
Nickel rush for stainless steel, EVs guts Indonesia tribe's forest home
LELILIEF SAWAI: Bokum, one of Indonesia's last isolated hunter-gatherers, has a simple message for the nickel miners threatening his lush jungle home: 'This is our land.' He belongs to the Hongana Manyawa Indigenous tribe, which includes around 3,000 'contacted' members like him, and another 500 who reject contact with the modern world. Their home on Halmahera Island was once a breathtaking kaleidoscope of nature that provided sanctuary and sustenance. But it is being eaten away by the world's largest nickel mine, as Indonesia exploits vast reserves of the metal used in everything from electric vehicles to stainless steel.
'I'm worried if they keep destroying the forest,' Bokum told AFP in a clearing in central Halmahera. 'We have no idea how to survive without our home and food.' The plight of the Hongana Manyawa, or 'People of the Forest', started gaining attention in Indonesia last year after a video widely shared on Facebook showed emaciated, un-contacted members emerging from their rapidly changing forest home to beg for food. But the remote region - about 1,500 miles (2,414 kilometers) from capital Jakarta - mostly remains far from the public consciousness.
AFP travelled into the Halmahera jungle to see how the sprawling Weda Bay Nickel concession has affected the once-pristine tribal lands that the Hongana Manyawa call home. During a three-day, 36-kilometre trek across parts of the 45,000-hectare concession, the mining operation's impacts were starkly clear. Booms from controlled explosions to expose nickel shook birds from trees, while helicopters buzzing overhead shared the skies with green parrots, Moluccan owls, hornbills and giant bees.
Tree stumps provided evidence of logging, and off-duty mine guards were seen hunting tropical birds with air guns. Throughout the night, the sound of excavators scratching the topsoil penetrated the thick vegetation, competing with frog calls and the drone of insects. Mud that locals say is stirred up by mining has stained rivers copper, and the water leaves skin irritated. In 22 river crossings, only a few fish were visible. Tribe members say they have mostly disappeared. AFP did not seek to meet un-contacted Hongana Manyawa.
Bokum emerged from isolation earlier in his life, but still has very limited contact with the outside world. He and his wife Nawate agreed to meet AFP around 45 minutes from his home deeper in the jungle. But he could not stay long: en route, he spotted miners and wanted to return to ward them off. 'The company workers have been trying to map our territory,' he told AFP, wearing a black cowboy hat, shirt and rolled-up jeans. 'It's our home and we will not give it to them.'
Indonesia's constitution enshrines Indigenous land rights, and a 2013 Constitutional Court ruling promised to give local communities greater control of their customary forests. But environmental groups say the law is not well enforced. With no land titles, the Hongana Manyawa have little chance of asserting their claims to stewardship of forest that overlaps with Weda Bay's concession. According to Weda Bay Nickel (WBN), its mine on Indonesia's Maluku islands accounted for 17 percent of global nickel production in 2023, making it the largest in the world. WBN is a joint venture of Indonesia's Antam and Singapore-based Strand Minerals, with shares divided between French mining giant Eramet and Chinese steel major Tsingshan. — AFP
WBN told AFP it is 'committed to responsible mining and protecting the environment', and trains employees to 'respect local customs and traditions'. It said there is 'no evidence that un-contacted or isolated groups are being impacted by WBN's operations'. Eramet told AFP it has requested permission from WBN's majority shareholders for an independent review of 'engagement protocols' with Hongana Manyawa, expected this year.
Further review of how the tribe uses the area's forests and rivers is also underway, it added, though it said there was currently 'no evidence' of members living in isolation in its concession. The Indonesian government, which acknowledges most of the concession was previously protected forest, told AFP otherwise. There is 'recognition of evidence of the existence of isolated tribes around Weda Bay', said the directorate general of coal and minerals at Indonesia's energy ministry. It said it was committed to 'protecting the rights of Indigenous peoples and ensuring that mining activities do not damage their lives and environment.'
Indigenous rights NGO Survival International said that was Jakarta's first acknowledgement of un-contacted, or 'isolated', Hongana Manyawa in the area. It called the admission a 'hammer blow' to Eramet's claims and said a no-go area to protect the tribe was 'the only way to prevent their annihilation'. Both WBN and Eramet said they work to minimize impact on the environment. Eramet's new CEO was in Indonesia last week seeking permission to expand the mine's capacity. Tsingshan and Antam did not respond to AFP requests for comment.
