rio Grande do Sul to attend a nearby convent school run by the Scalabrinian Missionaries. The congregation was founded at the end of the 19th century to help Italian migrants arriving in the Americas, and while its work had since shifted away from its original focus, that founding mission would come to define Sister Rosita’s life and work.

After making her vows and becoming a nun in 1964 when she was just 19, Sister Rosita spent the next two decades working as a schoolteacher and hospital administrator in facilities run by the congregation to help the poor. During this time, her determination helped overcome reservations within the congregation when she applied to study law, eventually earning a Master’s degree.

“When they asked me why I was taking this course, I would say: ‘I’m going to be a lawyer for the poor’, because that was our mission at that time  – to help people in need. Refugees and migrants weren’t yet part of the picture,” she explained.

Her legal training ensured that when the Scalabrinians decided in the 1980s to return to their roots by helping refugees and migrants, Sister Rosita was the one entrusted with establishing a Migration Studies Centre in the capital, Brasilia.

“I knew little about the issues, but I had to prepare myself. So, I started studying the topic of displaced people and I decided to dedicate my knowledge to migrants and refugees,” she said.

Through this indirect path, a formidable refugee champion emerged. Her expertise and quiet powers of persuasion proved instrumental when Brazil’s draft Refugee Law was proposed in 1996.

Sister Rosita rallied support to broaden the law’s definition of who is a refugee in line with the 1984 Cartagena Refugee Declaration, ensuring that many more people seeking international protection would be included in the adopted law in 1997. She achieved similarly impressive results during the adoption of Brazil’s Migration Law in 2017.

“Any law lasts many years. Good or bad, it’s hard to undo. So, we couldn’t let a limited law pass if there was a possibility to expand it,” she said of the 1997 legislation. “I even wrote to the Vatican in Rome,
asking them to send a letter to the Brazilian government saying how important it was to expand the refugee concept. And they sent
the letter, thank God.”

In addition to her legal work, Sister Rosita coordinates a network of around 70 national organizations supporting refugees, migrants and local communities. She also sits on the National Committee for Refugees (CONARE) and the board of directors of the Scalabrinian Foundation, and has published scholarly articles on forced displacement and migration. “I’ve always had the ability to do three, four, five things at the same time,” she said matter-of-factly.

Above all, she is a committed and hands-on humanitarian. She and her teams at IMDH in Brasilia and Boa Vista work tirelessly to improve the lives of some of the 790,000 people in need of international protection in Brazil from 168 different countries, including Venezuela, Haiti, Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, Burkina Faso, Mali and Ukraine.

Sister Rosita agreed that her role is often to provide a focal point for others. “Many people don’t have the courage to start, but they are willing to support. So, someone needs to lead for us to unite forces,” she explained. “If there’s a human or humanitarian need, I’m not afraid to act, even if we don’t achieve everything we want.”

Approaching her 80th birthday, Sister Rosita suggested with a wry smile that people assume she has no dreams left to pursue. If so, they misunderstand the lifelong nature of her commitment. She reeled off plans to boost access to education for refugee children, improve the recognition of refugee diplomas, and – following the devastation caused by recent flooding in her native Rio Grande do Sul – address the growing impact of climate change on refugees and displacement.

In other words, Sister Rosita will never stop dreaming of – and working for – a better future for refugees. “We should always have a utopia because it shows us the horizon,” she said. “We never reach the horizon because as we advance, the horizon moves further away. But it points the way. Having a utopia, having a dream, having a conviction to build something better is fundamental. And it is fundamental for refugees.”  Sr Rosita received the Nansen Prize on 14 October.
( Photo: © UNHCR/Marina Calderon)
 Charlie Dunmore and Elisabet Diaz Sanmartin

Kalulu and the Great Spirit of the Forest.

Vusi was an honest man and a hard worker. He had cleared a large piece of moorland and turned it into a beautiful fertile field. He had married Duduzile and a beautiful child was born, to whom they gave the name Thembelihle.

For some years they lived happily. They wished to have a son, who would help them with the farm work; but the worry was compensated for by the industriousness of their daughter, who, as she grew older, became more and more useful at the housework, while her parents tilled their field.

One day, however, misfortune befell the happy little family: Thembelihle was struck down by a harmful spell, uttered by a drunken witch.  One night, as the old woman was wobbling home from a nearby village after she had guzzled beer and danced frantically the whole time, she tripped over Vusi’s hoe. Thrown to the ground in the stubble, she cursed the owner of the hoe, shrieking in her rusty voice: “May the first and last of your children remain as mute as a giraffe, until a stupid deed like the one that happened to me tonight calls back the word.”

Thembelihle was, of course, the first and last child. At the age of six, she suddenly stopped talking, laughing, crying and singing. Vusi and Duduzile were desolate and had no idea how such a great misfortune could have happened. No matter how hard they tried, they could not get
a word out of her.

The years passed and the daughter became a beautiful girl, so good and hard-working that many young men began to court her. They came to visit her in the brightest clothes; they danced the merriest dances and sang the saddest songs … But Thembelihle did not speak, did not sing, did not laugh, did not cry. The young men felt desolate and discouraged. “What are we to do – they said, – with a wife who is unable to cheer us up when we return tired from work, and who has no song for our children?”

One by one they all forgot about Thembelihle, except for Mandla, a young friend who felt deep compassion for the girl and her parents. Mandla decided to do something.  One night the young man went into the forest to ask the tree spirit for help. He prayed in a loud, heartfelt voice, but no one answered. It was winter. All the plants were inert and leafless, and even the tree spirit was in a deep sleep. Hearing no answer, the young man’s prayer turned into desperate cries. At a certain moment, he thought he heard someone.

“Why do you disturb my sleep?” asked an angry voice. Mandla trembled with fright. He turned to the euphorbia plant from where the voice seemed to be coming. He looked carefully but could see no one. At the foot of the plant there was a hole, the lair of Kalulu, the hare, but he did not think at all that the voice could be that of that cunning animal.

Thinking that the tree spirit had, at last, answered his prayers, he threw himself on his knees: “Mighty spirit, hear me, please! – Speak to me!” said Mandla. “The great spirit hears you,” replied the hare in a raspy voice, remaining hidden in his burrow and barely holding
back her laughter.

