← From Our Own Correspondent
From Our Own Correspondent
Why the Kissing's Had to Stop
00:28:26
The kissing's had to stop in west Africa - a despatch from Mark Doyle about the Ebola...
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- [00:00]
Kate Adie
You're about to hear from our own correspondent. We do two versions of the programme,
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Mark Doyle
one for the BBC World Service, and
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Kate Adie
this one's a download of the latest
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Mark Doyle
edition from BBC Radio 4. It's introduced by Kate Ady.
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Programme Presenter
Hello. Today, 6 million lock down in their homes in Sierra Leone as Ebola spreads out of control in West Africa. The Americans prepare to step up their assault on the jihadists of Islamic State. But the conflict in the Middle east is becoming more and more complicated. There's a Shakespearean twist in the Mayor of Toronto's tale of scandal, high drama and tragedy. And the political turmoil continues in Karachi, but it's not being allowed to interfere with the wedding season. The vote in Scotland and its consequences may have dominated the headlines here this week, but they were of little interest in West Africa, where there's still just one topic of conversation. The continuing spread of the deadly Ebola virus. Sierra Leone's in the middle of a three day curfew on all its citizens as it tries to contain the epidemic. Across the region. The disease has already claimed more than 2,600 lives. Aid agencies admit it's out of control. Mark Doyle says Ebola is having a profound effect on everyone in West Africa.
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Mark Doyle
One of the things the people of West Africa are very good at is greeting each other. In most of the countries of the region, it would be positively rude to exchange a quick British style hello, how are you? Fine. Yes, thanks, fine. And walk on. No, in West Africa, the normal thing to do would be to stop, reach out one or even two hands, shake warmly, and then embrace. This is followed by much back slapping, more handshaking on points of agreement, and even the odd high five. It's what children do, it's what men do, it's what elderly ladies do. Well, not anymore. Ebola is spread by contact with bodily fluids, so these days, people shun contact with others, including shaking hands. Of course, the worst impact of this disease has been on those who have contracted it and their loved ones. But the end of handshaking has affected everyone, everywhere in the region. The country that's been worst affected by Ebola with the most deaths is Liberia. After President Obama announced the aid package of soldiers and treatment centers earlier this week, the Liberian president, the first elected female president in Africa, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, broadcast a thank you speech to the United States. And she also told Liberians, ebola will not defeat US President Johnson. Sirleaf had earlier said the disease was damaging the very way of life of Liberians. And one thing she was surely referring to was the unusual Liberian handshake. It's been called the Liberian finger snap. If that sounds painful, it isn't. But it is rather tricky to master. The Liberian finger snap involves clasping hands in the normal way. But then, as the hands are released, each partner clicks the fingers of the other. This produces two loud snapping sounds. It's something of a point of honour to make the pair of snaps as strong and therefore as loud as possible. The louder the snaps, the greater the friendship. But not anymore. I've visited Liberia many times and I find it impossible to imagine the country without a soundscape of finger snaps. If I as a foreigner feel that way, I can't begin to imagine how odd the lack of handshaking must feel to a Liberian. It's the same across the whole region. In French speaking parts of West Africa, the traditional greeting is three kisses on the cheek, going one kiss better than in the old colonial power France. But the kissing has stopped in West Africa too. It's as if this terrible disease, not content with killing thousands of people, wants to rip the beating heart out of a naturally friendly and communally minded population. Something similarly shocking is taking place this weekend in Liberia's neighbour, Sierra Leone. It too is being devastated by Ebola. With hospitals overflowing and food prices rising. In an effort to stop the disease spreading, the authorities have ordered a nationwide three day lockdown. Everyone is supposed to stay in their homes while health workers mount a nationwide door to door check to seek out anyone infected. The operation is fraught with difficulties and dangers. In the first place, it's far from clear if Sierra Leone has enough qualified health professionals to visit every house and hut in the land. And what will they do if they do find potential patients? The treatment centres are already full to overflowing. The Sierra Leone government says the desperate situation requires desperate measures. But even if the lockdown works, here's another example of of Ebola changing a very way of life. Most Sierra Leoneans are very poor. Many work as street traders or day labourers. Very few people have large stocks of food in their cupboards and only a minority have luxuries like fridges. So they simply have to go out every day to work and shop, otherwise their family will not get fed again. The worst effects of Ebola, of course, are being visited on the sick and the dying and and their families. But everyone is being touched in other, perhaps mundane, but terribly important parts of their lives. From the simple handshake to doing the shopping. The president of Liberia said in her speech, we are fighting against Ebola we will win. If and when that happens, one of the most precious things West Africans will get back will be the ability to shake hands and hug each other again.
