Category: News & Politics

Rwandan journalists under attack despite new press laws

Rwandan president Paul Kagame has signed new press laws and a freedom of information Act, intended to liberalise the media. Yet at the same time journalists are in prison for simply doing their jobs – holding the government to account.

Two of these, Agnes Uwimana and Saidati Mukakibibi, were jailed for allegedly defaming Kagame and “endangering national security” after writing articles that criticised the government’s agricultural policy, its handling of corrupt officials, and the justice system for Rwandans involved in the 1994 genocide. The reporters had been warned by the government-appointed Media Council to “tone down” their criticism, and when they failed to comply they were arrested and charged with genocide denial. Their case has been brought to the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights, where they say that their right to freedom of expression and a fair trial have been violated.

Agnes Uwimana Nkusi (R) and Saidati Mukakibibi (L) in Rwandan’s Supreme Court for the first day of their appeal in Kigali on January 30 2012. Nkusi and Mukakibibi were both given in February 2011 prison sentences of 17 and seven years respectively following convictions on charges of genocide denial, inciting civil disobedience and defamation. (AFP)
Agnes Uwimana Nkusi (R) and Saidati Mukakibibi (L) in Rwandan’s Supreme Court for the first day of their appeal in Kigali on January 30 2012. Nkusi and Mukakibibi were both given in February 2011 prison sentences of 17 and seven years respectively following convictions on charges of genocide denial, inciting civil disobedience and defamation. (AFP)

Under the new laws, which are the result of international pressure and negotiations that lasted many years, the Media Council will stop being a censor and will focus instead on capacity building and promoting professional journalism. The media will be able to introduce a regime of self-regulation, and the freedom of information act will give journalists access to government information ranging from budgets to infrastructure plans.

However, while legislators congratulate themselves on passing these laws, Uwimana and Mukakibibi are not the only Rwandan journalists being persecuted. Radio journalist Habarugira Epaphrodite is being dragged through the criminal courts for mixing up the Kinyarwanda words for “victims” and “survivors” while reading the news about the country’s genocide commemorations. It was a clear slip of the tongue and he was acquitted, but the prosecution has lodged an appeal which will not be heard until mid-2014. Until then, no radio station will hire him and Habarugira cannot work as a journalist.

These are but a few examples of many. Over the past few years, scores of journalists have fled the country, leaving for Uganda, Sweden or the United States, from where they publish their newspapers online. One of them, in exile in Sweden, has tried to get his newspaper back on the streets in Kigali by importing copies by road from Uganda.

But this can be risky. In December 2011, Charles Ingabire, a Rwandan journalist critical of the president, was shot dead in Uganda where he lived as a political refugee. Two months earlier he had been assaulted by unidentified attackers who demanded that he stop publishing his website. A former soldier, Ingabire had written extensively about the Rwandan military and published interviews with other exiled soldiers.

The introduction of a set of new laws, unconnected with the offences for which journalists have been convicted, cannot be called a first step. Journalists have been jailed for criminal libel, alleged national security offences and vague genocide-related laws. If the Rwandan government genuinely wants to liberalise the environment in which the media operates then the real first step is to release the journalists unjustly imprisoned and reform the laws that led to their imprisonment to begin with.

Peter Noorlander for the Guardian Africa Network. He is the head of the Media Legal Defence Initiative which is representing Uwimana and Mukakibibi at the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights and provides legal aid to several other Rwandan journalists. Follow these cases at www.twitter.com/mldi

New TV drama on SA screens

Isibaya is a new Zulu television drama series on South African screens. It is set against the backdrop of South Africa’s taxi industry and tells the story of a generational battle for wealth and power between the Zungus and the Ndlovus, two rival families that live in Thukela Valley. In the past, the two families battled over cattle but the taxi business has become the new hot commodity. Scenes depicting the Ndlovu home were filmed at taxi legend Godfrey Moloi’s mansion in Protea-Glen, Soweto. Moloi, known as the godfather of Soweto, was also the inspiration behindIsibaya. For more about Isibaya, read Rhodé Marshall’s review.

 

My love-hate affair with Zimbabwe’s new constitution

If South Africans should be known for their predilection for taking the road less travelled –  as comedian Trevor Noah once pointed out – then Zimbabweans should be known for their brilliant ideas and their less than stellar execution of said ideas.

In theory it seemed like such a good idea: replace our heavily amended Constitution with a new, fresh and updated version that would say all the right things (declarations on human rights, freedoms and whatnot). After more than a decade of bad press, an ailing democracy, political infighting and economic disaster, what better way to look forward to the future than with a new constitution?

