
Indians living in the shadow of the Himalayas are being told they could face further a...
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Narrator
Hi. This is a download from BBC Radio.
Presenter
It's the latest edition of Radio 4's From Our Own correspondent and it's introduced by Kate Ady.
Kate Adie
Hello. In this program, a man and his mule caught up in a great Himalayan tsunami. A cold beer in the desert as an Israeli settler tells us he's going nowhere, whatever the outcome of John Kerry's peace initiative. We talk about Al Qaeda and about gardening at an Islamist stronghold in Libya. And could test match cricket be on its way to China? There's a man at the ministry who hopes the answer's no. Indians are being warned that the devastating floods which killed thousands of people close to the Himalayas earlier this summer could become a regular occurrence. It was the region's worst disaster in living memory. Some environmentalists say it was caused by rising temperatures due to global warming. Others point to deforestation or suggest that haphazard construction projects may have been at least partly to blame. The flood waters swept away mountainsides. Towns and villages, roads, bridges and livelihoods were destroyed. Jane Dyson, a frequent visitor to this part of India, has been hearing from someone who escaped the deluge, but only just.
Jane Dyson
Maviah recently returned to his village in the Indian Himalayas only seven weeks after having left. He was thin, tired, and that typical Mavia sparkle had gone from his eyes. I had been with him in April this year on his last frantic days at home. He was finishing off work on his house, repairing the roof ahead of the monsoon and helping to weed the potato crops. He'd said he wouldn't be back home until mid November and he was leaving his younger sister behind to manage the harvest single handedly. Finally, one sunny morning, he set off in high spirits, full of anticipation. His treasured mule trotted beside him, loaded with food, blankets and cooking pots. Mavia talked about the friends he would meet on the week long walk to Kedenate, deep in the Himalayas. Every year, Mavia and hundreds of other young men from the region migrate to the holy shrines at Kedenath and Badrinath. All winter the temples are shrouded with deep layers of snow. Then in the springtime thorough they open for a new season of worship. The growth of the Indian middle class has fueled a huge rise in the number of pilgrims visiting Himalayan shrines. Young men like Mavia come to serve these tourists. They toil in chai stalls and restaurants, scrub hotel rooms and carry huge loads as porters. Men with mules earn even more money carrying people and goods up the steep mountain paths. During the six month season, Maviah sleeps only four hours a night. He uses every moment to earn an income that will see his family through the year, that will pay for his brother's education, for his sick mother's medicine. And hopefully this year he'll save enough for his own wedding. Mavia arrived at Kedenart in early May. The first month of the season had been busy and it promised to be a prosperous year. But then the monsoon came a month early and it poured and poured. On 17 June, Maviah had, as always, been up since 4:00'. Clock. He had tended to his mule. Before preparing breakfast, he told me, I was washing up when I heard some friends screaming. They were pointing up the valley. After three days of incessant rain, a huge glacial lake above Kedenart burst its bank. And at 6am a wall of raging brown water, boulders and soil came tearing down the valley. A great Himalayan tsun dragging with it everything in its path. Mavia dropped his dishes and ran for higher ground. He stood breathless and heart pounding as the wave came. I saw my mule, he said. It was in a group of seven or eight. First they were lifted off their feet by the water. Then they disappeared. And then. But he couldn't go on. Of the other horrors that he witnessed, of the bodies that he saw floating. He couldn't talk. It is now estimated that 6,000 people have died in the floods. The numbers of those who lost livelihoods and homes is immeasurable. And so, in early July, Maviah was already returning home with nothing but the clothes on his back. The stall where his mule used to live is eerily quiet. He has no chance of raising 80,000 rupees to replace it and start earning again. Meanwhile, his sister had tended to the crops. There will be food to eat, but no money for the wedding. It will have to wait yet another year. The floods have affected villages and towns all over Uttarakhand. Roads and villages have been washed away. In one village, the children go to school via zip wire, crossing the furious river that swallowed their only bridge. There isn't much agreement on the cause of the floods. Some point to the rampant dam building that has altered the flow of the rivers. The state of Uttarakhand has agreed to build 300 dams up the Alaknanda and Ganges rivers. Others talk of illegal building construction in the valleys, which has destabilized the hillsides. But Mavia has a different explanation. Dari Devi did it, he said. Dari Devi is a local goddess with many divine powers. Her idol sits on the banks of the Alaknunda, and legend has it that if she is ever moved, the river will rise up in protest. But the temple lies deep in the submergence zone of a huge dam. Years of local descent have delayed the filling of the dam, but recently the construction company won the right to proceed. On 16 June, villagers reluctantly moved the idol to higher ground, and Maviah concluded bitterly, within 12 hours those floods had come.