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Programme Presenter
And that was Mark Doyle. So the United States Senate has now approved President Obama's plan to arm and train moderate Syrian rebels to fight Islamic State militants. It's part of Washington's campaign against the jihadists who've taken control of a swathe of territory across Syria and Iraq. The chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Martin Dempsey, estimates it will be at least three months before the operation can begin. Jeremy Bowen, who's been in the Syrian capital Damascus this week, says there's now a range of forces lining up to fight.
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Jeremy Bowen
Is I had a text the other day from an acquaintance in Damascus. After a day of sporadic shelling in her neighborhood, many of her friends and family have left the country. The message read, these days, we are all out of hope. The few people left are trying to find a way out. The Syrian war is in its fourth year and the strain is showing. Nearly 200,000 people are dead and much of the country is in ruins. Everyone is exhausted. Donors who fund the massive humanitarian operation run by the World Food Programme that feeds almost 6 million Syrians every month are tired of the war, too. Other emergencies are soaking up money that might have fed Syrians. WFP is running out of cash and cutting the rations it provides. The agency is well aware of the effect that might have on desperate people. More women have turned to prostitution. More girls are being sold off into early marriages. And the war itself is getting more complicated. The rise of Islamic State has taken a lot of attention away from the other jihadist groups in Syria, but they're still there and still operating. One of the biggest is the Nusra Front. Nusra and Islamic State have taken their fight into Lebanon, trying to control the smuggling route into Syria from a frightening border town called Arsal. 19 Lebanese soldiers have been killed in recent weeks. At least 22 members of Lebanon's security forces have been taken hostage. Two have been beheaded. On camera is in the last few days has also gone on the offensive against Syrian Kurds, seizing two dozen villages and threatening a major town near the border with Turkey. And of course, Islamic State has taken the war over the border into Iraq and beheaded American and British hostages, goading the us, the UK and the French into a military response. President Obama says the US Will concentrate on air power. He insists he will not be sending Americans into combat, though his top general says that might eventually become necessary. So who's going to fight Islamic State on the ground in Iraq. The Kurds are, and so are Shia militias. I spent some time with one of the most feared Shia armed groups in Iraq this summer. Their local commander was a man in his mid-40s, with a stare like a drill. He was proud of their fearsome reputation. I asked a local journalist, a Shia Muslim, if the commander's boasts were true. They are if you're a Sunni, he muttered nervously out of the side of his mouth as we left. They kill without hesitation. President Obama says he will order attacks in Syria when it's necessary. The US and its allies will train local forces, so called moderates, to fight Islamic State. That will not happen overnight. First they'll have to find allies they can trust. The lines between the rebel groups have become blurred. I saw it myself on a rooftop south of Damascus. I was with the Syrian army. Opposite them was a mixed force of rebels, including Nusra, the Al Qaeda affiliate Islamic Front, considered more moderate, and the Free Syria army, who the Americans hope are prime candidates for their help. You can see the potential difficulties if the Americans arm and train the fsa. Will the weapons it's provided or the men it's turned into soldiers end up with al Qaeda's fellow travelers? the very least, it's possible. Not so long ago, the Islamic Front raided an FSA warehouse and seized weapons that were supposed to be kept away from Islamists. The Syrian troops I met said the Americans would be much better off choosing them as allies. They're also fighting Islamic State further north in Syria. The Americans and the British have ruled that out. They've said many times that President Assad is a cruel dictator with the blood of thousands of Syrians on his hands. The regime's atrocities, the Americans say, are the best recruiter Islamic State will ever need. The Syrian government says that from the beginning it's been fighting Islamist extremists armed and funded by Saudi Arabia and Qatar, who both allies of the West. But is it more desirable to arm groups like parts of the fsa, which at times are fighting alongside Al Qaeda? The Americans and their Western allies believe they have no choice other than to destroy Islamic State. The way they're doing it means edging into a tangle of sectarian warfare, regional rivalry and jihadist empire building. The first priority for the United States is straightforward. Don't make matters worse.
