Malala turns 18
Profiles of 2014 Nobel Peace laureates Malala Yousafzai and Kailash Satyarthi
2014年諾貝爾和平獎
The Nobel Peace Prize 2014
The Nobel Peace Prize 2014
"for their struggle against the suppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to education"
「他們奮鬥不懈,反抗對於兒童與年輕人的壓迫,並為全世界兒童爭取受教育權。」(http://goo.gl/3RDObq)
「他們奮鬥不懈,反抗對於兒童與年輕人的壓迫,並為全世界兒童爭取受教育權。」(http://goo.gl/3RDObq)
2014年諾貝爾和平獎台灣時間2014/10/10傍晚揭曉。印度兒童權利運動家,亦即兒福組織 BBA 的創辦人 Kailash Satyarthi,以及巴基斯坦少女 Malala Yousafzay 榮獲和平獎桂冠殊榮,以表彰他們對提倡兒童權利的貢獻。兩人將平分800萬克朗獎金。
挪威諾貝爾委員會(Norwegian Nobel Committee)表示,今年兩位得主的得獎理由是:「他們奮鬥不懈,反抗對於兒童與年輕人的壓迫,並為全世界兒童爭取受教育權。」(http://goo.gl/TD7SE6)
Malala Yousafzay 現年17歲,1997/07/12出生於巴基斯坦的 Mingora。她是諾貝爾獎114年有史以來最為年輕的桂冠得主,而且這項記錄未來可能也會是一項難以打破的紀錄,當下情況可說是空前,也可能是絕後。(http://goo.gl/csp4FV)
巴基斯坦少女 Malala Yousafzay 為了爭取女孩的受教權,2012年12月遭到塔利班游擊隊的槍傷腦部後,在伯明罕醫院接受治療,歷經4次手術,昏迷6天,與死神搏鬥後奇蹟地存活下來,馬拉拉由衷感謝醫師妙手回春,給她第2個生命。
英國女王伊麗莎白二世女王佩服 Malala Yousafzay 的勇氣,透過巴基斯坦駐英大使,邀請她到白金漢宮作客,當面給予這個不畏惡勢力的少女嘉許和肯定。
Kailash Satyarthi 於1954/01/11出生於印度中央邦的 Vidisha,現年60歲。從1980年代就開始為兒童權益奔走,創辦「搶救兒童運動」(Bachpan Bachao Andolan, BBA)組織,迄今至少已解放8萬名淪為奴隸的兒童,並協助他們重新融入社會。 (http://goo.gl/nJsOZu)
Kailash Satyarthi 經常前往世界各地,宣揚解放童奴、反對童工、賦予兒童受教權的理念,引發廣大的迴響,並先後獲得多個國家與國際組織的表揚。
The Norwegian Nobel Committee cited the two "for their struggle against the suppression of children."
我幾年前很注意 Morgan Tsvangirai 他還在奮戰
Zimbabwe Challenger Calls Vote a ‘Farce’
By LYDIA POLGREEN
Morgan Tsvangirai, above, the challenger to President Robert Mugabe,
said that the country’s presidential election was “illegitimate” and
called for an investigation.
Lo Hsing Han
Lo Hsing Han, heroin king and business tycoon, died on July 6th, aged about 80
Mr Lo was a respected businessman. He was also a pillar of the economy. Wherever you looked in Myanmar, he and the sprawling Asia World conglomerate he had founded were involved in some project, often with Chinese partners. The deep-water port at Kyaukpyu; a $33m highway from Arakan state to the Chinese border; an oil and gas pipeline; the Traders luxury hotel. He ran the main bus company, and was building the Myitsone dam. Though he seldom appeared, and seldom spoke when he did, he could throw a party: in 2006 he organised the wedding of the daughter of the then leader of Myanmar’s junta, in which guests appeared draped in diamonds and drunk on cascades of champagne. His wealth was so vast, by repute, that no one could guess it. Small wonder, when exports of his main product equalled in 1998 all Myanmar’s legitimate exports put together.
His success came from making a product superior to other people’s: in his case, No. 4 grade China white. It was marketed in plastic bags with the brand-name “Double UO Globe” and the words “100% pure” in Chinese characters. And pure it was, unlike the dirty brown variety from Afghanistan. It could be injected, not merely smoked, and the effects were longer-lasting. He oversaw every stage in heroin-making, from paying farmers who grew poppies on the hilly plots of the Triangle to the transport of raw gum, in huge sacks, on the backs of hundreds of mules treading narrow jungle paths to the markets and refineries on the border with Thailand, to shipment overseas. It was Mr Lo who, in the 1960s and 1970s, shipped to Vietnam the heroin that ravaged 10% of America’s forces. Not that he turned a hair. There was a saying among the ethnic Chinese in Shan state, like him: commerce was commerce.
