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2011-12-09T23:53:05Z

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2011-10-21T01:20:06Z

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2011-10-21T15:13:06Z

welcome to the jungle

2011-10-21T19:30:06Z

welcome to the jungle

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2011-10-21T20:34:57Z

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2011-10-21T23:15:05Z

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2011-10-20T01:53:06Z

Front-line stories from the Arab Spring

2011-10-18T09:22:00Z

"You really will remember this session," promises organiser Alison Meston as she introduces Shahira Amin, former deputy head of Nile TV International, and Hoda Abdel-Hamid, a roving correspondent for Al Jazeera English, Qatar.

Both women, former frontline correspondents who informed the world about the recent political upheavals in the Arab world, recount their experiences to a gathering of World Editors Forum guests Saturday morning.

Shahira Amin is the first to take to the floor. She joined Nile TV, the Egyptian state-run channel, in 1989 and quit on 2 February this year, a day also known as "the battle of the camels." Why abandon such a long and fruitful career that made her one of Egypt's top television journalists? According to many western media organisations, it was because "she suddenly had a conscience." Amin dispels that myth.

Nile TV broadcasts in English, meaning there is a much higher freedom ceiling for the channel. Mubarak wanted to give a "semblance of democracy in free speech," according to Amin. Thus, she declared, "I never changed my tone. I would say: 'Well done Mrs Mubarak, you just opened a school for girls. Shame on you Mubarak for killing Sudanese refugees."

Amin was out of the country when the Egyptian political situation reached critical mass, so she and many other journalists signed a petition and handed it to the EU to put pressure on Mubarak to allow freedom of expression. She returned to her country, but getting a feel of the situation on the ground was made significantly more difficult by the curfew in place and the precarious security situation, with "criminals on the loose and no police on the streets."

Once on the ground, Amin could clearly see that the uprisings were part of an "all-inclusive people's movement." That was not the way Nile TV described the situation. The station called the protestors "foreign agents, criminals and hired thugs." Amin was told by her superiors not to cover Tahir, but she was expected to continue reading the news. She was asked to go on air just after she saw the horse-mounted police attack protesters, which she described as "like a scene from medieval times." Nile TV forbade her to refer to the event: "We had clear instructions not to mention it."

Amin was no stranger to controversy at work: "They were used to me getting out of line a bit. I like to challenge authority." However, when she refused to cover pro-Mubarak demonstrations instead of Tahir, it was clear that the rift between herself and the channel was growing impossibly large. Her position was untenable.

At the time, Amin thought reading the press releases handed to the station by the Interior Ministry would constitute a betrayal of the young activists who were risking their lives in the streets for "things we all believe in": democracy and free speech. Amin bluntly tells today's small gathering: "I'm 52; my job is a small price to pay."

Once the mobile phone network had been restored, Amin's legs led her towards Tahir Square. She sent a message to her boss that read: "Forgive me, I am never coming back - I'm with the people." She waited to read the delivery notice. The relief was palpable. Finally, she was free to stay at Tahir and join the Egyptian people in protesting.

Hoda Abdel-Hamid's account of her experiences of the same period showed equal journalistic integrity. She arrived in Egypt on the day of "the battle of the camels" and was met by "guys in trucks" shouting and chanting and looking as if they were "probably going to give someone a beating."

The Hilton hotel was the planned location for a rendezvous with her colleagues, but she received a call telling her not to come because the hotel was surrounded. She dropped her case and, taking only her passport and mobile phone, headed for Tahir.

Initially, Abdel-Hamid didn't realise protesters were being attacked by pro-Mubarak forces. It was "quite a surreal scene," like something from "folklore," she tells the World Editors Forum.

Al Jazeera was initially derided by the state as being without credibility. "We were the sinners of all sinners," Abdel-Hamid says. For a while she had to be a "nameless, faceless correspondent" in order to keep her location and identity hidden, which would enable her to continue reporting.

Abdel-Hamid tells the conference that during one of her reports, a military helicopter was circling above her whilst she was on rooftop with a camera woman. A secret service agent spied the pair and asked what channel she was working for.