Bokum said mining has driven away the wild pigs, deer and fish he once caught for food. Now, he looks for shrimp and frogs in less-affected smaller streams. 'Since the company destroyed our home, our forest, we've been struggling to hunt, to find clean water,' he said in the Indigenous Tobelo language. 'If they keep destroying our forest we cannot drink clean water again.'
'Go away'
Nickel is central to Indonesia's growth strategy. It banned ore exports in 2020 to capture more of the value chain. The country is both the world's largest producer and home to the biggest-known reserves. Mining - dominated by coal and nickel - represented nearly nine percent of its GDP in the first quarter of 2025, government data shows. Nickel mined in the Halmahera concession is processed at the Weda Bay Industrial Park. Since operations began in 2019, the area has transformed rapidly into what some call a 'Wild West'.
At a checkpoint near the industrial park, men stopped AFP to demand cash and forced our vehicle to move elsewhere, before a local government official intervened. The towns on the mine edge - Lelilef Sawai, Gemaf and Sagea - form a chaotic frontier. Employees in hard hats crisscross muddy roads that back up with rush-hour traffic. Shops catering to laborers line the roadside, along with prostitutes looking for business in front of bed bug-infested hostels. The mining workforce has more than doubled since 2020 to nearly 30,000 people.
Locals say these are mostly outsiders whose arrival has sparked tensions and coincided with rising cases of respiratory illness and HIV/AIDS. Smelter towers belch a manmade cloud visible from kilometers away. 'Mining companies have not implemented good practices, have violated human rights and there is rarely any evaluation,' said Adlun Fiqri, spokesman for the Save Sagea campaign group. Inside the jungle, a similar story is playing out, said Hongana Manyawa member Ngigoro, who emerged from the un-contacted as a child. 'Long before the mining, it was really quiet and good to live in the forest,' said the 62-year-old, as he marked his route by slicing pock-marks into trees with his machete.
He remains at ease in the forest, using reeds for shade and bamboo shoots to boil water. 'There was no destruction. They were not afraid of anything,' he said. He climbed nimbly down a steep slope by clinging to tree roots before crossing a riverbed peppered with garnierite - green nickel ore. 'This land belongs to the Hongana Manyawa,' he said. 'They existed living in the rainforest before even the state existed. So go away.' That sentiment echoes elsewhere on Halmahera. At least 11 Indigenous people were recently arrested for protesting mining activity in the island's east, Amnesty International said Monday.
'We will not give our consent'
Despite their 'contacted' status, Bokum and Nawate have rarely met outsiders. They approached haltingly, with Nawate refusing to speak at all, instead surveying her visitors with a cautious smile. Bokum described moving at least six times to outrun encroaching miners. NGOs fear the mine operation risks wiping out the tribe. 'They rely entirely on what nature provides for them to survive and as their rainforest is being devastated so too are they,' said Callum Russell, Asia research and advocacy officer at Survival International. 'Any contact with workers in the forest runs the risk of exposing them to deadly diseases to which they have little to no immunity.'
The government told AFP it has 'conducted documentation' to understand isolated tribes near Weda Bay, and involved them 'in the decision-making process'. Activists say this is impossible given most of the group do not use modern technology and limit contact with outsiders. Amid growing scrutiny, there have been rumblings of support for the tribe, including from some senior politicians. Tesla, which has signed deals to invest in Indonesian nickel, has mooted no-go zones to protect Indigenous peoples.
