VIDEO: Iva Lamkum (New Zealand)


"Kung Fu Grip"


Iva Lamkum's debut video "Kung Fu Grip"

Caleb Robinson/Bass -
Darren Mathiassen/Drums -
Miles Crayford/Rhodes -
Andy Mauafua/Guitar -


"No"


"No" is the first single to be taken from Iva Lamkum's forthcoming debut album due to be released in 2010.
Track Produced by Caleb Robinson - Base Promotions, Wellington
Mixed by Clint Murphy - Modern World Studios, United Kingdom
Mastered by Tom Coyne - Sterling Sound, New York
Video Directed by Tim van Dammen - Blur n Sharpen, Auckland
Band: The Pandas 
Darren Mathiassen -Drums/Percussion
James Illingworth - Piano
Andy Mauafua - Guitar
Caleb Robinson - Bass
Backing Vocals guest - Mara TK


Tagata Pasifika: Iva Lamkum



Iva Lamkum live on Kiwi FM



 

PUB: Missouri Writers Guild- Flash Fiction Contest

Missouri Writers Guild

 

Contests

Do you have a contest that may be of interest to Missouri Writers' Guild members? Send information to Jennifer Jiang at jjiang@earthlink.net" title="mailto:jjiang@earthlink.net"> jjiang@earthlink.net

 

Contests

MISSOURI WRITERS’ GUILD – FLASH FICTION CONTEST

  1. Flash Fiction – Get to the point in 500 words or less. Subject is open, but no gore or pornography.
  2. Deadline for entry—submissions must be postmarked no later than September 30, 2010.
  3. Entry fee:
    $10 for non-members,
    $8 for members.
    Maximum of three entries per person.
  4. Checks payable to: Missouri Writers’ Guild.
  5. Prizes: 1st place - $100, 2nd place - $50, 3rd place - $25.
    Three honorable mentions will receive certificates.
  6. Short stories must be in English, unpublished at the time of submission, and original work of the contestant.
  7. Contestants retain all rights to their stories. Standard manuscript format: 8 1/2 x 11 paper, typed and double-spaced on one side of the paper, pages numbered, title of entry on every page, 12 point Times New Roman. Paper clip pages together. Contestants name or other identifying information should not appear anywhere on manuscript.
  8. Attach a separate cover sheet and include: story title, contestant’s name, address, e-mail, phone number, and MWG chapter name (if applicable). Do NOT send by certified mail!
  9. Mail entry fee and two copies of each entry, flat, not folded, by September 30 (postmark) to:
    Tricia L. Sanders
    Missouri Writers’ Guild – Flash Fiction Contest
    90 Westwood Trails
    Foristell, MO 63348
  10. Stories exceeding word limit, not having adequate postage, or not adhering to contest guidelines will be disqualified and entry fee will not be returned. Decision of judge is final. Not responsible for lost or misdirected entries. Stories will not be returned. For a list of winners, visit our website in late October 2010: www.missouriwritersguild.org
Certificates and prizes will be mailed by the end of October.

2010 Springfield Writers’ Guild 17th Annual Literary Awards
DEADLINE: All entries must be postmarked no later than October 1, 2010

Jim Stone Grand Prize Memorial Awards
#1 Poetry any subject, any form Limit: 1 page, single spaced
#2 Fiction any subject Limit: 1,500 words
#3 Non-Fiction any subject Limit: 1,500 words

Awards for categories #1 - #3:
1st place - $100 and certificate Two Honorable Mentions and certificate
($3 per entry for categories 1-3)

Prose Poetry
(Limit of 1,000 words/entry) (Limit of one single-spaced page)
#4 Essay or Article – Ozarks Related #9 Rhyming – any subject or form
#5 Short Story – any genre #10 Humorous Verse – any form
#6 Nostalgia/Reminiscence #11 Free Verse – any subject
#7 Humor – any subject #12 Haiku – traditional (5,7,5 – nature theme)
#8 Essay or Opinion Piece

Awards for categories #4 - #12:
1st place - $20 and certificate 2nd place - $10 and certificate
3rd place $5 and certificate One Honorable mention and certificate
($2 per entry for categories 4-12)

 

Entry Guidelines:

  1. All entries must be the original, unpublished work of the contestant.
  2. Do not enter the same prose or poetry in more than one category
  3. All manuscripts must be typed on 8½ x 11 paper in standard manuscript form.
  4. Prose must be double-spaced and poetry must be single-spaced.
  5. All entries must have a title except the haiku.
  6. Place the category name and number, plus the word count for prose, in the upper left corner of each entry. List the poetry form where applicable.
  7. DO NOT PUT YOUR NAME ON THE ENTRY. Include a cover sheet listing ALL entries by category, name, number, title, and the first line of the manuscript or poem. Put your name, address, phone number and email address on the cover sheet.
  8. Keep all originals; no copies will be returned. No entries/winners will be published.
  9. Winners will be announced and awards given at the October 2010 regular S.W.G. meeting or mailed to those unable to attend.
  10. DEADLINE: All entries must be postmarked no later than October 1, 2010. SWG is not responsible for lost, misdirected, or postage-due entries.
  11. For a list of winners, please include a SASE with your entry.
  12. There is no limit on entries per category. However, no entrant may win more than one award per category entered, regardless of the number of entries.
  13. Any entry that does not follow these guidelines will be immediately disqualified without reimbursement.
Mail contest fees and entries to:

Dr. Jerry Wible, SWG Contest
2987 E. Kemmling Lane
Springfield, MO 65804

For more information:
Email: jwible@sbcglobal.net or mandybarke@yahoo.com
Phone: Jerry (417) 889-8370 or Mandy (417) 830-7660
Make all checks payable to: Springfield Writers’ Guild Contest.

 

PUB: Story Contest | Past Loves Day 2008

If Only I Could Tell You

STORY CONTEST PAST LOVES DAY

WeavingEVEN IF you never see the person again, a significant former love remains with you. That woman or man is woven into the tapestry of your life – maybe as a subtle shading here and there, maybe as a vibrant pattern smack in the middle. Without those threads, the weaving would be something else. You would be someone else.

-From If Only I Could Tell You

 

To foster awareness of PAST LOVES DAY, SEPTEMBER 17, Spruce Mountain Press sponsors an annual Story Contest. The Contest, and the Day, offer an opportunity to acknowledge a truth that lingers in your heart.