"AJE," she replied.

The soldier asked, "So not Al Jazeera, then?"

"No."

Once the man had left them in peace, the camera woman told Abdel-Hamid, "I can't believe you just lied so bluntly." It wouldn't be the last time.

For instance, when she encounters what she described as "some big guys", looking "nervous," agitated, and possibly "high," who told her that she had no place being in the streets with the protesters, she avoided trouble by telling them, "I'm coming to see what's happening because I don't trust the media."

Abdel-Hamid's exploits don't end there. She and her Moldovan camera woman - a "very gutsy young lady" - crossed the border into Libya despite knowing very little about the country. She explained that "no journalists knew anything about it, it was such a closed country."

The plan the pair adopted when they crossed in to Libya was simple: Look for the oldest man around and ask for his help. It worked quite nicely. They happened across a man who proved to be very accommodating. "Don't worry," he said, "I will take you all the way to Ben Gazi." The heavy days of fighting were over in the city by that point, so entering the territory seemed possible.

When they arrived, they tried to check into a hotel. The camera woman accompanying Abdel-Hamid decided she would tell the hotel staff that they were from Moldovan TV. "Is there a Moldovan TV?" asked Abdul-Hamid. Yes, there is. "We didn't want to lie too much!" she explained. It turned out to be an unnecessary deception in any case; the hotel staff knew they were from Al Jazeera, having recognised Abdel-Hamid from her broadcast in Tahir Square. Fortunately, the Libyan hotel staff were more well-disposed towards Al Jazeera than certain factions of Egyptian society were at the time.

Abdel-Hamid and the camera woman found themselves on what she described as the "highway of war." One road in the north was the artery of the entire country; people were transporting food along it and simply parked alongside the highway, having escaped the cities. It was also the locus for many bombings and other attacks. Abdel-Hamid says the most important skill to develop was "the art of jumping in your car and running away as quick as possible." But sometimes even that wasn't enough - some journalists escaped a bombing by quickly driving away into the desert, but subsequently got caught by Gadaffi forces.

Clearly, both women have shown admirable conviction in the pursuit of journalism. What inspires them to show such courage? Alison Meston of WAN-IFRA asks: "Is this because you are strong women with strong personalities? Or because you are journalists in pursuit of the truth?"

Amin describes how her former colleagues "practice self-censorship all the time. I just wanted to maintain my credibility...better an honourable exit than to lose my credibility."

Hoda Abdel-Hamid admits it was because "I like daring and being dared. When I finished university it seemed like the perfect job for me." After 15 years as a war correspondent, now she asks her boss if "once a year can I go to a nice place; now I'm in Vienna."

She also tells the conference of the deep-seated obligation she felt to help others facing crisis: "You do have a responsibility towards those people. Otherwise no one will know what's happening. If I hear about a war or even a natural disaster, I know how much they are suffering... I cannot sit at home and let down those people. As long as I have my last drop of energy I will still try and go as far as I can...You go back home and you feel blessed for what you have in life."

Both women studied economics but, when asked about how young journalists should train, Abdel-Hamid says, "International relations are what I would advise." She also offers a warning to those "very, very brave freelancers" who compete "to go furthest" and get the next shot. "If you get caught or hurt then you have failed in your mission as a journalist, because you can't do it any more. If a young freelancer is going to go into a conflict zone, basic first aid is essential".

Amin studied at the American University in Cairo, then worked as a disk jockey. In 2000, CNN offered her training shadowing Larry King and Jim Clancy. Then the network gave her the camera - just after 9/11 - and asked her to do her own stories. "It was a test to see if I could do it on my own." She did - and she liked it. She accepted the position as deputy head of Nile TV on the condition that she could continue to report from the field. Her mother asked her: "Why don't you just dress up and put make-up on like the other presenters?"

Much has been said about the role of social media in transforming the Middle Eastern political climate. Social media and citizen journalism raise one important question: how do you verify that information?