Kate Adie
And that's Jane Dyson. So Israeli and Palestinian negotiators have set themselves a target of reaching an agreement in nine months, an agreement on what exactly has not yet been defined. But certainly the two sides face formidable difficulties in their discussions, which are due to resume within the next couple of weeks, not least over the territories Israel captured in the Six day War of 1967 and subsequently occupied, including the west bank and Arab East Jerusalem. Jake Wallace Simons, who's just back from Ramallah, says at least half a million Israeli settlers have now made their homes in this occupied land, and whatever deal is reached, many will be reluctant to move.
Narrator
It occurs to me as I sip a cold beer that this moment could easily be mistaken for idyllic Nevaeh Erez, which sits on a sun bleached hilltop in the Judean desert between Ramallah and Jericho, is home to 30 young Jewish families who live off the land, growing everything from lemons and apples to pomelos, pomegranates, carobs and figs. They used to rear livestock, but one resident tells me it kept getting stolen by the Bedouin. The village is comprised of a ramshackle assortment of caravans, shacks and and tense. A feeling of quietude hangs in the oven hot air and not even the slightest traffic noise can be heard from the outskirts. The view falls away into a vista of cream coloured mountains where Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are said to have journeyed. And under a network of canopies lies a makeshift pub where you can contemplate the landscape while drinking a bottle of Gold Star Lager. I am deep in the heart of the west bank and this is an illegal settlement. In 2001, on orders from the Prime Minister, the Israeli army evicted the residents of Nv? Erez and bulldozed their improvised homes. Now, in a show of defiance, the settlers are back. We came back first of all because we wanted to, says Noam Cohen, one of three founding members of this community who runs the pub with his wife Tehila. We wanted to live how we wanted to live and we wanted to do it here, not on any other hilltop. The question isn't why don't we live somewhere else? Adds Tehila. The question is, why shouldn't we live here? This is our homeland. Recent months have seen the US Secretary of State John Kerry shuttling frantically back and forth between Israeli and Palestinian leaders. Finally, his efforts have been rewarded with a glimmer of hope. The two sides have agreed to continue talking. This might not sound like much, but in the context of three years of stalemate, it qualifies as a success. Any eventual peace deal would require Israel to dismantle a sizeable number of Jewish communities to make room for a contiguous Palestinian state. High on the demolition list will be this place, Nevay, Erez pub and all. It was built on private Palestinian land, which is illegal even under Israeli law. I can partly understand the Palestinian claim on the land, says Noam. I see how I love this place, and I've only been here 14 years. What's it going to do to someone who has lived here for 50 years or a hundred years? Some of their fathers were born here, some of their grandfathers were born here. But fortunately, I am not a Palestinian. I'm a Jewish person, and I base my claim on 3,000 years of history. The international community believes that this conflict will only be resolved by the establishment of an independent Palestinian state. This has been pursued ever since the Oslo accords were signed 20 years ago this September. And it is the goal on which John Kerry is setting his sights, somewhat quixotically. Once again, settlers like Noam and Tehila fundamentally opposed the idea. A Palestinian state would make no difference at all, says Noam. The root of the problem is that the Arabs don't want another culture here. The PLO was trying to push us out even before what they call the occupation. They attacked us many times, even before there was a single Jew on the West Bank. I take another sip of beer. So what, in their view, is the solution? We Jews need to stand on our truth, says Tehila. This place is ours. Even the archaeology says so. If we say this very clearly to the world, the Arabs will respect that. And when they finally accept that we are here, that this is our land, that we are not going anywhere, they can live with us as guests. If John Kerry's efforts were successful, and if Navai Erez was to be evacuated, Noam and Tehila say they would go quietly, even if later they tried to come back quietly. But many others would not. In 2005, Israeli authorities forcibly evicted 8,500 Jewish settlers from the Gaza Strip. At the time, to some Israelis, it felt like a form of civil war and led to more violence and acrimony. Now there are more than half a million settlers living on the west bank and in East Jerusalem and most of them aren't willing to leave. Now that is a sobering thought.