ENTRY REQUIREMENTS: No entry fee

Nearly everyone has memories of a former sweetheart. Write your true story of an earlier love, in no more than 700 words. Tell us about someone whose memory brings a smile or a tear, or both:

  • What feelings arise if you allow yourself to be fully open to remembering that person?
  • What is it about that special someone that you still cherish?
  • IN PARTICULAR, how did that person's presence in your life change you and how you experience the world?

Your story may be heart-warming or humorous. Just tell about your earlier sweetheart as if you were talking to your best friend.

Read Winning Stories From Previous Years

PRIZES:

First Prize: $100   Second Prize: $75   Third Prize: $50   Honorable Mention(s)

Winning stories will be posted (anonymously, if requested by author) on this website.

Some stories may also be selected for inclusion in an upcoming anthology, to be published by Spruce Mountain Press. Please specify if you would prefer that your story NOT be included in this selection process for the anthology OR for posting on this website. This in no way affects your eligibility to win.

CLOSING DATE:

Entries must be sent by midnight, August 17. Winning stories will be posted on this website within one month after Past Loves Day, September 17. Individuals who have won prizes will be informed when the selection process has been completed.

SEND YOUR ENTRY TO:

e-mail:

contest@ourpastloves.com
Please paste story into the body of your email, AND BE SURE TO INCLUDE YOUR NAME AND MAILING ADDRESS WITH YOUR STORY.

or regular mail:

CONTEST
Spruce Mountain Press
61 Katuah Rd., Plainfield, VT 05667

We hope you will find that just revisiting a meaningful part of your heart's journey will make you a winner.

 

 

PUB: Zoetrope: All-Story: Contests

FOURTEENTH ANNUAL ZOETROPE: ALL-STORY SHORT FICTION CONTEST

 

Guest Judge: Andrew Sean Greer

First prize: $1,000
Second prize: $500
Third prize: $250

The three prizewinners and seven honorable mentions will be considered for representation by the William Morris Agency, ICM, Regal Literary, the Elaine Markson Literary Agency, Inkwell Management, Sterling Lord Literistic, and the Georges Borchardt Literary Agency.

 

The deadline is October 1, 2010. Results will be announced at the website December 15, 2010, and in the Spring 2011 issue of Zoetrope: All-Story; and the winning story will be published as a special online supplement to that Spring 2011 issue.

Complete Contest Guidelines:
We accept all genres of literary fiction. Entries must be: unpublished; strictly 5,000 words or less; and accompanied by a $15 entry fee per story. There are no formatting restrictions; please ensure only that the story is legible.

We welcome multiple entries ($15/story) and entries from outside the U.S. We will e-mail contest updates to anyone who provides an active e-mail address. Entrants retain all rights to their stories. Once a story is submitted, we cannot accept an updated draft. (However, an entrant is welcome to submit an updated draft as a new entry.) Entry fees will not be returned or adjusted.

Entries must be complete by 11:59 P.M. PDT on October 1, 2010. Enter here.

Please e-mail us at contests@all-story.com with further questions. Thank you for your interest, and good luck!

 

 

© 2001-2010 American Zoetrope

 

 

 

 

 

 

VIDEO: Basil Davidson's VIDEOS educational "Africa Series" - Udumwun Edo vbe Afrika

Uwagboe Ogieva

Basil Davidson's VIDEOS educational "Africa Series"


Africa: Ep 1 - Different But Equal
11/05/2007 - 51:45
This is the first installment of Basil Davidson's educational "Africa Series". Basil Davidson is an acclaimed writer and Africanist historian. His works are required reading in many Britis...


Africa: Ep 2 - Mastering A Continent
12/05/2007 - 51:08
This is the second installment of Basil Davidson's educational "Africa Series". Basil Davidson is an acclaimed writer and Africanist historian. His works are required reading in many Britis...


Africa: Ep 3 - Caravans of Gold
12/05/2007 - 51:35
This is the third installment of Basil Davidson's educational "Africa Series". Basil Davidson is an acclaimed writer and Africanist historian. His works are required reading in many British...


Africa: Ep 4 - The King and the City
12/05/2007 - 15:18
This is the fourth installment of Basil Davidson's educational "Africa Series". Basil Davidson is an acclaimed writer and Africanist historian. His works are required reading in many Britis...


ANCIENT AFRICAN NATIONS
08/06/2007 - 52:45
Dr. YOSEF BEN-JOHANNAN AND DR. SIMMONS AT UAB LECTURE. OLMECS, RELIGION, MIGRATIONS, AND EDUCATION.


Africa: Ep 5 - The Bible and The Gun
13/05/2007 - 51:35
This is the fifth installment of Basil Davidson's educational "Africa Series". Basil Davidson is an acclaimed writer and Africanist historian. His works are required reading in many British...




Africa Addio / Farewell Africa (English Subtitles)
06/08/2007 - 2:18:37
'Africa Addio' / 'Farewell Africa' (shot in 1964; released in 1966) is a documentary film about the decolonization of Africa, made by the Italian
film directors Gualtiero Jacopetti and Franco ...

INTERVIEW: Irene Sabatini > from Black Book News

Interview with Irene Sabatini

Irene  - congratulations on the winning the Orange Award New Writers Prize, I loved it, and can see why you were selected ahead of your peers, The Boy Next Door is a thoroughly moving work.

Thank you, very much.

Ÿ       What inspired The Boy Next Door’s theme of an interracial relationship in the Zimbabwe of the 1980s and 1990s?

The genesis of book was two pronged: a suggestion from an editor that I write a memoir about growing up in Zimbabwe during the 1980s and 1990s, and a phone call I received from Bulawayo in 2007 about a fire that had broken out in the neighbouring house of my childhood home. The two events came together one morning as I sat in front of the computer, and typed out that first line, ‘Two days after I turned fourteen the son of our neighbour set his step mother alight,’ a line which seemed then to come from nowhere! So, Lindiwe’s childhood draws from my childhood in Bulawayo (the memoir suggestion) and the fire bit draws from that phone call. The wonder of fiction is that I was at liberty to fuse two events which happened in completely different time zones and create something new. Ian, appeared, and he is entirely a work of fiction.

Ÿ       We see Lindiwe Bishop grow from an observant youngster, into a wilful teenager, and then tentatively into motherhood, you have created a character that will be with us for a long time. How did you set about creating her and her development?

