Originally published on Global Voices

Nyibol Mathiang Deng, 27, and her child receive energy biscuits from aid workers after arriving at the South Sudan border point in Majok Yinthiou. Photo by Peter Caton from Action Against Hunger, used with permission.

By Dr. Charles E. Owubah

Nyibol Mathiang Deng was six months pregnant when armed men stormed Muglad, the Sudanese village where she lived. Fearing the rest of her family was dead, she hid with her daughter. Soon, they set off on a challenging four-day journey by car, motorcycle, and foot, braving dangerous terrain and enduring blistering heat. When they finally arrived in Majok, South Sudan, they were relieved to be reunited with the rest of their family. But they were confronted by an uncertain future.

Nyibol is not alone in her plight. In fact, she is part of a much broader pattern — one that is having far-reaching ripples across the African continent.

Africa’s revolving door

Driven by conflict, climate change, and poverty, millions across central Africa are trapped in an escalating cycle of displacement. For example, Global Voices reports that drought in Somalia is pushing thousands of climate refugees into Kenya's Dadaab Refugee Camp. Whether through forced displacement or voluntary migration, people are crossing borders in search of safety and opportunity, only to find conditions as dire — or even worse — than those they fled. The region is increasingly becoming a revolving door of migration and adversity.

To vastly simplify a complex situation, consider that over several years, more than 100,000 people are estimated to have left Chad for Sudan. Many struggled to find employment. Then, armed conflict in Sudan caused an escalating humanitarian crisis and what may be the worst hunger emergency in the world. While humanitarian organizations are trying to alleviate suffering, resources are spread too thin. So, perhaps it’s not a surprise that since the start of the current conflict in April 2023, more than 821,300 people from Sudan have sought refuge in South Sudan. 

However, South Sudan has challenges of its own, including conflict, severe flooding and food insecurity which displaced millions. By the end of 2023, conditions in South Sudan left about 2 million people internally displaced and a further 2.3 million refugees in neighboring countries.  Some who left South Sudan headed to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC).

Yet, in the DRC, clashes between military forces and insurgents are driving insecurity, hunger and a mental health crisis. As a result, tens of thousands of people have left the DRC for other places, including the Central African Republic. Unfortunately, similar shocks in the Central African Republic have displaced millions, with many lacking access to basic necessities like food, water and shelter. As a result, many have left the Central African Republic for Chad. And the cycle continues.

A complex web of displacement

To be clear, the revolving door is not a singular loop. It is a complex web of multi-directional movement. Not all migration flows are of comparable size or occurring at the same time. For example, the flow of migrants from Chad to Sudan has largely reversed as the conflict in Sudan has escalated into a humanitarian disaster. Today, Chad hosts an estimated one million refugees from Sudan — roughly equal to one in 17 people in the country.

Repatriation also plays a role. For example, during the war in South Sudan, many families moved to Sudan, which was comparatively stable with some economic opportunities, mostly in agriculture and manual labor. Then, when conflict broke out in Sudan, close to 600,000 South Sudanese returned to their home country. This included children who had never known South Sudan and often lacked the local family ties to protect and sustain them.

These returnees, together with Sudanese refugees, are straining already stretched basic services with the potential to lead to further conflict. The response from the global community has been woefully inadequate. The magnitude of this crisis is alarming: it impacts an estimated 45 million people and has grown by 14 percent.

Even as thousands leave any given country, thousands more may be pouring in. Even more are internally displaced, within their own borders but unable to return home. Some people move repeatedly, whether internally displaced within borders or crossing borders as migrants or refugees. The lines can be blurred.

One cycle drives another

This revolving door of displacement is driven by other interrelated cycles. The climate crisis is a hunger crisis.  In the Horn of Africa alone, over 36 million people have been affected by droughts which have decreased crop yields and caused food shortages. As climate change worsens, so does conflict — which only worsens this situation. As noted in the UN Security Council Resolution 2417, too often, hunger is used as a weapon of war. Despite the UN Resolution, we are seeing a vicious cycle where conflict drives hunger, and hunger drives conflict.

This endless cycle points to deeper systemic failures that leave the world’s most marginalized people even more vulnerable.

Opening the door to opportunity

Research consistently shows that newcomers, including immigrants and refugees, can benefit their host communities, including potential economic gains in low- and middle-income countries. However, if immigration isn’t well managed, it can strain local resources in the short term. Fortunately, there are effective models to address these challenges, and Uganda stands out as a potential example for the world.

Uganda hosts approximately 1.7 million refugees from more than ten countries. Their comprehensive framework, The Uganda Country Refugee Response Plan (UCRRP), focuses on strengthening access to public services, enhancing self-reliance and promoting co-existence with the host community. This framework also calls for increased support from development actors to bolster government systems. Nonprofit organizations like Action Against Hunger also play an important role. Action Against Hunger has helped countless families seeking refuge in Uganda, for example, to establish roots in their new communities. This can involve providing agricultural training for families to cultivate their own food, job training and internships for young people, and financial literacy workshops, among other programs. Yet, resources are limited. 

The global community urgently needs to increase funding for humanitarian relief and also invest in proven programs, such as climate-smart agriculture, that can prevent displacement. Yet, in 2023, countries dealing with crisis levels of hunger — or worse — only received 35 percent of their requested funding for hunger-related programs. In other words, the hunger funding gap hovers around 65 percent. This situation should concern anyone who wants to live in a peaceful and equitable world.

Nyibol Mathiang Deng, 27, and her child receive energy biscuits from an aid worker after arriving at the South Sudan border point in Majok Yinthiou. Photo by Peter Caton from Action Against Hunger, used with permission.

Fortunately, Nyibol's journey has led her to a place where she can start over. She and her family have relocated to Kuajok, South Sudan, with the help of aid organizations, and she hopes to get back to farming there as soon as the rains return. Despite the challenges she is having in reconstructing her life, Nyibol remains determined and courageous. Yet, without systemic change and sufficient funding, millions of people like Nyibol will remain trapped in a revolving door of displacement. 

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

A nurse vaccinates a baby in Accra, Ghana, in 2020. Image is public domain

By Keletso Thobega

As of August 2020, Africa was declared free of wild poliovirus, a disease that had previously paralyzed thousands of children across the continent each year. This was a major milestone in the fight against polio, which began with the World Health Organization's Global Polio Eradication Initiative in 1988. This initiative led to a 99 percent decrease in new polio cases globally.

However, a new vaccine-derived mutation of this virus has emerged in Southern Africa, largely linked to low immunization coverage.

In an online interview with Global Voices, some health experts working on the continent highlighted several challenges hindering the complete eradication of polio. They emphasized that successful eradication efforts must go beyond vaccination campaigns to include strengthening supply chain systems, ensuring that polio education and vaccines reach even the most remote and rural communities across Africa.

Village Reach, a non-profit organization that focuses on improving health products and services’ accessibility in low-income and low-resource communities, shared insights on why and how they strengthened their supply chain systems.

Luciana Maxim, director of Health Supply Chain and Lab System Strengthening at Village Reach, told Global Voices that at the end of 2021, they received funding from the Global Polio Eradication Initiative (GPEI) to conduct national assessments of the lab sample referral and transport system for polio in several countries across Africa. According to Maxim, many areas in Africa — particularly rural areas — have poor transport infrastructure, which makes it challenging to reach the communities.

For example, in some areas, some roads have potholes or are unpaved, making it difficult for vehicles to get there. In these places, healthcare workers must find other ways to distribute vaccines, which might take significant time or money, such as through bicycles or helicopters.

The same logistical challenges occur regarding the timeliness and quality of transportation for lab samples, including human and environmental samples suspected of polio. These challenges make it difficult for healthcare workers to meet WHO guidelines that infected samples should be transported to a national or international polio lab within three days of specimen collection. 

Tsedeye Girma, UNICEF’s global polio outbreak response coordinator, told Global Voices that depending on the context, they used various modes of transport to get polio vaccines to the most remote health facilities. “This includes refrigerated trucks, motorcycles, boats, pack animals, and also by foot,” she said. She added that in some countries, like Malawi and Mozambique, they have even used drones to deliver vaccines. 

Girma detailed how the recent vaccine-derived polio cases in Southern Africa were swiftly contained:

Once wild polio was detected again particularly in Malawi and Mozambique in early 2022, everyone went into emergency mode to contain these outbreaks. It was imperative to get samples to the labs as soon as possible, to raise awareness at the community and health worker level, and to catch up all children on their routine immunizations post-COVID19.  We were part of these efforts, and the wild polio outbreaks were contained quickly that same year, she noted. 

Maxim pointed out that 13 out of the 15 countries where they have been working since have experienced vaccine-derived polio outbreaks. A vaccine-derived poliovirus (VDPV) is a rare strain of poliovirus that evolves from the weakened live virus used in the oral polio vaccine (OPV). This live virus is designed to stimulate the immune system and build protection against polio. However, if it circulates in under- or unimmunized populations for long enough or replicates in an individual with an immune deficiency, it can mutate and regain the ability to cause disease.

Maxim added:

We quickly realized that, in order to help suppress outbreaks, we need an integrated approach that ensures samples for all outbreak-prone diseases reach labs within days. We took every opportunity to integrate resources, staff and data across diseases and across health system functions.

Girma said it is critical to build a decentralised presence and ties with communities. 

She explained:

We take a community-centric approach in engaging local communities as active partners in the fight to end polio. We recruited and trained thousands of local community members including traditional leaders, religious leaders, polio survivors, women groups, youth, and other community influential people to work as polio outreach workers and mobilizers.

Most households in Africa have women as breadwinners, and the majority of polio community mobilizers have been women, which is critical in areas where cultural norms restrict their male healthcare workers from entering households with only women.

This approach makes all the difference in getting the message across and ensuring children get vaccinated, Girma added. 

To enhance the reach of the vaccination campaigns, UNICEF and other stakeholders have made efforts to craft messages in a multitude of local languages, but the language barrier in polio vaccine campaigns persists. These messages are often broadcasted through megaphones by town announcers and mobile public announcement vans that traverse from one community to another.

Vaccine misinformation also remains a significant barrier to reaching children. Girma said that community mobilizers play a key role, addressing parents’ and caregivers’ concerns about vaccines during visits. 

“We also use social listening tools to track and counter false information about vaccines both online and offline. UNICEF’s digital community engagement program mobilizes over 70,000 online volunteers worldwide to counter misinformation and provide accurate and timely information about vaccines.” Some of the common falsehoods they encounter include claims that vaccines are painful and cause illness, weaken the immune system, are designed to harm young people, or are not culturally or religiously acceptable.

In a message to mark World Polio Day 2024, WHO Regional Director for Africa, Matshidiso Moeti, reported that 134 cases of polio type 2 had been detected in 2024 alone as of September 5. The circulating variant was identified in Burkina Faso, Cameroon, the Central African Republic, Chad, Mali, Niger, and Nigeria.

As polio eradication efforts continue, Maxim and Girma express hope that governments, the private sector, and non-governmental organizations will collaborate to combat vaccine misinformation. They also stress the importance of prioritizing funding to strengthen supply chain systems, ensuring equitable access to vaccines and healthcare services across the continent.

