Africa

Election officials deny claims of a deliberate plot to disenfranchise Labour Party supporters.

Australia beat South Africa by 19 runs to win the Women's T20 World Cup for the third successive time.

The BBC's Mayeni Jones spent the election day in Nigeria reporting for various BBC News platforms including online, radio, TV and digital.

Sophie Buchaillard lives in hope that she will one day find out what happened to her friend.

Why a West African country with a rich musical scene has such strong links to Jamaica.

One man's bid to learn the secrets of the endangered frog that grows to the size of a domestic cat.

Vote counting is under way in Nigeria's tightest presidential election since military rule ended in 1999.

The elections are the biggest democratic exercise in Africa, with 87 million people eligible to vote.

Long queues have formed at polling stations in Nigeria as millions vote in the most competitive presidential election since military rule ended.

Can hosts South Africa upset five-time champions Australia in the Women's T20 World Cup final on Sunday?

Saad Lamjarred, who is famous on the Arab music scene, gets six years in jail for raping a woman in Paris.

The two-party system which has dominated since the end of military rule in 1999 is under threat.

Nearly half of nations that abstained from a UN vote condemning the war were from the continent.

Coached by NBA legend Luol Deng, South Sudan qualify for basketball's World Cup at their first attempt - and will be just the ninth nation to represent Africa at the sport's global showpiece.

England are knocked out of the Women's T20 World Cup after inspired hosts South Africa win a gripping semi-final by six runs.

The Independent National Electoral Commission [INEC] chairman Mahmood Yakubu says the commission is ready for 25 February polls.

By Andrew Firmin
LONDON, Feb 24 2023 (IPS)

Over the year since the start of Russia’s war on Ukraine, on one side of the border civil society has shown itself to be a vital part of the effort to save lives and protect rights – but on the other, it’s been repressed more ruthlessly than ever.

Ukraine’s civil society is doing things it never imagined it would. An immense voluntary effort has seen people step forward to provide help.

Overnight, relief programmes and online platforms to raise funds and coordinate aid sprang up. Numerous initiatives are evacuating people from occupied areas, rehabilitating wounded civilians and soldiers and repairing damaged buildings. Support Ukraine Now is coordinating support, mobilising a community of activists in Ukraine and abroad and providing information on how to donate, volunteer and help Ukrainian refugees in host countries.

In a war in which truth is a casualty, many responses are trying to offer an accurate picture of the situation. Among these are the 2402 Fund, providing safety equipment and training to journalists so they can report on the war, and the Freefilmers initiative, which has built a solidarity network of independent filmmakers to tell independent stories of the struggle in Ukraine.

Alongside these have come efforts to gather evidence of human rights violations, such as the Ukraine 5am Coalition, bringing together human rights networks to document war crimes and crimes against humanity, and OSINT for Ukraine, where students and other young people collect evidence of atrocities.

The hope is to one day hold Putin and his circle to account for their crimes. The evidence collected by civil society could be vital for the work of United Nations monitoring mechanisms and the International Criminal Court investigation launched last March.

As is so often the case in times of crisis, women are playing a huge role: overwhelmingly it’s men who’ve taken up arms, leaving women taking responsibility for pretty much everything else. Existing civil society organisations (CSOs) have been vital too, quickly repurposing their resources towards the humanitarian and human rights response.

Ukraine is showing that an investment in civil society, as part of the essential social fabric, is an investment in resilience. It can quite literally mean the difference between life and death. Continued support is needed so civil society can maintain its energy and be ready to play its full part in rebuilding the country and democracy once the war is over.

Russia’s crackdown

Vladimir Putin also knows what a difference an enabled and active civil society can make, which is why he’s moved to further shut down Russia’s already severely restricted civic space.

One of the latest victims is Meduza, one of the few remaining independent media outlets. In January it was declared an ‘undesirable organisation’. This in effect bans the company from operating in Russia and criminalises anyone who even shares a link to its content.

Independent broadcaster TV Rain and radio station Echo of Moscow were earlier victims, both blocked last March. They continue broadcasting online, as Meduza will keep working from its base in Latvia, but their reach across Russia and ability to provide independent news to a public otherwise fed a diet of Kremlin disinformation and propaganda is sharply diminished.

It’s all part of Putin’s attempt to control the narrative. Last March a law was passed imposing long jail sentences for spreading what the state calls ‘false information’ about the war. Even calling it a war is a criminal act.

The dangers were made clear when journalist Maria Ponomarenko was sentenced to six years in jail over a Telegram post criticising the Russian army’s bombing of a theatre where people were sheltering in Mariupol last March. She’s one of a reported 141 people so far prosecuted for spreading supposedly ‘fake’ information about the Russian army.