Lindiwe’s transformation was an organic process; there was no conscious decision to give her a particular voice or to shape her character and personality. Once she was there, sitting on that veranda reading her Sue Barton book, where we first set eyes on her, her voice took over. Who she is, I think, is set up on those opening pages of the book. It’s wonderful when readers come to me and tell me how much Lindiwe’s growth from childhood to womanhood rings so true, how her voice changes from this naive teenager to this sophisticated woman… in a way, I can’t take too much credit- she was such a vivid (and delightful) presence!

Ÿ       Lindiwe’s mother is so tautly drawn and the ambivalent relationship between mother and daughter throughout the book is pretty much unbearable! How did you cope with creating it?

Yes, I have had quite a bit of feedback about this relationship; one reader said that they were pretty much traumatised by it, especially its climax.

In one way you could describe Lindiwe’s mother as this type of religious zealot, very strict and unforgiving in her beliefs. But, on the other hand, she is also very much the wronged woman, and you can see where her attitudes and rigidity may spring from - as a form of self protection, a way to preserve her dignity. Throughout the book Lindiwe calls her mother ‘Mummy’ which I think is a word which shows the real need she has for her mother to hold her and smother her with an all forgiving, absolute, almost infantile, mother love. Only at the very end, does Lindiwe, set up some distance between them and starts referring to her as ‘my mother.’

I was sad that their relationship developed the way it did; it was almost shocking for me…but sometimes, things which are broken cannot be fixed and this is something Lindiwe realises, I think, when she says that she is grown; she has to, in a sense, leave the things of childhood behind, and begin life afresh, with her own family.

Ÿ       How did you decide on the career for Lindiwe – the mix of advertising administrator where she is involved in creating a make believe world, and her academic research role which essentially looks at life as it is?

Lindiwe’s career paths involved some borrowing from my own. While at university in Harare I worked in an advertising firm where I really did have to go around and collect doves for a campaign! I, like Lindiwe, studied psychology, and that research project of hers on co-operatives is imaginatively borrowed from my own.

Ÿ       The way that you showed the strengths and weaknesses of ‘international development’ was particularly insightful, how hard was that to research and write?

While I was at university during the late 1980s and early 1990s I did come across what Ian calls, ‘fundies’ that is international development workers, experts. Most were wide-eyed, African enthusiasts who really did want to make a kind of socialist paradise in Zimbabwe; the opportunity was there! Harare, and to a lesser extent Bulawayo, was teeming with ‘experts’ from Cuba, America, Europe who were teachers, doctors, engineers, doctors of economics…. They were primarily young, straight from university, under the guidance of, still not entirely jaded, old ‘Developing World’ hands…and they came to this newly independent county which had been isolated for so long, full of enthusiasm, energy, good will, and yet could become so easily disenchanted when the ‘locals’ didn’t quite follow the script- so the mix between local and foreigner was bound to get rather interesting. 

Ÿ       Ian was such a complex character, seemingly isolated by his own community, but in fact we learn so much about Zimbabwe through him. Is he based upon someone you knew?

Ian is this wonderful mystery to me. His voice was so loud and clear to me. I could literally ‘hear’ him. Where does he come from? No, he is not based on someone I know. I think that he is an amalgamation, a fusion, synthesis, some kind of organic combustion, or alchemy of all the white boys I came across while growing up in Zimbabwe: the white boys of the youth club I went to when I was just about the only black member, the white boys of the high school I went to in my last two years, the white boys who I interacted with at the advertising agency, the white boys who would come traipsing in at the employment agency I worked in when I came back to Zimbabwe….all of them becoming this highly energetic person of Ian who is full of racial slurs at the beginning because of the type of upbringing he has had and how he has never, in away, had to question his place in the world (although, in a way, he has had to do so at a personal, family level) until he meets Lindiwe who challenges him about his careless utterances.  What surprised me with Ian is how he grows, but in this realistic way…there are readers who feel that I am too soft on him, and others who feel I’m too harsh… I think that what is really striking about him is that he embodies the notion of change.  

Ÿ       His career as a conflict photographer is based on real life characters, can you tell us why you chose to give him a role that observes the near neighbour South Africa, rather than Zimbabwe itself?

I read The Bang Bang Club while I was still in Zimbabwe long before Ian came barrelling into my imaginative landscape. This memoir, written by two war photographers who chronicled the highly volatile 1990s in South Africa, really stuck with me; how it told these very personal stories within the canvas of political revolution.  I remember being a bit stuck about what Ian should be doing, it didn’t seem enough to just make him what he calls a ‘Domestic Engineer’, it felt that he wanted to be something more, and so really, like a light bulb switching on, or perhaps my eyes glanced up and caught the spine of the book on my shelf, Ian had to be, was, a war photographer. Photography gave him an artistic outlet which I felt tapped into some very sensitive part of him that was always there (and which I think is what really draws Lindiwe to him despite his rather coarse mannerisms), and it also brings him head to head with his unthinking attitudes. Because this period in the book is taking place in the 1990s it made more sense to have Ian in South Africa where so much was going on in Soweto and there was the whole anticipation before Mandela’s release; Zimbabwe, at that time, was relatively quiet and thriving in many ways.

Ÿ       Lindiwe and Ian’s relationship survive enabling them to begin to create a life for their family, I just wondered if there was another ending that would set them in Zimbabwe?

I would imagine that there would be many kinds of endings that would set them in Zimbabwe, both hopeful and not so. I think that having them out of Zimbabwe takes away from them that burden of constantly having to define themselves against history, of constantly having to say, “Look, I’m not this.” It frees them.

Ÿ       Which character in the book do you most identify with?

It would have to be Lindiwe, I guess, since she has borrowed so much from my youth!

Ÿ       I enjoyed checking out the Zimbabwean soundtrack to The Boy Next Door, which Zimbabwean musicians of today would you recommend?

Oliver Mtukudzi, of course! I want to listen to some music from the indie rock band the Noisettes which has Shingai Shoniwa as vocalist. But really, I have great nostalgia for the bands I used to listen to in my university years: The Bhundu Boys, Ilanga, and South African bands like Stimela and Juluka.

Ÿ       The book has a variety of covers – a young girl facing the camera but her face is only partially seen, and another with a black woman gazing out of shot. What do you think about these? Were you involved in this part of the creative process?

I was very fortunate that both my US and UK publishers sought my opinion and approval of the jackets, which is not the standard especially with a debut novelist. I immediately loved the US jacket when it was sent to me, this partial image of a young girl, something about the curvature of her lips told me, yes, yes, that’s Lindiwe. The first UK cover was an elaboration of the US cover which I also loved, and then have come the recent jackets with the grown up Lindiwe, which are actually derived from the Dutch jackets of The Boy Next Door. I love the fact that there is both a young and older Lindiwe!   