Mandla told the story of the unfortunate Thembelihle and begged the spirit to help him restore the girl’s faculty of speech. “If you offer the spirits fresh vegetables and fruit, papayas especially, every day by this euphorbia plant, I will do all I can to help you – replied the voice. Now leave me to my meditations!”

Mandla returned home still trembling with fear, but with a heart full of joy at the great tree spirit’s promise of help. Meanwhile, Kalulu, the hare, burst into a hearty laugh at having succeeded in making himself the spirit of the trees. But he could not get back to sleep. Instead, he began to think, remembering how, when she was very young, a little beetle had told her one night, that it once heard an old woman pronounce a curse against the owner of a hoe: “May the first and last of your children be dumb until a foolish deed calls back the power to speak.”

At the time, the hare had given no importance to what his friend had told him, not least because his mother had told him that the little beetle was now senile and only good for a guinea hen’s dinner. Now he thought long and hard about that story.

As soon as dawn broke, he closed the door of his den and walked towards Vusi’s house. He found him hoeing in the fields with his wife. “I see that you have a lot of work – he told the two farmers -.  I think you will need a hand. I am looking for work and would be content with little, just enough to live on. Will you allow me to help you?” “You are too young for field work, don’t you think?  – replied Vusi. – And then … how can I trust you not to eat my cabbages as soon as I turn my back? I have already met others from your tribe and they all ended up on the
wrong side of the spear.”

“My conduct is without blemish – replied the hare with a hint of resentment – and I am much stronger than I look. Give me a hoe and you will see!” And so, he began to hoe, making the earth fly. “Alright! – said Vusi. – You look strong enough. I’ll hire you for a week, then we’ll see.”

Every day, Kalulu went to work in the fields, milking the cows and feeding the pigs. When Vusi and his wife were present, no one could have wished for a more diligent worker, but when Thembelihle was there, he seemed to do everything he could to make trouble: he spilled the bucket of fresh milk; he walked with muddy feet on the washing hung out in the sun; he let the pigs go rooting in the garden,
tearing up the new green beans and stepping on the pumpkins
that were still in flower.

Many times, the girl opened her mouth to scold him but not a word came out and she walked away disconsolate. Kalulu was increasingly sorry, for every day he found fresh offerings at the foot of the euphorbia and could not give anything in return.

Meanwhile, Mandla, hiding behind a huge baobab tree, continued to spy on the girl, to see if the tree spirit would answer his prayer. He, too, appeared more and more sad and disconsolate from day to day. One day Vusi and his wife decided to go to the village to sell vegetables and fresh eggs. Before they left, they told their daughter to plant cabbages. The hare helped her. As he worked, he racked his brains: “What can I do? I really feel indebted to that young man. All caught up with such thoughts, he planted the cabbage upside-down with the roots in the air and the leaves in the earth.

“What a stupid thing I have done!” thought the hare as soon as he realized. His mind lit up as if struck by lightning. From that moment on, he took great care to plant the cabbages upside down. Thembelihle continued planting without looking around until she reached the end of the furrow. Then she straightened her sore back and looked back at the rows of cabbages that had just been planted. All the desperation in the world could be read on her face.

“What are you up to, stupid animal? – she shouted angrily – Why are you planting the cabbages upside down?” As soon as she realised what had happened to her, she covered her mouth with her hands. Her ability to speak had returned. Like a thunderbolt, Mandla burst out from behind the baobab, shouting and laughing, drunk with happiness.

Then, hand in hand, the young couple ran to find their parents to tell them the good news. The hare, on the other hand, remained standing, hoe in hand, admiring the cabbages planted with their legs in the air. “Just look what men are like! – Kalulu mumbled, laughing with satisfaction. – Here is the great tree spirit himself and he doesn’t even get a thank you! Let’s hope, at least, that we still find some nice papayas there under the euphorbia.” (Photo: Pixabay)

 Folktale from the Zulu people, South Africa

 

 

Historic cities. Senegal. Saint Louis. The Venice of Africa.

Saint Louis, washed by the Senegal River and the Atlantic Ocean, is the most aquatic city on the West African coast.

Today Saint Louis is a city of 250,000 inhabitants. Its charm is unquestionable, it is one of those places where you feel good as soon as you arrive, without knowing exactly why. Built and broken like a cake into pieces of land on the waters of an ocean and a river, it is surrounded by beautiful corners with marshes and natural parks flown over by a diversity of birds, with pink flamingos and pelicans foremost.
Located at the mouth of the Senegal River, Saint Louis is divided into three areas: the island of N’Dar, which is the historical and colonial part, the Langue de Barberie or Guet N’Dar, where the fishermen live, and the mainland of Sor, the commercial, agricultural, university and contemporary area connected to the hinterland.

Aerial panorama of Sant Louis. View from Senegal river towards the old colonial city and fisherman island. Shutterstock/Anze Furlan

Saint Louis was declared a World Heritage Site in 2000 and is today a potpourri of all of Africa, of what the continent was and what it is, both in terms of richness and challenges.Its biggest attraction is itself: on the border with Mauritania, the entrance to the Sahara Desert for some and the exit for others. Here are just some of the highlights that help us better understand the soul of this African city.
Saint Louis, the Venice of Africa. “Water is very important in Saint Louis. The Atlantic Ocean nourishes and attacks it at the same time. The Senegal River nourishes its fields, gives life to its banks and occasionally bursts its banks at its mouth.
Its insular surface is a kind of miracle of nature. It is surrounded by water on all sides and remains afloat with astonishing tenacity. One has the feeling that its inhabitants are counting on its disappearance one day” (Lola Huete Machado, a Spanish journalist).
Saint Louis, the city of the caucos. Every evening, at sunset, one can witness a continuous coming and going of canoes crossing the waters of the Senegal River until they reach the Atlantic Sea. There are immense barges, painted in bright colours and full of flags and symbolism, prayers and good wishes. Each is entrusted to the respective marabou or the goddess who protects them from the wrath of the ocean.
In Saint Louis, everything revolves around fishing: social, economic, political, cultural, gastronomic, festive and environmental.