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Programme Presenter
Jeremy Bowen, the prime minister of Pakistan Nawaz Sharif this week declared he wasn't about to resign despite the protests against his rule, which have been going on in several major cities. The political turmoil is particularly acute in Karachi, the country's largest metropolis. And yet, despite the constant disturbances, daily lives go on. Streets are busy, shops are full. And the troubles had little effect on the wedding season, which in Pakistan seems to be every season. Whether you're poor or rich, marriage is strongly encouraged under Islam, and a wedding's a good occasion to study a country's social hierarchy, as Shabnam Mahmood's been finding out.
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Shabnam Mahmood
I watch as she moves swiftly around the huge bedroom. The aroma of new wooden furniture mixed with the floral smells of the potpourri in the crystal balls permeates the air. She dodges around the designer shopping bags. Chanel, Gucci, Dior. The names mean nothing to her, for she can't even read. Khalda is 36 years old and has lived all her life in Karachi, Pakistan. She's worked in the Mufti household as a maid for six years. Ever since her husband died, she knew she had to earn money to feed her five children. Come on, get on with it. You're so slow. Screams Mrs. Mufti as Khalda sweeps the floor with a jaru, a broom made from twigs. Khalda is used to being scolded, and today there's even more tension in the house. The youngest son is getting married. Final touches are being made to the bedroom for him and his new bride. Boxes upon boxes of crockery, linen, accessories, clothes, shoes, makeup and perfume have been arriving all morning, as it's traditional for the girl's family to send a dowry. Just how many bottles of perfume does she need? Mutters Halda under her breath, I hear, and give her a surreptitious nod of agreement. One by one, the candelabras, candles, an endless china and crystal trinkets are unwrapped from the folded tissue layers and carefully put in place. An interior designer and her assistant are here to do just that. They're being paid thousands of rupees just to arrange the soft furnishings. Halda can only dream of that kind of money. Temporarily, Halda and I are left alone in the room. It gives her a chance to tell me about herself. She lives in a nearby village. Her entire dwelling is as large as this bedroom. It includes two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom and a lounge and accommodates the six of them. For Khalda, candles are not for display but necessity, as there's no electricity where she lives. Khalda. Kalda, where are you? Someone shouts, and she turns sharply to receive her next instruction. I'm left pondering. Everyone in this House seems to be either master or servant, either rich or poor. The thought stays with me as I head to the wedding the next day. There, I realize that dynamic is amplified. I'm one of 1800 guests, all masters. We invited 2,500, says my host. Some can't make it tonight. Hundreds of servants are also at the elaborate event, carrying out instructions. I spy Halda and some of the other housemaids, dressed in their best clothes, at the back of the huge marquee, which has been decorated with fresh flowers. They're smiling, as it's clearly a treat for them to come, even if it's to help out. I go over and they're surprised. I talk to them, for no one else does, apart from when they want something doing. Khalda sneaks nearer to where the bride and groom are sitting. The bride is dressed in a red and gold lehenga suit, a traditional Pakistani bridal outfit by a top designer. You can always recognize a Banto Kazmi outfit by its intricate embroidery, one of the guests remarks. My next surprise is the buffet tables and tables laden with every kind of food, various curries for every palate from meat to vegetarian, roasted meats, rice including pilau and biryani, barbecued chicken and lamb, salads, fish and freshly made chapatis. Halda is collecting the empty plates left lying around by the guests. She doesn't see me as she wraps a couple of roasted chicken legs in a serviette and slips them into her shoulder bag. I wondered why she was wearing that. I want to box up the different coloured desserts for her to take home to her children too, but it's not my place to do so. I do manage a cup of freshly brewed coffee and take it over to her with tired eyes. She smiles. It should be me doing this for you, she says. I tell her not to worry, as I am going back to the UK tomorrow where I do my own housework, cooking, carrying and fetching. She stares at me in stunned silence. She takes in my fancy outfit and jewellery. I am a guest at an opulent wedding, and yet in principle our lives are the same. She thinks for a moment, and then I realize she now sees me as neither rich nor poor, but something else, something confusing that doesn't fit into the usual scheme of things in this country.