Ÿ       What did you study at University and did you plan to become a writer?

I studied psychology at the University of Zimbabwe and Child Development at the Institute of Education, University of London. I have always wanted to write, to tell stories, right from the days in Bulawayo when I was a devotee of the wonderful Public Library, and where books, stories took me away from the tedium of life in a small, sleepy town, especially during school holidays.

Ÿ       How did you set about getting the book written and published?

From the moment of inspiration and writing that first line the book had a life of its own. Lindiwe and Ian wanted their story told! Getting published was what I would call ‘serendipity’, all the elements coming together at the right time by some joyous accident, or luck, if you will. I was fortunate enough to meet someone at the Geneva Writer’s Conference who forwarded a sample of my writing to an American agent who then took me on.

Ÿ       Photography plays such a revealing part in The Boy Next Door I wondered whether you had a favourite photographer or had visited any photography exhibitions recently?

I love looking at black and white photographs, particularly non-stylised ones, which just seem to capture a moment in someone’s life; they are so evocative and emotive. I love the photographs of Willy Ronis. Some years back I went to an exhibition of his work in Oxford, and I remember being alone in this room of all these photographs which spanned from 1920-1995 and it was just an incredibly moving experience to be surrounded by ordinary people whose lives had been invoked as art.

My husband is also an accomplished photographer and he introduced me to the art of it, just watching him in the tiny dark room working old school style with these strong smelling chemicals; seeing the prints starting to develop when they are submerged in the chemicals is an almost magical, mystical thing.  I must say here that Ilo’s studio in the book is imaginatively based on a real place in Harare.

Ÿ       I can imagine that in the run-up to the Orange Prize and since winning it you have been incredibly busy, how in hectic times do you make the creative space to write? What is your writing routine?

I’ve been very lucky in that I was already well into my new novel when all the madness of the Orange Award took over. It is essential for me as a writer to have that creative space where my characters and the story can completely breathe. I am lucky enough to not need total silence all the time when I am writing, or to need a particular physical space or routine, so I can write in a variety of environments. I don’t really have a rigid routine. Some days I write tons, some days a little, some days nothing, but what’s essential for me is to always feel that my head is buzzing, that there are things brewing, that the writing is only a moment way. When I’m not writing I’m doing the next best thing- reading!

Ÿ       As a child what were your favourite books? Who are your literary influences? Which of your Orange Prize competitors’ work did you admire the most and why? What book are you reading now? Which books are you reading with your children?

I read lots of Enid Blyton books because they were well represented in the Bulawayo Public Library, my second home growing up; Sue Barton (yes, Lindiwe borrowed that too); Nancy Drew….I loved Ring of Bright Water by Gavin Maxwell, the story of a man who looks after these otters in the Hebrides- reading this was quite an experience for a girl growing up in a landlocked country who had never been to the sea, let alone set eyes on an otter! I also loved Shane by Jack Schaeffer, which I recently re-read. I have just bought The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins which I want to read again. I have an eclectic reading taste. The book I’ve really been taken with this year is The Unnamed by Joshua Ferris, which is almost a philosophical work. I’ve just finished The Passage by Justin Cronin, my fist foray into vampires! I’m going to re-read Alentejo Blue by Monica Ali. Next, I’ll be dipping into something by José  Saramago. I’m also looking for a good literary biography. I’ve been reading The Call of the Wild by Jack London with my children.

Ÿ       What books would you recommend for a book club such as ours? (We read authors from the African diaspora and authors who write about the black experience, culture or societies. Recent reads have been JM Coetzee, Brian Chikawava, Maggie Gee, Andrea Levy, Gemma Weekes and we are about read the new Aminatta Forna)

Chimamanda Ngoizi Adichie’s The Thing Around Your Neck- I particularly loved the story ‘Ghost’; Damon Galgut’s In a Strange Room, JM Coetzee’s Summertime, Kachi A. Ozumba’s The Shadow of a Smile, Maaza Mengiste’s Beneath the Lion’s Gaze and Black Mamba Boy by Nadifa Mohamed.

Ÿ       Which book would you like to have written? Are you working on a new book? Can you tell us a tiny little bit about what it’s about?

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood is one of the books I would have liked to write. And The Hours by Michael Cunningham. One, for the chilling scope of its imagined landscape, and the other for its achingly beautiful perfection rendered in so few pages.

I’ve just finished working on something. I’m very superstitious about talking about it until it becomes a book, proper. What I can say is that it is not set in Zimbabwe.

Ÿ       You lived in London for a while, what did you make of the city and life in Britain?

I loved London for its mix of people and cultures, something is always going on somewhere!

Ÿ       What question do you think I should have asked you about the book and what is the answer?

Perhaps something about Ian’s style of talking, but I’m glad you didn’t because it means you didn’t have any problem interpreting words like ‘lekker’ or ‘skellum’!

Ÿ       This interview is going into the August edition of Lime magazine and so all interviewees are being asked this question: Notting Hill carnival is Europe's biggest street carnival. Please share a memory of a carnival experience you have had.

In my youth I went to Cropover in Barbados which takes place in August and which traditionally celebrates the harvesting of the sugar cane crop. I enjoyed watching the ‘jump up’ and the Party Monarch on the very beautiful and windy East Coast


My edited version of this interview can be found at www.comelime.com


Irene will be appearing at the Edinburgh International Book Festival on Saturday 28 August with Kachi A Ozumba, author of The Shadow of a Smile.

INFO: Public Defender’s ‘Innocent Until Proven Guilty’ takes aim at bias in the legal system | San Francisco Bay View

Public Defender’s ‘Innocent Until Proven Guilty’ takes aim at bias in the legal system

July 21, 2010

by Tamara Barak Aparton

A frame from the video “Innocent Until Proven Guilty,” produced by Tom Donald Films for San Francisco Public Defender Jeff Adachi, shows how racial profiling by the public and police can make an innocent young Black father a suspect. - Video frame: Tom Donald Films for San Francisco Public Defender Jeff Adachi
San Francisco – An African American man runs through the streets of San Francisco, prompting wary glances from onlookers. As he reaches his home and scoops up his smiling toddler in a hug, a police siren wails. “Show me your hands,” commands a voice off-camera.