CSOs are in the firing line too. The latest targeted is the Moscow Helsinki Group, Russia’s oldest human rights organisation. In January, a court ordered its shutdown. Several other CSOs have been forced out of existence.

In December an enhanced law on ‘foreign agents’ came into force, giving the state virtually unlimited power to brand any person or organisation who expresses dissent as a ‘foreign agent’, a label that stigmatises them.

The state outrageously mischaracterises its imperial war as a fight against the imposition of ‘western values’, making LGBTQI+ people another convenient target. In November a law was passed widening the state’s restriction of what it calls ‘LGBT propaganda’. Already the impacts are being felt with heavy censorship and the disappearance of LGBTQI+ people from public life.

The chilling effect of all these repressive measures and systematic disinformation have helped damp down protest pressure.

But despite expectation of detention and violence, people have protested. Thousands took to the streets across Russia to call for peace as the war began. Further protests came on Russia’s Independence Day in June and in September, following the introduction of a partial mobilisation of reservists.

Criminalisation has been the predictable response: over 19,500 people have so far been detained at anti-war protests. People have been arrested even for holding up blank signs in solo protests.

It’s clear there are many Russians Putin doesn’t speak for. One day his time will end and there’ll be a need to rebuild Russia’s democracy. The reconstruction will need to come from the ground up, with investment in civil society. Those speaking out, whether in Russia or in exile, need to be supported as the future builders of Russian democracy.

Andrew Firmin is CIVICUS Editor-in-Chief, co-director and writer for CIVICUS Lens and co-author of the State of Civil Society Report.

 

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Credit: UNDP

By Mohamed Yahya
ABUJA, Feb 24 2023 (IPS)

On the morning of 24 September 1998, General Abdulsalam A. Abubakar, the then Military Head of State of Nigeria, took the stage at the United Nations Headquarters and informed the leaders assembled for the United Nations General Assembly debates and the world at large of his intention to return Nigeria to a democratically elected civilian government on 29 May 1999.

Nigerians, however hopeful, had reason to be skeptical due to previous unfulfilled promises of this nature. As promised, on 29 May 1999, General Abdulsalam A. Abubakar handed over the reins of government to a democratically elected president in the person of Chief Olusegun Obasanjo. This marked the transition to civilian rule by the most populace country on the African continent. This single move rekindled the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of millions of black and African youths, not only in Nigeria, but around the world.

Unfortunately, in recent times, many Nigerians have become cynical about democracy and its ability to deliver on its promises of development, peace, and economic prosperity.

Despite the challenges, and they are deep and plenty, several indicators highlight that Nigeria is on the path to progress and democratic maturity. What it needs now is a more engaged, active, and constructive citizenry, especially from the 59 million Nigerian youth (18-35) who make up 53% of the total voting age population

This cynicism that has driven participation in general elections to record lows, and migration out of Nigeria to record highs. As Nigeria prepares for the 2023 national elections, it is worth remembering that the ability to participate in the election of leaders at every level, while not a magic bullet, is one of the most powerful tools in the quest for self-determination. One that is far more powerful than cynicism.

In the 1999 General Elections that pitted Olusegun Obasanjo the former military ruler against Banker and former Finance Minister Olu Falae, the election turnout was 52.3% of the eligible voters according to data from the Independent National Electoral Commission INEC.

That number went up to an all-time high of almost 70% in the 2003 elections that saw then President Obasanjo win re-election. By 2019 elections, it plummeted to a participation rate of 35%. The steady and dramatic decline in participation in the last few election cycles is troubling for a country with so much at stake. The decline in voter participation is well attributed and, on the surface, appears to be driven by cynicism in the democratic process.

However, the beauty of a multiethnic pluralist democracy like Nigeria, lies in its citizen’s ability to criticize, admonish and ultimately replace elected officials.

Consequently, peaceful dissent is one of the most beautiful features of democracy. On the flip side, when dissent evolves into cynicism and ultimately disengagement from the political process, it significantly weakens democracy and its intended benefits.

A London School of Economics study in 2008 suggested that cynicism can affect the health of democracy, blurring the line between legitimate distaste for an administration with distaste for government altogether. The implications can be far reaching in breaking down the cohesiveness of society.

Dissuading people from participating in politics, encouraging them to turn away from credible sources of information, inciting people to join pressure groups or, in more extreme cases, resorting to violence against fellow citizens and/or the state.