Kate Adie
Jake Wallace Simons the government in Uruguay has passed an unprecedented bill in its lower house of Congress on the legalisation of marijuana. Under the law, which must still be approved by the Senate, Uruguay will become the first country to legalise the production, distribution and sale of marijuana. Marijuana. The move reflects a growing sentiment in Latin America that the current prohibition on drugs should be reconsidered. Arguably, Mexico has lost the most in the war on drugs with tens of thousands of drug related killings every year, and there's little to suggest that the years of a military led campaign have dented the vast profits of the drug cartels. Will Grant says there are now calls for Mexico to take a leaf out of Uruguay's book and pass similar legislation.
Will Grant
Tepot's Lan is known as a pueblo magico, a magic village. Hardly surprising when you bear in mind its setting. Rugged jungle, covered mountains ring a small Jesuit conurbation of colonial cobbled streets. At the summit of one of the peaks, a pre Hispanic temple, Tepot Teco looms over the village as both guardian and deity, lending a further sense of mysticism to the place. As such, Tepotzlan is a popular destination for young hipsters and aging hippies alike. At night the mezcal flows and in the more tolerant bars the unmistakable wafts of pungent marijuana smoke billow across the customers as a jazz, fusion or ambient band plays on stage. The vibe is mellow to say the least, and if Vicente Fox gets his way it it could become the norm. He wants the bar owner to be allowed to offer you two menus when you come in, one for alcohol, the other for grass. Of course you must enforce the law, the towering former Coca Cola executive told me last year. But we need other strategies. One which I am promoting is legalising the consumption, production and distribution of all drugs. Vicente Fox, lest we forget, was Mexico's president, the first president to break 71 years of uninterrupted rule by the Institutional Revolutionary Party or pre, the man who arguably launched the drug war as the violence began to ratchet up several notches towards the end of his time in office. Yet now, he argues, we must take away the mammoth amount of money the criminals are getting from this income, especially from the market in the United States, the largest drug consumer in the world. That was last year, with weeks to go before the presidential election, which saw his party Ousted from office and replaced once again by the Pre. This year, he went a step further, organising a forum at his ranch in Guanajuato on the rights and wrongs of drug legalization. Among the keynote speakers was Jamon Chiavelli, an ex Microsoft executive who is trying to set up the world's first commercial marijuana brand in the United States. The marijuana industry there is worth millions and millions of dollars a year and yet no established brand name exists, he told the assembled experts and journalists. A former manager of Microsoft sat on a stage next to a former executive of Coca Cola, both extolling the virtues of drug legalization. Clearly there is money to be made in creating the world's first legal marijuana incorporated company. Mr. Fox's new position on drugs is a U turn of epic proportions. This was his take on the issue. In the year 2000, we must be against the consumption of drugs in Mexico, he said. As a presidential candidate, we should change the law so it's clear we're against the consumption of drugs. There should be an initiative in place to punish drug consumption. Actually, in Mexico itself, the drug laws are surprisingly liberal. Since 2009, it has been legal to possess up to 5 grams of cannabis, 2 grams of opiates, half a gram of cocaine and even 50 milligrams of heroin for personal use. But nevertheless, the debate on further liberalisation rages on. Every day, it seems, another high profile politician in the region comes out in favour of a change. But whether it's decriminalization or complete legalisation, to merely voice such ideas as a sitting president 10 years ago was to bring down the ire of the White House upon you, let alone manage to push the issue through Parliament, as President Jose Mujica is doing In Uruguay. There is one well known Latin American who remains unconvinced, though Pope Francis, an Argentinian, recently attended the inauguration of a drug rehab clinic in Rio de Janeiro. In his first public address on the issue, he let the world know in no uncertain terms where he stood on the question of legalisation. A reduction in the spread and influence of drug addiction will not be achieved by a liberalization of drug use as is currently being proposed in various parts of Latin America. The pontiff said, to be honest, his comments are unlikely to concern the young people of Tepotlan, who are far more closely allied to the former left wing guerrilla president of Uruguay than the Pope. As one band ended their set and made way for another, the musicians gathered in a huddle off stage. Mi medecina, my medicine. One of the dreadlocked singers grinned at me as she lit her post gig joint. Soon she may even be able to
Kate Adie
buy it at the pharmacy Will Grant in Mexico City. How many countries are now involved in the conflict in Syria? Getting a precise answer to that one may be difficult, but there are suggestions that men from at least 40 different nations are now fighting. There are jihadists from European countries like Britain and Sweden can be seen in videos uploaded to the Internet. There are also fighters from places long regarded as breeding grounds for militancy, including Chechnya and the tribal areas of Pakistan. Some have taken up arms on behalf of President Al Assad. Others are with the rebels. Shaima Khalil has been in Libya, trying to find out how many people from there have gone to fight in Syria.