And Swedish EV company Polestar last year said it would seek to avoid compromising 'uncontacted tribes' in its supply chain. For Bokum however, the problem is already on his doorstep. A 2.5-kilometre-long open pit lies just over the hill from a plot where he grows pineapple and cassava. Bokum and Nawate received mobile phones from mine workers - in an unsuccessful attempt to convince them to approve mining operations. They and other tribe members use numerical codes to identify contacts and make calls. They must approach the concession to pick up signal, but when mine workers near his home, Bokum wields his machete to scare them off. 'This is our land. Our home,' he said. 'We will not give our consent to destroy it.' — AFP
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Kuwait Times
2 days ago
- Kuwait Times
Nickel rush for stainless steel, EVs guts Indonesia tribe's forest home
LELILIEF SAWAI: Bokum, one of Indonesia's last isolated hunter-gatherers, has a simple message for the nickel miners threatening his lush jungle home: 'This is our land.' He belongs to the Hongana Manyawa Indigenous tribe, which includes around 3,000 'contacted' members like him, and another 500 who reject contact with the modern world. Their home on Halmahera Island was once a breathtaking kaleidoscope of nature that provided sanctuary and sustenance. But it is being eaten away by the world's largest nickel mine, as Indonesia exploits vast reserves of the metal used in everything from electric vehicles to stainless steel. 'I'm worried if they keep destroying the forest,' Bokum told AFP in a clearing in central Halmahera. 'We have no idea how to survive without our home and food.' The plight of the Hongana Manyawa, or 'People of the Forest', started gaining attention in Indonesia last year after a video widely shared on Facebook showed emaciated, un-contacted members emerging from their rapidly changing forest home to beg for food. But the remote region - about 1,500 miles (2,414 kilometers) from capital Jakarta - mostly remains far from the public consciousness. AFP travelled into the Halmahera jungle to see how the sprawling Weda Bay Nickel concession has affected the once-pristine tribal lands that the Hongana Manyawa call home. During a three-day, 36-kilometre trek across parts of the 45,000-hectare concession, the mining operation's impacts were starkly clear. Booms from controlled explosions to expose nickel shook birds from trees, while helicopters buzzing overhead shared the skies with green parrots, Moluccan owls, hornbills and giant bees. Tree stumps provided evidence of logging, and off-duty mine guards were seen hunting tropical birds with air guns. Throughout the night, the sound of excavators scratching the topsoil penetrated the thick vegetation, competing with frog calls and the drone of insects. Mud that locals say is stirred up by mining has stained rivers copper, and the water leaves skin irritated. In 22 river crossings, only a few fish were visible. Tribe members say they have mostly disappeared. AFP did not seek to meet un-contacted Hongana Manyawa. Bokum emerged from isolation earlier in his life, but still has very limited contact with the outside world. He and his wife Nawate agreed to meet AFP around 45 minutes from his home deeper in the jungle. But he could not stay long: en route, he spotted miners and wanted to return to ward them off. 'The company workers have been trying to map our territory,' he told AFP, wearing a black cowboy hat, shirt and rolled-up jeans. 'It's our home and we will not give it to them.' Indonesia's constitution enshrines Indigenous land rights, and a 2013 Constitutional Court ruling promised to give local communities greater control of their customary forests. But environmental groups say the law is not well enforced. With no land titles, the Hongana Manyawa have little chance of asserting their claims to stewardship of forest that overlaps with Weda Bay's concession. According to Weda Bay Nickel (WBN), its mine on Indonesia's Maluku islands accounted for 17 percent of global nickel production in 2023, making it the largest in the world. WBN is a joint venture of Indonesia's Antam and Singapore-based Strand Minerals, with shares divided between French mining giant Eramet and Chinese steel major Tsingshan. — AFP WBN told AFP it is 'committed to responsible mining and protecting the environment', and trains employees to 'respect local customs and traditions'. It said there is 'no evidence that un-contacted or isolated groups are being impacted by WBN's operations'. Eramet told AFP it has requested permission from WBN's majority shareholders for an independent review of 'engagement protocols' with Hongana Manyawa, expected this year. Further review of how the tribe uses the area's forests and rivers is also underway, it added, though it said there was currently 'no evidence' of members living in isolation in its concession. The Indonesian government, which acknowledges most of the concession was previously protected forest, told AFP otherwise. There is 'recognition of evidence of the existence of isolated tribes around Weda Bay', said the directorate general of coal and minerals at Indonesia's energy ministry. It said it was committed to 'protecting the