The 30-second video, “Innocent Until Proven Guilty,” was created pro bono by Tom Donald Films for the San Francisco Public Defender’s Office. The PSA is part of a national campaign launched by the San Francisco Public Defender’s office to remind people of their constitutional right of presumed innocence.

Jeff Adachi introduces “Innocent Until Proven Guilty”:

“People should be judged by character, not color,” San Francisco Public Defender Jeff Adachi said. “In this PSA we are trying to get people to reflect about their own possible biases and racial profiling. It’s a reminder that nationality, race or sexual orientation doesn’t matter – everyone has a right to be judged individually.”

Watch “Innocent Until Proven Guilty”:

Adachi decided to launch the campaign, a series of high-profile studies and news reports, including:

• An analysis of arrest data in San Francisco’s prostitution stings, SF Weekly’s “Stung,” published June 16, 2010, found that Latino men may be unfairly targeted and that some men are being cited without agreeing to sex.

• A string of violent incidents in the Bay Area earlier this year that ignited tensions between the area’s Asian and African American communities.

• A comprehensive study of racial bias in jury selection by the Equal Justice Initiative, “Illegal Racial Discrimination in Jury Selection: A Continuing Legacy,” published June 10, 2010, found widespread evidence of discrimination aimed at keeping minorities off of juries in the U.S., with prosecutors asserting pretextual reasons to justify their removal.

Tamara Barak Aparton, Communications and Policy Assistant in the San Francisco Public Defender’s Office, can be reached at Tamara.Aparton@sfgov.org.

GULF OIL DISASTER: Delacroix settlers found themselves in an opulent natural bazaar: Part three of four | NOLA.com

Delacroix settlers found themselves in an opulent natural bazaar: Part three of four

Published: Tuesday, August 03, 2010, 6:00 AM     Updated: Tuesday, August 03, 2010, 4:31 PM

 

Lloyd Serigne was 10 when his mother took the family on a trip to New Orleans to shop for items the natural bounty of their bayou home couldn't provide.

delacroix_camp_tricycle.JPGView full sizeThis Spanish muskrat trappers' camp near Delacroix was photographed in 1940 or 1941.  

The city was just 30 miles away, but among the forested ridges and thick marshes of eastern St. Bernard Parish, their life was so complete, if isolated, that they only needed the city every year or two.

At the Woolworth's on Canal Street in the late 1950s, young Lloyd turned the faucet to wash his hands, and yanked them back, baffled.

Hot!

He turned the faucet on and off several times to see if it would happen again. It did, and he left the bathroom thoroughly confused. Only a few houses on Delacroix Island had indoor plumbing at the time, and even they had to heat water over a fire.

He asked his mother: How does the hot water get in there?

She stared at him for a few seconds before dismissing him, in Spanish -- "Oh, don't bother me with things like that!"

She didn't know how the water got hot, either. The water heater, invented some 60 years earlier by Edwin Ruud, had yet to infiltrate life on the Island.

"It was a different world on the Island back then," Serigne said, recalling the story . "We did things the old ways."

Old timers, new times

Now 70, Serigne and his lifelong buddy Henry Martinez, 67, page through memories from a Delacroix childhood in the 1940s and '50s with smiles of amazement. Such "in-my-day" stories are the stuff of cliche in most places, but they are hardly hyperbole in the case of the bayou communities surrounding New Orleans. Their worlds didn't merely change in a generation: They disappeared.

delacroxi_camp_wide_boats.JPGView full sizeThis trapper's camp near Delacroix was photographed between 1939 and 1941.   

The Delacroix of today resembles those childhood memories in name only. The dense, rich wetlands that provided sustenance and livelihoods have become a crumbling salt marsh with yawning open bays leading right to the Gulf. The thriving village is gone, replaced by a thin line of mostly sport fishing camps and the temporary chaos of the BP oil cleanup army.

But the original name of this barren landscape provides a clue to the natural bounty that once thrived here: Terre aux Boeufs, or "land of the buffalo."

"The name was given by Bienville," said William de Marigny Hyland, president of Los Isleños Heritage and Cultural Society and St. Bernard Parish historian. "The wild cattle were buffalo -- bison -- that he saw in some numbers all over this area."

It was high land, some of the most fertile on earth, with thick bottomland hardwood forests extending from the bayou ridges, followed by cypress swamps, then freshwater marshes. The salty Gulf was still many miles away.

Serigne's ancestors pioneered the landscape after the Civil War. Their forebears were Spanish immigrants from the Canary Islands who arrived in New Orleans between 1778 and 1779 and worked on plantations along the northern end of Bayou Terre aux Boeufs, which flowed from the Mississippi River. When the war destroyed the plantation culture, they migrated down the bayou, where they found unsettled property owned by the absentee French landlord Francois du Suau de la Croix. The untamed land had plenty to offer.

The Islanders, as the new residents were called, had settled in one of North America's greatest natural shopping malls. The vast delta of the Mississippi was still growing into the Gulf of Mexico, a vibrant ecosystem building plenty of high ground for farms and settlements, and also producing enormous volumes of seafood, ducks and geese, upland game such as deer and elk, cypress and oak for boats and houses, and fur bearers such as otter, mink and muskrat. What Los Islenos didn't need for home consumption, they exported to the city for manufactured goods and cash.

delacroix_island_1961_aerial.JPGView full sizeThis aerial photo of Delacroix Island was taken in July 1961.   

By the 1950s that lifestyle, like the wetlands, had changed little. Life -- commercial as well as social -- followed nature's calendar, moving from shrimp to trapping to fishing and back to shrimping again -- with crabbing throughout.

The wetlands had been healthy not just for survival, but for growth. The Delacroix of Serigne's childhood featured houses three and four deep, shaded and sheltered by oak, hackberry, maple and sycamore trees. As many homes and businesses were constructed on the west side of Bayou Terre aux Boeufs as the east side, which is the only settled bank today. The community bustled, and grew.

"We had three dance halls, churches, small groceries -- everything we needed," Martinez said. "It was a great place for kids. We had woods to play in, the bayou to swim in. We could go fishin', and huntin', and trappin'.

"And it was a very, very tight-knit place. Everyone knew everybody else. For kids, it was like you had 700 parents," so closely knit was the community of the 1950s. "If you misbehaved on one end of the bayou, your parents knew about it before you got home."