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

‘A Feral Commons’ is a Global Co-Commission public art project spearheaded by the Global Cultural Districts Network (GCDN) and led by Dubai-based Alserkal Advisory. Joint project partners are Kingston Creative in Kingston, Jamaica and Victoria Yards in Johannesburg, South Africa. The project is supported by Urban Art Projects, who are implementing tools to gauge the carbon footprint of the climate change art park project in Kingston. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

By Isis Semaj-Hall, PhD

As a Jamaican writer-scholar, I am inclined to begin a discussion of Chain of Love: Rice and Peas Bush in Lower South Camp (2024), an ecological public artwork by visual artist Camille Chedda when and where Jamaican theorist Sylvia Wynter begins 530 years ago, in May of 1494 when the Tainos of Yamaye discovered Columbus and his men offshore in strange cloud-tipped canoes.

This land’s first people could never have imagined the imposition and exploitation that was to come. They could not have anticipated the planting of flags — first Spanish, then British; nor could they have foreseen diasporas of people forced from Africa and lured from Asia. The fruits, flowers, and fronds stowed on European-commissioned Jamaica-bound ships from Africa and Asia, all for the sake of feeding colonial husbandry, could not have been predicted as the Tainos gazed out on the not-yet-warmer and not-yet-polluted waters of their island home that was not-yet-losing landmass under climate change’s sea-level rise.

Visual artist Camille Chedda looks through the vent blocks that form part of her installation located at the Climate Change Art Park in Parade Gardens, Mannings Park. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

Why examine a 21st-century art installation through a 15th-century perspective? I begin here because centuries of abuse, exploitation, and neglect continue to impact us and our environment today. But through new and meaningful partnerships, there is a way for us to survive and bloom anew. Through the arts and culture nonprofit organisation Kingston Creative’s participation in the Global Co-commission, an international initiative foregrounding subaltern community knowledge, contextualising the global climate crisis, and driving collective action in public art in urban spaces, Chedda’s Chain of Love installation can plant seeds of community-building possibilities.

The title and theme of the Global Co-commission is A Feral Commons, which refers to the co-dependences and collaborations between humans, plants, animals, and water. What history does the word “feral” hold for a postcolonial place like Jamaica? For many, it recalls those Africans who were freed and who freed themselves to the hinterlands of this island. The Spanish called them “cimarrónes” because these formerly enslaved people were deemed “wild” and feral for stealing off to live free in the island’s densely forested, mountainous, bio-diverse, and colonially inaccessible interior. But Jamaica’s cimarrónes, later anglicized as Maroons, survived because of their knowledge of their environment and their ability to coexist with nature.

I begin with this historical grounding because today, in the legacy of colonialism, plantation devastation, industrial, technological and digital revolutions, and a worsening climate crisis that will unevenly impact small island states like Jamaica, we, like the Tainos, are facing the possibility of annihilation. Just as it was for the Maroons in the 16th century, today, our future as Kingstonians depends on our ability to work with nature. Our chances of climate survival in this urban space depend on the actions we take now to shift away from the abuse of nature and towards building a respectful and reciprocal relationship with our natural environment.

Supporters of the initiative in front of the signage that proudly identifies the Climate Change Art Park in Parade Gardens, Mannings Park. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

In 2015, Kingston became a UNESCO-designated creative city of music. Decades before, the world came to know Downtown Kingston through the voice and lyrics of Bob Marley of The Wailers, who sang out in 1973 that this place is a hard and difficult “concrete jungle” where few can survive. In a way, Chedda extends the possibilities of the “concrete jungle” through her vision to reinvigorate a community park at Tower Street and South Camp Road. In partnership with Kingston Creative, residents of the community, and local government representatives, Chedda’s vision for an equitable and beautiful multi-species community space blossomed. But true to Kingston’s “concrete jungle” reality, the road to fruition was hard and hot.

This park’s community has seen an unfair share of violence. Meetings with residents were sometimes difficult as people had concerns for their safety. The park needed repairs that could only be completed by elected officials, so when local elections were held during the park's rehabilitation, the change in representation meant unavoidable delays. Still committed to the community and the project, Chedda persisted and forged relationships with the men, women, and children she met in and around the park. She came to know residents like the community gardener Mr. Peary, the cookshop-keeper Miss Madge, and the well-respected and well-loved Mas Joe (Joseph Manning).

Chedda's design of a metal arch above a cement form offers the wild Rice and Peas bush a path to climb. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

For many in the community, Mas Joe was synonymous with the park. Chedda learned that he planned the park decades ago, and he installed the ironwork that borders the space. On any given day, he could be found there with a warm smile and a gentle spirit. So, when Mas Joe passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on Easter Weekend 2024, during the planning and installation process for Chain of Love, sadness swept over everyone in the space and people working on the project. With this heavy loss, Chedda’s artistic vision had a chance to prove its restorative power.

Even before the project was complete, it provided a space of solace and comfort. Her installation of a metal-arch-topped cement structure was designed to give the wild Rice and Peas bush (Antigonon leptopus) a way to climb overhead. It also functions as shaded seating for park-goers to look at photographs of people in the community who worked together to create this “feral commons.” Under the metal-meets-plant archway, the cement base blocks frame what are now deeply sentimental images of Mas Joe’s last days. Because of his role in the park’s original development, Chedda planned to include his likeness in a mural panel, but with his passing, her painting of him evolved to honour his legacy in the community. Sitting in or walking through the commons, the mural depicting Mas Joe’s warm eyes and smiling face can be seen and felt.

The Rice and Peas peek through the concrete blocks at the Climate Change Art Park in Kingston. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

Alongside Mas Joe, Miss Madge’s cookshop is also featured in one of the many murals painted by Chedda and a group of volunteer artists from the community. Large images of residents’ dogs, cats, birds, and a very large rooster are brightly painted on the commons’ back wall. Depictions of children and adults resting on blankets and benches invite passersby to do the same.

Connecting the mural’s panels are paintings of the pink-flowering vines of the Rice and Peas bush. As a common fast-growing plant on the island, the Rice and Peas bush had taken over this downtown park during its years of disuse. Pretty but not ornamental, Jamaican gardeners tend not to invite Rice and Peas bushes into their botanical spaces. But this feral plant has both nutritional value (the edible seeds are used as a substitute for making the eponymously named dish Rice and Peas) and medicinal value (the leaves are brewed for tea to relieve cold symptoms and menstrual cramps).

Rather than remove the bush and the ecosystem it supports (bees, in particular), Chedda left much of it untouched. While the northern area has been de-bushed to accommodate people and an herb garden, the commons’ southern area remains fully feral. The Hope Royal Botanic Gardens and the Forestry Department donated mint and basil plants, as well as flowering bougainvillea and plumbago plants, to line the commons’ footpaths.

The park is now an area that the community enjoys. Photo by DenniVisuals, courtesy Kingston Creative, used with permission.

Where once there was a park that had fallen into wild disrepair, now thrives an active public space revived by art. In this community park, neighbours now gather in the shade to reflect, and when needed, they can nourish and heal themselves with medical and edible plants that flourish in the space. With climate concerns graduating to climate crisis realities, this ecological public artwork invites the community to return to the land, to their roots for sustenance.

In this “feral commons,” new seeds of climate resilience have been planted. Environmental caretaking now rests in the able hands of the community, just as it did long ago. To survive, people and plants must coexist in the concrete jungle that is Kingston.

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Picture by somalilandstandard, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

By Mohamed Osman Guudle

The political landscape of the Horn of Africa is one of the world's most complex and contentious. Its epicenter is the longstanding conflict between Somalia and Somaliland with roots in history, colonial legacies, and competing national identities.

In January 2025, Somalia will be taking its seat at the UN Security Council for two years.

But while the world has been talking about Somalia and its problems with terrorism, governance, and security, very little attention has been paid to the Republic of Somaliland, recognized internationally as part of Somalia, although the latter reinstated its lost independence of June 26, 1960, on May 18, 1991.

A tale of two histories

To understand the conflict between contemporary Somalia and Somaliland, one has to consider the colonial legacy that was wrought upon the two. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, European powers divided the Horn of Africa into five distinct areas. The northern part of it was under the administration of Britain, forming a protectorate named British Somaliland, while Italy ruled the southern portion of Somalia.

Whereas British Somaliland had a more hands-off system, Italian Somalia experienced more direct colonial administration; the two united upon gaining independence in 1960 (June 26 for Somaliland, July 1 for Somalia) into the Somali Republic through the pan-Somali ideal of an integrated nation-state bringing together all Somali-speaking peoples, also including those in Ethiopia, Kenya, and Djibouti.

This unity, however, was fragile from the outset. The northern region, having fallen under British rule, felt politically and culturally detached from the southern-dominated government in Mogadishu. Quite simply, Somaliland's colonial history sharply contrasted with that of the south, leaving a legacy of distrust.

The fall of the Somali Republic and the restoration of Somaliland's independence

The Somali Republic was relatively stable until the 1970s, when Siad Barre‘s military regime seized power in a coup. Barre's government initially espoused a sort of “scientific socialism” and national unity but quickly fell into rank authoritarianism, driving growing discontent among the people of Somaliland.

In the late 1980s, in the north, an opposition movement was formed: the Somali National Movement (SNM). It demanded autonomy in the wake of ruthless government repression. Between 1987 and 1989, an estimated 200,000 people were massacred by Barre’s forces, and millions fled to neighboring countries. The conflict raged on, and, by 1991, when the central government fell and Barre was ousted, the northern region unilaterally restored its independence under the name of the Republic of Somaliland. Since then, Somaliland has operated in relative stability, forging its own government, military, and institutions, but it has never been recognized by the international community.

Somalia's territorial integrity vs Somaliland's quest for recognition

The genesis of disagreement between Somalia and Somaliland finds its basis in two opposing narratives: the status quo of a territorial integrity that Somalia ascribes to, juxtaposed with Somaliland's claim for independence based upon a unique identity with historical autonomy.

To Somalia, Somaliland's separation means a violation of its territorial integrity. The government of Somalia still considers Somaliland an “integral part of the Somali Republic” and says that recognizing Somaliland would create a dangerous precedent on the whole African continent for “separatist movements.”

The government of Somalia, with support from the African Union (AU) and United Nations, prioritizes national unity to ensure regional stability. It advocates for reconciliation and peaceful conflict resolution within Somalia’s recognized borders, emphasizing cooperation against threats like al-Shabaab, piracy, and clan conflicts. The government promotes a federal system granting regional powers while rejecting any secession.

For Somaliland, its desire to be recognized comes from a history that makes it a separate entity prior to unification in 1960. The restoration of independence in 1991 was driven by a desire to escape the chaos and violent conflict that raged in southern Somalia after the collapse of its central government.

For Somaliland, its stability is proof of its ability to govern itself, ensuring peace and order. It has developed its own functioning political system, held several free elections, and developed a relatively strong economy based on trade, livestock, and remittances from the Somaliland diaspora.

The leaders of the Somaliland government insist that the Somali Republic did not defend the north, and therefore Somaliland's people have every right to self-determination, just like any other nation. They refer to the international recognition accorded to other self-declared states, such as Kosovo, and argue that their case should be treated no differently.

Somalia's seat in the Security Council

Somalia's UNSC seat solidifies its monopoly on representing all Somali people, including Somaliland, on the world stage and enables it to advance its diplomatic agenda against Somaliland's independence. This presents a nightmare for Somaliland, given that the international community is unlikely to move toward recognizing Somaliland while Somalia is actively engaged in global diplomacy.

The global community is sensitive to the explosive situation in the Horn of Africa and the growing need to find solutions to the many conflicts across the region. However, it remains divided on the issue of Somaliland's independence. While informal diplomacy by countries such as Ethiopia and Kenya has been exercised with Somaliland, supporting its autonomy in various ways, they have held back from formally recognizing it, due to apprehensions over the wider regional implications of supporting secession.