A young girl with a joyful smile on her face in a fishing village.123rf

Saint Louis, a mixed race. On the mainland, groups of many ethnic groups and nationalities coexist, of which the Wolof and the Lebu are the most numerous. The mestizo character, the mixture of cultures and the social conditions of the island have marked the inhabitants of this city. There has always been a deep respect for all people, regardless of their social status or religion.
Saint Louis, religions. Of Sunni tendency, Senegalese Muslims are divided into brotherhoods, which until now have represented an important check against the penetration of radical ideas from outside. Religion is very present in daily life and in celebrations such as Tabaski or Korité de Saint Louis. Interreligious coexistence is healthy: Muslims and Christians break the Ramadan fast together and religious holidays represent a moment of rapprochement between the different faiths.

Faidherbe Bridge, the symbol of the city. CC BY-SA 4.0/Manu25

Saint Louis, the migrant. The local economy suffered a strong negative impact around 2000 with the arrival of large foreign vessels carrying out industrial fishing operations. The fishermen of Guet N’Dar, who used to fish in front of their houses, were left without a catch and this led to the phenomenon of local emigration towards other African countries and Europe. In 2006-2007, during the so-called Cayuco crisis, around 50,000 young Africans, mostly Senegalese, crossed the Atlantic on board these boats. As a result, many St Louis families are headed by wives of husbands who live in Europe.
Saint Louis, the mainland. A few meters from the photogenic and colourful colonial city there is the other Saint Louis, the one with the markets and wooden stalls that can be seen in any African city. The rural exodus attracts dozens of young people to this other Saint Louis (called Sor) who leave agriculture and sheep-rearing in the interior of the region in search of a different future.

Pelicans on an island in the Barbarie National Park.CC BY-SA 4.0/Manu25

Saint Louis and its parks. The city has two national parks registered as World Heritage sites. The Djoujd Ornithological Park, the third largest ornithological reserve in the world, where every year thousands of birds migrate from southern and eastern Africa, Europe and Asia to the wetlands of the Senegalese coast to reproduce, to escape the winter or to transit towards other skies. The Langue de Barbarie National Park, near the mouth of the Senegal River, is home to numerous aquatic birds.
Saint Louis and culture. This city so rich in history is a constantly bustling laboratory of innovation and crossbreeding, according to the artists who enliven its lively cultural life with an annual jazz music festival, a photography museum and so on.
Saint Louis and its future. All experts highlight and doubt the future of this coastal city in Senegal, which is facing the danger of coastal erosion and high emigration. The effects of climate change, the harassment of the sea, the violence of the river and the threat of the desert threaten its long-term survival. The buildings and houses of the city begin to suffer. Suzanne Hirschi, an architect committed to safeguarding the urban heritage of Saint Louis, states that “the main challenge today is its very existence”.  (Open Photo: Fishing boats parked on the shore in Sant Louis.123rf)

Juan José Osés/Africana

African art and sense of beauty.

When you look at some African art, you may wonder whether what you see is fine art or something else. African scarification is part of African art, which is mainly iconographic. In traditional African art, colours are not only used for aesthetic purposes. They have deep meanings. African art is functional, community-orientated, depersonalised,
and contextualized.

Many tribes in Uganda and elsewhere used to practice scarification on the bodies of their women, children, heroes and candidates for initiation. Some went so far as to remove the front teeth of the lower jaw. In the Oromo valley of Ethiopia, you can still find Mursi women with lip plates: the lower lips are stretched to unbelievable proportions to accommodate the lip plates – all in the name of beauty and identity. What some would call ‘disfigurement’, others would call ‘beautification’.
In the Luo languages there is the same word for both beautiful and holy: ‘leng’ can mean holy or beautiful.
In Ateso, the word ‘elai’ can mean both beautiful and good: elai apese means ‘beautiful girl’, but ‘elai eketau’ literally means ‘beautiful heart’, simply referring to a good person. These few examples suggest that beauty, goodness and holiness are closely related.

South Sudan. Dinka man. African scarification is often related to the spiritual world. File swm

African scarification is part of African art, which is mainly iconographic. Iconography is a system of images used by an artist to convey a particular meaning. It is often related to the spiritual world. It expresses the supernatural powers to which Africans owe their existence and on which they recognise their dependence.
In Africa, works of art, whether visual, poetic or musical, are used to convey the unknown in the familiar, the abstract in the concrete, and the spiritual in the physical. They are designed to serve a practical and meaningful purpose; beauty of appearance is secondary. African art is therefore functional. We can even speak of ‘functional beauty’. It responds to needs that are vital to the spiritual and physical well-being of the people.In traditional African art, colours are not only used for aesthetic purposes. They have deep meanings. Red symbolises vitality and life force; yellow represents spirituality and kingship. Green embodies nature and fertility, while blue signifies protection and spirituality. White is the colour of ancestral spirits.
Black represents power, authority and the invisible forces of the spiritual realm. Sometimes it also represents the earth, humanity and the ancestors. Unlike Christian liturgy, where clergy wear coloured robes, in African worship colours are painted on the bodies of those who participate in rituals. In ritual, the physical and the spiritual are one.

Ethiopian young Ladies. “Functional beauty” is a response to needs that are vital to people’s mental and physical well-being. File swm

A curious fact about African art is that it is depersonalised. Traditional artists do not sign their work. It belongs to the people and not to the artist, although his creativity is inevitably present in his work. It is community-oriented in that the artist performs to fulfil the ritual and social purposes of the community.
Art is used to regulate spiritual, political and social forces within the community. This is particularly evident in Malawi (Chewa), the Democratic Republic of Congo (Pende) and Nigeria (Igbo and Yoruba), where masks or masquerades play an important role in festivals, rituals, funerals and other social gatherings.
They represent human and animal spirits, deities, ancestors, mythological creatures, good and evil, peace and justice, etc. Sometimes the people who wear them are believed to be possessed by the spirits they represent. They also carry messages and teachings from the spiritual world.Finally, African art is functional, community-orientated, depersonalised, and contextualized. (Open Photo: Karo woman. Kar. people are famous for their body painting. 123rf)

Edward Kanyike

Brazil. Recognising Dignity.

A place where you can feel at home, welcomed and listened to. An island of refuge, in the turbulent sea of life. The project is called Get Up and Walk, in Salvador de Bahia. Emma Maribel Chiolini a young lay Comboni missionary who works on the project, tells us about it.