A world apart

Children and teens in nearby New Orleans, like other American kids, may have been worrying about the latest TV show, which fashions to wear to the Saturday hop or how to convince their parents to let them drive, but Delacroix kids were still connected to the land. School came only between seasons. Classes started in September, but when trapping season started in December most of the kids moved with their parents to distant cabins in the marsh, where they helped harvest muskrat, mink, otter and nutria. They seldom left before April. Serigne, his eight siblings and parents lived in a one-room cabin about 12 feet wide and 24 feet long -- about the size of a FEMA trailer.

"The boys old enough would help my daddy run the traps and fish crabs, and the younger boys, the girls and my mother, we would skin the rats, and put the skins on (frames) for drying," Serigne said.

They'd pack the meat in barrels to use for crabbing, which started when they got back to Delacroix in March.

Enlarge Marion Post (later Marion Post Wolcott) (June 7, 1910 - November 24, 1990) was a noted photographer who worked for the Farm Security Administration during the Great Depression documenting poverty and deprivation. "As an FSA documentary photographer, I was committed to changing the attitudes of people by familiarizing America with the plight of the underprivileged, especially in rural America... FSA photographs shocked and aroused public opinion to increase support for the New Deal policies and projects, and played an important part in the social revolution of the 30s" said Marion Post Wolcott. Beginning in September of 1938, Wolcott spent three and a half years photographing in New England, Kentucky, North Carolina, Florida, Louisiana and Mississippi. A photographic pioneer on America's ragged economic frontier, Wolcottt survived illness, bad weather, rattlesnakes, skepticism about a woman traveling alone and the sometimes hostile reaction of her subjects in order to fulfill her assignments from the Farm Security Administration (FSA). Delacroix Island historic images gallery (24 photos)   
  

"Our camp was on a bayou with several other families," Serigne said. "And the marsh back then was solid enough to walk on, so you didn't have to spend all your time in a pirogue."

And they had other visitors. Fur buyers made the rounds to purchase pelts, and grocers steered their floating markets to the outposts so families could restock their staples.

Formal education suffered, of course, but with marsh life so successful, a lack of book knowledge wasn't considered a handicap.

"Most of us didn't speak English until we went to the first grade, and that was something we needed to learn if we traveled to the outside," said Martinez, who still crabs commercially. "But most kids became fishermen and trappers like their daddies, got married to local girls and raised their own families there -- just like it was always done."

Trapping season was followed by a spring shrimp season that was profitable, but dangerous.

Fisherman stayed out weeks at a time back then, because shrimp dealers would meet them out in the bays, buying their catch straight from the boat.

"Well, to stay out, you needed to carry plenty of extra gas," Serigne recalled. "We'd have it in barrels tied to the boat, and it was always leaking, and of course guys were smoking or engines were sparking."

One or two boats would explode every year, he said.

"You'd hear this big boom and see a red glow, and you knew someone was in trouble," Serigne said.

delacroix_rented_cabin.JPGView full sizeOnly a dozen or so families still live on Delacroix Island full-time. The other homes and cabins are for recreational fisher such as bowfishers Jake Kerstetter, right, of Ohio and his buddy Gary Fogle, photographed returning to their rented cabin in Delacroix after a long night of fishing July 16.  

'Chivos' coming down

Summer was crabbing time, but also the season for the "chivo" migration.

"We called the sports fishermen from the city 'chivos,' which is Spanish for goat," Serigne recalled with a laugh. "They would come down on the weekends and hire our fathers to take them out fishing.

"Visitors from the city always seemed to like to stand on top of the boat cabin or on boxes, probably to see across the marsh. So they were always wobbling like goats and often fell over.

"Look at that silly chivo," one of the locals would say, or "I got some chivos coming down."

Serigne and Martinez remember the security they felt on the bayou, the confidence that life would always be that way.

But change was coming, and at a pace that would stun them. They can pinpoint now what set the demise in motion: the arrival of hard surface roads and canal dredging.


Bob Marshall can be reached at rmarshall@timespicayune.com or 504.826.3539.

 

 

INFO: Workers Organize at Firestone, Liberia's 'State Within a State' | The Nation

Workers Organize at Firestone, Liberia's 'State Within a State'

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Slide Show: Firestone's 'State Within a State' in Liberia

About the Author

Nicholas Jahr
Nicholas Jahr is a freelance writer based in Brooklyn who worked as a long-term observer of Liberia's 2005 elections....

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Take the long drive southwest out of the capital on one of the only paved roads in Liberia, and eventually you'll hit one of the country's few remaining traffic signs, announcing a fork in the road. The arrow pointing to the right is labeled simply '"Airport." To the left: "Firestone."

Hang a left and in a few minutes you'll be inside what the company's website calls "the largest natural rubber plantation in the world." The airport actually started out as Firestone's private landing strip, until FDR touched down and declared it would be an ideal rest stop for American planes on their way to the North African front. For years, Firestone has supplied the airport with all its electricity, free of charge.

Shortly before that fork in the road, if you don't blink, you'll glimpse the village of Smell-No-Taste. The name dates to the Second World War, when American GIs were busy carrying out FDR's orders. "What they used to do," Edwin Cisco says, "was they used to prepare the meats, and the scents of the food would go all out. So the people said they would only smell the food," and here his colleague Austin Natee chimes in, "and they would not taste it." Both men crack up.

Austin and Edwin are officers of the newly independent Firestone Agricultural Workers Union of Liberia (FAWUL), and they want a taste. After five months of negotiations, the union finally won a new contract on June 28. It's the second contract FAWUL has won since Liberia settled into an exhausted peace in 2003. In interviews this past fall in Liberia, workers and activists recited a list of grievances, some of which go back decades: literally backbreaking quotas, meager wages, dismissal without cause, and atrocious housing, to say nothing of Firestone's ongoing pollution. These days the company has roughly 5,000 tappers on the payroll, which makes it the second largest employer in a country with massive unemployment.

"Plantation" isn't the word for Firestone. Think "state within a state." Firestone originally controlled one million acres—four percent of the country, or nearly 10 percent of arable land. The current government, under Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, renegotiated the concession to encompass 100,000. The company runs the schools, provides housing and water and markets; it even operates the only hospital, one of the few in the country. The four access roads are guarded by a mix of officers from Liberia's various security services, alongside Firestone's private security force, occasionally shaking down drivers while ostensibly checking for illegal tappers. The plantation swallowed up whole villages when it was established.