It is for this reason that the AU has always stuck to the letter on the issue of territorial integrity in Africa and is apprehensive that recognizing Somaliland would promote more “fragmentation” in Africa-especially where other “secessionist” movements occur.

However, Somaliland's leaders argue that their case is not secessionist and should not be put within the context of larger continental politics. They underline the fact that this matter for them has to do with self-determination and a government of Somalia that has failed to provide stability and inclusivity representative of all its peoples.

No likely solution

While much of the Horn of Africa faces political and security problems, the dispute between Somalia and Somaliland still represents a fundamental divide that has not been overcome. The absence of relevant initiatives for recognition on the part of Somalia or a commitment to a reconciliation process that would take into consideration the aspirations of both regions, means the international community is unlikely to make a move in this regard.

Somaliland’s pursuit of independence is steeped in a separate identity, traumatic war, and an experience of repression under the central government of Somalia. For Somalia, the goal is unity in a region prone to instability and ensuring sovereignty.

For now, these two narratives — unity or self-determination — have reached an impasse, with the future of the Horn of Africa hanging in the balance.

Dr. Mohamed Osman Guudle is a Somaliland scholar specializing in Economics, Political Science, and International Relations. He holds a PhD from Istanbul University (2019) and is a researcher based in Hargeisa, Somaliland. His focus is on the political and economic issues of the Horn of Africa, particularly Somaliland, Ethiopia, Djibouti, and the Red Sea region. Additionally, he serves as the president of the Somaliland Society of Political Scientists (SSPS), a nonprofit organization dedicated to advancing the study and research of political science.

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Medical convoy in Khemisset region in northern Morocco. Source: sada.lmaghrib Facebook page, used with permission.

By Khalid Bencherif

While playing in her village in southeastern Morocco, little Idia suffered a fall. Her family rushed her to the nearest hospital, only to find it lacked a crucial medical scanner. Desperate, they took her 100 kilometers away for scans, but the diagnosis was inaccurate. They then embarked on a 330-kilometer journey to Fez, where Idia passed away. 

This tragic incident is one of many that are caused by the severe healthcare disparities in Morocco.

The rural areas in the country face significant healthcare challenges. Over half the doctors are concentrated in urban areas, leaving vast rural regions underserved. Nearly half the population must travel over 10 kilometers for healthcare, often hindered by rugged terrain, scarce transportation, and economic hardship. Morocco also suffers from a shortage of doctors, with only 7.8 per 10,000 people in 2018, far below the WHO's recommended 23.

‘Shortage of medical personnel in Morocco.’ Illustration by Khalid Bencherif, used with permission.

To bridge this gap, Morocco has embraced mobile medicine and telemedicine which makes use of new communication technologies to provide healthcare for people at a distance. 

Such mobile medical units and telemedicine platforms bring healthcare services to remote villages, reducing the need for long journeys and ensuring access to specialized care. The COVID-19 pandemic further emphasized the importance of telemedicine, making it a vital tool for delivering healthcare to isolated communities.

Mobile healthcare in Morocco takes several forms, including medical convoys organized by civil society groups, government-backed mobile units, and telemedicine stations that connect remote patients with specialists via video. 

Telemedicine units are already operating in places like Chefchaouen in Morocco’s northwestern Rif Mountains, with 19 civilian campaigns and over 900 mobile medical visits in 2023 alone according to Jawad Dib, an official health services provider. 

Since its pilot in 2015, Morocco’s telemedicine program has expanded to reach 40 rural communities and is expected to serve 120 by 2025.

Health relief

During my field visit to Bab Berd in Chefchaouen, I met several residents who had benefited from one of the mobile medical campaigns. Among them was 63-year-old Mohammed, who suffered from multiple health issues, including high blood pressure and stomach pain. 

“I couldn’t afford to travel to the city for treatment because of the cost and distance,” he explains, “but when the medical campaign came to our village, I was able to receive the necessary tests and treatment at no cost. Now, thank god, I feel much better, and this has brought immense relief to my poor family.”

I also encountered Maryam, a young girl who had been struggling with a persistent dental problem. With no dentist in the area, Maryam had endured months of pain. When the mobile medical team arrived, they were able to treat her condition and finally bring her relief.

“Maryam was in so much pain at night, and we didn’t know what to do,” her mother recalls. “The medical campaign came at just the right time, and we are deeply grateful to the doctors who helped her.”

More needed

My journey then took me to the town of Rich, in southeastern Morocco, a region that has long suffered from neglect. In early September, a medical campaign was organized for the local residents and surrounding villages, hosted by the town’s poorly equipped hospital.

Several villagers shared their positive experiences, including Fatima, a woman in her fifties who explained the significant impact the campaign had on her community: “It helped us enormously, but we still need a permanent, fully equipped hospital here in town,” she said. 

Fatima emphasized how the campaign had been a lifeline for many people who previously had no access to healthcare. “These convoys sometimes only come once a year, and we need far more than that,” she added.

Medicine for the poor

Actually, mobile medicine — whether through mobile medical units or telemedicine — has proven not only effective in improving healthcare but also as a tool for promoting rural development. 

When villagers have reliable access to healthcare, they are better able to participate in economic and educational activities, which enhances their quality of life and helps them break the cycle of poverty.

Moreover, mobile medicine provides a valuable opportunity to reduce the healthcare gap between rural and urban areas and promote health equity. 

Tayeb Hamdi, a Moroccan doctor and researcher in health policies and systems, explains, “Telemedicine units are vital when specialized doctors are not on-site. Thanks to digital diagnostic tools and advanced communication technology, medical services can now be provided remotely. This helps ensure equal access to treatment and contributes to the democratization of healthcare.” 

He further points out, “We often assume telemedicine is for wealthy countries, but in reality, it serves poorer nations even more. It’s like the transition from landline telephones to mobile phones — if we had remained reliant on landlines, the poor would not have been able to afford them.”

Tayeb is optimistic about the potential of telemedicine. “The future of medicine lies outside of hospitals, not inside,” he explains. “Even in cities, it’s becoming possible to receive treatment at home, especially for conditions that don’t require hospitalization.” He stresses the need for the private sector to be involved, for investment in this area, and for changes to legislation to ensure quality and promote health coverage linked to telemedicine.

Map of areas benefiting from civil medical campaigns in the first half of 2024. Data collected and map designed by Khalid Bencherif, and used with permission.

Real challenges

While mobile medicine offers significant benefits in rural Morocco, it faces several challenges. From a logistical perspective, one major challenge is the rugged terrain, which makes accessing some remote areas extremely difficult. “The rough landscape and isolation of certain regions are major obstacles to providing healthcare services,” says Habib Kroum, representative of the Moroccan Nursing Association. 

He also highlights the shortage of human, logistical, and financial resources, which further complicates efforts to meet the healthcare needs of these populations.

Jawad Dib, an official health services coordinator, notes that some individuals or groups run campaigns without properly coordinating with local health authorities, leading to duplicated efforts or services that don’t match the community’s actual needs. “Some exploit these campaigns for profit, which is unacceptable in this field,” Dib says.

Researchers also warn of potential risks. Telemedicine could be misused as a cost-cutting tool by some countries, particularly in rural areas, where healthcare budgets are already stretched. 

Experts insist that telemedicine should not become a substitute for proper in-person healthcare; instead, it should be used to complement existing services, ensuring clinicians can provide the best care for their patients.

This was visible during my field visits, where people criticized medical campaigns as being, in some cases, merely an attempt to compensate for the lack of well-equipped hospitals in rural areas. Many residents expressed their desire for permanent hospitals with reliable medical staff. 

The European Journalism Centre‘s Solutions Journalism Accelerator programme funded this research project and article with support from the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Maia Sandu and her opponent Alexandr Stoianoglo. Screenshot of video “Moldova's pro-Western incumbent Maia Sandu claims election win | AC1G” from the Talk Shows Central YouTube channel. Fair use.

Maia Sandu won the Moldovan presidential election on November 4, 2024, becoming the country's first leader to secure a second term through direct elections. Sandu’s final lead was around 11 percent, or approximately 182,000 votes — a respectable result. However, there's a caveat. Unlike in 2020, she achieved this victory largely thanks to the votes of the Moldovan diaspora. Domestically, Sandu lost to her opponent, Alexandr Stoianoglo, by a margin of 2.4 percent, or 32,000 votes. This conflicting result highlights a longstanding divide in Moldovan society across multiple dimensions.  Evgenii Cheban wrote about the election results for Moldovan media outlet NewsMaker, and Global Voices translated the article, edited it for clarity and republished it with the permission from NewsMaker. 

How did Sandu secure victory?

The results of the first round of the presidential election and a pro-European constitutional referendum were an unpleasant surprise for the Moldovan government and Sandu personally. The incumbent president's first-round victory was far from the convincing win that could ensure an easy second-round victory. The pro-European constitutional referendum, seen as a rehearsal for the second round, nearly failed.

Taking this bitter pill from Moldovan voters, Sandu's team set out to improve their standing.

The president worked hard to charm voters who supported other candidates, delivering conciliatory and unifying messages, especially targeting the supporters of Renato Usatii, who came in third in the first round. She even reached out to Ilan Shor‘s network of activists. The former air of superiority and condescending attitude towards opponents and their supporters seemed to have vanished.

A notable symbol of this shift was a Friday photo with Ion Ceban, the mayor of Chișinău, whom Sandu and her team had long labeled as “Moscow’s man.” Now, the two stood together — though with not-so-happy expressions — promoting a “European future” on Sandu's Facebook page, just two days before the deciding vote.

A divided Moldova: Why the diaspora had to rescue Sandu's victory, and what's next?

In response to the protest vote of the first round, Sandu acknowledged the government's mistakes and even promised reforms, starting with government reshuffles.

To minimize the impact of Shor's activists, reportedly financed by Russia, law enforcement ramped up efforts, with daily reports of searches, detentions, and fines for vote-buying. 

The media leaked the database of Ilan Shor’s supporters in Moldova, spreading it widely on social networks. Government supporters abandoned the presumption of innocence and publicly denounced those listed.

Read more: Moldova's presidential elections face the second round

Alexandr Stoianoglo's campaign: A contrast in approach

Between the two election rounds, Stoianoglo and his team were far less active. He performed poorly in debates with Sandu, gave a few advantageous interviews, did a social media stream, but posted little about his campaign meetings.

Sandu's team’s active engagement across multiple areas stood out against Stoianoglo's passive campaign, yielding results. The combined strategy of tackling Shor’s network, mobilizing supporters, and appealing to voters from eliminated candidates paid off.

Sandu improved her first-round result by 275,000 voters, of which only 115,000 came from higher turnout. Stoianoglo gained an additional 347,000 votes — 141,000 short of the total votes for eliminated candidates in the first round. This shortfall in protest votes partially resulted from Renato Usatii’s refusal to support the opposition candidate in the second round. But the main reason for Stoianoglo’s loss likely lies elsewhere — most Moldovan voters aren’t prepared to see a candidate from a pro-Kremlin party as president. Sandu’s campaign focused heavily on this fear during the final stretch.

Division one: Geopolitics

When Moldovans discuss societal divides, they often reference a geopolitical split — those favoring European integration versus those leaning toward Russia. Russia's aggression against Ukraine has significantly reduced support for the latter stance.

The main pro-Kremlin political force, which openly backs and justifies Russia's invasion of Ukraine, is Ilan Shor’s semi-underground organization. In the second round, Shor urged his supporters to vote for Stoianoglo and arranged transportation to polling stations abroad in Minsk, Baku, and Istanbul. Igor Dodon, the Socialist leader backing Stoianoglo, also tried to justify Putin’s actions, though with less enthusiasm and more caution.