As the largest black democracy in the world, and largest economy on the African continent, Nigeria wields an incredible political and cultural influence. A stable, secure, and successful Nigeria not only shows the rest of Africa what cooperation, resilience, and commitment to good governance, democratic principles, the amicable resolution of differences, and the rule of law looks like, it also demonstrates that democracy can work in complex and developing nations.

When I arrived in Nigeria in 2019, what I found most fascinating was that the people across the country were not obsessed with barriers, they were ‘doers’, creators, and problem solvers.

In the 3.5 years since, the country has faced unprecedented challenges; the sharp decline in oil prices, followed by a global pandemic COVID-19 that disrupted the global economy, currency volatility and rising insecurity which has been exacerbated by violent insurgency in parts of the country.

Despite the challenges, and they are deep and plenty, several indicators highlight that Nigeria is on the path to progress and democratic maturity. What it needs now is a more engaged, active, and constructive citizenry, especially from the 59 million Nigerian youth (18-35) who make up 53% of the total voting age population.

Although young Nigerians between the ages of 18 and 34 make up about 40% of registered voters, only 46% of these voters turned out to vote in the 2019 presidential elections.

During UNDP Nigeria’s and Yiaga Africa’s #SixtyPercentOfUs campaign, youths were mobilized and encouraged to actively participate in the upcoming elections contributing to millions new registered voters. According to data recently released by Nigeria’s Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), there are 93,469,008 registered voters and total number of collected Permanent Voter Cards (PVC) 87,209, 007 with a 93.3% record collection rate of PVCs, compared to the past elections.

Despite the number of people being cynical with democracy, the opportunity to convert cynicism into a positive factor that helps to reignite the sense of nationhood and belief in democracy as the bedrock of prosperity for all is undeniable. The coming elections present a renewed opportunity to steer the country, and by extension the continent, in the direction of democratic consolidation and economic progress.

In my time as the Resident Representative of UNDP in Nigeria, I have been privileged to visit at least two-thirds of the states in Nigeria and had the honor of interacting and engaging with Nigerians across the various sectors of the society; from ordinary citizens to the government and the private sector and even the burgeoning creative industry.

Despite the challenges that Nigeria must grapple with, Nigeria’s promise is brightly lit across the diverse and colorful Naija kaleidoscope. At UNDP, we remain committed to providing Nigeria with support it needs to ensure that the promise of a prosperous, a more equal and peaceful Nigeria becomes a reality for all its citizens.

Excerpt:

Mr. Mohamed Yahya is Resident Representative UNDP Nigeria

Despite the victory for LGBT activists, the Supreme Court stresses that gay sex remains illegal.

It is estimated that about a hundred thousand migrants work in the greenhouses, scattered throughout the area. Credit: Floris Cup/IPS

By Floris Cup and Arnaud De Decker
ALMERIA, Spain, Feb 24 2023 (IPS)

Chances are that the fruits and vegetables sold in European supermarkets have been picked and packed by a migrant worker in southern Spain. By the tens of thousands, they work there, in sweltering hot plastic greenhouses – often underpaid and without residence permit – in the vegetable garden of Europe. “Cheap vegetables, yes. But at what price?”

It is a sunny Saturday afternoon, warm and dry, when we leave the city of Almería, in the southern province of Andalusia, to drive towards the countryside. Leaving the freeway, the lane narrows and turns into a dirt road. The hot desert breeze blows a dusty, brown cloud of sand into the air that completely covers the car in no time. We take a slight turn and drive past impressive mountain ranges.

After ten minutes of driving, in the shadow of a series of imposing rocks, a sea of white plastic appears before us, stretching as far as the eye can see, before merging into the Mediterranean Sea. Thousands of greenhouses are neatly arranged in endless straight rows that turn the arid landscape pale. In all, the greenhouses cover an area 30,000 hectares, visible from outer space. 

Spaniards prefer to leave those jobs for migrant workers. They come from North and West Africa, from countries like Morocco, Senegal, Guinea or Nigeria, and in most cases they don't have residence permits, making them easy targets for the local greengrocers

We park the car along the road near the village of Barraquente, a thirty-minute drive east of Almería, and head out into the hot desert. A day earlier we got word of a slum, a “barrio de chabolas”, around here. Undocumented workers picking fruits and vegetables in the greenhouses and working the fields for meager wages are said to have built semi-permanent homes with scrap metal over the years.

 

Lethal cocktail

Since Spain joined the European Economic Community, the forerunner of the European Union, in the 1980s, agriculture in the province of Andalusia became increasingly intensified and industrialized. Small farms gave way to agricultural giants as monoculture gradually became the norm and has since then become a very lucrative business, with a total annual export value of twelve billion euros worth of agricultural products, destined for the entire European market.