On the subject of verification, Abdel-Hamid has some simple advice: "Never take a tweet for its value... go and check. She describes how combatants in Libya were filming on mobile phones in Libya - "They just want to give it to a journalist." However, those offerings should be received with caution, she warns. "Each side going to try and put forward their own propaganda; the more powerful they are, the more they will try and give you." Taking the footage is fine, but "you still have to do your journalistic research."

Amin concludes by giving a summation of the Middle Eastern climate: "Things aren't gong as well as we hoped, but we knew it would be a long struggle. The military rulers are dragging their feet." She described how 12,000 civilians have been tried in martial courts in eight months' time, which is more than in 30 years under Mubarak. The emergency laws have been reinstated in Egypt. More is still being discovered about the extent to which the state will go to quash protests, including executing virginity tests on female protesters on 9 March. Amnesty confirmed that happened, and Amin reported that a senior general admitted to her that it was true.

She broke the story on CNN, which lead to eight local websites defaming her. She received death threats reading: "Concentrate on your family life or you risk losing EVERYTHING."

For their journalistic integrity, both Amin and Abdel-Hamid win the respect of the World Editors Forum.

Never die: The Bagamoyo boat

2011-10-11T05:35:58Z

It would have been simpler, needless to say a whole lot safer to leave Zanzibar on one of the regular high-speed ferries that shuttle back and forth to Dar es Salaam. The moment one approaches the port there is no shortage of commission-hungry touts waiting to escort you to one of many ticket offices. Here the ticket price will be quoted in US dollars (double or several times the local resident price) and you will be whisked away in air-conditioned comfort on a boat that maintains a schedule. Travel in places where there are lots of tourists is sometimes just too easy.

Taking a dhow on the other hand is something foreigners generally only do at sunset – one of the listed ‘things to do’ in many guidebooks to the island I’m sure. Great if you’re romancing a girl on your holidays, less so if you’re not. Yet for centuries this is how everyone arrived on or departed from the island.

Coming from the mainland most would have started their journey in Bagamoyo – at one time the capital of German East Africa, and before that a terminus for thousands of slaves who’d been marched eastwards out of Central Africa. Those that survived the journey dubbed the town ‘Bwagamoyo’ – meaning ‘crush your heart’. Here they awaited a sea voyage, first to nearby Zanzibar, and then across the Arabian Sea towards their final destination somewhere in the Gulf.

It’s also where all those 19^th Century explorers arrived on the continent and set off into the interior with their enormous entourage of porters. Stanley, Grant, Burton , Speke, and most famously David Livingstone all came here. For the latter it was where he would end his time in Africa – he arrived dead having been carried 1500 miles by his porters from Lake Bangweulu in Zambia.

Bagamoyo has long since been replaced by Dar es Salaam, 70 km further south, as the centre of commercial activity along the Tanzanian coast, but it remains the shortest sea route between island and mainland (just 20 nautical miles), and that obviously favoured by boats which rely on sail power.

Well it was a sail-powered boat to the mainland that I was interested in, but there was no ticket office advertising the journey. That is probably because there aren’t tickets for dhows plying the Zanzibar-Bagamoyo route on a daily basis. These are essentially cargo-boats, as they always have been, transporting anything from charcoal and cement, to tomatoes, salt, used-clothes and scrap metal. Passengers, if there any, sit on top. There is no time-table. Boats go when sufficiently loaded (very often overloaded) and the captain decides.

Before leaving Zanzibar a large veiled woman at the immigration office made me write my own declaration – stating something to the effect that the captain of the boat would bear no responsibility for any eventuality on his boat. This was tempting fate. Moments before I’d stopped beside some graffiti that made me contemplate whether taking a dhow back to the mainland was a wise thing to do. The graffiti read: Never die.

The dhow that was to take me contained half a dozen or more freezers and refrigerators, plus a lot of old car tyres. Besides me there were 12 other people aboard: 10 crew, a man carrying several DVD players he said he was going to sell in Dar (how could these have possibly been cheaper on Zanzibar I have no idea) and a teenage boy who spent half of the 4-hour crossing vomiting over the side.