Connections between Stoianoglo and pro-Kremlin forces were a major point of attack and a key vulnerability. Although Stoianoglo condemned Russia’s invasion of Ukraine as an act of aggression, supported Ukraine's territorial integrity, and distanced himself from Dodon, his efforts didn’t seem convincing enough.

Fear of a “Kremlin Trojan horse,” as Sandu called Stoianoglo, became the main rallying cry for her supporters in the second round.

The final election results clearly showed that most Moldovan voters (especially those in the diaspora) are wary of any Kremlin-associated forces. This narrative will likely feature heavily in Sandu’s and PAS’s strategies in the upcoming parliamentary elections.

Division two: inequality

If the Socialist Party and Shor are toxic due to corruption and Kremlin ties, why did Stoianoglo win domestically? Moldova isn’t driven solely by geopolitics or fears of war. Particularly in the regions outside Chișinău, another societal division exists — one unrelated to high politics or global concerns.

Moldovan society is split into two Moldovas, with little relation to geopolitics or Vladimir Putin.

The first Moldova consists of citizens with incomes above average, mostly residing in Chișinău or abroad. They vote predominantly for pro-European politicians and favor EU integration. These citizens travel to Europe frequently, making visa-free access, low-cost airlines, and parking fees at Chișinău airport vital. Most have Romanian passports and influence public opinion on social media and TV.

The second Moldova lives mainly in Moldova's emptying villages and small towns, often lacking basic utilities like centralized water and sewage systems. Many in this second Moldova are elderly, surviving on minimal pensions, while younger residents, with low salaries, consider emigration, taking microloans for essentials. They feel the brunt of any economic shock, be it inflation or rising utility costs.

These citizens aren’t necessarily against Moldova's European path; they simply don’t see or feel its benefits. Yet, they constantly hear about EU integration from government officials and see EU flags displayed everywhere.

The stark difference between these two Moldovas becomes evident by comparing photos from Shor's party protests and last year’s pro-European rally in Chișinău. Even better, take a look at footage from the 2022 Chișinău Marathon. There, men and women in branded sportswear with expensive gadgets run past elderly poor dressed women, who have been brought to the Shor protest and are watching them with curiosity.

The second Moldova is poorly represented in public spaces and Moldovan politics. They often fall for populist slogans and cheap promises and feel alienated by the arrogance shown by the first Moldova, including the ruling party and president.

For this second country, socioeconomic conditions matter more than foreign policy. The Communist Party once addressed their need for justice, as did Sandu and PAS with their anti-oligarchic stance in 2020–2021. Recently, Stoianoglo has appealed to this sentiment with his slogan, “Justice for All,” explaining his domestic win.

Two Moldovas, two presidents

The first Moldova, mainly the diaspora and Chișinău, chose Sandu, while the second Moldova voted for Stoianoglo — two different countries, with different priorities, wanting different presidents.

In her post-election address, Sandu once again promised to be “the president for all citizens,” aiming to bridge the divide intensified by this campaign. But can she — and will she?

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

The “Battery Swap” system, an interchangeable battery model for electric motorcycles in the Dominican Republic. Photo by Evergo, courtesy Climate Tracker, used with permission.

By Carolina Pichardo

In the Dominican Republic (DR), the adoption of electric vehicles (EVs) is growing. In mid-October, the government delivered 150 electric buses for school transportation. Onesimo González, director of the DR's Student Transportation System, says this first fleet of eco-friendly, electric school buses – which are equipped with GPS, 360-degree cameras, seatbelts, foldable STOP signs, and a range of 200 kilometers per 100 percent charge – would impact over 160,000 public school students. The vehicles also feature regenerative brakes for consistent and safe operation.

The DR also recently installed the first fast-charging station for electric vehicles in the Caribbean and Latin America. Located in Punta Cana in eastern Dominican Republic, the station has photovoltaic panels, state-of-the-art energy storage, and CCS1 chargers — the fastest available in the region. With its capacity of 225 kilowatts (kW), it can simultaneously charge 29 electric cars with 100 percent renewable energy. The infrastructure required an investment of over USD 10 million and was developed entirely with Dominican talent.

The Evergo Connect charging station has only been operating for seven months, in which time it has logged an average of 400 monthly users, with a steady growth of five percent month over month. Each user visits the station to charge their vehicle up to four times a month, amounting to around 1,600 charging transactions monthly. Joan Félix Benitez, Evergo’s senior superintendent of innovation, estimates that the Punta Cana station will serve over 500 regular users.

The company leading the project launched the first charging station in 2019. It now has over 560 stations, 487 of which are publicly accessible, while the rest are in private locations, including businesses and residences. The company soon plans to open its first branch in the heart of the capital, Santo Domingo, which Benitez says “will be a pioneer”: “The charging station we are setting up in the National District […] will have chargers with the highest available power in the region, reaching up to 300 kW per unit. This will allow users to recharge large vehicles in minimal time, offering unprecedented capacity in regional charging infrastructure.” The station is set to open in the first quarter of 2025.

How the EV industry is being embraced in the DR

225 kW ultra-fast chargers, the most powerful of its class in Latin America. Photo by Evergo, courtesy Climate Tracker, used with permission.

Between 2020 and 2023, there was a 60 percent increase in electric vehicle registrations — and according to the Human Settlements of Sustainable Mobility report from the National Statistics Office of the Dominican Republic, 3,043 electric vehicles have entered the country over the past four years. CEO of Electric Vehicles, RD Rafael Flores, predicts that as time goes on, the percentage will continue to grow. He said they anticipate an electric revolution soon: “The Dominican Republic has made strides in creating infrastructure for electric mobility. Installing charging stations, including fast chargers, has facilitated the use of electric vehicles in the country.”

According to Flores, motorcycles are a primary means of transportation in the Dominican Republic due to the ease of movement they offer amid frequent traffic jams. In 2023, there were as many as 14,000 electric motorcycles on the country’s roads, some also used for deliveries. Flores says it is the category of electric vehicles that has grown the most: “Consumer acceptance — primarily among merchants — has been exceptional. You can already see many small grocery stores in the city with electric bikes, supported by large companies providing options for these micro-entrepreneurs to acquire their units.”

Obstacles to mass adoption

The electric vehicle market in the Dominican Republic still faces challenges, however, including the need for optimised incentives for EV purchases and improved charging infrastructure in rural areas.

Flores notes that while trends show sustained growth and a gradual shift toward more sustainable mobility, the lack of accurate information and the spread of false news are among the main obstacles to adopting sustainable mobility in the EV realm. Such myths and misinformation can raise doubts among consumers, he says, delaying the transition to cleaner and more efficient mobility.

But what about cost? How do the initial and ongoing maintenance costs of EVs compare with those of internal combustion vehicles in the country? Currently, you can purchase an electric vehicle at roughly the same price as a fuel vehicle of similar quality or size, and several reliable brands are already well established. In terms of maintenance, since EVs have fewer parts that create friction, they require less preventive maintenance.

Flores explains that the first major preventive maintenance for an electric vehicle could be after 15,000 to 20,000 kilometres, compared to about 5,000 kilometres for a combustion vehicle. Preventive maintenance inspections are straightforward, including tyre rotation and checking vehicle fluids (brake fluid, coolant, etc.), resulting in over 70 per cent annual savings on maintenance costs.

In terms of electricity versus fuel consumption, savings are estimated at around 80 percent and, in some cases, as much as 90 percent. The average person spending 12,000 Dominican pesos (about USD 200) on fuel would only spend about 2,000–2,500 pesos (USD 33-42) on energy.

What do Dominicans think about EVs?

While opinions have changed significantly in recent years thanks to available online information, Flores says that some people still feel uncertain about whether it’s the right time to make the switch.

Fear of change is one of the main reasons most Dominicans don’t purchase electric vehicles, so the Dominican Association of Electric Mobility (ASOMOEDO) hosts events, talks, and forums to inform the public about the benefits of sustainable mobility, encouraging people to consider a hybrid or electric vehicle for their next purchase.

Still, Flores insists, “the perception of electric vehicles in the Dominican Republic is generally positive, especially among those looking for savings and sustainability,” but he admits “there are still barriers related to infrastructure, initial cost, and misinformation that hinder widespread adoption.”

So, what does the future hold for electric vehicles in the Dominican Republic over the next five to 10 years? Charging infrastructure is key to the success of electric vehicles, so both the private and public sectors are expected to expand it further. In the medium term, the used car market is expected to grow. As more people purchase new electric vehicles, there will be a larger supply of used electric vehicles at more affordable prices.

Environmental benefits

Dominican environmental activist Yenaro Ali calls electric vehicles allies of the environment, explaining that their use reduces fuel use and excessive CO₂ emissions from fuel-powered vehicles.

EVs don’t produce the same negative emissions as fuel-powered vehicles — and the fact that even the charging stations have the ability to operate on renewable energy makes their use even more viable in reducing environmental impact.

“With the current adoption projections for electric vehicles in the Dominican Republic,” Ali explains, “national electricity consumption could increase by three to six percent by 2030 due to electro-mobility — a manageable level from an energy standpoint.”

In the case of Evergo and its partners, more than 1.9 GWh of energy used annually in their stations in the Dominican Republic is from renewable sources. This saves the emission of over 1.7 million kg of CO₂ being released into the environment.

User experiences

For many, the decision may come down to the driving. Electric vehicle user Helena Saenz notices no difference between her car and combustion vehicles. In fact, among the advantages she’s observed are privileged parking spaces where charging stations are located, lower energy costs, time savings, and less maintenance.

The cost is about DOP 1,000 (about USD 17) each time she charges it. For a combustion vehicle, it was 4,000 pesos (USD 66). “Charging the vehicle is now part of my daily routine,” says Saenz. “I don’t have to add an extra task to my daily to-do list to charge my vehicle.”

Another user, Robert Burgos, drives a Skywell and has had an excellent experience as he no longer worries about oil or coolant changes or the vehicle overheating. His vehicle provides him with a range of 400 to 500 kilometres per charge.

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

A man passes by a destroyed tank (T-72) on the main street of Edaga Hamus, in the Tigray region of Ethiopia, on June 5, 2021. Image by Yan Boechat/VOA on Wikimedia Commons (Public domain).

By Haftu Hindeya Gebremeskel, an associate professor at Mekelle University in Tigray, Ethiopia.

On November 2, people in Tigray, Ethiopia, will mark two years since the civil war in the region officially ended. On this date in 2022, my region’s leading party, the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), signed the Pretoria Peace Agreement with the Ethiopian government, which the United Nations considered a “critical first step” towards ending the brutal war. 

On that day, as every day, I will look at an old pair of shoes I keep on my stairs at home. The ripped and worn shoes are a reminder of the two hellish years of war we endured. These shoes carried me when the federal government and its allies blockaded Tigray and put us under siege. Between 2020 and 2022, about 600,000 Tigrayans died as a result of senseless and reckless actions‚ and 2.5 million were internally displaced by the fighting.

I keep them because when I look at my shoes, I remember the unbearable suffering we endured together. It seems to me that these shoes can talk. They tell the memories I cannot bear to verbalise myself. But the world needs to hear what happened to us, because it feels like everyone has forgotten Tigray.  

I bought my new shoes just before the war erupted on November 4, 2020. That evening, our lives took a drastic turn. Within weeks, people from every corner of Tigray were flooding into our capital, Mekelle.