Shaima Khalil
The green mountains, sandy beaches and clear blue water of Derna give little away about its violent history and its current troubles. It's hard to believe, driving along this apparently calm coastline, that I've just arrived at Libya's Islamist stronghold and that this sleepy town has sent more fighters to Iraq, Afghanistan and now Syria than any other place in Libya. All this dates back even before the revolution that ousted the late leader, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi. Historically, eastern Libya was seen as anti Gaddafi. He didn't like us and we didn't like him, one resident tells me. Jihadists fighting his forces used Derna's mountains as a hideout. They traveled abroad from here to wage what they regarded as holy war. I had come to Derna to meet the founder of one of the biggest militias, the Abuslim Brigades. Selim Al Darbi is well known, not just in Derna but but throughout eastern Libya. Before the revolution, he had spent a decade in the mountains fighting Gaddafi's regime. He and his men were among the first on the front line when the time came to oust the colonel from power. Dirna's long antipathy towards the ruling regime meant that when Gaddafi fell, the town was left without any state security, no police, no army. So it is people like Salem Al Darbi who hold sway here. He says he's now given up the leadership of the Brigades, but he remains their founding father and an influential figure among the fighters. He's seen as a man who might be able to broker peace between armed militiamen and the current government. I have loads of questions for him. Is it true there are Al Qaeda elements in Derna? Will there be more attacks on Western targets in Libya? Is the town sending jihadists to fight in Syria? But first I have to find him. It's a pity you came on Friday. One of his relatives tells me that's the weekend. Ms. Salim is always at his ranch with his family on Fridays, so I climb back in the car. As I finally approached his ranch, I can see him waiting by the gate. Salaam alaikum, he says with a smile. Welcome. He has a neatly trimmed beard and is wearing a tracksuit. Clearly he's just been watering his front garden. He ushers me in, telling me about his plans for his newly built villa and his garden. I'm thinking of putting a water feature here. Ms. Shaima, what do you think? He asks, pointing towards an empty, unplanted space. Maybe your children would prefer a swimming pool, I suggest. But it is a great view of those mountains, I tell him, not quite believing the turn the conversation is taking as we talk over plans for the garden. His children are out playing. A couple of them are kicking a ball, others are by the swing. They're intrigued by the camera and our recording equipment. A group of women lurk at one of the back entrances of the villa, some smiling at me, others giggling and waving discreetly. We sit down, turn on the recording equipment, and start the interview. He's quite emotional at times. He looks quite annoyed at my questions. The Islamist backed the revolution against Colonel Gaddafi, so why is the world afraid of them? He asks. And I don't belong to Al Qaeda, he says when I ask him about their influence in Derna. I belong to Allah and to the nation, he insists. What about Syria? Yes, he says. There are jihadis traveling from here to fight in Syria. In that country, he goes on, Sunnis are suppressed. Many of those who are martyred in Syria are Libyans, Sunnis, around five or six of them every day, he tells me. Interview concluded, Salim shifts back to the role of affable host. Coffee? He asks. When I decline, he says, no way. You have to drink something. You're in my house. Then he points to the back of the villa and asks me if I'd like to say hi to the women. I tell him I would. They include Salim's wife and his mother, a small, rather old woman who comes out smiling at me. You're Egyptian, huh? She ventures, noticing my accent when I speak Arabic. We love Egyptians, she tells me. I leave the ranch, thinking about the interview. It's been a useful insight into how involved Libyans are in the Syrian conflict. But I also can't help thinking how Selim al Darbi, the founder of one of the biggest militias here and one of the most influential men in eastern Libya, has been talking to me all about his Garden.
Kate Adie
And that was Shaima Khalil. Now, we may have been joking about the state of Australian cricket a week or two back, but after the towering performance of their batsmen yesterday, such cracks now seem highly inappropriate. England and Australia are among 10 nations playing Test cricket today. The last to join that group was Bangladesh 13 years ago. But could there soon be a new kid at the crease? There's been talk of China planning to become a Test playing Nation by 2020. Frederick Dove, who's making a Radio 4 documentary on the subject, wonders if that's realistic in a country with almost no cricketing tradition.