If we Zimbabweans imagined that this would herald the start of a glorious new era, then we must be disappointed. The referendum, held over the weekend, was marred by a voter turnout of less than half the registered voters, isolated reports of violence, seizure of radios from rural communities and the arrests of Prime Minister Morgan Tsvangirai’s aides. Even as the results are being tallied, the cliché rings true: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

A Zimbabwean casts his vote in Epwath on March 16 2013 during a referendum on a new constitution that would curb President Robert Mugabe's powers and pave the way for elections later in the year. (AFP)
A Zimbabwean casts his vote in Epwath on March 16 2013 during a referendum on a new constitution that would curb President Robert Mugabe’s powers and pave the way for elections later in the year. (AFP)

When the process of drafting a new constitution began more than three years ago, people were optimistic. The Anything  But United Government of National Unity seemed, for once, to actually agree on something. Fleets of brand new SUVs, T-shirts and flyers were spewing out from Harare to every corner of the country to harvest the dreams and desires of the people before setting them down on paper. Or at least that was the idea.

I first became aware of the draft constitution process while reading a local newspaper columnist’s piece which stated that the opposition wanted to change the flag and the national anthem of Zimbabwe. It turned out that that he had interpreted the standard declaration in the draft document – that the country was to have a flag and an anthem – as an attempt to change the existing flag and anthem. So began my love-hate affair with the document that would be drafted and redrafted multiple times to a “final draft” that would be drafted yet again to a “final, final version”.

My constant travelling during this period meant that I never got the chance to attend a Constitution Select Committee (Copac) meeting. I spoke to those who did and what they told me that at the beginning it was encouraging and sometimes amusing.  “They printed the constitution on newsprint! They have enough money to buy Nissan Navaras and yet they print their sacred document on newsprint!” We laughed at that one. I tried to assure my friend Derek that perhaps the version in Harare would be printed on bond paper.

In Copac’s outreach meetings, people laid out their demands: a free and democratic state, limits on executive power and the number of terms a president could serve, devolution of the highly centralised administration that currently runs the country, and the legalisation of dual citizenship.  These proved controversial but other issues tested the process to its core – gay rights sparked a firestorm when the initial draft seemed to include it and some politicians spoke out in support of the clause. The public backlash that resulted had many reversing their initial opinions and the final version of the document includes a ban on same-sex marriages. For those Zimbabweans who do not have an ‘acceptable’ sexual orientation, a friend bluntly stated:  “Let them go to Europe or better yet, South Africa.” No one wanted to even dare think of our first post-independence president, Canaan Banana, who spent his twilight years in jail after he was found guilty of sodomy.

I saw the posters plastered around the country: smiling faces and the hope of a new supreme law. I hoped against hope that the document would embody the principles of a country that I would be glad to raise my children in. When the process exceeded its budget, I told myself that it was a small price to pay to safeguard the future. When the process outlived its planned lifespan I began to wonder. Drafting the document and submitting it to the parties in government who would debate it took on a life of its own as Party A refused to endorse a clause that was supported by Party B. Soon a curious stream of compromises began to take place: Party A would soften its position on issue X in return for issue Z but even that proved of limited value, and soon the entire process ground to a predictable deadlock that was only resolved when the Southern African Development Community intervened.

As the process dragged on and on, more and more people seemed to lose hope of what had started as a glorious exercise in nation-building. Clauses that had formed part of the core of their demands were modified drastically or in most cases removed from the document completely.  And as I talked to more of my friends, it was apparent that very few of them had any hope that the end they had envisioned would ever come to fruition.

“Check your Facebook, Bongani, how many people do you see even talking about the referendum?”

“We all know what’s going to happen; we all know what has happened.”

And to be honest we all did. What began as a concentrated elixir of democratic ambitions on the part of the people of Zimbabwe had been watered down to 172 pages of compromises between the two major political parties. What had been the ultimate law that was to protect the rights and liberties of every Zimbabwean had turned into a close cousin of the agreement signed at Lancaster House all those years ago.

There were still those among my friends who tried their best to support it. “We should be proud that we’ve come up with this, it shows we can think for ourselves even if it’s imperfect.” This seems to be a widely shared sentiment as preliminary results show that the new constitution has been endorsed by the majority of the Zimbabwean populace.

Yet there’s one thought that continues to nag me: the generations that follow us will not only judge us for what we did, but what we failed to do.

At best, comedians of the future will think we were nothing but a bad joke.

Bongani Ncube-Zikhali is a bizarre mix of writer, poet, youth activist and a fan of Dr Sheldon Cooper. He currently lives in Paris where he is studying computer science.

New Mad Max movie sparks fury over Namib desert damage claims

The filming of the latest Mad Max action feature in the world’s oldest desert has caused a major outcry, with environmentalists accusing filmmakers of damaging Namibia’s sensitive ecosystem.

The Namibian government was delighted when the director George Miller chose to shoot his post-apocalyptic sequel, Mad Max: Fury Road, starring Charlize Theron, in its country, bringing in 370-million Namibian dollars (£27m) to the economy, employing about 900 local staff, and paying 150-million Namibian dollars in taxes.

The film, the fourth Mad Max feature, was shot in the Dorob national park, in the Namib desert, along southern Africa’s Atlantic coast. Scientists estimate the area to be between 50-million and 80-million years old.

A leaked environmental report claims film crew damaged sensitive areas meant to be protected, endangering reptiles and rare cacti.

The independent researcher appointed to write the report, the ecological scientist Joh Henschel, says public consultation prior to filming was insufficient.