The government began a campaign of hatred against Tigrayans. The Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed said the TPLF were “invasive weeds” that “must be uprooted in a manner that will never grow again.” Fellow politicians and allies echoed these sentiments, using slurs like “weeds,” “cancer,” “rats,” and “terrorists” to describe us. The government incited ordinary citizens to humiliate, attack, rob, and even kill hardworking Tigrayan people. Thousands lost their jobs, had their businesses looted and shuttered, and were imprisoned or killed. Tigrayans were hunted everywhere — in their homes, offices, along roadsides, in taxis — targeted simply for their identity. Those who could fled to Mekelle or sought safety outside Ethiopia.

As people arrived in Mekelle with nothing, residents had to come together to provide what help we could. Meeting and coordinating efforts was challenging because of frequent airstrikes targeting civilians in broad daylight, yet we persevered in supporting our sisters and brothers. Civil organizations made ongoing announcements on Radio FM Mekelle, encouraging us to support one another and sharing information about donation sites.

During this time, my shoes stayed with me as I gave away all my other pairs of shoes to those in need. Almost all of our family’s clothing was donated to support those affected. Despite fear, shock, and a relentless determination, we didn’t hesitate to help those who once had more than us.

My shoes endured a lot. My friend Abenet and I walked roughly 16 km (10 miles) a day across the city. With no money and a complete halt in transport services due to fuel shortages, we had little choice.

We often visited friends working in NGOs, hoping they might relay messages to our families outside the region or country, as these were the only places with limited internet access. Unfortunately, many were reluctant to help. Some asked for money or favors, while others seemed to have lost hope. A few treated us with indifference or harshness. 

My shoes. Photo by Haftu Hindeya Gebremeskel, used with permission.

Whenever I look at my shoes, they bring back specific memories. One day, while wandering the streets of Mekelle, I ran into a friend who inquired about my sister’s wellbeing. This filled me with worry, as just a day before the signing of the Pretoria Agreement, my hometown, Mekhoni in Raya, had been heavily bombarded. I later found out that my sister’s home, a civilian building with no ties to any military target, was destroyed. Sadly, this was a common occurrence in nearly every town across Tigray during the brutal, bloody war.

Hearing this devastating news shocked me to my core. The Ethiopian government had blocked all communications, so I couldn’t call or arrange an immediate visit because of the lack of transport. I returned home, consumed with worry for my dear sister — it was perhaps the hardest walk of my life.

When I arrived, I found that my younger brother had come from our hometown to reassure me. He shared that our sister had been at our mother’s house when her home was destroyed. Relief flooded through me.

Another time, I looked at my shoes, and they seemed to carry memories of the rapes, as if they had absorbed my conversations during the war and stored them away. I remember walking with Abenet, telling him about a report published by Amnesty International in 2021, which focused on sexual violence. 

What happened to the women of Tigray was beyond comprehension. Soldiers acted with barbarity — gang-raping Tigrayan women and leaving used condoms, razors, and other harmful objects in their bodies. They targeted children and pregnant women, subjecting them to sexual slavery, mutilation, and other forms of torture. These predators harassed them with ethnic slurs and death threats. Rape and sexual violence were wielded as weapons of war, intended to degrade and dehumanize Tigrayan women and girls, leaving lasting physical and psychological scars. According to regional authorities, at least 120,000 women were raped in Tigray during the conflict.

There were other dark memories my shoes could recall, like a day in August 2021, when I watched the news and saw images of Tigrayan bodies floating down the Tekeze River. It was a cruel reminder of the depths of our enemies’ brutality.

Children suffered profoundly. They were separated from their loved ones, and the savage Eritrean army cut off their joints while they were alive. Airstrikes killed many mothers and children in broad daylight in the markets of Adidaero, Alamata, Togoga, and at a kindergarten in Mekelle, to name a few. 

The war was gruesome, and its atrocities impacted the hearts and minds of ordinary people around the world. Yet, I believe it didn’t move powerful nations — the US, UK, and other Western countries—deeply enough. These nations, which pride themselves on defending human rights, knew what happened in Tigray, but they took no meaningful action to help us.

Even now, we have the peace agreement, but we are not at peace. Two years on, almost one million people are still unable to return to their homes. We cannot rebuild our scarred agricultural land, or bombed towns and villages, because Tigray is also experiencing the worst drought for 40 years. Food security levels in almost the entire region are at crisis and emergency levels. About 1.84 million Tigrayan children have been out of school for three consecutive years. Despite efforts made, only below half of those children are back to their severely devastated schools. And 80 percent of teachers surveyed showed signs of post-traumatic stress disorder, indicating the severe psychological toll the war has taken on them, according to a report.

I think to myself, as I look at my shoes, time passes, and these times bring us lessons we learned the hard way. The Tigray war must be documented. Those with writing skills must tirelessly document our harrowing stories so that our children can avoid repeating the same mistakes. 

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Sasha Pleshco on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash license.

On October 20, presidential elections and a constitutional referendum on joining the EU were held in Moldova.  The results of the presidential elections and the referendum on European integration came as a surprise to many in Moldova. Only slightly more than 50 percent of voters supported the inclusion of the European course in the constitution. On November 3, 2024, Moldova will hold the second round of the presidential election, with incumbent President Maia Sandu and former Prosecutor General Alexandr Stoianoglo advancing. NewsMaker examined why the forecasts and polls did not materialize, and what can be expected next. Global Voices translated the article and republished with permission from NewsMaker. 

With a narrow margin and a second round

The second round of the Moldovan presidential election will take place in two weeks, on November 3. The candidates will be Maia Sandu from the ruling PAS party and Alexandr Stoianoglo from the Socialists. Pre-election polls showed that Sandu would likely take first place and Stoianoglo second, but the difference in numbers was significant.

Polls showed that around 30–35 percent of respondents were ready to support Sandu, while around 10 percent favored Stoianoglo. This was out of the total electorate, with a large portion of voters still undecided. As a result, Sandu received 42.45 percent, and Stoianoglo 25.98 percent.

Elections on the edge

The referendum, on the other hand, was expected to see an overwhelming victory for the “Yes” vote.

In reality, the referendum was split almost in half: 50.49 percent voted in favor of including European integration in the Constitution, while 49.57 percent voted against.

Regions against the EU?

Interestingly, according to preliminary results (after half of the ballots were counted), those voting against the referendum were significantly higher (around 56 percent) than those voting in favor. The situation began to change once the ballots from overseas voting stations were processed. Inside the country, most regions had more voters against the constitutional amendments. In fact, there were regions where Sandu (the initiator and main promoter of the referendum) came in first place, but the majority voted against the referendum, such as in the Ungheni and Leova districts. In some districts, Sandu received fewer votes than the “Yes” vote on the referendum, such as in the Telenesti and Nisporeni districts.

The capital, Chișinău voted “Yes” to amending the constitution: 55.98 percent of voters in the capital supported it, while 44.02 percent were against.  All districts of Chișinău and its suburbs supported the amendments, except one, where the majority opposed the EU course being added to the Constitution.

Southern and northern regions of the country mostly voted against the amendments.

WatchDog expert Andrei Curararu argues that the fact that in more than half of Moldova’s districts, over 50 percent opposed the constitutional amendments is not representative.

In federal states, federal subjects play a bigger role. But we are a unitary state. Our demographic situation is such that the population gravitates toward living in Chișinău. I believe that half of our population now lives in Chișinău. We see that Gagauzia voted against the amendments, but let’s not forget that only 200,000 people live there, and typically only about 55,000 vote.

He also pointed to the economic influence of Chișinău and the diaspora on the country’s development, suggesting that this factor should be compared with the regions that voted against.

Why did this happen?

After the preliminary election and referendum results were announced, Maia Sandu stated that around 300,000 voters were targeted for bribery. There were expectations of provocations and vote-buying during the elections and the referendum. The fugitive oligarch Ilan Shor, sentenced to 15 years in Moldova, and his “Victory” bloc created a network of supporters, offering them money to join and recruit others. The police repeatedly conducted searches and arrested leaders and members of the bloc’s territorial organizations for illegal financing and influence on the electoral process. Curararu noted that Moldova has a “televised format” for defending democracy: “We conduct searches and arrest two or three leaders, but we do not work with the population. And the population turned out to be much more influenced by Shor than we thought earlier.”

Former Moldovan representative to the UN and Council of Europe Alexei Tulbure noted that Russian interference became a very serious factor influencing the results. However, if judicial and law enforcement reforms had been implemented in Moldova, “the destructive power of Russian interference could have been minimized.”

Political scientist Angela Colatski compared the government’s response to Shor’s actions to “a mosquito bite.”

When you sit down to play with a cheater, it doesn’t matter what game you’re playing—you always have to stay alert. We can’t fight them using their methods, because those are illegal methods. We need to use the entire state arsenal, and ahead of time.

Bad timing

Alexei Tulbure believes that only reforms improving people's lives can make the process of European integration irreversible.

If people's lives improve, we can confidently say there will be no going back. But adding amendments to the Constitution won’t make European integration irreversible. We lack a legal culture. 

 Moreover, organizing a referendum simultaneously with the presidential election raised many questions. Some pro-European supporters also voted against it, as “it was a vote against the government, not against Europe.” Tulbure emphasized that “This was a message directed at the president and PAS, who organized the referendum when it wasn’t the right time or method.” 

Insufficient work with voters

Another reason cited by experts is insufficient engagement with voters. “There needs to be political work to achieve broad consensus on European integration and to unite society,” Tulbure said. He believes the process should involve other ethnic and political groups in the population, which “would change their attitude towards it.” He added, “If they are excluded, they become easy prey for propagandists and populists.” 

According to him, the PAS team didn’t do enough to reach out to voters.

They [PAS representatives] visited central districts of Moldova, where their stable electorate mostly lives. The president didn’t visit the north or the south, where her rating is significantly lower. In the next two weeks leading up to the second round, she needs to visit these areas and convince people.

Angela Colatski also noted that the idea of the referendum was poorly communicated to voters. “Not all voters understood that there would be no second round for the referendum. The slogan ‘There will be no second round in the referendum’ came too late,” she said. 

What’s next?

Moldova is heading to the second round of elections. Making predictions is difficult. The gap between candidates in the first round is 16 percent. Sandu has already appealed to the supporters of Octavian Ticu, Andrei Nastase, Tudor Ulianovschi, Ion Chicu, and Renato Usatii, asking for their support in the second round. However, it is worth noting that all these candidates criticized the incumbent president.

Among the named candidates, Renato Usatii received the most electoral support, finishing third in the first round. In the previous presidential election in 2020, Usatii also placed third and called for votes for Sandu in the second round. Before the first round of the current election, Usatii said he would not endorse anyone this time. Stoianoglo, on the other hand, may unite all opposition-minded voters. But whether that will be enough to close the gap and pull ahead remains unclear.

On the other hand, it seems that Sandu has already mobilized her stable electorate, and there are no more votes to draw from. Experts disagree. Tulbure believes Sandu still has two resources: voters from the northern and southern parts of the country, whom she failed to convince in the first round, and the diaspora, which, although it already demonstrated massive voting, could provide additional support.

Angela Colatski believes that Maia Sandu must build cooperation with other pro-European forces, especially ahead of next summer’s parliamentary elections. The referendum results revealed not only a deep societal divide but also dissatisfaction with the current government. Experts have long doubted whether PAS will replicate its 2021 results. “It’s necessary to start negotiating a pro-European coalition now,” Colatski noted.

Curararu believes the shock from the referendum and election results could serve as motivation for pro-European voters.

There are two weeks left until the second round of the election, and the campaign will intensify. Both candidates have already challenged each other to debates.