Imagine a place where all the people who live on the streets can enter without obstacles, without cardboard boxes under their arms and fear. A place where they are welcomed with affection and called by name, with an attentive ear, that listens to their stories, their outbursts, their fears, and their desires. A place where they can drink a coffee, find a towel, a new shirt, a medicine for pain. Where there are no faults and mistakes, but opportunities to learn and forgive, where everyone makes laughter and crying a common experience, a manual for life. This place exists and is called: Project ‘Levanta te e anda’, Get up and walk, in Salvador, Bahia.

“A place where they are welcomed with affection and called by name” Photo: Facebook

The project was born in 2008 and has become a day centre of reference for many people who are in a street situation, a space that over time has become an island of refuge in the turbulent sea of street life. It operates in a place that was previously abandoned, the church of San Francisco de Paula, in the Agua de Meninos neighbourhood, in the lower city, near the port and the fish market. Those who attend the project benefit from various services: health care, help with documents, placement in the job market, personal hygiene service, haircuts, human training activities, assistance with social services, food and time for rest which is very important in coping with the nights spent on the street, sleepless due to violence and the difficulty of finding a quiet place to sleep.
I have been a volunteer in the project since 2022, but I already knew it through the Trindade Community where I lived and which I frequent, as my community in Salvador.

Birthday celebration for one of the centre’s regular visitors. Photo Facebook

The Trindade Community welcomes people who live on the streets, who come to the project and who want, after a period of attending the day centre, to leave the street and begin a journey of coexistence in the community. The people who attend the centre are mostly adult men, aged 20 to 50. The centre is also open to women though there are not many. Their female universe is very complex, linked to prostitution and the control or ‘protection’ of those who profit from it.
In fact, most women accept having someone who ‘protects’ them, because as a young woman said: “I prefer having only one person beating me, to being raped by five”.
The name ‘Levanta te e anda’ is an invitation to those who live on the street. In the streets, on the sidewalks, we live lying down, on the ground, physically lying down, inside a cardboard box, on the hard and cold concrete, holding out an empty hand in the hope of bread,
some soup or a blanket.

The name ‘Levanta te e anda’ is an invitation to those who live on the street. Photo: Facebook

Seen as of little value, we have no self-confidence because of the many wounds of life. Anaesthetized by alcohol and drugs, we survive hoping for something that comes from outside, from above, from others, an attitude that does not help.
The “Get up and walk!” concept resonates as: “Believe in your worth! You have ability, courage, determination! Get up! Feel the life that wants to blossom in you!”. This is the motto signified by all our activities among the population in street situations; accept this invitation that says: Get up and walk! Just as Jesus said.
What the Community and the day centre propose is to inspire, and reawaken the desire to get up again and walk with your head held high, with dignity and self-esteem. On Tuesday afternoons we carry out a human training activity, which touches on topics such as self-esteem, communication, teamwork, resilience, empathy, work and game dynamics in Portuguese, to improve our grammar.
To start a meeting, we always form a circle. The circular dimension allows us all to look each other in the eye and meet the gaze of the others. Nobody turns their backs but we are all at the same level, we can all participate; the circular form is supportive and creates proximity.

A procession through the streets of the neighbourhood of Agua de Meninos. Photo Facebook

It is a space that is ‘ours’ as I always define it with them, because we can talk and compare, each one learns to listen to the other’s point of view and respect it, even if they don’t agree; this is the fundamental basis of each of our meetings. Being listened to, and expressing your opinion, in a reality that makes you invisible; it is a force that allows you to become aware of yourself and your existence. I consider the project a small community, where we compare, share and learn from each other. I myself am learning with these masters of life, of stories and of knowledge. We broadcast tiny seeds, but then it is the person who must plant and take care of the seeds so that they can germinate and flourish. And the work continues with the Comunidade Trindade, a space of life, of welcome, of resurrection, where the rules of coexistence, of collective and personal work, of moments of spirituality and of a community journey meet and where you also learn to become a supporting hand. (Open Photo: Facebook)

 

The Palestinians won popular support. But they failed to win over Arab governments.

From Morocco to Iraq, governments have acted extremely cautiously towards popular mobilisation against the war in Gaza.
Each state puts its own strategic needs to prevent the resurgence of major rebellions first.

In the weeks following October 7, the whole world had its eyes on the Middle East, not only to assess Israel’s response to the Hamas terrorist attack, but also to see how the Arab masses in the various countries of the region would react to the ongoing earthquake.

One could then expect a new wave of popular protests and agitations, along the lines of what happened in 2011 in favour of democracy with the Arab Springs, but in defence this time of the historic and common Palestinian cause that has resurfaced in all its unresolvedness. Despite expectations, none of this materialised: the “Arab world” did not ignite, and popular mobilisations were relatively few and contained.

More than one year have passed since the 7 October tragedy and its enormous consequences, in different ways and with diverse nuances, the government and security apparatuses of authoritarian Arab regimes have acted to stem, contain, repress and/or channel the discontent and anger of the populations. This has been not so much a matter of law and order as a means to ensure that the protests would not affect their
overriding interests.

Instead of unhesitatingly supporting the popular outpouring in favour of Palestine, each government has pursued its own strategic objectives, essentially based on the preservation of the status quo and, in some cases, the safeguarding of normalisation agreements with Israel.

In other words, the Arab regimes have wanted to avoid these priorities being compromised or challenged in any way by a re-emergence of transversal mobilisations animated by those civil societies which, since 2011, have been relegated to the sidelines. This is a new version of the dynamic that has characterised the history of the Middle East’s longest-running conflict since 1948.

The Palestinian cause has always been central to the rhetoric of Arab countries since the decolonisation phase. The first concrete result of pan-Arab ideology, which aimed to unite all Arab states from the Persian Gulf to the Atlantic under one government, was the establishment of the Arab League (1945). From its foundation, the Palestinian cause became its beating heart, the federating theme of all its member states from the most conservative to the most radical-revolutionary.

However, as was evident already during the first war against the newly proclaimed State of Israel (1948-1949), behind the veneer of common opposition to Zionism, deep divisions were concealed with respect to the strategies and precise ambitions of each nation.

Pan-Arabism was in essence an ideology good for igniting the Arab masses who had been galvanised by the liberation struggles and then shaken by the birth of Israel, an event that, albeit with the appropriate distinctions, had followed the same colonial logic. This ideology was then adopted by the movement’s main leader, the Egyptian Gamal Abdel Nasser, for his hegemonic plans.

