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Yemenat
04-08-2025
- Politics
- Yemenat
From School to Camp
The 'Proletariat' school where I completed my secondary education, located on the Aden-Lahj road where I spent three years, has now become a camp for the Fifth Brigade, a newly established unit. This transformation carries a profound meaning for me. When a school turns into a camp or a prison, it signifies a serious failure in policies and the awareness of those in charge. Here, the camp appears to be more important than the school, a fact evident in the differences in attention, food provisions, maintenance, renovations, and material support. This reflects a clear aspect of the political consciousness regarding the status of the camp in comparison to the school, which also includes a student dormitory. The school we attended was far from ideal; it underwent no repairs or maintenance throughout our three years there. The contrast between the wretched state of the school and the well-equipped camp, which underwent complete renovations, was stark and striking. The camp became a place of pride, with newly established infrastructure that included all necessary means for military training in parachuting and assault, such as engineering obstacles, training grounds, and field training requirements. Competent officers of high ranks, tasked with training, were all affiliated with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. It's worth noting that before this place became a camp, it was a school with several teachers, some of whom were also affiliated with the Popular Front. I remember the philosophy, Arabic, and biology teachers, along with a Lebanese teacher of Palestinian descent who taught various aspects of the Arabic language. The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine was the common thread between the school of the past and the camp where we train today. Their competence, ethics, and professionalism distinguished them all. This training course introduced me to new and significant knowledge that I had long wished for. The instructors were skilled and professional, carrying a unique awareness and maturity that earned our respect and admiration. We put in considerable effort to gain their approval through hard work, learning, and discipline. I grew fond of these trainers, and through them, I developed an affinity for the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine and its leader, 'George Habash,' whom they referred to as 'the Wise.' My gratitude towards this front, which was present in our school and equally so in this unprecedented military course, is immense. I cherished the trainer Abu Ali, from whom I learned military knowledge previously unknown to the Yemeni army. His lessons were new, unique, and filled with wonder and astonishment. I found myself asking more questions than I could count, while he provided detailed answers, enriching our military knowledge day by day. He regarded me as his star pupil, or at least that was my impression. I also admired trainer Abu Firas, who conducted intense field training involving combat, running, overcoming fires, and navigating engineering obstacles. Simultaneously, I followed the policies of the Popular Front, growing to appreciate it more than other Palestinian factions, perhaps because it deserved such affection, or because of the people I met through it. However, I always held great admiration and respect for its wise leader, George Habash.
LBCI
01-08-2025
- Politics
- LBCI
On the front line: Lebanese Army marks 80th anniversary
Report by Edmond Sassine, English adaptation by Yasmine Jaroudi Through the ruins of the southern town of Kfarkela, now nearly leveled by Israeli strikes, signs of life are scarce. Amid the devastation, along the buffer zone, and just meters from Israeli military positions and the fortified border wall, the Lebanese Army maintains a steady presence. From a strategic hilltop position once held by Israeli forces and reclaimed by the Lebanese Army after the withdrawal, soldiers carry out their duties with full awareness of the risks. During the current war of support, 47 Lebanese soldiers have lost their lives, and many patrols and outposts have been targeted by Israeli fire, including the Aamriyeh outpost, where one soldier was killed and others wounded in a direct strike. Soldiers stationed there carry both physical and emotional scars. One soldier, who continues his mission with shrapnel lodged in his leg, says every step he takes is a reminder of the violence they have endured. Despite these hardships, the army's mission continues. The war has altered some of the army's roles under U.N. Security Council Resolution 1701. Since the cessation of hostilities, the military, in coordination with UNIFIL, has conducted more than 5,364 missions to uphold the ceasefire. The Fifth Brigade, Fifth Intervention Regiment, and Seventh Brigade are deployed across western, central, and eastern sectors south of the Litani River. Following the recent escalation, the Second Intervention Regiment was also mobilized to reinforce the army's presence. Throughout all phases, military intelligence—which has lost personnel in the line of duty—has provided critical security support. The Lebanese Army's deployment has been essential in helping displaced residents return to their homes and lands, even in areas where destruction is severe. In Wazzani, deep near the occupied village of Ghajar, civilians remain without basic services. In Aita al-Shaab, the army supports farmers determined to cultivate their lands and protect their livelihoods. Despite limited resources, complex challenges, and a broad operational mandate that stretches across the nation, the Lebanese Army, now marking its 80th anniversary, continues to symbolize unity, resilience, and unwavering commitment to protecting the country and its people.