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

View of western Bakhmut during the battle, April 5, 2023. Image by Dpsu.gov.ua, via Wikimedia Commons (CC BY 4.0).

 Journalist Marfa Khvostova of the online magazine Novaya Vkladka spent a week in the summer volunteering at a military hospital in one of Russia's cities. Global Voices translated, edited for clarity and republished her article with permission from Novaya Vkladka.

In the psychiatric ward, soldiers live for months with diagnoses ranging from schizophrenia to PTSD. None of the dozen patients Marfa Khvostova spoke to wanted to return to the war. Some say they would rather go to prison or die.

‘You always feel like fighting’

The hospital grounds are lush with greenery. Every 20 meters, men sit on benches: some missing a leg, others an arm, some with bandaged heads. A young woman in a beige linen suit struggles to push a wheelchair with a young man who is missing his right leg below the knee and his left leg entirely.

In front of the psychiatric ward, patients smoke. Those without chairs sit on the curb, laying pieces of foam underneath themselves.

The long, bright corridor has dimly lit rooms with curtains drawn. Some patients curl up on beds, facing the wall, while others quietly converse. Most patients spend their days on their phones. They don’t read the news about the war: “It’s all lies.”

Wheelchairs sit beside some beds, and water bottles line the windowsills. Around 80 people are in the psychiatric ward, mostly of lower military ranks and junior officers: sergeants, corporals, lieutenants. Some arrived recently, while others have been there since spring. 

Patients are divided into “enhanced” and “strict” categories. The elderly can walk around the hospital freely, while the strict ones aren’t allowed to be alone to prevent harm to themselves or others. After every visit from relatives, nurses search the patients’ belongings for sharp objects, alcohol, or drugs.

A volunteer’s task is to accompany the “strict” patients to doctor’s appointments. The men undergo military medical evaluations to determine whether they are fit for further service.

The corridor is stuffy, and the patients’ faces are covered in sweat. Many are wearing state-issued striped pyjamas with “Army of Russia” printed on them.

The silence is broken by a tall, slender man named Alexey, wearing a tank top and track pants. He slithers up to me like a snake and looks me directly in the face, his green eyes piercing through me.

I am a perfectly healthy person. But I’m abnormal for society, just as society is abnormal for me. You can inject me right now so I die. Once I’m free, all of humanity will die too.

Alexey wraps a white waffle towel around his neck and pulls it tightly with a sinister smile: “The towel is strooong.” He’s one of the “strict” patients and sometimes really seems unsound. Most of the other patients, though, behave normally, engage in conversation, ask questions, and express curiosity about civilian life. They all take antipsychotic medications. I lead Alexey and a few others to a medical procedure. 

A hospital bed with a young man is rolled into the corridor. His left eye is covered with gauze, and where his right arm should be is a stump. Bandages wrap around his lean, tattooed body. The man tries to clench his hand but can’t — there’s a shard in his left elbow.

The next patient is Ruslan, a tall, broad-shouldered man from the North Caucasus. He was drafted in September 2022 and ended up in the psychiatric ward because he couldn’t sleep anymore. He’s 28 years old.

When asked about their pre-war profession, all the patients immediately list their wartime occupations as if civilian life had never existed. “Senior chemist,” Ruslan responds without hesitation. Chemists, he explains, “decontaminate” mined areas. “But really, I was just going into attacks. Nobody cared who you were or what you did. They said ‘attack,’ and you attacked.”

Ruslan says that after a storming operation, “you always feel like fighting.” Civilian life bores him. 

Better off in prison

Few psychiatric patients want to talk to a priest, but volunteers regularly ask if anyone is interested. “After the meds they give us, all the holiness is beaten out of you,” one man brushes it off, though he still asks the priest to bring him an icon of Saint Nicholas. Another laughs: “We’ve got demons living here.”

Read more: Sanctifying the profane: The Russian Orthodox Church at the front

Andrey, from a small town in the Urals, went to war after a conversation with a priest. Before signing the contract, he went to the church for advice: should he go to war? The priest said, “You have to defend your land, it’s a good cause.” Many clergymen say the same, Andrey notes. If the priest had said that fighting wasn’t right, Andrey might have hesitated. Now, Andrey wears striped hospital pyjamas, moves around on crutches, and hears voices of Ukrainian spies “hiding in the trees.”

Medical records show patients’ military specialities and diagnoses: grenade launcher operator, paranoid schizophrenia, medic, psychopathic schizophrenia. Today, I’m escorting another “strict” patient, Pasha, a 27-year-old from Kyiv, to the urologist. His medical record lists PTSD.

I’m a self-taught radio operator, worked my way up to battalion communications chief. When I turned 18, I went to the Donetsk People’s Republic (DNR) to fight against the Nazis. We had a power grab, and Nazism started. They desecrated monuments.

Pasha’s relatives live in Kyiv. “My mom and stepfather are with us, but the rest are with the ‘Ukrops’ (a derogatory term for Ukrainians). My father’s a former SBU (Ukrainian Security Service) officer, we don’t talk. He says: ‘Go defend your Putin.’ But I don’t like Putin either. He’s responsible for so many deaths.”

A patient is rolled into the hall in a wheelchair. His leg was recently amputated. Nurses discuss how to take him to the ultrasound: “He’s already had painkillers; he’s barely holding on.” They clumsily transfer the man to a stretcher. His bandaged stump hangs in the air.

“Nothing is stitched up there; they just cut it the f*** off,” the man explains, groaning as he rests his stump on a pillow. “Oh, oh, oh, f***, f***.”

He’s given a bottle of water. Two other patients walk by, holding their urine bags.

Pasha sits, staring at his phone, scrolling through TikTok. He doesn’t read the news: “It’s boring.” In 2019, Pasha ended his military contract, but on February 22, 2022, while living in the DNR, he was drafted. 

During the war, he started having panic attacks — constant anxiety — and he nearly stopped sleeping. He blames his condition on overwork and “constant humiliation from the bosses”:

If there’s any pressure, I start shaking all over, and my brain stops working. I’ve been on pills for three months now — nothing helps. I’m always lying around, depressed. It’s hard to hold a conversation, my brain starts to freeze. It’s hard to focus. I’ve become an idiot. Sometimes I just want to overdose on pills and be done with it.

Pasha’s wife, who lives with their two children in a city in central Russia, tells him to quit. He says, “That’s impossible”:

It’s either prison, or you keep serving. Let them put me in prison! Five years, at least I’ll be alive. And if it’s ten — I’ll hang myself. There’s no way out except suicide. I tried to push those thoughts away, I’d take a pill right away to calm down. Sometimes I get aggressive — that’s the worst. My mind locks on a goal: to kill. And then suddenly, corpses flash before my eyes.

Three nurses were having a tea party, enjoying a homemade cherry pie brought by a patient’s mother. Sipping hot tea, the women explain how everything works in the hospital:

There are such characters here; it's awful. You can buy anything in the hospital: drugs, vodka, even a prostitute. And there are so many holes in the fence! You can’t stop anyone from escaping. You give the guard 500 rubles — go out, get drunk, come back. 

Addicts and alcoholics are given a Category D status at the military medical commission, but some return to their units after the hospital: they help the orderlies and chop wood. They’re not given weapons anymore.

The others get Category B and go back. They sit here for seven or eight months, [finding excuses not to return to the war]: my butt itches, I’ve got a pimple. But no one in this ward loses their mind because of the war. That happens if they take some bad chemicals or if they already have latent schizophrenia. Some stress comes along, and it snaps.

The nurses recall how a 20-year-old conscript patient escaped during the winter:

He stepped outside for a smoke and said, ‘That’s it, guys, I’m going home,’ and just bolted across the ice!  Yeah, in summer sneakers, over the fence. He had already called a taxi, and it was waiting for him.

According to the nurses, the man went home, started doing drugs, and three months later hanged himself in a barn. His mother later came to the hospital to collect his things and passport.

The nurses fall silent, finishing the pie. One of them, setting her cup aside, looks me in the eyes: “There are no normal ones here — the normal ones didn’t go to war.”

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Untitled illustration by Sahar Ghorishi, used with the permission of the artist.

By Johanna Bankston, Senior Officer of Human Rights Research and Policy at Artistic Freedom Initiative (AFI), which produced the report referenced in this piece.

This week, Iran’s newly inaugurated President, Masoud Pezeshkian, is participating in the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) in New York City to share Iran’s views on several pressing topics. During his visit, he is scheduled to meet with various heads of state, think tanks, and groups of Iranian expatriates to discuss Iran’s path towards a “better future” under his leadership. As Pezeshkian prepares to discuss Iran’s future with the international community, it is imperative that he be prepared to address the pressing issues plaguing Iranians in the present, including the rampant and systematic targeting of activists and dissidents.

The president’s visit comes on the heels of the two-year anniversary of the tragic death of the young Kurdish-Iranian woman, Mahsa Jina Amini, which sparked nationwide protests in Iran known as the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement, which the government responded to with intense violence. At the same time, it initiated a multi-year campaign to target dissidents — including activists, journalists, artists, and lawyers — with punitive measures for their work in support of the movement.

In the past two years, the world has witnessed the imprisonment of hundreds of Iranian dissidents who were arbitrarily charged with disseminating propaganda, threatening Iran’s national security, committing blasphemy, or offending public morality as a direct result of their critical work and/or peaceful protest. Convictions under these laws can result in severe and disproportionate sentences, including time served, flogging, and/or capital punishment.

Several recent high-profile cases of political prisoners in Iran have increased international awareness of this pressing issue, which must be addressed immediately. However, a recent report we produced at the Artistic Freedom Initiative (AFI) entitled “I Create; I Resist: Iranian Artists on the Frontline of Social Change” reveals that the Islamic Republic’s abuse of political prisoners often continues after their release through its application of punitive measures.

‘My Hair is Not Your Battle Ground’ by Roshi Rouzbehani, used with the artist's permission.

The report documented 15 cases of artists who were arbitrarily arrested and under the overbroad and vague laws mentioned above for their critical work and/or expression. The case outcomes varied; several artists were released as a “gesture of goodwill” by the regime, while others, like dissident rapper Toomaj Salehi, received severe penalties, including a death sentence, which was later lowered to time served. Importantly, the report found that, in nearly all of these cases, the dissidents were subjected to additional punitive measures that allowed the state to censor and exert control over them for several years after their release. These include but are not limited to forced confessions, work bans, and restrictions on their mobility.

In July 2022, Iranian writer, poet, and activist Sepideh Rashno was arrested for failure to adhere to the legally mandated dress code for women by appearing in public without a hijab. Rashno was held in detention for weeks before her sudden appearance on an Iranian state television program, on which she “confessed her regret” for breaking the law. The artist appeared with bruises on her face, raising concern that she may have been tortured until she agreed to make the apology. Despite her confession, Rashno was later convicted of “propaganda” and “promiscuity” and will serve a nearly four-year prison sentence.

Forced public confessions have become a common tactic used by the government to publicly humiliate dissidents and send a message to viewers that even peaceful protest could result in severe repercussions. Such “admissions of guilt” are usually obtained through torture or threats directed at the dissident or their family members. The psychological effects of torture are likely to stick with the victim for years; fearing a repeat occurrence or harm to their loved ones, the victim may be less likely to reengage in activism after their release.

The regime is also increasingly using enforced work bans as a punitive measure to stifle dissent in the long term. In 2022, Taraneh Alidoosti, the leading actress of the 2017 Oscar-winning film The Salesman, was arrested for “spreading falsehoods” after posting a picture of herself without a hijab on Instagram and holding a placard that said, “Woman, Life, Freedom.” The actress was jailed for two and a half weeks and was later subjected to a ban from seeking employment in the Iranian film industry.