That the four Arab-Israeli wars were fought by Arab governments for their own national interests and not really to promote the establishment of a Palestinian state is now written in history. By way of example, it is sufficient to recall: the now-documented Jordanian-Zionist collusion during the convulsive final phase of the British mandate; the Suez Canal crisis when Nasser was crowned hero of the Arab world thanks to his ability to oppose the old imperialisms, but less so Israel; the collapse of the pan-Arab front in the Six-Day War (1967); finally, the Kippur War (1973) that Anwar Sadat’s Egypt and Hafez al Assad’s Syria waged to recover only the Sinai and the Golan respectively.

OPEC had also threatened at the time to block oil supplies to Western countries until the liberation of all occupied territories in 1967, but eventually retraced its steps, maintaining the embargo for only five months. The peace agreement between Egypt and Israel in 1979 was the tombstone of pan-Arabism, and into the vacuum left by that unitary ideal, which had been secular and socialist and had made the masses dream, another great ideology, Islamism, crept in, leveraging what was considered the true and only strength of the Arab peoples, Islam.

With the first Intifada (1987-1993), the conflict became effectively Israeli-Palestinian and the role of Arab governments became increasingly secondary with the subsequent Oslo Accords. The PLO then recognised the Jewish state’s right to exist and Jordan also concluded a peace treaty with Israel (1994).

After the violent years of the second Intifada (2000-2008), the situation, for better or for worse, stabilised, effectively reducing the chances of the two-state solution and then facilitating the “normalisation” of relations with Israel by four Arab states: the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Sudan and Morocco.

Regardless of the decisions taken by various governments, the prevailing sentiment among the many millions of Arabs around the world remains one of bitter injustice and deep resentment over the fate of the Palestinians who are denied the right to self-determination.

The Palestinians have never been granted the very independence that each Arab people won in its time at the cost of hundreds of thousands of victims in the struggles for liberation from colonialism. In the first weeks after 7 October, this sentiment was allowed to vent itself in very popular demonstrations, often organised by the regimes themselves.

On the first Friday after the Hamas attacks, 13 October 2023, masses of people gathered after prayers in the main streets of Baghdad, Amman, Beirut, Damascus, Manama, Doha, Sana’a and Tunis; on 15 October in Rabat tens of thousands of people came from all over the country to demonstrate; in Tunis and Tripoli demonstrations were organised on 18 October; a huge procession was staged on 19 October in Algiers, and in Cairo on the following day, Friday 20 October, when thousands of people filled Tahrir Square for the first time in ten years.
In the North African countries, the respective regimes stirred up the squares in search of popular legitimacy, which is increasingly in crisis due to economic difficulties.

The protests in the following weeks waned. First of all, they were materially prevented by the regimes of Algeria and Egypt, both of them mindful of too recent and convulsive Arab Springs. Alongside the slogans for the liberation of Palestine, against Israel and the United States, the demonstrators had in fact begun to request the end of the authoritarian governments of Al Sisi and Tebboune.

The Algerian regime took it upon itself to continue its official support for the “Palestinian resistance”, as it had never stopped doing since 1962, linking it to the war of liberation against the French and associating the Palestinians’ right to self-determination with that of the Sahrawi population. Algiers is also one of three countries, besides Qatar and Türkiye, that host a representative office of Hamas (Sinwar has just congratulated Tebboune on his re-election, just for the record).

Not on the streets, but online and in certain fields, Egypt is the Arab country where the BDS (Boycott, Disinvestment and Sanctions) movement is most active. Lebanon immediately had to deal with the situation in the south following the resumption of Hezbollah’s attacks, thus overshadowing popular support against the continuation of the war in which the entire country was in some way implicated.

Assad’s Syria has from the outset completely disengaged itself from what is happening in Gaza, as has Libya: both countries are still too focused on controlling the aftermath of their respective civil wars to afford to let masses of citizens take to the streets to demonstrate.

As for the Gulf, Bahrain from the end of October 2023 launched arrest campaigns and repressions to stop any movement that could in any way challenge the trade ties with Israel resulting from normalisation deals. And in a more radical manner, in the United Arab Emirates no mass demonstrations have ever been allowed.

There remain only three Arab countries where demonstrations have continued with regularity this year: Yemen, Morocco and Jordan. In Yemen, the large Friday processions serve as popular legitimisation of the Houthis for the open “front” in the Red Sea: the Shia group
tightly frames the demonstrations participated by hundreds of thousands of people.

The case of the two religious monarchies is in turn peculiar since both countries have established stable relations with the Jewish state. In both cases, the regimes are trying to channel and vent discontent with the contingent conflict and with the more general normalisation, but without allowing it to go too far, since a review of the agreements is not on the agenda at all.

Committees “for Palestine and against normalisation” are active in Morocco (as well as in Tunisia, though to a lesser extent) and regular demonstrations have been organised throughout this year by a broad spectrum of civil society. In Jordan, home to the largest Palestinian diaspora, numbering two million individuals, demonstrations are mostly promoted by the Muslim Brotherhood, so much so that Hamas, which had an office in Amman until 1999, speculated in April that if they were kicked out of Qatar, its leaders, most of whom who have Jordanian citizenship, could move here.

The Muslim Brotherhood in Jordan, through its political arm, the Islamic Action Front, has capitalised on this activism by winning a majority in the latest legislative elections. In both countries, although popular support for maintaining relations with Israel has always been low or very low, the governments in power have never questioned their strategies
in this regard.

Therefore, the general tendency of regimes from Morocco to Iraq towards popular mobilisation against the war in Gaza has been one of extreme caution. This attitude has been dictated by each state’s own strategic needs to prevent the resurgence of major rebellions, at the expense of full and total support for the Palestinian cause, which has been reduced to a slogan appropriated by the official narrative.

The Arab states, which could have relied on a mass consensus on the issue, have thus once again missed the opportunity to really count at the negotiating tables not only for a ceasefire, but also for a broader post-war solution to this long-standing conflict. (Photo: Palestine flags. 123rf)

Caterina Roggero/ISPI

African Cinema. Looking to the future.

Moving from specialised sections to the international scene. The great variety that exists in the different African filmographies. A look at Senegalese cinematography. We talk about it with Senegalese Fatou Kiné Sène, former president of the African Federation of Film Critics.

