Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. Skip to content. The global population will add 2 billion in the next three decades, closing in on the billion milestone by , the UN said. India, projected to overtake China, will lead the charge. Who will win? The earthquake hit the Kermadec Islands, approximately miles northeast of New Zealand.
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The colossal quake hit at They shot my father. Sikh females are only around 7 million, out of 1. FIFA must ban entry of human trafficking girls nation! Who will WIN?
Scammers some from India 1. Indian media suggested a missing Indian Air Force AN transport aircraft had been captured by aliens, before it was announced that the wreckage had been found by the military on Tuesday. India: 4 killed as political violence erupts in West Bengal state At least 18 others were wounded after clashes broke out over the hoisting of BJP flags and the putting up of posters. A massive search operation has been launched by the Indian Air Force to locate the missing plane.
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Latitude : Google search maywar. In his own small way, he is making a difference. Old Grievances Die Hard But even the big stories are not often told. For many dealing with the hundreds of thousands of IDPs fleeing battle zones, the reconciliation work must begin in the camps, among the people, to ensure future peaceful cohabitation. Much of the work rests on the shoulders of the admin- istration at the temporary resettlement camps who must cope with the intercommunal grievances that come with the refugees and in- ternally displaced persons.
At Ashti camp, I met a Yazidi elder who had much to say, but he re- fused to give me his name. Kneeling on the ground, he picked up a stone and drew lines in the sand to demonstrate how Daesh fighters entered Sunun, a small town in Sinjar two years earlier. All we had were simple old weapons.
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And there was only one road left for us to take, and that road led to the mountains. We took our rifles, our women and chil- dren, and we ran. The Peshmerga have all gone. Nobody is coming to help us, run to the mountains. The residents had fought for several hours from their positions in the mountains until they ran out of ammunition. Some 50, Yazi- di Kurds had fled to the Sinjar mountains and were stranded there for months before the United States conducted air strikes in the area. It was August and it was scorching hot.
Some seventy children reportedly died of starvation and dehydration.
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This Yazidi elder was now a teacher at one of the makeshift schools at the Ashti camp, which was divided mostly between Yazidi Kurds and Arabs from Anbar, Salahuddin, Sinjar, Shingal, Fallujah, and Mosul. Tensions between the two groups inside the camp had some fearing that reconciliation would be long and complicated. There was fear, anger, and almost no social interaction between the Arabs and Yazidi Kurds. It is clear that the trauma from this conflict will not be easily overcome, especially in such close and difficult living conditions.
The Yazidi children were more traumatised than the others, and they stuck together. They were more reluctant to mix, and the behavior of the adults certainly did not help.
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These involve the schools, sports activities, and art workshops for internally displaced chil- dren. He has been at Ashti camp since January We had to gather roots to cook or else we would have starved. Al-Alwan remained in Salahuddin for five months before he was finally able to flee with his wife and thirteen children.
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We used to celebrate weddings and have par- ties together. How can I ever move back there again? How can I trust them again?
These people here in the camp were not living in our area. These people are like us, chased away from their homes in Salahuddin, Diyala, Anbar. They were not the ones who did this to us. And this presents both a paradox and a rationale.
The paradox results from the modern proliferation of information. The Inter- national Herald Tribune, Le Monde, Reuters and the wire services obtained — and to a great extent controlled — what the world saw in tragedies ranging from Biafra to Bangladesh.
Today, the informa- tion monopoly is broken and information democratization some would say information anarchy is the norm. First came the satel- lites, then the cable channels and now the cellphones. And this paradox also explains the shutting down of expensive overseas bureaus, the reduction in accredited journalists and the move away from paper-based periodicals. Subscriber numbers and advertising revenues are down and the competitive pressure to show even a minor profit means that budgets are slashed to the bone.
This further explains the rationale for producing only the biggest, most unique and most photogenic stories. Sadly, the real stories — whether ethnic disputes or intra-camp dynamics — may not be so marketable and end up in niche publications that do not reach mass audiences. This in turn only fuels stereotypes, misinformation, and a tendency to generalize the unique and tragic experiences of many thousands of refugees and displaced persons.
Worse still, it further dehumanizes an already disenfranchised and marginalized segment of humanity. In short, they are the sto- ries that are not as appealing. A better understanding of these problems can lead to better solu- tions. As long as our professional environment is shaped by the new proliferation and democratization of information, we will be com- pelled to focus exclusively on acts of violence and shocking events, stories that reaffirm stereotypes rather than break them, or narra- tives that serve a political agenda, the long-form individual human interest story or clickable photo montage.
The real stories will be missed, and journalism will continue to suffer. Normally, it would have been on a patio or terrace in Damascus, with the sound of the Mu- ezzin in the distance, but these days it is in a quiet town in southern Germany. Aliaa had led quite a life since we last met. There are images of us sitting at desks covered with Arabic textbooks, and even one where we are on a rickety bus with friends heading through the desert to Palmyra. The pictures of that trip produced most laughter — especially one of a mutual friend who, not for the first time, climbed onto the roof of our fast-moving bus.
We had only got him back inside the bus when we spotted a Syrian police checkpoint ahead. Those were innocent days. I was just a visitor who had lived in Syria for a year and half, and these were places that held great memories for me. For Aliaa and her husband, Mohammed, it was home.
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Now liv- ing in sanctuary after a brutal journey that nearly killed them, they looked back to a homeland that they may never see again. Having learned to speak Span- ish relatively well in recent years, I knew Arabic was much tougher and would take far longer, so I had given myself a year at least. Like many efforts undertaken before, I had no idea how difficult it was, or how rewarding it might be. However, after finding somewhere in Damas- cus to live, with a family in the backstreets of the old city, I soon realised the university course was not going to work out after all.
I was in a class with people who had studied the language before and it was not remotely tailored to a starter like myself, so I started looking around for another solution. A friend who had a berth in another house knew of a private teacher and she made the connection. Over coffee, after about thirty min- utes, Aliaa had explained more to me about the rudiments of the language than I had gained in two weeks in the classroom.
I learned about the root structure, how the baffling letters changed shape de- pending on where they were in a word, but Aliaa also imbued a love of the language. As a right-handed journalist whose once-neat script had been reduced to an impenetrable scrawl after many years of fast-paced work, I was creating beautiful shapes and writing in the opposite direction, from the right side of the page heading left. It felt easy and fluid. What is more, I liked Aliaa.
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