http://www.foreignpolicy.com/story/cms.php?story_id=4304
Ever since Israel captured the Golan Heights from Syria during the 1967 Six Day War, the residents of this strategic plateau have been caught in the middle of a dispute that has gone unresolved for more than 40 years. Today, they are going about their lives while others decide their fate.
In an exclusive report, Sunday Telegraph journalist Colin Freeman tells of the fears and hardships he endured while being held for 40 days and 40 nights in remote mountain caves by a gang of Somali kidnapper.
One of the many drawbacks of Stone Age living in the modern day is that nipping to the lavatory in the middle of the night is a tricky prospect. Especially for low-ceilinged cave dwellers. You fumble in the dark for your shoes, checking that no poisonous scorpions or spiders have crept inside, trying to remember not to bang your head as you clamber to your feet. Then it’s a blind stagger to the nearest convenient spot outside – perhaps a little further if it’s one of those occasional bouts of cave-dweller belly. They never showed that kind of thing on The Flintstones.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/jan/11/nicaragua-world-ortega
Two years ago Daniel Ortega swept back to power amid heady hopes for a return of the idealism which powered Nicaragua’s revolution in the 1980s. But the president’s authoritarianism and accusations of election rigging have led to fears that he is becoming just another Latin-American dictator.
There’s a lot of love and harmony in Managua these days. You tend to hear it first: the upbeat religious hymns designed to put a spring in the step. Then you see a man with a moustache beaming down from a giant billboard with a message in bright yellow letters urging peace, reconciliation and love. Lots of love. The background is pastel pink.
Clustered beneath the numerous billboards you find gatherings of people holding Nicaraguan flags and wearing white T-shirts proclaiming goodwill to all. Some wave the flags and dance to the music booming from loudspeakers. Most stand motionless and gaze blankly at traffic. Ernest Zapata, 46, has holes in his shoes, gaps in his teeth and indifference in his voice. “Why am I here?” He points to a tray of fizzy drinks and buns: lunch.