Before getting underway I lashed my bike with bungee cords up against the wooden mast at the front of the boat. It wasn’t going to move, but within minutes of clearing Stone Town, colliding with a partially submerged small tanker on the way, it was soaked. Very soon after so was I. But what I feared to be a boat too heavily-laden actually seemed to act in her favour. She rode over the 2-3 metre waves most of the time, but we were too close to what was a choppy sea and the southerly wind was strong enough (Force 5?) to ensure this would not be a dry journey. Had the dhow been empty however we would have rolled all over the place.

It was dangerous journey in many respects, (there were no life jackets, I didn’t know the captain’s experience, the weather could have suddenly changed) but sitting at the stern with a jovial crew eager to hear my limited Swahili as I watched them steering this age-old vessel to shore was one of those journeys you don’t forget.

I almost lost a pannier on arriving at Bagamoyo. The dhow ran aground several hundred metres from shore and we would need to take a small paddle boat to reach dry land. The problem was it was dark, and moving a bicycle with 6 bags when you are alone means you either leave things out of your sight for some minutes or you hope someone nearby will aid you. Well a mzungu in such a situation is usually always aided in Africa. Once I paid the Captain 10,000tsh ($6) for the journey (a sum that hadn’t been discussed before we left Zanzibar, but I knew was close to what a passenger should pay) I was lifting bike from one boat to another and being paddled towards the shore.

Arriving alone in unfamiliar African towns in the dark is always best avoided. As I started to re-attach panniers to the bike – having had them carried by the boat porter as we waded through the shallows to the beach, (I carried my bike) I realised one of the front panniers was missing. I turned round and the boat porter had disappeared back into the darkness. Great.

For the next 20 minutes I stood on the beach next to the crumbling remains of Bagamoyo’s old Customs Office assessing what my losses were. The pannier was still in the small paddle boat surely, but I couldn’t just leave my bike and bags and go back in search of it.

The passenger carrying the DVD players came to the rescue. He spoke more English than I do Swahili. Guarding his ‘Simsung’ DVD players he disappeared back into the shallows and emerged triumphant with the missing bag. Hurrah. I had made it to Bagamoyo – body, bike and bags intact. Now I just had to find a place to watch the Rugby – not so easy in this part of the World.

Leaving the farm: Africa’s rapid urbanisation

2011-10-12T14:31:04Z

Enticed by the promise of economic prosperity, millions of Africans are converging on the continent’s ballooning urban nodes.

Ranked: Kenya’s 40 most valuable brands

2011-10-15T10:23:11Z

Mobile telecommunications giant Safaricom is Kenya’s most valuable brand, according to the 2011 Brand Finance Kenyan Top 40 index.

iOS 5 GUI PSD (iPhone 4S)

2011-10-14T17:13:39Z

Every time we create one of these files we notice just how much has changed. I’m not talking about the obvious stuff like iCloud, Siri or Notifications. I’m talking about the small stuff. It’s an eye-opening experience looking this closely at what makes up an interface.

You don’t notice this level of detail on a micro level, but you’re aware of it on a macro one. When you pick up your phone to send a tweet or check an email you’re seeing hundreds of these details a second. Those details add up to make the experience what it is. It gets me thinking about the endless hours of debate and decisions that must have occurred around a seemingly meaningless change to the weight of a stroke, or the depth of a shadow. For the most part, I think these changes aren’t meaningless – they’re purposeful and intentional. Some of these changes make things more consistent, others make things more useable. There are however, a few that might leave you scratching your head.

One thing to be sure of here is that this OS is tighter from a design standpoint than its ever been before. Apple’s passion and attention to detail is something that every designer and developer needs to have. Without it, you’re simply not putting your best foot forward. Now, go make epic shit.