Untitled illustration by Sahar Ghorishi, used with the artist's permission.

Work bans allow the regime to actively censor dissidents after they have been released from prison under the guise of the law. Further, facing years of enforced unemployment under penalty of imprisonment, artists like Alidoosti may suffer irreversible professional consequences, such as becoming stigmatized in their industry or facing financial precarity as they seek alternative ways to support themselves and their families in the interim. While less immediate than threats of physical harm, such economic persecution is still acutely felt by those subjected to it.

Finally, the regime is also placing mobility restrictions on released political prisoners to prevent them from seeking opportunities to continue their advocacy abroad or request refuge in another country. Just weeks ago, director Mohammad Rasoulof, whose movie “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” won the prestigious 2024 FIPRESCI Prize at Cannes, made headlines when he fled Iran on foot through the land border after he was given an eight-year prison sentence for creating a film about the 2022 protests without state permission. Rasoulof shared that his passport had been confiscated years prior by the government as a punitive measure for his previous artistic projects, and this prevented him from being able to seek refuge from the persecution to which he was subjected throughout his career.

The regime’s use of coercion and torture, economic persecution, and the enforcement of mobility restrictions on political prisoners following their release is unlawful. It is important that the international community recognizes these punitive measures as part of the full spectrum of repressive tactics employed by the regime against dissidents and that it includes them in its advocacy.

As influential groups begin to engage President Pezeshkian in discussion on Iran’s future in the next weeks, it is essential that they hold the protection of Iranians’ rights in freedoms as an issue of paramount importance as the country contemplates reform under its new leader.

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Damilola Olawoyin. Photo provided by Toheeb Babalola, used with permission.

By Toheeb Babalola

Nigeria is home to 29 million people with disabilities (PWDs) who are often willing to travel great distances in search of spiritual healing to alleviate their impairments. Regrettably, many eventually realise they have been deceived after losing substantial sums of money and resources.

According to the Word Bank Disability Assessment report, an estimated 7 percent of family members over the age of five (as well as 9 percent of those 60 and older) have some degree of difficulty in at least one functional domain, including seeing, hearing, communicating, cognition, walking, or self-care. 

When it comes to seeking spiritual healing, Damilola Olawoyin, a 32-year-old blind teacher, has had enough experiences to leave him with long-term emotional and psychological trauma.

Olawoyin began experiencing vision problems at the age of 10, but his parents were unaware. As a playful child, he kept it to himself until his vision began to worsen. This prompted his parents to take him from one hospital to another in search of a medical solution. After conducting various tests at the University College Hospital (UCH) in Ibadan, Oyo State, doctors diagnosed Olawoyin with glaucoma, a disease affecting the optic nerve.

His parents were advised not to touch his eyes after treatment to allow for gradual recovery. However, the treatment was not effective. So, as Olawoyin grew up, he had to rely on assistance from others to get around because of his poor vision.

In 2009, he embarked on a 208-km (129-mile) journey from Ikọtun, Lagos State, to Ile-Ifẹ in Osun State, in the southwest, hoping to find a solution. A relative of his maternal grandfather invited him to attend an open crusade at the Ife stadium. During the event, a woman evangelist, one of the crusade organizers, approached him and said, “Let me pray for you so that you can see again.”

“She claimed to know about my blindness without even asking,” Olawoyin recounted in an interview with Global Voices. “Before I knew it, two men arrived and dragged me to the podium to testify that my sight had returned. They forced me to say something that wasn’t true.”

After giving the false testimony, as Olawoyin returned to his seat, the evangelist invited him to meet her the next day. His father also travelled to Ile-Ifẹ to meet this woman who claimed she could restore his son’s vision.

The evangelist introduced them to a prophetess, who instructed the father and son to buy a white ram without blemishes and a crate of eggs, which would be used to prepare a soup for Olawoyin's vision restoration.

“I was told to stand on the ram and bathe with soap. Then, I began breaking the eggs one by one. Despite my objections, she eventually demanded NGN 17,000 (USD 10),” he revealed.

Olawoyin's vision worsened, and he lost his father. His mother later remarried.

In 2014, after returning to Lagos, Olawoyin’s mother, Funmilola, sought spiritual healing from a prophet at a Cherubim and Seraphim church in Ikotun-Egbe. She was introduced to him by a prophetess who was a friend of her new husband. “They said the prophet had the power to raise the dead. If he could do that, restoring my sight wouldn't be a problem,” Olawoyin noted. In the YouTube video below, Olawoyin and others share their experiences:

After a long wait, Olawoyin and his mother finally met the prophet. He unprofessionally pressed Olawoyin’s eyes, asked a few questions, and then demanded NGN 60,000 (USD 37). Despite his mother’s plea for a discount, the prophet remained firm on the price.

Eventually, she agreed to pay the money, the prophet prayed for her son, and they left for the house with a lot of questions going through Olawoyin's mind.

Two weeks later, as Olawoyin's mother was gathering the money to pay the prophet, chaos erupted at the church. She rushed over and saw a police van parked outside, with the church’s altar shattered. Officers had handcuffed the prophet, revealing he led a gang of violent armed robbers responsible for numerous bloodbaths in Lagos and beyond.

“That was heartbreaking. No one expected his arrest. He was the gang leader, using the church as a front,” Olawoyin said.

The police found cash, seven guns, charms, and other weapons in the church. The prophet was later charged and sentenced by the Lagos Magistrate’s Court.

In Apẹtẹ, Ibadan, Oyo State, Ridwan Tijani, a 30-year-old cobbler who uses a wheelchair, had a similar experience with a traditional healer named “Ìyá Ọsun” while seeking a cure for his paralysis.

Ridwan Tijani. Photo provided by Toheeb Babalola, used with permission.

Having been paralyzed from a young age, Tijani had little understanding of the cause of his disability. He recalled his father taking him to Ijẹbu Ode one afternoon to meet the woman at her traditional shrine called an Osun shrine.

After traveling 73 km (45 miles) from Ibadan to Ijẹbu Ode in Ogun State, Tijani met Ìyá Ọsun. She was dressed in simple white to match her shrine. She cut his legs with a razor, sucked the blood out with her mouth, and spat it onto pieces of white paper tied with black and white thread.

“At the time, there was someone named Ifa who would disappear in front of me but continue communicating. I wasn’t sure if he was human. Nothing worked, and I never saw them again after a few weeks,” Tijani told Global Voices. “We were seeking healing but saw them as magicians.”

Another man with visual impairment, Samuel Oluwasegun Dabiri, graduated from Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU) with a degree in international relations.

Samuel Oluwasegun Dabiri. Photo provided by Toheeb Babalola, used with permission.

Dabiri was ill with measles in 1996, and his parents were unable to seek medical help until the disease infiltrated his body and claimed both of his eyes. 

His father took him to the place of Sango, the god of thunder, where they were told to make sacrifices such as bringing rams, goats, and palm oil, as well as collecting a large sum of money. 

“Those things were more expensive back then than they are now. My father spent a significant amount of money to ensure the sacrifice took place, but it was a waste of money, resources, time, and even energy,” Dabiri told Global Voices.

After enduring various psychological traumas over the years, Olawoyin, Tijani, and Dabiri came to terms with their circumstances and continued with their careers. They urged the Nigerian government to enforce the Discrimination and Prohibition Against Persons With Disabilities Act of 2018.

What do experts say?

Grace Fehintola, the founder of God Grace Health Centre, expressed outrage over prophets pressing on deteriorating eyes, which could cause further damage to the eye socket. She also warned that soaps used for spiritual rituals, lacking professional endorsement, could harm the skin.

Yinka Olaito, executive director of the Centre for Disability and Inclusion Africa (CDIA), noted that religion has become like a highly addictive narcotic, and fake religious leaders are exploiting PWDs. He suggested that “religious bodies and their leaders should be educated on the dangers of these practices. For real progress to happen, law enforcement and the PWD community may need to collaborate.”

Written by Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Paralympic Game Paris 2024 Men's 100 m T52 final. Image by Ibex73 on Wikimedia Commons (CC BY 4.0).

By Adesewa Olofinko and Richard Wanjohi

The 2024 Paralympic Games in Paris were held from August 28 to September 8, marking a significant moment for African nations.

The continent showcased both remarkable achievements amidst ongoing challenges in para-sport across the continent. With approximately 4,400 athletes from around the world competing for 549 medals across 22 sports, Africa's representation was notable, with a total of 312 para-athletes participating from 44 countries.

African nations collectively secured 64 medals, surpassing their total from the Tokyo 2020 Paralympics by just one. The medal distribution included 23 gold medals among 8 countries, with Morocco leading the pack by earning 15 medals, including 3 golds. Algeria followed closely, achieving its first medal in para-canoeing, with Brahim Guendouz winning gold in the KL3 class. 

Record-breaking performances

Nigeria’s powerlifter and two-time Paralympic champion, Folashade Oluwafemiayo, etched her name in history by winning gold in the women’s 86 kg para-powerlifting category and becoming the first para-athlete in history to lift 166 kg. Similarly, Onyinyechi Mark broke the world record twice back-to-back in the women’s 61 kg category. She first lifted an impressive 147 kg to set a new record, only to surpass it moments later with a 150 kg lift, securing the gold medal for Nigeria. 

Nigeria's Mariam Eniola Bolaji also made history in badminton, becoming the first African player to win a medal in the sport at either the Paralympics or the Olympics. 

In athletics, Ethiopia's Tigist Mengistu defended her title in the women’s 1,500 m T13 race, while compatriot Yayesh Gate Tesfaw stunned the world by smashing the world record in the women’s 1,500 m T11 final. Fatima Ezzahra El Idrissi of Morocco added to the continent’s glory, demolishing the world record in the women’s T12 marathon by finishing in 2 hours, 48 minutes, and 36 seconds — shaving nearly six minutes off the previous mark.

In the men’s 100 m T13 final, Algeria’s Skander Djamil Athmani clinched gold with a new Paralympic record of 10.42 seconds. He also secured another gold in the men’s 400 m T13 event. Meanwhile, South Africa’s Simoné Kruger set a Paralympic record in discus with a throw of 38.70 meters, just 12 cm shy of the world record.

Other standout moments came from Mauritius, which celebrated its first-ever Paralympic medal when Yovanni Philippe secured bronze in the men’s T20 400 m race. 

Among those solidifying their legacies was Tunisia's Raoua Tlili, who won two more golds, bringing her career total to 8 Paralympic golds and 10 overall medals. 

Swimming at the Paralympic Games. Image by Ibex73 on Wikimedia Commons (CC BY 4.0)

The excitement surrounding the Games was palpable on social media platforms, which have become a vital platform for African athletes and supporters to share their journeys and rally public support. Fans across the continent were using platforms like Instagram and Facebook to follow their favorite athletes, celebrate their milestones, and push for better recognition of Paralympic sports.

On X (formerly Twitter), the African Paralympic Committee shared updates and celebrated athletes’ achievements;

“Team Nigeria” Folashade Oluwafemiayo wins a gold medal at the Paralympics, and she sets a new world record in the women's over 86kg Para-Powerlifting category, becoming the first Para-athlete to lift 166kg.