Kiné Sène’s interest in cinema began in her childhood. “Every Wednesday, films were shown at my school and after each showing there was a debate,” she recalls. One film in particular left its mark on her: Rue Cases Nègres, by Euzhan Palcy, based on a novel by Joseph Zobel. “It is an initiatory film that talks about black people, but above all about childhood. It enlightened me in many ways,” she says.
One day, years later, her boss asked her to cover a premiere at a cinema in Dakar. “The film was Harry Potter. From then on, I went every Wednesday, the day of the premiere.”

Fatou Kiné Sène, well-known film critic. Photo: Gonzalo Gómez

It was her transition point into film criticism, which culminated in her taking part in a call organised by the African Federation of Film Critics. “I applied and went to my first FESPACO, the Pan-African Film and Television Festival in Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso), which brings together African and diaspora directors every two years,” says the Senegalese, recalling the training she received from Clément Tapsoba, the first president of the aforementioned federation.
Since then, Kiné Sène has published her reviews on the Africine website, has been president of the Senegalese Film Critics Association and has become president of the African Federation of Film Critics. Her work has taken her all over the world, to festivals such as Cannes, the Salé International Women’s Film Festival (Morocco) and the Films Femmes Afrique festival in Dakar (Senegal). She is currently in charge of the culture and society department at the Senegalese Press Agency. “I specialise in African cinema, but as critics, we don’t just watch films from the continent, we want to be open to what is happening elsewhere”.

Get out of the ghetto
One of the Senegalese’s strongest positions is her rejection of the fact that African cinema and literature are often confined to specialised sections at festivals. According to her, this classification “weakens African cinema”, which should be included in festivals in general, so that works are seen as part of the global context. “Having specialised sections is like not having a universal profession,” she says.
“Today, we are witnessing the advance of Asian cinema on the international scene, and we always ask ourselves why African films do not have the same visibility.

Why are they separate films? “I think when you see Djibril Diop Mambéty’s Touki Bouki, which is celebrated all over the world, you realise that Africans make films like everyone else, using the same techniques. We may have our own unique stories, but I don’t understand why they don’t have the same fame as others,” she points out.Kiné Sène highlights the variety that exists in different African filmographies. Senegalese cinema in particular stands out for its diversity and thematic evolution. From its first film in 1955, Afrique sur Seine, directed by Paulin Soumanou Vieyra and others, to the works of directors such as Ousmane Sembène – La noire de…, Moolade, etc., Senegalese cinema has explored a wide range of themes from colonisation and independence to contemporary problems.
“Today, there are also young women who bring something new. For example, they deal with the problems of the countryside, the peasants,” she recalls, highlighting the work of Ramata Toulaye Sy and her film Banel and Adama. The film tells the story of Banel and Adama, who are madly in love. The young couple live in a remote village in the north of Senegal and for them there is nothing else in the world. But their perfect, eternal love seems to be on a collision course with their family’s traditions when a drought hits their community.

The Diaspora
The diaspora also plays an important role in Senegalese cinema. Filmmakers such as Mati Diop explore the theme of migration and the experiences of young Africans abroad. Angèle Diabang’s Un air de Kora, which explores inter-religious relations through a love story between a Muslim girl and a Christian monk, has been praised by critics. The film won the 2019 FESPACO Bronze Poulain in the short film category.

The conversation jumps from film to film, stopping at Jusqu’a à la fin des temps (Until the end of time) by Algerian director Yasmine Chouikh. “It is a very beautiful film about life and death. It’s the story of two sixty-year-olds who fall in love in a cemetery. It’s a funny and beautiful film that changes our perception of death. I will never forget it,” she says, after recommending a handful of other titles, mainly from her country.
“However, Senegalese cinema has recently had to face a difficult situation. Since 2021, but especially since the first months of 2024, political and social instability has had a significant impact on film production. It has affected us a lot, there have been no shootings or screenings,” says Kiné Sène, recalling that insecurity and fear of going out have paralysed previews and screenings, and even affected the famous Dakar Biennale of Contemporary Art, which had to be postponed.

International Cinema
“We often talk about African cinema, but there is no such thing as African or European cinema” argues the journalist. An continues: “It is the story that defines the dimension of the film. We live in a global world where all issues can be a challenge for anyone, in Africa or anywhere else”.Moreover, she insists, “the local can lead us to the global, and it is important that the particular stories of a territory are told and understood beyond its borders. The accessibility and popularity of cinema made in Africa has increased thanks to digital platforms. Currently, films from Nollywood and the Nigerian film industry are being seen across the continent.”

Senegal. The Pathé cinema on a session day in Dakar. Shutterstock/Pierre Laborde

Kiné Sène recalls how Senegalese television channels – she also mentions social networks – broadcast these stories all the time, even though “the magic of the cinema cannot be compared to what we see there, which are ephemeral things that pass quickly and are lost. When you watch a film, you learn something or it awakens emotions in you about a certain subject that the director wanted to show you through a film.”
“We can agree or disagree. But I believe that cinema serves to raise public awareness,” says the expert in African cinematography, whose productions, with their stories and quality, show that they should not only have a place in the general sections, but should also be considered essential to understanding the richness of global cinematic narratives. (Photo: FESPACO, the Pan-African Film and Television Festival in Ouagadougou.  File swm)

Gonzalo Gómez

Israel/Palestine. The Water War.

Since its birth, the Israeli state has made that precious resource a fundamental element for its development, transforming it into a powerful weapon against its neighbours.

Water is a strategic element on the geopolitical chessboard of the Middle East, particularly in the chronic Israeli-Palestinian conflict. For 76 years, Israel has been waging a silent war against the Palestinians, which the media rarely talks about, or the “water war”.

The Israeli military offensive against Gaza, which has now been going on for a year, has brought to light the issue of water and has shown that Tel Aviv uses it as a weapon against the Gazans to push them to rebel against the Palestinian resistance (which has not happened) and force the population to emigrate to the Sinai desert.

In Gaza, Israel has destroyed the water and sanitation networks. The bombings have put out of action the seawater purification systems, essential sources of supply for the Strip. Furthermore, it has destroyed a large part of the wells.

This situation has forced the inhabitants of Gaza to use polluted water and this has led to the emergence of various infectious diseases, especially among children. However, the problem of polluted water in Gaza is not new. For 17 years, Israel has had an embargo on spare parts for repairs to the Strip’s water systems and has prevented its water supply from the West Bank.