Daily Maverick
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Maverick
Matabeleland: A cinematic reflection on love, loss, and the shadows of history
Seven years in the making, Nyasha Kadandara's Matabeleland tells the story of a man striving to exhume and rebury his father who was killed during the Gukurahundi Genocide in Zimbabwe. Other stories — along themes of masculinity, love and the troubles of immigration — emerge as the bigger story plays out. The protagonist of the story is Chris Nyathi, a Zimbabwean who makes his bread in Botswana by driving freight trucks. On camera, he flips out his cellphone and begins counting his children for the director. When asked for the total number, he struggles, he has never counted with the aim of getting to a total; the number tallies up to 17. That is not the whole story, though. Dumi, Nyathi's long-time girlfriend in Botswana, loves him, but would prefer to be his wife instead of being a mere 'girlfriend'. Nyathi says he cannot marry her now because his father was killed and buried improperly, and his affairs have never been in order — he first needs to successfully bury his father. Nyathi's father was beaten to death by the Fifth Brigade of the Zimbabwean army, a unit that reported directly to then prime minister Robert Mugabe. He was one of more than 20,000 people, many of them Ndebele-speaking natives of Matabeleland in southern Zimbabwe, systematically murdered by the brigade from 1983 until 1987 — in what is today called the Gukurahundi Genocide. Many were shot dead, but not Nyathi's father. Nyathi was 22 years old when he came home from work one day and was told that his father had been killed. He worked for the Matobo National Park, a reserve adjacent the family home. Shari Eppel, who makes an appearance in the film, says he was beaten to death while handcuffed. Eppel is director of Ukuthula Trust, an organisation that facilitates the exhumation for reburial of the remains of those who were killed during the genocide. Exhumed When Julius Mvulo Nyathi was exhumed in 2024, they discovered that the bones of his forearm — the radius and ulna — were broken at the same place on both hands, right where the handcuffs had been secured. And the autopsy report concluded that he was probably beaten with a metal object or rod while attempting to protect his head, until many bones on his body were broken, and until he could no longer resist. And until he was dead. Kadandara was both the director and the cinematographer of the film. She told Daily Maverick that she fell in love with the camera during her studies at Columbia Journalism School, where she was enrolled in the MS Documentary Specialization in 2014. There is a warmth in both the images of the characters and those of Matabeleland, the land. The characters seem absolutely relaxed in the glare of the camera, like they are oblivious of its presence. Kadandara said that both Nyathi and Dumi warmed to being filmed from the beginning. We also see a lot of mopane trees and close-up images of the worms that feast on their leaves. And there are images of the lizards whose home are the crevices of rocks on the Great Dyke Mountain Pass that cuts through Zimbabwe. 'It was very much me filming home; and also wanting to show in little ways the beautiful things that I love about where I come from,' she said. The filmmaker was born in Bulawayo in 1988, a year after the genocide officially ended — when, on 22 December 1987, Mugabe's Zimbabwe African National Union and Joshua Nkomo's Zapu signed what they called the Unity Accord and merged to form Zanu-PF, thus ending the killings. Kadandara — who was raised in Malindela, a suburb of Bulawayo — says she did not know that so many people had been systematically killed in Matabeleland in the years just before she was born. 'You know, I grew up not being taught about it at school, and not being told about it by adults,' Kadandara says. Atrocities It was way into adulthood that she learnt of the scale of the atrocities that had taken place right in her backyard. And so she went to her mother for answers. She told her about what she remembered. 'My mother told me that there was a curfew. She told me that people used to get stopped, intimidated and beaten by the police,' she said. She did not know that the genocide would be a big part of the documentary when she began. In an interview with Marmalade Collective, a Nigerian online magazine, she explained that she had initially wanted to make a seven-minute story focused on life a year after Robert Mugabe was deposed by a military coup in 2017. 'This shift happened after consulting with others, including my producer, who encouraged me to explore the story more deeply. What started as a short video within a larger multimedia piece turned into a feature documentary, which required much more time to tell the story properly,' she said. For this film, Kadandara worked with LBx Africa, a Kenyan production company. Sam Soko, the co-founder, took on the producer role for Matabeleland. 'We are creative partners and have worked with each other in different combinations. I was, for example, one of his cinematographers for his 2022 documentary Free Money, available on Netflix,' Kadandara said. They have even more projects on the way, including a film about the Zambian women's football team that participated in the 2023 World Cup. Kadandara has lived in Kenya for at least eight years now. When Kadandara began filming in 2018, she flew to Zimbabwe from Kenya. She would also routinely fly into Botswana to film with Nyathi and Dumi together and, sometimes, separately. 'I would usually go for about two weeks at a time and sort of see what I could capture,' she said. Covid-19 restrictions The film was shot over six years. Some of the scenes were filmed at the height of the Covid-19 period, with restrictions sometimes complicating travel between countries. For most of 2024, she worked with editor Jordan Inaan and producer Sam Soko to figure out what story to tell; a lover of music, Kadandara also compiled the playlist that composers Eduardo Aram and Gabriel Milliet used for the film score. Nyasha said the producer was a big part of crafting the story and wanted him credited. The result is a story that works at many levels. It is a love story, a story about a man struggling with the weight of his father's violent death at the hands of a powerful government; and the story of the estimated 20,000 people that who killed from 1983 until 1987. The film carries images of skeletons dug up from shallow graves distributed across the region — exhumed for reburial. Kadandara said she hoped the film inspired a reckoning with the past. She and some Zimbabwean partners had planned a series of screenings across Zimbabwe and she was especially excited for potential screenings in rural Matabeleland. When asked if she was worried about possible censorship, Kadandara said she was not because she wanted to be hopeful about Zimbabwe. 'And a lot of the things people love about the film is not necessarily the political. It is the human story, the intimacy, the relationship dynamic,' she said. DM