If this state had a capital, it would be the city of Harbel (named for company founder Harvey Firestone and his wife, Idabelle). A school sits at a fork in the road, humming with children throughout the day; across the street are the dilapidated shacks many of the students call home (Firestone has been building new houses—which still lack bathrooms—but Austin and Edwin estimate that more than half of its official employees still live in the equivalent of shanty towns). In the center of all this is FAWUL's headquarters, a small, nondescript one-storey building. Austin, the union's president, maintains a sparse office at the back.

"We're not here to fight to destroy the company," Edwin insists. "That's not our objective. Y'understand? But they are not seeing it that way." FAWUL's first contract drove wages up from $3.38 to $4.26 a day; the new contract provides for an additional 3.5 percent increase, about another fifteen cents. Firestone insists this wage doesn't reflect the benefits enjoyed by its workers, arguing in a statement to The Nation that "None of these are factored into the daily wage. In fact, our lowest-paid workers earn more than many civil servants." But many tappers are forced to hire help to meet Firestone's quota, and union officials report that the going rate for a bag of rice—enough to feed a family of five for three weeks—is $30 (that's a below market price charged by Firestone). "Quite frankly, it's not really enough," Austin said of that $4.26.

Edwin and Austin estimate that 75% of the tappers have been here for generations. The company's "intention was to produce generation of tappers, to keep people working on the plantation," says Edwin. "Now, we don't have a problem with that, to be very frank with you. We know that the trees have to be tapped. But what we saying is, improve the conditions. Tapping is skilled work. Once a man has a good living wage, a decent place to live, the man can tap."

Tapping is methodical, delicate work. The tapper scrapes a thin layer of bark from the Hevea tree, peeling it down and around the trunk. Cut too close and the tree will be wounded; fail to cut close enough and the tree won't bleed enough latex. Older trees are wrapped with scars, and the tappers stretch to reach the untouched heights. Once the cut is made, the tapper guides the thin trickle of latex that seeps from the exposed cambium down to a small cup attached to the trunk.

Then they move on to the next tree, and the next, working row after row, hundreds of trees a day, while the latex slowly pools. Eventually they pour the cups into buckets, and then haul the 150-pound load about a mile over their shoulders to a collection station where the latex is consolidated and loaded on to trucks. Perhaps the most important gain in the new contract is the promise of a mechanized transport system to carry the latex to weigh stations. As the company doesn't provide safety gear, most tappers work without it—no boots to protect them from snakebite, no goggles to shield their eyes from splinters or chemicals—but it's the fact that the rubber is literally transported on the backs of the workers that outrages Austin and Edwin. The heavy loads can lead to hernias, which make it impossible for tappers to work, robbing them of their livelihood. "It is outdated," Austin says. "Animals tote it on the back. We're not human beings."

It wasn't always going to be like this. When Harvey Firestone Sr. first inked the deal for his rubber concession, he prophesized he'd put 350,000 people to work. "So far as I know, we are the only employers of African labor to establish the American working day," Harvey Sr. crowed. He imagined himself as a Henry Ford for Africa.

The Liberian elite had other ideas. They relied heavily on forced labor, and feared Firestone's demand would leave them without workers to build roads or tend their farms. As historian Arthur Knoll noted (Knoll's research on Firestone provides much of the detail that follows), wealthy Liberian rubber farmers even protested when Firestone considered raising wages. So the Liberian government stepped in to manage the labor supply, and pretty soon men were being marched hundreds of miles—without food and under armed guard—to the plantation. In the words of one of Firestone's managers: "Of the first batch of 150 men I saw arrive twelve died within a week."

It was the US government that put Firestone on to Liberia in the first place. The State Department contacted Firestone in 1923 to inform him that if he was interested in setting up a plantation in Liberia, all it would take was a $2.5 to 5 million dollar loan from Firestone to the government of Liberia, and "Mr. Firestone could virtually be the Government."

Two-and-a-half years later, Firestone was ready to seal the deal. But the Liberian government balked at the loan. Firestone wanted the government to pledge its revenues to pay off the loan at a healthy 7 percent rate of return—2 percent higher than Liberia's existing debt—and to make sure it paid he wanted Americans appointed by the United States president in charge of the government's finances.

So Firestone presented Liberia with a now infamous Christmas gift: clause (K). Even though the concession agreement had ostensibly been settled, Firestone tacked on a clause declaring it wouldn't be carried out unless Liberia accepted the loan. The Liberians resisted, but Frank Kellogg, the new US Secretary of State, let it be known in Monrovia that the State Department anticipated "with sympathetic interest the conclusion of the Firestone contracts," and made it clear that if the deal fell through, US funds for Liberia would be scarce in the future. For his part, Firestone fired off cables insisting it would be "Impossible [to] make loan unless Liberia finances are administered by parties making loan."

By September of 1925, the deal was done. Liberia used the cash to buy back bonds it had sold to England and France (among other creditors), curtailing their influence even as it dramatically expanded that of the US. The loan agreement gave American officials named by the US president control over much of the government's budget, and even placed four US Army officers in charge of the notoriously brutal Liberian Frontier Force.

For a mere six cents per acre, Firestone now enjoyed near unlimited control over one million acres of Liberian soil. Within thirty years, the rent and taxes paid by Firestone to the Liberian government came to account for just short of 40 percent of the state's total revenues. At its height in the 1960s, employment seems to have peaked at around 20,000, somewhat short of Firestone's early projections. While Firestone's lease was set to expire in 2025, the Sirleaf government renegotiated it in 2008. There were rumors the new agreement would last almost another century, but groups like Liberia's Save My Future Foundation (SAMFU) protested. Firestone's writ now runs until 2041.

"Firestone knows that if they sit and allow this period—between now and 2025—to be over, it is going to be a tough decision," says Robert Nyanh, a young program officer with SAMFU. "Because people will be thinking wise; a lot of things will have changed. So they do everything humanly possible and they arrange to see that before the contract comes to an end, they push it to another stage, and then it becomes an obligation on the government that is in power."

"This Type of Water Treatment System is Unparalleled in Liberia"

Back in 2005, people in Owensgrove, a small community inside the plantation, started getting sick. SAMFU accused Firestone of polluting the Farmington River, which local residents used for everything from washing clothes to fishing, from bathing to drinking water. Three years later, SAMFU released another report, charging Firestone had done little if anything to clean up the situation. Finally, Firestone took action.

Apparently, taking action meant diverting the waste elsewhere. While locals have begun to use the Farmington River again, elsewhere on the "plantation"—to be precise, in the small villages of Brown Town and Kpanyah- three people allegedly fell ill and died due to the pollution.