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Programme Presenter
And that's Shabnam Mahmood. The controversial mayor of Toronto is in hospital this weekend after being diagnosed with a rare cancer. Doctors say they're hopeful the tumour, although malignant, will respond to chemotherapy. Last week the mayor announced he was abandoning his bid for re election. His brother and city councillor Doug will now stand in his place. Lee Carter, our man in Toronto, tells us news of the illness has added an almost Shakespearean twist to the Rob fraud Ford tale of scandal, high theatre and tragedy.
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Kate Adie
There's been a rare show of unity in a city that he's been accused of dividing. Rob Ford's many ardent supporters, those known as Ford Nation, have joined in solidarity with his most vocal opponents in rallying behind Toronto's mayor as he faces what he himself describes as the battle of his life. One of the books here that has been written about the roller coaster ride of the mayor's three and a half years in office is called Crazy Town. It's an apt description of how North America's fourth largest city with a reputation for progressive, somewhat sedate governance, found itself completely turned on its head by Mr. Ford. The climax in the chain of scandals that followed was undoubtedly the mayor's confession after months of denials that he smoked crack cocaine, as he put it, in one of his drunken stupors. News conferences with Rob Ford were never dull. There would almost always be bizarre statements, attacks on his detractors, especially the media, or more often than not, enraged denials. On several occasions, Mr. Ford attempted to simply outrun reporters along the corridors of City hall, regardless of what or who he collided with along the way. I don't know how often I'd hear journalists say to each other, you just couldn't make this stuff up. Then, of course, there were the seemingly endless supply of videos collected surreptitiously on mobile phones, either showing Rob Ford in one of his drunken stupors or caught slurring through one of his profanity laced rants. There have been more serious scandals too. The mayor was stripped of some of his powers after a judge ruled against him in a conflict of interest investigation. And his former driver has been charged with extortion related to attempts to retrieve the now infamous crack video from drug dealers. Rob Ford's exact role in this may never be known. So what kind of people have given such unwavering support to the mayor of Crazy Town? Ford Nation is an almost unlikely coalition from just about all parts of the city outside of its cosmopolitan central core until it was amalgamated into one giant city in the mid-1990s. Many of these outlying districts had their own mayors and their own way of doing things. Mr. Ford's supporters include two door garage suburbanites from his own district of Etobicoke, who hugely resented the mayor's liberal predecessor for increasing their property taxes and then spending the money on bike lanes, wind farms and a waterfront renewal program that they felt did nothing to benefit them. And Ford Nation also includes those who have been on the rough end of this city's huge growth. The Economist may call Toronto the third most livable city in the world, but it doesn't feel that way. Far from the glittering, shiny downtown, soaring property prices and gentrification have pushed people to the margins. Rob Ford appeared to be a friend of the working poor, and new immigrants in dilapidated 1960s built blocks of flats in areas like Scarborough or Racksdale. For all his faults, he has a knack of making those people feel that they're being listened to. He would famously give out his own mobile phone number and personally respond, his biggest gift, and one his brother lacks, is coming across like a regular guy. The common touch Just two weeks before he was hospitalized, I found myself very close to Rob Ford at a South Asian food festival. The mayor didn't have to do anything. People were attracted to him like magnets. For one and a half hours, he stood glued to the same spot as awestruck fans, one after the other, paused to have their picture taken with him. He would put his arm around a shoulder, display his impressive set of teeth and have a joke and a laugh. And that's another thing about Rob Ford. He's now an international celebrity, and that seems to bring with it a set of rules that includes a high tolerance for bad behavior. His many detractors, including most of the media, point out that in addition to all the shenanigans, Mr. Ford actually failed to achieve most of his goals as mayor, including his much vaunted promise to meaningfully cut city expenses. And there were signs, even while he was still running for the 27 October election, that his antics had finally led to waning support as he slipped into second place in the polls behind a moderate conservative candidate. As one newspaper columnist recently put was fun to be famous in a way, but it's better to be boring.