Download the iOS 5 GUI PSD here

Examples of changes between iOS 5 and 4:

iOS5 introduces a white drop shadow to an inset table view cell (iOS5 on left, iOS4 right)

The stem of the shift symbol on the keyboard is shorter in iOS 5 (iOS5 on left, iOS4 right)

The carrier name now has a deep inset shadow in iOS5 (iOS5 on left, iOS4 right)

You can follow Geoff and Teehan+Lax on Twitter.

burundimicrofinanceinstitutes_2

2011-10-16T10:12:01Z

burundimicrofinanceinstitutes_2

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2011-10-15T18:30:19Z

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2011-10-15T19:31:05Z

Yahoo Visualizes Real-Time Email Subject Line Keywords and Destinations

2011-10-14T14:13:17Z

The Yahoo! Mail Visualization [yahoo.com], designed by Periscopic, aims to show of the network processing power required to run a vast emailing service by revealing the streams of keywords that are sent around the globe in real-time.

The geo-located circles on the world map represent the activity and volume of processed emails, totaling to about 5.6 billion emails a day. Current and predicted email traffic is show at the bottom of the screen. A streamgraph shows the top 10 keywords used in email subject lines over the last 5 minutes (at least from those countries that have no strict privacy laws). Both views allow for zooming into specific continents, and for filtering the spam from the non-spam email (which actually occur to a ratio of 1 to 4). Additional infographic illustrations further explain the email filtering processes.

This Week In Photography Books

2011-10-14T15:39:00Z

by Jonathan Blaustein

So before anyone points it out, I’d like to note that this column has thusfar been a bit male-centric. My apologies. Today’s offering is no exception: all dudes. Fortunately, I’ve run through my addictive photo-book stash, and need to hit photo-eye for a re-up. I’ll make sure to find a better gender balance going forward. The collection of books to be reviewed today have a few things in common. All are beautifully produced, cloth-bound hardcovers, and ought to satisfy last week’s commenters who yearn for something less derivative. Lest I be accused of pandering, however, I’ve had these books waiting in the queue for a month or so.

“Ernst Haas: Color Correction” is a gray cloth-wrapped book from Steidl, with bright red text accents jumping off the cover. Mr. Haas, for those of you who are unaware, was a highly influential commercial and editorial photographer (and Magnum member) who holds the distinction of having the first show of color photographs at MOMA. According to the book, he fell out of favor after John Szarkowski took over the MOMA photo department, and his fine art images, or personal work, have not been given proper appreciation until now. So I’d suppose that might be enough of a reason for some of you to grab a copy, given that many of these images have never been seen before. (They went through something like 10,000 slides to make the edit.) But for most of you, it comes down to the pictures, not the backstory. This volume is teeming with extraordinary color images that collectively create a serene, quiet tone, despite the loud and audacious palette. Abstraction plays a large role, but we get to see people, places, and things, all mashed up with reflections and visual obstructions. Personally, I fell in love with a photo of a man holding a pomelo behind his back in on a NYC street, and a poignant little image of an abandoned necklace, nestled on the ground among some dead leaves.
Bottom Line: A Classic Career, Re-imagined

Visit Photo-Eye to purchase Ernst Haas: Color Correction.

“Joel Sternfeld: First Pictures” makes a great complement to the Haas book. This one is also offered by Stiedl, in white, with a classic 70′s Americana image affixed to the cover. If you think that the title and that photo give you a sense of what’s in store within, you’re right. They do. This collection of photographs was made between 1971-1980, and it shows. The last words in the book’s essay are “This book is a time capsule,” and I didn’t need them to tell me that. It’s obvious. But wow, could this guy find the symbolic moments of that decade that we all love to love. (Yes, that was a Donna Summer reference. Deal with it.) This is a large book with lots of photographs, and like the Haas book, many of which you’ve never seen before. They have a wit, pathos, and dexterity with symbolism that are as enjoyable as the cultural references. A yellow wheelchair chained to a sign post follows an image of a old lady counting her dollars at the counter of a NYC diner, the empty soup-cracker-wrapper catching the light from the flash just so. Then he drops an image of a bunch of cigars and some horned-rimmed black glasses in the pocket of a 70′s polka-dotted polyester shirt. Boom. What a tripych. He closes the narrative with a series of images shot in malls around New Jersey in 1980, (yes, I was looking for anyone I knew) that perfectly anticipates our contemporary fascination with Jersey Shore, while also capturing the spirit of 80′s teased hair and un-ironic mustaches. This book is a keeper, for sure, and I’m sorry I have to return it.
Bottom Line: Unapologetically Awesome