In a statement to The Nation, Christina Gaines, the company's Director of Public Affairs, declared "Firestone fully believes it is in compliance with the Environmental Protection and Management Law of Liberia, as well as with its environmental commitments to the Government. We strongly disagree with any characterization to the contrary."

Austin remains unimpressed. "I'm telling you, the water has been polluted," he insists. "It was clean before... but the waste has polluted the whole place."

Some days the creek that runs near Brown Town and Kpanyah is black and still; silver streaks surface in the mud of the road nearby. Pictures can't capture the stench. It reaches down into your stomach and sets it churning, digs into your guts and triggers all those fight or flight reflexes, and you know on a primal level that something is wrong here.

"I'm the third generation born of this plantation," Edwin declares. "My grandparents work[ed] here, my parents work[ed] here, I'm working here. My kids will come and work. So if we cannot secure a better future now for our people, and for our children, what's going to happen tomorrow? We must insure that the farm is protected, because—I've always said this—this farm is our heritage."

Brown Town is a hardscrabble village of mud brick and zinc roofs and the rusting carcasses of old cars. At the tail end of the rainy season, the dirt road leading to the village is under a small moat of standing water. "This is a community that enjoys absolutely nothing from Firestone's operation," says Robert Nyanh. "They have to walk miles away just to get drinking water." Tenneh Thomas was born here, but neither she nor her husband were ever able to find work with Firestone. Instead they scraped together a living fishing in a nearby creek and kept a small garden on its banks.

In February 2008, Tenneh became pregnant with her fourth child. It wasn't long before she realized something was different this time: "I used to be feeling inside my stomach sharp sharp pain. There was something biting in me." As neither Tenneh nor her husband worked for Firestone, she was ineligible for treatment at the company hospital. Instead, that April she went to a small local clinic. As she didn't have the money to pay for the results, she never found out exactly what the test revealed. She only knows the doctor asked her if she'd tried to abort her baby.

When Fatoumata was born later that year, half her right arm was missing, its fingers little more than stubs. She can't crawl. She breaks out in sores. Liberians consistently describe Fatoumata's arm as "amputated," a word that recalls the atrocities inflicted during the civil war. "I need support," Tenneh says. "To take care of her now is no small thing. I got to be near her. And they should take responsibility for this child."

Last October, a government commission confirmed that Firestone had polluted the creek. But the commission tested for only indicators of pollution, not actual toxic pollutants, and Firestone's own consultants gave it a clean bill of health. In its statement, the company said, "Firestone Liberia's multimillion-dollar water treatment facility processes water from its factory through equalization and clarification tanks and into constructed wetlands on the company's property for natural, biological treatment.... Water quality improves with each step in this treatment process and is not harmful to humans or animals when it leaves the wetlands—the first point at which the water enters the stream running through local communities such as Kparnyah Town. This type of water treatment system is unparalleled in Liberia."

Quota Is King

"It's clear that they should pay reparation to Liberia for what they have done," says SAMFU's Robert Nyanh. Even though he doesn't think this is likely, he's determined to hold Firestone accountable, as he grew up on the plantation himself. "I used to help my parents do almost all of the work that they could do," he recalls. "And I felt that because I graduated there was a need to fight back for the little ones."

For years child labor was allegedly endemic at Firestone, as tappers struggled to meet the quota by enlisting their families to help them. "They wouldn't force you as a child to go and do the work," Nyanh says. "But if you are a child who wants to see your parents survive, looking at the heavy work load, you'll be forced to assist them. Because the work is just so heavy that one person can not complete it within a day."

While a lawsuit over the matter has been slowly winding its way through the US courts for years, most of Firestone's critics agree that the company has made an effort to clamp down on child labor. But the quota still stands. "To complete the quota, I must have extra hands," Austin says. And the extra hands are also paid from tappers' wages.

Nor are those extra hands considered Firestone employees. Which means not only are they working for a small share of an already meager wage, but they're also denied the healthcare and housing the company provides to its official labor force. An official with Liberia's Movement for Labor Justice suggests that 65% of Firestone's workers aren't covered by the collective bargaining agreement, as they're considered contractors. Even if they've been working on the plantation for five or six years.

A new labor law—the first overhaul of Liberia's labor legislation in decades—is slowly trudging through the Liberian legislative process. Labor advocates argue that the law would recognize all workers, as opposed to solely "employees." Still, under the new contract, the quota stands untouched.

Despite the fact that it was purchased in 1988 by Bridgestone, a Japanese company (Yukio Hatoyama, as of early June the former Prime Minister of Japan, is a scion of the Bridgestone dynasty), Firestone remains a distinctly American brand. It's the official tire of Major League Baseball. It's the Bridgestone Superbowl XLIV half-time show. The Firestone 550 is second only to the Indy 500. "We think when the American public is aware of what their corporate businesses are doing around the world," Edwin says, "we think it will help to put pressure on them to do the right thing here. Y'understand?"

But in Harbel, Firestone remains sovereign. So far, advocates report, the government has done nothing to address the findings of its own commission on the pollution of the plantation's rivers. Instead, the president convinced the people of Kpanyah and Brown Town to drop a lawsuit they had filed, and formed a commission to negotiate a settlement. "This is sickening," said Alfred Brownell, an environmental advocate and lawyer for the communities. "It would be like the US government telling communities in the south that it can mediate between those communities and BP. It's a tragedy."

Liberia's Truth and Reconciliation Commission determined that rubber exports, "especially by Firestone," continued throughout the roughly fifteen years Liberians refer to as the crisis, when their own state more or less collapsed. According to the TRC, the plantation even served as a base for Charles Taylor's notoriously brutal assault on Monrovia, Operation Octopus. Christina Gaines, Firestone's spokesperson, acknowledges that "Firestone attempted to restart its operations in Liberia at several points in time when it appeared that peace might return. In 1992 [when Operation Octopus was launched], one of those start-up attempts was made, but quickly failed due to the outbreak of war." However, the company insists that the plantation "was not in operation at the time hostile forces occupied its property during the battle over Monrovia." Firestone had reportedly agreed to pay Taylor's NPFL $2 million a year in exchange for protection.

In its statement to The Nation, the company defended its record: "No other company managed to provide livelihood for so many Liberians during their time of need." Celebrating the new contract, Labor Minister Taiwon Gongloe declared that the union and the company had "broken from the past;" Edwin Cisco called it a "new day." Yet as Liberians struggle to move forward into the future, at times it still looks disturbingly similar to their past.