rights of Indigenous peoples and ensuring that mining activities do not damage their lives and environment.' Indigenous rights NGO Survival International said that was Jakarta's first acknowledgement of un-contacted, or 'isolated', Hongana Manyawa in the area. It called the admission a 'hammer blow' to Eramet's claims and said a no-go area to protect the tribe was 'the only way to prevent their annihilation'. Both WBN and Eramet said they work to minimize impact on the environment. Eramet's new CEO was in Indonesia last week seeking permission to expand the mine's capacity. Tsingshan and Antam did not respond to AFP requests for comment. Bokum said mining has driven away the wild pigs, deer and fish he once caught for food. Now, he looks for shrimp and frogs in less-affected smaller streams. 'Since the company destroyed our home, our forest, we've been struggling to hunt, to find clean water,' he said in the Indigenous Tobelo language. 'If they keep destroying our forest we cannot drink clean water again.' 'Go away' Nickel is central to Indonesia's growth strategy. It banned ore exports in 2020 to capture more of the value chain. The country is both the world's largest producer and home to the biggest-known reserves. Mining - dominated by coal and nickel - represented nearly nine percent of its GDP in the first quarter of 2025, government data shows. Nickel mined in the Halmahera concession is processed at the Weda Bay Industrial Park. Since operations began in 2019, the area has transformed rapidly into what some call a 'Wild West'. At a checkpoint near the industrial park, men stopped AFP to demand cash and forced our vehicle to move elsewhere, before a local government official intervened. The towns on the mine edge - Lelilef Sawai, Gemaf and Sagea - form a chaotic frontier. Employees in hard hats crisscross muddy roads that back up with rush-hour traffic. Shops catering to laborers line the roadside, along with prostitutes looking for business in front of bed bug-infested hostels. The mining workforce has more than doubled since 2020 to nearly 30,000 people. Locals say these are mostly outsiders whose arrival has sparked tensions and coincided with rising cases of respiratory illness and HIV/AIDS. Smelter towers belch a manmade cloud visible from kilometers away. 'Mining companies have not implemented good practices, have violated human rights and there is rarely any evaluation,' said Adlun Fiqri, spokesman for the Save Sagea campaign group. Inside the jungle, a similar story is playing out, said Hongana Manyawa member Ngigoro, who emerged from the un-contacted as a child. 'Long before the mining, it was really quiet and good to live in the forest,' said the 62-year-old, as he marked his route by slicing pock-marks into trees with his machete. He remains at ease in the forest, using reeds for shade and bamboo shoots to boil water. 'There was no destruction. They were not afraid of anything,' he said. He climbed nimbly down a steep slope by clinging to tree roots before crossing a riverbed peppered with garnierite - green nickel ore. 'This land belongs to the Hongana Manyawa,' he said. 'They existed living in the rainforest before even the state existed. So go away.' That sentiment echoes elsewhere on Halmahera. At least 11 Indigenous people were recently arrested for protesting mining activity in the island's east, Amnesty International said Monday. 'We will not give our consent' Despite their 'contacted' status, Bokum and Nawate have rarely met outsiders. They approached haltingly, with Nawate refusing to speak at all, instead surveying her visitors with a cautious smile. Bokum described moving at least six times to outrun encroaching miners. NGOs fear the mine operation risks wiping out the tribe. 'They rely entirely on what nature provides for them to survive and as their rainforest is being devastated so too are they,' said Callum Russell, Asia research and advocacy officer at Survival International. 'Any contact with workers in the forest runs the risk of exposing them to deadly diseases to which they have little to no immunity.' The government told AFP it has 'conducted documentation' to understand isolated tribes near Weda Bay, and involved them 'in the decision-making process'. Activists say this is impossible given most of the group do not use modern technology and limit contact with outsiders. Amid growing scrutiny, there have been rumblings of support for the tribe, including from some senior politicians. Tesla, which has signed deals to invest in Indonesian nickel, has mooted no-go zones to protect Indigenous peoples. And Swedish EV company Polestar last year said it would seek to avoid compromising 'uncontacted tribes' in its supply chain. For Bokum however, the problem is already on his doorstep. A 2.5-kilometre-long open pit lies just over the hill from a plot where he grows pineapple and cassava. Bokum and Nawate received mobile phones from mine workers - in an unsuccessful attempt to convince them to approve mining operations. They and other tribe members use numerical codes to identify contacts and make calls. They must approach the concession to pick up signal, but when mine workers near his home, Bokum wields his machete to scare them off. 'This is our land. Our home,' he said. 'We will not give our consent to destroy it.' — AFP

