Notable Entry, Interactive Narratives. 2008 Knight-Batten Awards for Innovations in Journalism.
Visit the interactive Water Wars Web Portal, sponsored by the Pulitzer Center On Crisis Reporting.
The long rainy season in Kenya has begun and sudden storms regularly burst over Nairobi. Many welcome the downpours, which signal the end of another dry summer and wash the steamy crowded capital clean each morning.
As featured in Women's eNews, 1h2o.org, and Living on Earth. Produced in association with the Pulitzer Center On Crisis Reporting.
On September 11th, I flew back to Seattle after almost a year reporting in Asia and the Middle East for independent media. Though I was thrilled to finally be back in the land of football and quality Mexican food, my homecoming was soured by the realization that little had changed in American politics while I was away. The tearful memorials and TV events commemorating the fifth anniversary of 9/11 that filled the airwaves emphasized the sad truth that my time abroad had revealed – that few tears of sympathy were likely being shed for America’s past tragedy in the countries I’d visited.
I found out last night at 11 PM that there was a military coup here in Thailand yesterday. The military’s top general (Songthii) led tanks into Bangkok, declared a coup, and took power from Thaksin, the now former Prime Minister, with the support of the Thai military. They also took over all of the television stations, preventing Thaksin from communicating with the people, and issued their own referendum.
When I first heard this news, it was exciting, since there is a huge amount of opposition to Thaksin here, especially among the leaders of the NGOs we’ve been dealing with and the Thai staff here at our program. There has been quite a bit of corruption and false promises and pushes to liberalize the economy here that have resulted in popular opposition. Thaksin is often compared to Bush, and his role as a puppet of international capital neoliberalism is never underestimated.
I didn't always know that there are different definitions of democracy. Studying for my Masters at Birzeit University, I learned that there are many, and that each one serves a certain ideology, a certain vision and certain interests. It's as if each definition is working to legitimize its own ownership of the concept of democracy which others must recognize and abide by.
Election Fever hit Palestine in 2005-2006. Presidential, parliamentarian, municipal and union elections invaded the region and knocked on the door of every Palestinian. Major players in the democratic process took their places in media, civil society, political parties and unions. Even though it happened under occupation, analysts called it a 'Democratic Honeymoon.'
In the heat of a street protest in The United States the most popular chant that will rise out of the crowd is the impassioned cry, "This is what democracy looks like!" I use this example not to reiterate the tired cliche that Americans are proud of their democratic ideals, but to underscore how the term democracy has become so omnipresent in American political rhetoric that its meaning is now beginning to elude us.
I fear that a random sampling of the well meaning and politically informed protestors at such a demonstration would reveal an inability to define democracy beyond the usual platitudes of "free elections," "freedom of speech," "a free press," and "freedom of assembly."
As I woke to the muezzin’s wails straining through a riot of church bells in my cramped hostel room in Old Jerusalem, excerpts of the previous night’s angry conversations were already working their way through my mounting hangover. Shouts of, “how can you call them terrorists?” and “there aren’t two sides to this story!” and, of course, “What are you looking for anyway?!” pierced the headache I had earned over hours of politically charged debate and a steady stream of warm red wine. I rolled out of my narrow bed and groaned, cursing another day of reporting in this enraged and bitter country.
The collapse of the Soviet Union is my earliest memory of politics. The sense of relief and of victory that I felt around me was overwhelming, and I became fascinated with the idea that events on the other side of the world could mean so much in my own home. Televised images of East Germans taking sledgehammers to the Berlin Wall or Boris Yeltsin speaking from atop a tank in Red Square became the very definition of freedom in my ten year old mind, and even as I grew older and learned of the theories behind communism and the Cold War missteps of the CIA, this picture of humanity breaking free of oppression by sheer will stuck with me.
Tomorrow morning we will leave Pakistan, heading back over the border to India to catch our onward flight to Kazakhstan. When we first arrived here I was full of nerves and expectations, and now, a month later, I am leaving the country still confused and newly disheartened. Pakistan is probably the most interesting country I’ve ever visited, but I can’t wait to leave.
I’m sitting on a windy mountaintop in the Lesser Himalayas surrounded by men with weathered faces, long graying beards and red kiffeyehs draped around their shoulders. Fifty pairs of steely eyes stare expectantly as one man barks at me in Pashtun and those squatting around him murmur in agreement.
No, this isn’t a paranoid American’s terrorist kidnapping nightmare. This is earthquake relief in Pakistan’s remote North West Frontier Province and I’m here with a local organization called Rural Support Programs Network (RSPN) that is desperately trying to rebuild this troubled region.
Dissolving Prejudice in Pakistan
By Sarah Stuteville. Posted May 24, 2006.
The late afternoon sun beats down on the high-rocky landscape. Sweat runs down my face and the back of my neck–tickles my scalp underneath a long grey burka swaddled tightly around my head and shoulders, and hanging to just below my knees. My feet slip on loose pebbles as I scramble up a steep slope in the rugged foothills of Pakistan’s North West Frontier Province.
By Sarah Stuteville. Posted May 6, 2006.
Well, we’re almost three months in with about three more to go. As I write this I’m counting down the hours to our next train ride which will take us to our fourth country–Pakistan. It’s seems that the half-way mark is good place to stop, look around, and think about where we’ve been and where we’re going as a project, as journalists, and as individuals.
By Jessica Partnow. Posted April 3, 2006.
Last night over dinner I tried to watch a game of cricket. It had all the familiar trappings of baseball – bats, uniforms, a small white ball and a big green field. But as I watched I grew more and more frustrated. Why was the batter wearing a catcher’s mask? Why wasn’t anyone circling the bases? Why does he keep bunting, and then look all proud of himself? And why in God’s name does the scorecard say ‘Day 2, 91 runs to zero’?
By Alex Stonehill. Posted March 14, 2006.
In fact, you may find yourself regretting having even tried to make a plan in the first place. Today marks our two week anniversary in Cambodia. We were supposed to have flown to New Delhi a week ago. But journalism, it seems, is mostly about waiting.