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Programme Presenter
Lee Carter in Toronto now Driving standards and norms vary hugely around the world, from countries like Malta, with one of the lowest national speed limits in Europe, to Indonesia, where driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs is perfectly legal. In general, however, drivers everywhere are expected to undergo at least a rudimentary examination before being given a license to drive. Not so in Mexico City. There, all you need is a handful of personal details, a small payment and a driving licence is yours. As Will Grant discovered when he went
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Will Grant
to pick up his to be honest, I'd been putting it off for months. I'd heard it was easy to get a driving licence in Mexico City, but something about the peeling green paint of the public Ministry offices seemed to epitomise Mexican bureaucracy and paperwork. I'd pictured hours spent in long queues and filling out form after form, copies in triplicate of everything from my birth certificate to my fingerprints, and of course, a medical record showing I was fit to drive. All of which, you might imagine would lead towards some kind of test of my basic driving ability. How wrong I was. First off, the expected cues were non existent. I arrived as a gentleman ahead of me, was finishing up, and was immediately ushered to take a seat in front of a very brisk Mexico City government official. What do I need to get a license as a foreigner? I tentatively asked the bespectacled lady behind the desk. A copy of your passport, your residence card, and a recent utility bill, she rattled off, barely looking up from her computer screen. Anything else? I asked, assuming she was just drawing breath. Fill in a copy of this form and and pay 677 pesos. That's around £30 at one of these three supermarkets. That's it. If those really were the only requirements, I could have the paperwork done by this afternoon. That's it, she answered firmly, making it clear that if I lingered any further I'd be wasting her time. I shuffled out back into the sunlight and went to gather together my documents. Mexico City is huge, a sprawling metropolis only rivalled in the region by so Paulo In Brazil, some 2,200 meters above sea level. Its thin air is clogged with the smog and noise of around 4 million vehicles circulating on its streets every day. Yet if they're from the capital, not one of those drivers has ever been required to take a test. But that is due to change soon. The left wing mayor of the city, Miguel Angel Mancera, has signed a new law which will require all drivers to take a basic aptitude test. Their eyesight will be examined, as will their driving skills, with both a theory and practical exam. Hence my newfound haste to get the paperwork done before the new law comes into force later this year. I'm lucky enough to be able to walk, to work, a distinct luxury in a city this big, but I've still done enough driving in rental cars to know that Mexico is not the safest country in the world. On my first foray onto Mexico's roads, a woman backed into our parked car within the first few hours, denting our side door and wing. It's not uncommon to see Overburdened lorries shed their loads and stop signs are often considered friendly advice rather than strict instructions. An estimated 17,000 people are killed on the roads in Mexico every year, and lobby groups have long called for tighter regulations. The tide, however, is slowly turning. Drink driving, for years considered a minor infraction, is now being taken far more seriously in Mexico City, with a marked increase in the number of random breathalyser tests, particularly around Christmas and public holidays. A series of traffic calming measures have come into force too, such as the controversial Oino circular law, in which cars with certain number plates are banned from the roads on specific days. The the law is tied to an emissions monitoring program aimed at removing the worst polluters, including the city's once emblematic taxis, the pre catalytic converter Volkswagen Beetle, from the streets. As so many people depend on their often old and environmentally unfriendly cars for work, the move, while good for Mexico City's air, has not been met with universal approval. There has also been a boom in biking. In this most motorised of capitals, the Ecobisi has been a great success. Commuters young and old, who would previously have added to the city's heaving public transport system, can now be seen weaving through the traffic on the distinctive red and chrome rented bicycles. Given that so few of the drivers around them were ever tested before they got behind a wheel, that's a brave choice. So, clutching my photocopied documents, I returned to the Public Ministry building, my form correctly filled in and a receipt for 677 pesos in my hand. Ten minutes later, I became the proud owner of one of the Mexico City government's prized plastic driving licenses. Now, if I could just remember how
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Programme Presenter
to parallel park will grant in Mexico City. Fully licensed at last. Bit of work still needed on the parking though. That's it. We'll have two programmes again next week on Thursday morning as well as Saturday. Do join us. Goodbye.