Kuwait Times
04-06-2025
- Kuwait Times
Kyiv exhibition helps relieve stress of war
Virtual sunrises, a giant sculpture of a purring cat and a soundproof booth you can scream into -- the installations at Kyiv's "Third Wind" exhibition may seem like a bit of light-hearted fun. But for the show's organizers, among them leading psychologists and mental health experts, the art has a very serious purpose: to help Ukrainians de-stress and explore their emotions after three years of war. Russia's invasion has triggered a mental health crisis in Ukraine, with more than half of respondents to a recent survey feeling "anxiety and tension". If only for a brief moment, the installations offer visitors a much-needed mental break from the war and help them "release tension, cry or smile a little", said curator Yulia Solovey. "Above all, it's about giving people the strength to keep moving forward," she told AFP. The exhibition has proven wildly popular, with nearly 100,000 people visiting within the space of a month. Among them was 41-year-old resident Inna Purgan, who came seeking a "return to childhood" after a weekend of Russian strikes. "It was very stressful, I couldn't sleep because of the drones and explosions," she told AFP. After letting out a high-pitched scream in a soundproof booth, one of the interactive experiences, she said she felt a little better. "It makes you feel lighter!" she said with a smile. The exhibition's name is a play on "second wind", a burst of energy experienced during moments of exhaustion. It is a feeling many Ukrainians relate to in their fourth year of war, with the exhibition inviting visitors to answer the question "What helps me move forward?", said Solovey. People visit the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition in Kyiv. A visitor walks behind boards featuring US psychologist Paul Ekman and German philosopher Carl Gustav Jung during a visit at the "Third Wind." A family jumps in an artificial puddle during a visit at the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition. Visitors listen to stories in phone handsets during a visit at the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition . Children play during a visit at the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition. 'Shut down emotionally' According to state-backed mental health organization "Ti Yak", which means "How are you?", Russia's war and its challenges remain the number one source of psychological stress for Ukrainians. Theatre worker Anastasia Storozhenko and her husband Viktor, a soldier in the military, are no exception. "It's really hard if you don't try to escape to another reality," said 31-year-old Anastasia. The couple were actors, and much of their work before the war revolved around emotions. Wearing a virtual reality headset transporting them to the Himalayas, she and her husband smiled ear to ear at the exhibit. The young mother said she reminded herself she had to keep living, if not for herself, then for her child. But Viktor has struggled to express his emotions since he joined the military. "I've shut down emotionally," he said. Surrounded by colorful decor, laughter and music, he started smiling. "It helps a lot, life continues... emotions... And no more boom boom," he tried to explain, imitating missile blasts. Nearby, other visitors were learning dance moves, while others embraced in front of a screen displaying a sunrise -- meant to symbolize hope. Half of the proceeds from the tickets will go to an NGO making prosthetics for veterans who have amputations, the organizers said. Once the exhibition ends, its installations will be moved to rehabilitation centers for soldiers and civilians recovering from trauma. Youth paint and draw on a giant wall during a visit at the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition. Youth write on a giant blackboard as they visit the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition. A visitor takes pictures during a visit at the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition. A child jumps in an artificial puddle during a visit at the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition. A visitor takes pictures during a visit at the "Third Wind. Emotions and Feelings" interactive exhibition. 'Childish state' On a black wall, visitors were invited to draw colorful chalk messages. "I'm alive", "I feel my heart beating", "Welcome to Ukraine-controlled territory" and a few swear words scribbled by children were among them. Wearing rubber boots, army rehabilitation worker Natalya Novikova and her husband Vadym splashed around in puddles of water in one of the rooms. "You can stop feeling the pressure of being an adult for a moment," said Vadym, catching his breath before reverting to seriousness to scold children who splashed him. Both come from Russian-occupied parts of Ukraine -- Vadym is from Sevastopol in the annexed Crimean peninsula, Natalya from the eastern Donetsk region. Natalya left her native Donetsk region in 2014, when Moscow-backed separatists fomented an uprising in the area. She had resettled in Bucha, where Russian troops were accused of committing war crimes in early 2022. The heavy emotional toll of the war was lifted, albeit briefly, by the exhibition, she said. She said it brought her into "an animal, childish state." "I didn't expect it to do much to me, but actually it's amazing." — AFP