To meet the ever-growing demand for fruits and vegetables from the rest of Europe, more and more hands are needed in the fields. And although Andalusia is one of the country’s poorest regions, with sky-high unemployment rates, it is mostly underpaid undocumented migrants who perform the ungrateful jobs. Temperatures in the greenhouses soar above 45 degrees Celsius in the summer, drinking water is scarce and, combined with the intensive use of pesticides, the work on that southern outskirt of Europe forms a deadly cocktail.

Estimates vary, but according to union representative José García Cueves, about a hundred thousand migrants work in the greenhouses, scattered throughout the area. Along with his wife, José García represents union SOC SAT, the only organization that exposes and represents the interests of the victims of exploitation in the greenhouses around Almería.

 

Flat tires

“Spaniards prefer to leave those jobs for migrant workers. They come from North and West Africa, from countries like Morocco, Senegal, Guinea or Nigeria, and in most cases they don’t have residence permits, making them easy targets for the local greengrocers,” he says from behind his cluttered office in an impoverished neighborhood of Almería.

Despite his noble mission, José is not loved by most Andalusians, quite the contrary. “The farmers could drink our blood. The tires of my car get regularly punctured and physical intimidation is also not exceptional.”

“Even the local authorities turn a blind eye to the region’s problems and challenges. All in the name of economic growth,” Garcia said. “Look, there are only 12 inspectors responsible for greenhouse inspections, and that’s in a vast area where you can drive around for hours without running into anyone. Do you think that’s realistic? Workers are reduced to expendable tools, overnight someone can lose their job.”

 

Thousands of greenhouses are neatly arranged in endless straight rows that turn the arid landscape pale. In all, the greenhouses cover an area 30,000 hectares, visible from outer space. Credit: Arnaud De Decker/IPS

 

Afraid of the sea

In the slum by the roadside, we speak with one of the workers, Richard, a 26-year-old man from Nigeria. Bathing in sweat, he arrives on his bicycle. His morning shift in the greenhouse is over and he takes us into the village. The sun is at its highest, it is scorching hot.

“The shifts start early in the morning, when the temperature is still bearable,” he points out. “By noon we are entitled to a break, because it is too hot to work then. Around 5 p.m. we return into the greenhouse and pick tomatoes and peppers until after sunset.” He says the hard work earns him about thirty euros a day.

The young man puffs, grabs a bottle of water from a decayed refrigerator and falls down in a dusty seat in the scorching sun. His clothes and worn-out shoes are covered in dust. “I have lived here for two years now,” he says in between large gulps of water. Via Morocco, he crossed the Mediterranean Sea by boat. “It was dangerous, I can’t swim and was afraid of falling overboard.” Through a shadowy network of human smugglers, Richard ended up here in Andalusia, undocumented. 

 

Traces of destruction

We move further into the village, accompanied by Richard, when several residents gather around us. They point to a large pile of sand, one meter high, that has been raised like a wall around one part of the camp. Two years ago, a large fire broke out there, killing one person. “We were able to stop the fire by digging a large moat, preventing it from spreading throughout the camp,” they say. Traces of the fire are still clearly visible; blackened shoes and charred clothes are still scattered throughout the moat.

Fire is the greatest danger for many residents. Unionist José Garcia confirms this. The various homes in the slum have grown intertwined. They are made of wood and recycled plastic from the greenhouses. Combined with the hot weather and dryness of the desert, those neighborhoods form a dangerous cocktail of easily flammable fuels.  

 

Homemade gym

Still, the residents of the camp try to make the best of it. They take us to a small hut where they stare furiously at an English Premier League football match. Further down the camp, a man is doing his dishes. They illegally tap running water – and electricity – from the regular grid. The atmosphere is good. Boubacar, 24, from Senegal, proudly shows us the gym he was able to cobble together with his own hands using some materials lying around: empty cans filled with concrete have been transformed into homemade dumbbells and a large bag of sand serves as a weight to train his back.

Next to the gym is a vegetable garden where traditional African crops grow. The peace is disturbed when a Spaniard arrives in a red van. Half a dozen men rush up to it and begin negotiating vigorously with the man. It turns out he is selling fish. “Straight from the sea,” he proudly proclaims. The boys don’t care what kind of fish they buy. “We have no choice. Because of our limited budget, we can’t really afford to be picky.”

Many residents of the camps are eager to get out of the area. “Once we have worked for five years, we will become a long-term resident of the European Union, so we can travel freely around Europe,” says Boubacar. How exactly that works out, he does not know. “It depends on my boss and how well I do my job. I hope to live in France or even the Netherlands and build a life there with my family, away from Spain. There is no future here.”