Photo credit: MakingOfChamps/Twitter pic.twitter.com/NP8JogoNHC

— Legit.ng | Leading the way (@legitngnews) September 8, 2024

Team South Africa also paid tribute to their parathletes;

SIX medals for Team South Africa at the Paralympics! Our athletes have pushed their limits, inspiring the nation with their unstoppable spirit and dedication. You've made Mzansi proud! #TeamSA #ForMyCountry #Paralympics pic.twitter.com/6WwskNZkvM

— Team South Africa (@OfficialTeamRSA) September 10, 2024

Nigeria's Mariam Eniola Bolaji was also commended for her achievement:

The first African athlete to win a Paralympic medal in badminton: Nigeria's Mariam Eniola Bolaji pic.twitter.com/HdE4aoM0L3

— ESPN Africa (@ESPNAfrica) September 2, 2024

The 2024 Paralympic Games also provided an opportunity to spotlight the ongoing challenges facing African athletes with disabilities despite the successes achieved. Issues like inadequate funding, lack of access to proper training facilities and infrastructure, and limited media coverage continue to hinder progress. Social media has played a vital role in highlighting these issues, with advocacy groups urging more investment in Paralympic sports on the continent.

Samson Deen, president of the African Paralympic Committee, while speaking with BBC Sport Africa, commended the athletes for their exceptional performances and emphasized the need for increased support:

“African athletes have shown that if our governments and our people lift up support, they are going to perform much, much better.”

As the Paralympic flag was handed over to Los Angeles in a spirited closing ceremony, the world will now turn its attention to the 2028 Games.

Looking ahead to the Los Angeles Olympic Games in 2028, an area of priority for Africa will be to increase the number of entries and the level of competition. There were 312 para-athletes sent from 44 nations on the continent, with nine countries having just one representative.

The second African Paralympic Games are planned for 2027, with the hosts to be selected before the end of this year. This is after a successful inaugural Games held in Accra, Ghana, in 2023.  It will be an opportunity for the best para-athletes from the continent to compete at the highest level. 

Written by Richard Wanjohi, Guest Contributor

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Sasha Pleshco on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash license.

This article was written by Ekaterina Dubasova and originally published by Newsmaker on August 21, 2024. A translated and edited version is republished on Global Voices under a media partnership agreement.

Relations between Chișinău, Tiraspol (Transnistria), and Comrat  (Gagauzia) remain far from peaceful. While many point to Russia's destabilizing actions, Moscow is not solely to blame for these tensions. In its report published on August 21, the International Crisis Group (ICG) concluded: “The Moldovan government's hardline approach to Transnistria and Gagauzia has led to increased internal tensions and appears counterproductive.” This article highlights the key findings from the ICG report and explores the challenges Moldova faces in fostering unity amid external and internal pressures.

The Kremlin’s strategy and its transformation

Experts from the International Crisis Group emphasize that Russia has historically viewed the territory of the former Soviet Union as its sphere of influence. However, Moldova's economic ties with Western countries have strengthened: energy crises, along with Russia's war in Ukraine, have prompted Chișinău’s decisive turn toward the West.

The situation did not sit well with Russia, resulting in a shift in its tactics regarding Chișinău. Early in the war, “Moscow seemed to believe that gaining control over southwestern Ukraine up to Transnistria would allow it to use military pressure to impose its demands on Moldova.” The authors point out: “Now that the front lines are far from Moldova’s border, this strategy has been sidelined, and Moscow has chosen a different path.”

The Kremlin’s new tactic is intimidation. This primarily involves stoking fear among the Russian-speaking population of potential discrimination by Moldovan authorities. The report draws attention to the shelling of the local Ministry of State Security building in Tiraspol and other similar incidents in April 2022, stating: “It seemed intended as a reminder that Russian power can still reach Moldova.”

A stick without a carrot is a poor tool

However, the authors of the report argue that the growing split between Chișinău and Gagauzia, as well as Transnistria, has been fueled not only by Russia's interference in Moldovan politics but also by Chișinău’s own policies: “After strengthening ties with the West and Ukraine, inspired Moldovan officials have moved toward tightening political and economic control over breakaway Transnistria and autonomous Gagauzia. This has sparked concern and discontent among the residents of these regions.”

The International Crisis Group also noted that, since the start of the war in Ukraine, Russia's influence in Tiraspol has weakened. To support this, the authors cite three factors: First, Tiraspol allowed the transit of Ukrainian goods through its territory. Second, in 2022, the number of applications for Moldovan passports from residents of the region sharply increased (residents sometimes travel with Romanian, Russian, or Ukrainian passports), and by January this year, 97.55 percent of Transnistria’s population held such passports. Finally, in March, the lowest voter turnout in 18 years for Russian presidential elections was recorded in Transnistria.

Thus, the authors conclude that Moldovan officials, feeling increasingly confident in the new geopolitical landscape, sought to tighten political and economic control over the region. Examples include the Moldovan law about separatism and the removal of customs and tax privileges for Transnistria. These actions prompted the PMR leader — the unrecognized president of Transnistria — Vadim Krasnoselsky, to convene a “congress of deputies at all levels” for the first time in 18 years, during which they appealed to Moscow for diplomatic support. According to the report’s authors, “By choosing the stick without offering a carrot or dialogue, Moldovan authorities risk provoking backlash and increasing problems between Tiraspol and Chișinău.”

A similar situation is unfolding in Gagauzia, where Evghenia Gutsul, who is aligned with fugitive oligarch Ilan Shor, was elected as the region’s head (bashkan). Moldova’s president Maia Sandu considers Gutsul part of a criminal group. “After Gutsul’s latest trip to Russia in early April, Moldovan authorities charged her with illegally financing a political party. If convicted, she could face prison time and be forbidden from pursuing a political career. The United States, supporting Sandu’s government efforts to remove Gutsul from power, imposed sanctions on her on June 12,” the report notes.

Nevertheless, Gutsul and Shor's political allies have formed a bloc campaigning against European integration in the upcoming referendum (October 20, 2024). The International Crisis Group observes, “Many voters in Gagauzia, who make up about 5 percent of Moldova’s electorate, are likely to abstain or vote against EU membership. This could influence the outcome, but only in the case of a very tight vote count.”

Challenges

Chișinău faces a difficult task: on one hand, protecting the upcoming elections from Russian interference, and on the other, improving relations with Tiraspol and Comrat.

Regarding the dialogue with Tiraspol, the report’s authors highlighted: first, a very small percentage of Moldovan voters consider the Transnistria’s issue a top priority. Second, the reintegration of Transnistria would increase the number of pro-Russian voters in Moldova. Nevertheless, the International Crisis Group's experts believe that “the geopolitical shifts triggered by Russia's attack on Ukraine have created a rare opportunity for Moldova to strengthen ties with its opposition regions,” and Chișinău must take action to initiate dialogue with Tiraspol.

As for Gagauzia, the authors of the report believe that Chișinău's attitude toward the current authorities of this region is unlikely to change. However, these territories need a dialogue. “The government prefers to maintain relations with Gagauz mayors, businessmen, and students […] Chișinău should strengthen these connections and seek new ones,” the report states.

The primary recommendation from the International Crisis Group on protecting the elections from interference is to combat disinformation and Russian propaganda. The report’s authors called on Western partners to support Moldova’s struggling independent media and encourage the creation of trustworthy Russian-language media outlets.

Written by Guest Contributor, Anastasia Pestova

Originally published on Global Voices

A house with a flooded compound after rainfall. Image by Bobbybopy on Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0 Deed)

By Grace Kobare

Kenya has been experiencing excessive rainfall and flash floods, particularly in the months of mid-March to May this year. The March-April-May (MAM) rains resulted in heavy rainfall across multiple regions of the East African country, including the Lake Victoria basin, the Rift Valley, the highlands on both the west and east sides of the Rift Valley (including the Nairobi area), the southeastern lowlands, the coast, and the northeastern sector. The rains led to significant damage in 42 of Kenya's 47 counties, with the capital Nairobi, Homa Bay, Kajiado, Mandera and Nakuru being the most severely affected by the floods.

In 2020, over 50 percent of Kenyans were employed in agriculture. By May 10, 2024, more than 41,000 acres of farmland had been submerged, leaving many farmers without livelihoods. By April 29, the floods had disrupted trade across numerous counties. The destruction of roads and bridges, along with the precautionary closure of roads, had also impacted daily activities between counties.

On April 14, the government announced that rapid response teams were being put on standby to conduct repairs and maintenance and ensure the continuity of essential services, as substantial damage to roads, bridges, educational institutions, health facilities, and residential buildings was anticipated. By April 26, after deploying over 150 staff and 1,000 volunteers to aid in flood response efforts, the Kenya Red Cross reported being overwhelmed and made an appeal for assistance from other organizations. 

As reported by Africanews, one major challenge faced by farmers because of the flash flooding that began in mid-March was the rapid rise in water levels. This rendered farms inaccessible and severely disrupted agricultural activities. Martha Waema, a farmer from Machakos County, Kenya, had been expecting a return of KSh 200,000 (USD 1,500) from her investment of KSh 80,000 (USD 613) in maize, peas, cabbages, tomatoes, and kale. However, her hopes were dashed. During her 38 years of farming, she said she had never experienced losses of that magnitude. The devastation significantly impacted her financial security, stability, and optimism.

The National Drought Management Authority (NDMA) reported in March that about 1.9 million Kenyans were in need of food assistance because of the torrential rainfall that they were experiencing. The NDMA appealed for donations of regular food assistance and unconditional cash transfers, particularly for vulnerable groups in flood-prone areas.

The detrimental effects of floods on food security became increasingly evident, with widespread waterlogging wreaking havoc on crop production. Agricultural areas along many rivers were inundated, leading to significant crop damage. Additionally, over 9,000 livestock had been lost and at least 41,000 acres of farmland submerged. 

The heavy rains had significant repercussions on Kenya’s food system, prompting experts to warn of impending challenges and the need for proactive measures. 

Experts say that to alleviate the negative impacts of soil erosion caused by flooding, it is crucial to practice sustainable land management.

Tigania West Member of Parliament (MP) John Mutunga, who chairs the Agriculture Committee at the National Assembly, stated that excessive water saturation may impede root respiration and stunt crop growth, potentially leading to losses for this year's harvest. He continued by saying that this year's prolonged wet season “poses a significant threat to our agricultural output.” Soil erosion, which not only depletes valuable topsoil but also disrupts soil structure, will ultimately compromise long-term productivity.

To address these challenges, Mutunga recommended that farmers adopt conservation practices like terracing and strategically placing grass strips to reduce soil erosion and manage runoff more effectively. To counteract the effects of waterlogging, which leads to the loss of essential minerals, making fertilizers ineffective and requiring additional investment, he further advised farmers to consider alternative approaches, such as organic methods, to restore soil nutrients and maintain productivity.

According to Africanews, like John Mutunga, Jane Kirui, an agricultural officer with the Narok County Government, emphasized the importance of terracing and other measures such as cover crops, which are plants grown to protect and improve soil health and prevent soil erosion, such as clover, peas, and rye to improve water absorption.

The Agricultural Soil Management Policy 2023 is also key in addressing this challenge. Agriculture Principal Secretary Paul Ronoh noted, “The policy will provide a framework for assessing soils across different ecological zones and determining their nutrient content. It will also serve as a roadmap for soil treatment and guide the implementation of interventions to improve soil health.” The policy includes features such as sustainable soil management practices, specific interventions like cover crops and terracing to enhance water absorption, and guidelines for soil treatment to restore fertility. Additionally, it emphasizes capacity building, research, and sustainable practices to protect soil resources in the long term.

While the MAM floods exposed Kenya’s inadequate disaster preparedness, underscoring the urgent need for sustainable land management and improved forecasting, it remains to be seen whether the mitigation and sustainability strategies proposed by experts will be implemented to better handle future intense rainfall scenarios.

Written by Guest Contributor