Kuwait Times
04-06-2025
- Kuwait Times
Discarded protest art preserves George Floyd legacy
Kenda Zellner-Smith hauled up a corrugated metal door to reveal hundreds of wooden boards covered with graffiti, each telling a story of the protests that followed George Floyd's killing by a US police officer. The 28-year-old has collected and archived the panels that once protected businesses from rioting in Minneapolis, aiming to preserve the legacy of the 2020 murder that shocked the United States. Five years on, Zellner-Smith said the boards -- kept in a storage unit by an industrial site two miles (three kilometers) from where Floyd died -- still evoke powerful emotions. They range from blank plywood with text reading 'I can't breathe' -- the final words Floyd said as Derek Chauvin, a white police officer, knelt on his neck -- to colorful murals depicting rainbows and love hearts. 'Every time I look at them there's something different I notice,' she told AFP. 'They reignite an energy or a fire that was felt years ago during the uprising.' Then a university graduate in Minneapolis, Zellner-Smith was among millions of Americans who joined the Black Lives Matter rallies in 2020 that swept US cities. The threat of vandalism saw many businesses protect themselves with wooden boards -- which became canvases for protesters' slogans and drawings demanding justice. Festivalgoers view and contribute to community art walls during the Rise and Remember Festival in Minneapolis, Minnesota marking the fifth anniversary of George Flyod's death. Darnella Thompson, 43, of St. Paul, originally from Houston, stands in front of a community mural honoring George Floyd at Phelps Field Park in Minneapolis. Kenda Zellner-Smith, 28, founder of the nonprofit Save the Boards, poses for a portrait in a warehouse where protest art panels are stored. 'Resistance' Zellner-Smith said she decided to start collecting the boards after seeing one taken down after the protests and thinking ''Oh my god, these are going to disappear just as fast as they showed up.'' 'Every single day after work, I'd grab my dad's pickup truck and I would just drive around searching for boards,' said Zellner-Smith, who searched alleyways and dumpsters. Today, her project called 'Save the Boards' counts over 600 in its collection, with each stacked vertically in a pair of storage units measuring 10 by 30 feet (three by nine meters). But with Floyd's legacy under the spotlight on the fifth anniversary of his death as many hoped-for reforms to address racism have not been met, she said the boards are crucial to sustaining the protest movement. 'Art serves as a form of resistance and storytelling, and it speaks to real, lived experiences, and that's what these are,' Zellner-Smith said. Her next challenge is finding a long-term home for the boards as grants that covered storage costs are running dry. A handful are already being exhibited -- including in a building restored after it was damaged by arson during the 2020 protests -- and most have been photographed to be archived online. 'My biggest push is just to make sure they're still seen. The stories they have to tell are still heard, and that people understand there's still a lot of work to be done,' Zellner-Smith said. Kenda Zellner-Smith poses for a portrait in a warehouse where protest art panels are stored, in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Kenda Zellner-Smith poses for a portrait in a warehouse where protest art panels are stored, in Minneapolis, Minnesota. 'Murals gave me hope' Her initiative is similar to another, more expansive one in Minneapolis called Memorialize the Movement. That nonprofit exhibited around 50 boards during a memorial event held Sunday on a recreation ground near George Floyd Square, the name given to the area where the 46-year-old was killed. With Afrobeat music booming from speakers, dozens of people scanned the display that included one piece with squares of black and brown, each filled with phrases like 'We matter' and 'Protect us.' Another mostly bare wooden board had just a black love heart with 'No justice, no peace' written in the middle. 'I think it is absolutely vital that these murals and this story that they tell are preserved for future generations,' said Leesa Kelly, who has collected over 1,000 pieces while running Memorialize the Movement. Asked what drove her to start the project, the 32-year-old replied: 'I didn't do this because I was motivated or inspired, I did it because I was experiencing trauma.' 'A Black man was killed. The murals gave me hope,' said Kelly, who also collected many of the boards herself during the 2020 protests. Darnella Thompson, 43, was one of those looking at the boards on a warm, sunny day, stopping to take a photo in front of one saying 'Speak up' and 'Hope.' 'It's overwhelming,' she told AFP. 'As a person of color who has experienced quite a bit here in this country, it definitely resonates very much with me.' 'It brings up more so sadness than anything because this is continuous,' Thompson added. — AFP