Since its inception, Israel has made water a key element in its development, to the detriment of that of the Palestinians. The Israelis have cornered the major water resources of occupied Palestine. After the 1967 war, which the Arabs lost, Israel occupied East Jerusalem, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip (as well as the water-rich Syrian Golan Heights), and has since exercised control over water sources.

In the West Bank, Palestinians are not allowed to dig water wells. The management and distribution of water resources, both in Israel and in the occupied territories, are in the hands of an Israeli public company, Mekorot. And while Israelis and settlers are well supplied with water, Palestinians in the occupied territories suffer a constant lack
of this essential item.

According to an Oxfam report, the daily per capita amount of water for Palestinians in the occupied territories is 70 litres. The minimum established by the World Health Organization is 100 litres. For Jewish settlers, the average is 300 litres. Settlers who illegally occupy Palestinian lands: there were about 150,000 of them before the Oslo Accords of 1994; today there are more than 700,000.
These agreements have allowed Israel to maintain absolute control over Area C of the occupied territories, where water resources are concentrated, including the Jordan River, now in the hands of Mekorot.

According to Amnesty International, this company also controls rainwater. And the Israeli state prevents Palestinians from even collecting this water. The tanks used for this purpose are destroyed by Israel, which in its territory established by the UN in 1967, did not have sufficient water resources, which is why it occupied Area C of the West Bank. This is one of the reasons why it refuses the creation of an independent Palestinian state within the borders indicated by the UN in resolutions 242 and 338. (Photo: Distribution of drinking water to the displaced people of Gaza City. In Gaza, Israel has destroyed the water and sanitation networks. Shutterstock/Anas-Mohammed)

Mostafa El Ayoubi
Middle East Analyst

Taiwan. At the forefront of AI.

Taiwan produces nearly two-thirds of the world’s Artificial Intelligence (AI) servers and plans to continue its investments and partnerships to remain at the forefront of AI research and innovation applicable
to many industries.

In full bloom, artificial intelligence promises exponential developments in the semiconductor industry that Taiwan cannot ignore, indeed. This is demonstrated by the enthusiasm of the major names in the sector who have recently announced future investments in Taiwan, to establish their own research and development centres in artificial intelligence – TSMC, Nvidia, Infineon – and take advantage of the rich and mature

President of Republic of China (Taiwan), Lai Ching-te. Photo: President Office

Taiwanese ecosystem in terms of innovation, training and retention of talent, but also of solid industrial clusters.
This leadership of Taiwan, which makes it almost inevitable, does indeed attract the interest of other countries, as Frank Paris, director of the French office in Taipei, explains to the public radio Radio Taiwan International, and emphasises that what is happening in Taiwan in terms of artificial intelligence is not limited to research but is already applied to industries and everyday objects.The new Taiwanese president Lai Ching-te, who took office on May 20, is also the herald in person of the industrial development of AI. In his opening speech at Computex 2024, Asia’s largest computer expo and this year’s AI technology trade show, Lai Ching-te extolled Taiwan’s technological strengths and shared his goal of “making good use of Taiwan’s advantages, promoting the development and industrialisation of AI, and making Taiwan an AI island, so that Taiwan strengthens its position in this new era and for the well-being of its people.”
This stated goal of Taiwan’s new president is part of efforts in recent years to develop the best possible state-level arrangements to encourage innovative AI development.
The government has allocated an unprecedented budget of 300 billion Taiwan dollars (the equivalent of 9 billion Euros) for a 10-year national innovation program aimed at integrating artificial intelligence into the economy by 2033, starting with electronic chips and integrated circuits.

Omnipresence of AI
The era of artificial intelligence is already very present in several key sectors, starting with manufacturing where artificial intelligence is integrated into production systems to improve efficiency and reduce production costs. It is a tool used in automation and robotization, but also in management and services.
Taiwan is experiencing the emergence of company-run AI robots that can perform various household tasks, help at home and even “converse” with lonely elderly people, a challenge given the ageing population. In the healthcare sector, the management of public hospitals also uses AI thanks to deep learning, but the latest advances are mainly concerned with helping in the accuracy of medical diagnoses.

Taipei. Computex 2024. Asia’s largest computer expo. Showground. Photo: Computex Office

The transportation sector is increasingly dependent on advanced AI technology with the widespread use of intelligent transportation systems and the increase in intelligent autonomous vehicles. Agriculture is no exception with artificial intelligence contributing to the optimal management of resources and the improvement of crops. On the innovation front, research institutions are collaborating with academia and industry, startups and incubators, so as not to remain on the sidelines, but to take a leading role in innovative projects and AI advances.It is therefore a whole dynamic and diversified ecosystem, already well underway, which allows Taiwan to move calmly towards this goal of a regional and global “AI Hub”.
But the challenges are as great as these ambitions, starting with the dangers linked to the extremely rapid development of artificial intelligence technologies, whose use or repercussions still elude the specialists who develop them, either in Taiwan or elsewhere.

The transportation sector is increasingly dependent on advanced AI technology. Pixabay

Hence the urgency of regulating their development and uses, since the field of possibilities is vast. Therefore, for two years, the island has been trying to develop its own generative AI engine TAIDE (Trustworthy AI Dialogue Engine), under the auspices of the National Science and Technology Council, to ensure a reliable and transparent database to avoid the disinformation trap and promote the truthfulness of content, especially in the face of numerous false information spread mainly by China and affecting Taiwanese society. In terms of regulation, legal work is currently underway.

Necessary norms, but late in coming
While there are already specific initiatives for the use of AI, legislation is needed to regulate the scope of related technologies that cover different fields and affect different laws.Bills and guidelines are currently being considered, but they do not legally or directly regulate AI in Taiwan. Since 2019, lawmakers have drafted several versions of AI bills, but none have yet been submitted to parliament.

Taiwan to become a regional and global AI hub. Pixabay

In March 2023, a private foundation, the International Artificial Intelligence and Law Research Foundation (IAILRF), for its part, drafted a key bill to regulate the development of AI. At the same time, the government is formulating its own approach to AI supervision, which is due to be submitted at the end of the year, knowing that the various bills raised will have to be examined in Parliament and approved by lawmakers before they are actually adopted. Therefore, there is still uncertainty about the final version and timing of the adoption of a law regulating the use of AI in Taiwan.
However, the government has already been acting through five-year-old directives and its first guidelines to regulate research and development in AI technology, followed by the “Taiwan AI Action Plan 2.0 2023 to 2026” (in Mandarin) and guidelines governing the use of generative AI by government agencies and related institutions.