“It all happened without an environmental impact assessment,” he said, “so it’s difficult to assess the extent of the impact without a baseline.”

Henschel said the decision to grant permission to film was made before the country’s newest enviromental legislation was promulgated. This, he says, would have prohibited it.

He said the film crews had driven over untouched areas of the desert, and then tried to erase their tracks by sweeping the area smooth.

“They are doing the best of what they can do under the circumstances, but they can’t undo the damage done, to the environment and their reputation,” he said.

Henschel said the film studio had hired a scientific team of its own to deal with the situation.

The government-run Namibia Film Commission is concerned the negative publicity will damage its lucrative film industry.

Florence Haifene, the commission’s executive secretary, said all the environmental requirements had been met. “We don’t want a bad image painted of our country, especially when the allegations are unverified and untrue,” she said.

In response to reports about the alleged damage, the commission placed a full-page advertisement in a state-owned newspaper denying the claims.

The coastal watchdog Nacoma (the Namibian Coast Conservation and Management Project) said the leaked report had been commissioned by the government in response to complaints during filming, but that it was just a draft that still needed to be finalised.

“[The leak] has been a bit of an embarrassment. It’s difficult and premature to make judgments,” said the co-ordinator Rob Brady. “It’s still being reviewed by other scientists.”

Brady said other films had been filmed in the same area before it was designated a national park. “But unfortunately,” he added, “this is a type of film that is quite destructive, racing vehicles and such over different sites.”

Nastasya Tay for the Guardian Africa Network.

Voting for a better Kenya

At 7am on Monday morning, 45-year-old Maurice Otunga wheeled his wife, Nelly, into the Moi Avenue Primary School polling station in the heart of Nairobi.

Nelly sat patiently in her wheelchair. There was a huge smile on her face. She was eager to cast her vote in Kenya’s first general election since the promulgation of a new Constitution in 2010.

Nelly embodies the hopes of a country at a crossroads – a peaceful election in Kenya opens up new and enticing possibilities, but a chaotic poll could unleash immense suffering. Having voted in the 2007 general elections and witnessed the bloodshed that followed the disputed results, she is well aware of this. Some 1300 Kenyans died in the post-poll fighting, and hundreds of thousands were uprooted from their homes.

Nelly doesn’t want a repeat of that devastation. She’s more concerned about a peaceful election than about which candidate wins.

“I want peace even if my candidate of choice loses,” she tells me after casting her vote.

She hopes that Kenyans will remember that the country is bigger than any of the eight candidates who have presented themselves for the top job in the country. The heavy presence of police officers at the polling stations gives her hope that any incidences will be dealt with.

Maasai tribes-people leave after voting in Ilngarooj, Kajiado South County, Maasailand. (AFP)
Maasai tribes-people leave after voting in Ilngarooj, Kajiado South County, Maasailand. (AFP)

Nelly makes a living from hawking. She wakes up at 6am to prepare her kids for school and then she heads to city centre to sell her wares. On a good business day, she makes KES2000 (approximately R200).

This morning she opted to come to the city from her home in Banana Hill, just 20km north of Nairobi, not to hawk but to make a date with destiny.

Unlike the scores of voters already waiting their turn at the polling station, Nelly was able to jump the queue because of an arrangement put in place by the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission for people with disability.

“I am voting for the sake of my three children so that they don’t end up being a hawker like me. They [must] get an education. I am doing this for their future,” says Nelly. “I have never had hope like today because the new Constitution recognises people with disability and guarantees our rights. For the first time we will have representatives in Parliament. I hope our leaders will implement this Constitution fully.”

Polling stations across the country opened at 6am. Queues stretched for kilometres and it’s likely that voting could go on past 5pm, which is when the polling stations are scheduled to close. Since the government declared Monday a public holiday for voting, the usually bustling city of Nairobi was a ghost town. Streets were deserted and supermarkets, chemists, coffee houses and restaurants remained closed.

A voter puts a ballot paper into the senatorial box at a polling station in the country's western province in Kakamega. (AFP)
A voter puts a ballot paper into the senatorial box at a polling station in the country’s western province in Kakamega. (AFP)

With a few hours to go, many polling stations are still teeming with people. A voter takes up to seven minutes each to cast his/her vote. Each person is issued with six ballot papers – they are expected to vote for a president, governor, senator, MP, women’s representative MP, and a county representative.

When it comes to the presidential seat, the battle is between two of the eight contenders. Uhuru Kenyatta, the son of Kenya’s founding father Jomo Kenyatta, is slugging it out with Prime Minister Raila Odinga. Uhuru and his running mate William Ruto are among four Kenyans facing charges of crimes against humanity at the International Criminal Court. They were reported to The Hague after a commission led by appeal court judge Philip Waki named them as those who bear the greatest responsibility for the post-election violence in 2007 that Kenyans are still recovering from.

Back in her home in Banana Hill, Nelly is hoping that this election will result in a better country instead of more violence.

Jillo Kadida is a Kenyan journalist based in Nairobi.