Visit Photo-Eye to purchase Joel Sternfeld: First Pictures

I thought I’d finish up with another set of color images that attempts to take a fresh look at the world. We jump a few decades to the present for “Suburbia Mexicana,” a gray cloth-bound hard cover that was published jointly by photolucida and Daylight books. I’m a big fan of Alejandro Cartagena’s work, and I’m probably at the back of a long line, as he’s been honored by just about everyone for this project. Mr. Cartagena set about to take a closer look at the cookie-cutter, mini-muffin style concrete micro-homes that have sprouted up around the Mexican industrial city of Monterrey, where he is based. (Though the phenomenon exists around Mexico.) The images can be read ironically, like, look at those ridiculous little monsters debasing the environment at the base of some desert Mountain-scape, or earnestly, like, look at what happens when a Third world country begins to develop a middle-class, and people can finally afford a decent place for their families with a TV and indoor plumbing. Regardless, “Suburbia Mexicana” captures the essence of a global movement that has seen the American middle class struggle while hungry, desperate people around the world claw towards a better way of life. Those of you curious to see what’s going on in our neighbor to the South, (aside from the gruesome drug war and absurd permanent spring-break tourist culture) will get a unique vision of an issue super-relevant to our times.
Bottom line: Insightful

Visit Photo-Eye to purchase Suburbia Mexicana

Full Disclosure: Books and scans were provided by Photo-Eye in exchange for links back for purchase. Please support Photo-Eye if you find this feature useful.

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The genius of Apple’s Newsstand is its icon

2011-10-14T15:39:36Z

Apple’s Newsstand has received plenty of analysis from the media industry press since it was first announced earlier this year, but now that it’s here, there’s a surprising factor in why it might be a success – its icon.

Newsstand is a central hub for all your newspaper and magazine app subscriptions in iOS. Each title you subscribe to, and there are plenty of big names involved from the New York Times to National Geographic, shows up as a separate title in your virtual bookshelf of magazines. A store is available, letting you browse and subscribe to titles from one place.

While that central hub may not be enough on its own to persuade news publishers worried about Apple’s 30% of fees from subscriptions to take part, the design of the NewsStand app icon may well be. Here’s why:

You can’t miss it: Unlike Apple’s bookstore, iBooks, Newsstand isn’t an optional download – it’s right there on the homescreen when you start up iOS 5. Every iOS 5 user knows about NewsStand.
You can’t get rid of it – While you can move it to another menu page, the Newsstand icon can’t be deleted – it’s there for good. You can’t even move it into a folder because it is a folder itself – one with a customized design, but a folder nevertheless. Okay, there’s a little trick you can use to get it into a folder if you really want, but it will restart your phone if you try to open it while in a folder so it’s a bug, not a feature.
Once you start using it, you want to use it more: If you haven’t subscribed to any publications through NewsStand yet, you won’t necessarily know about this, but each title you’re subscribed to is visible even when Newstand isn’t open – they appear on that tiny icon on your homescreen. The psychological effect here is important – seeing those magazines on the virtual shelf makes you want to open up the folder to have a read. Below, you can see the Newsstand icon as I see it on my iPad, with Wired and Wired UK sat on the shelf. You know what? That incomplete shelf makes me want to fill it up by subscribing to more titles.

So, if Newsstand is a success, it could well be that humble little square icon that can take a lot of the credit.

CHARTS: Here's What The Wall Street Protesters Are So Angry About...

2011-10-14T16:40:44Z

The full story, in charts.

Photo

2011-10-12T16:30:06Z