Taipei. Street in Banqiao district. The need for regulation of AI technology research and development. Pixabay

The need to regulate AI is urgent in the face of excesses and the dangers of possible abuses. This observation, reiterated by more and more voices around the world, with Pope Francis at the forefront, is echoed in the concerns shared by Taiwanese authorities: “We must establish safeguards against the authoritarian dangers of certain uses of AI that harm democracies, the values of freedom and human rights,” as former head of state Tsai Ing-wen wrote in response to the Pope earlier this year. The related legal texts currently being developed in Taiwan aim, in this sense, to regulate applications. The need to regulate AI is urgent in the face of abuse and the dangers of possible misuse. Artificial intelligence cannot compete with natural stupidity. (Open Photo: Pixabay)

François-Xavier Boulay/Ad Extra

Historic cities. Niger. Agadez, “’to pay a visit”.

 “Where the weight of centuries can be felt in every street and where you can smell the aroma of history”.

Salt, gold, slaves and ivory were the most sought-after products from West Africa: once they reached the shores of the Mediterranean, they were sold and exchanged for manufactured goods and cereals that returned south of the Sahara. In that remote point on the map of Africa, the city of Agadez, hundreds of sub-Saharan migrants live today, some with dreams broken forever and others with dreams, yet to be realized, of a better and different life.
Sociologist Sumana Adamu defines Agadez as “an important commercial crossroads for caravaners, a hub between black Africa and the Maghreb, where hospitality is an essential value for the local population”.
The name comes from the word ‘egdez‘, which in Tamasheq, the language of the Tuareg community that founded the city, means ‘to pay a visit’. This explains the explosion of ethnic diversity in this city, where ethnic groups such as Hausa, Arab, Kanuri, Songhai and Peul
live in perfect symbiosis.

Agadez old view, designed by Lancelot after Barth, published on Le Tour du Monde, Paris, 1860

Agadez has historically been the main gateway to the Sahara, the city of caravans to Libya and North Africa and, if possible, to Europe. A few years ago, before the crisis that the city is experiencing today, every Monday dozens of vehicles left for the desert to transport goods, livestock and passengers, mainly coming from West Africa, in the hope of reaching Libya and, “In cha’ Allah” (God willing), Europe. Furthermore, in the 1980s, Agadez was at the centre of exotic tourism with daily charter flights, provoked by the Paris-Dakar Rally, with an important stop in this Nigerian city. A local says: “Agadez received thousands of tourists who came from Europe and America to discover the Ténéré desert, the Bilma dunes and the Air mountains.”
But the arrival of Islamic Jihadism in the Sahel countries has completely changed the situation in Agadez and, in the words of an old local craftsman, “no one comes to visit us or buy our products anymore”. But Agadez has a past and a history that it is important to remember in the hope of better times for its population. Agadez is an urban municipality in Niger, located in the centre of the country. In 2012 it had a population of 118,240. (Last census)

The Great Mosque is the visiting card of Agadez.

In 2013, UNESCO declared the historic centre, built with mud bricks during the Tuareg Sultanate of Air, a World Heritage Site. In total, the city is divided into eleven neighbourhoods spread over 70 hectares. Highlights include the Great Mosque and its sky-defying earthen minaret (the most iconic minaret in the Sahel, which inspired a new architectural genre called “Sudanese”), the Sultan’s Palace, the House of Sidi Kâ, also called the Baker’s House, and the home of the erudite German explorer and linguist Henri Barth (1821-1865), who settled in the city in 1850.
The Great Mosque is the visiting card of Agadez, being undoubtedly one of the most representative monuments of the “Sudanese” style in Africa, with its 27-meter-high minaret. Starting with the construction of stepped bastions with crossed wooden beams visible from the outside, countless mosques and secular buildings followed this pattern and developed it in their own way. Notable examples are the mosques of Timbuktu (Mali), Djenné (Mali), Bobo Dioulasso (Burkina Faso)
and Larabanga (Ghana).

Exterior view to Agadez sultan residence.123rf

Visiting and walking around the city is an experience that is difficult to forget. A journalist describes it like this: “Walking through Agadez is an extraordinary experience; the blinding white light of the desert and the omnipresent dust contrast with the traditional rammed earth architecture that characterizes this strip of the Sahel. The streets and buildings of reddish colour recall a historical period that has stopped and is in danger of extinction. Due to the aridity of the environment, the wind and the lack of rainfall in the region, the walls of the buildings are often rebuilt periodically.”
The history of Agadez is very ancient: according to tradition, it was founded in the 11th century by the Sanhaya or Zenegi and in the 14th century it became the most important city of the Tuareg, growing thanks to transport and trans-Saharan trade. Its economy was based on Bilma salt, brought by caravans.
Books tell us that in 1500 Agadez had a population of around 30,000 people and was already the main passage for medieval caravans trading between the African cities of Kano in Nigeria and Timbuktu in Mali, the oases of the north and the Mediterranean coast.

Agadez. Market. The name comes from the word ‘egdez’, which in Tamasheq, the language of the Tuareg community that founded the city, means ‘to pay a visit’

From a cultural point of view, mention should be made of the artisans of the past and present, renowned throughout the Sahel for their skill and mastery in the working of leather, silver and other metals. The beautiful cross of Agadez is an example of this. There is also their musical richness. “Based on oral tradition, the Agadez scene focuses particularly on dance, poetry, oral storytelling and music. These three ancestral traditions have rich typologies that vary in each of the areas of the Agadez region, in many cases isolated between them and separated by kilometres of dust and sand” (Afribuku. Contemporary African Culture, 2019). Agadez today lives in a vital lethargy due to the instability caused by the Nigerian Tuareg uprisings (2007-2009), the war in northern Mali, the powder keg of Boko Haram violence in northern Nigeria and the arrival of Jihadism in the Sahel. But it remains a unique city, where the weight of centuries can be felt in every street and where you can smell the aroma of history. (Open Photo: Agadez is an urban municipality in Niger, located in the centre of the country. File swm) – (J.J.O.)

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