Presenter
It's a paddle for a canoe, isn't it? So said the lady in the park to whom we'd shown a cricket bat to see if she knew what it was. Night was falling and many people were strolling among the trees, enjoying cooler evening temperatures. From nearby came the rousing chorus of revolutionary songs sung by dozens of men and women and who could remember different times in China. Other passers by shown the bat were similarly perplexed, but there was some recognition. One boy said he'd seen some cricket coaching at his school, which was reassuring, because this little unscientific experiment was taking place in the northeastern city of Shenyang, described by some as the cricketing capital of China. Both the men's and women's national champions are based at the local sports university, and eventually I was to see some of those top players in action. It will come as no surprise to any cricketer, but it rained on and off all day. Fortunately, the huge pitch was all Astroturf, with a green mat as the wicket. Apart from grounds in private clubs and international schools in major cities, there is currently only one proper grass wicket in all of China, and that's in the far south, in a cricket stadium purpose built for the 2010 Asian Games. So how good was the cricket I saw in Shenyang? There was certainly no lack of passion and commitment, and the Sports University's Women's 11 looked well organized. Their fielding was sharp. Their sure gloved wicketkeeper in particular impressed me. She's part of China's national team, which, just seven years after the first courses to train Chinese coaches, is now near the top of the second tier of women's cricket in Asia. China's men's squad lags behind the women. But I did get a chance to watch two of the men in action. I saw one of them, Sun Li, take a catch any Test cricketer would be proud of, sprinting towards the boundary, wet ball looping high over his shoulder. The other was Xiyao. When I asked a small group of men and women now playing international cricket for China what they particularly loved about the game, his answer was, it's like being in a family. Chu Yao does not have wealthy parents. I was told he sometimes earns himself enough money by going round student halls selling socks. But despite that, enough was raised for him to spend the summer of 2012 playing for Cleethorpe's cricket club in Lincolnshire. His top score there, 98. His score? The day I saw him play just two, he was out leg before wicket. His comment afterwards, that was never lbw. The ball hit me far too high. Spoken like a true batsman, of course. Another glimpse of how cricket and its traditions are being absorbed by those who've taken up the game in China. Nevertheless, the obstacles facing the international bodies and local enthusiasts trying to develop cricket in China are enormous. Lack of tradition, equipment and given the apartment towers and shopping malls springing up everywhere, urban space also. Over and over again, I was told people in China don't really participate in team games. They watch, they consume. And while Chinese children may do sports at primary school, after that, academic and parental pressure leaves little if any time for sport as leisure until they get to university. Of course, this being China, much depends on official government policy. It seems cricket has now been included among optional sports for primary schools. Who knows what interest that might generate? China's huge population means that if only 1 in 10,000 people there took up cricket, that would mean well over 100,000 players. More realistically, though, what would change? Everything is cricket regaining the Olympic status it had more than 100 years ago. As the official in charge of cricket at the Sports Ministry in Beijing told me, if Olympic medals were up for grabs, the Ministry would swing into action across China. Boys and girls would be identified as potential Olympic cricketers brought together and trained by top international coaches. China's national teams would rise up the world rankings only, though in the short form of the game, T20 cricket is probably the only format that could be played at the Olympics. As for China becoming a test playing nation, let's just say that when I asked the man at the Ministry whether he'd ever sat through a five day test match, his response said it all. Oh, no, that would be torture.
Kate Adie
The man at the Ministry not yet bowled over. That's it. Frederick Dove, bringing us to the end of this edition. There'll be more next Saturday morning. Until then, goodbye.
Host: Kate Adie, BBC Radio 4
Date: August 3, 2013
This episode of "From Our Own Correspondent" explores the human stories and global contexts behind major news events. Covering the devastating Himalayan floods, life among Israeli settlers in the West Bank, the shifting ground of drug policy in Latin America, the flow of Libyan fighters into Syria, and the improbable prospect of Test cricket in China, the program draws on personal narratives and on-the-ground reporting for insight and depth.
Reported by Jane Dyson (01:19–06:00)
“A great Himalayan tsunami dragging with it everything in its path… I saw my mule… Then they disappeared. And then—”
(04:15, Jane Dyson relaying Maviah’s experience)
Reported by Jake Wallis Simons (06:46–11:39)
Reported by Will Grant (12:29–17:17)
Reported by Shaima Khalil (18:02–22:33)
Reported by Frederick Dove (23:13–27:50)