He had not traded opium from the start, though. Born poor in Kokang district, he had toyed around with video parlours and liquor stores. He had also become a troop commander for the local prince. When the Burmese army threw out all the princes, he changed sides, and in the anarchy of Shan state in the 1960s he became captain of a militia of 3,000 men. His job now was to fight both Shan nationalist and communist guerrillas, funding himself with Yangon’s full permission by taxing the opium convoys. (In the mountains, opium was the only currency.) Soon his soldiers, in proper uniforms and with AK47s, protected most of the trade. Once deep in, exchanging his sacks in Thailand for gold bars and fancy furniture, he never looked back.
Or only once. In 1973, when the militias began to be disbanded, he joined the rebel Shan State Army, disappearing deep into the jungle. (To the end of his life he thought of himself as a Shan separatist, growling Mandarin with a heavy Kokang accent.) He got cocky, too, offering to sell the whole Burmese crop to the United States for $12m; on his way to discuss the deal he was arrested in Thailand, deported, accused by the junta of treason and sentenced to death. It was all smoothed over, as things tended to be when the top brass were on his payroll and whisky flowed. He suffered only house arrest, and was released in 1980 to rebuild his empire. By 1991 two dozen new Lo refineries dotted the northern hills.
Once more the junta thought it could make use of him. He was resourceful, and seemed to know everyone in the ethnic chaos of Shan state. After 1989 the generals let him carry goods to the Thai border unimpeded if he acted as an emissary to the Shan, Wa and Kokang rebel armies. Soon enough, peace deals emerged. He was very useful, said the intelligence chiefs.
Rescuing the generals
Myanmar’s faltering economy needed him, too. In the early 1990s, on
payment of a “whitening tax” into Myanmar’s near-empty treasury, Mr Lo
was allowed to repatriate the funds he had stowed offshore. In 1992 he
founded Asia World, running it with his son Steven Law, who had been
educated in America, as managing director. His wealth, and a fistful of
government contracts, made him the tycoon to see when foreign investors
came round. By 1998 more than half Singapore’s investments in Myanmar,
worth $1.3 billion, were made with Asia World.Two years earlier, Mr Lo and his son had been blacklisted for drug-trafficking by the United States. In 2008 Americans were forbidden to trade with them. This was water off a duck’s back. Asia World went from strength to strength. It was convenient, to say the least, that Mr Lo ran a port, a highway to China, and even a plastic-bag company. But scepticism was waved aside. In new democratising Myanmar, the generals’ saviour remained a man of influence and honour. In Yangon a splendid tombstone was designed for him.
Correction: This article originally referred to Yangon as Myanmar's capital. While still Myanmar's largest city, Yangon is no longer the capital, having ceded that title to Naypyidaw. Sorry.
*****
QUOTATION OF THE DAY
"One child, one teacher, one book and one pen can change the world."
MALALA YOUSAFZAI,
who was shot by the Taliban last year after speaking out in favor of
girls' education in Pakistan. The Lede
Malala Yousafzai, Girl Shot by Taliban, Makes Appeal at U.N.By JENNIFER PRESTON
On her 16th birthday, Malala Yousafzai spoke at the United Nations
and called on world leaders to make education available and compulsory
for every child.
Slide Show: Girl Shot by Taliban Speaks at U.N.BBC News - Malala Yousafzai speech in full - YouTube
www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5X70VyjU0g
2 days ago - Uploaded by BBCWorldNewsWatch
Pakistani schoolgirl Malala Yousafzai has addressed the United Nations as part of her campaign to ensure ...Malala Yousafzai's diary inspires other Pashtun girls yearning for education
The words of a young girl whose determination to go to school made her a target for the Taliban has made others eager to learn
For many in Pakistan, Malala Yousafzai, the schoolgirl who was shot in the head by the Taliban,
is a symbol of resilience and courage in her fight for the right of
young girls to receive an education. For hardline right-wing groups and
conspiracy theorists, she is a controversial figure accused of being a
"CIA agent" and having staged the attack on herself.
But for young Pashtun girls in Karachi, Malala's struggle to get an education in the Swat region amid an insurgency is an inspiration. This part of Malala's life – documented in a diary published by the BBC – has encouraged many of them to start writing and sharing their own dreams of staying in school.
After the Pakistani Taliban attempted to assassinate Malala last October, a young teacher with the Teach for Pakistan programme started reading Malala's diary to her 13-year-old pupils at a government-run secondary school in Karachi.
"They had heard other things about her," recalls Afrah Qureshi, who teaches English to 200 students at the school, in a poor, conservative Pashtun district. "Some said that they had heard she had committed blasphemy, that she had said something about religion. And then I asked them if they had read Malala's diary."
Qureshi began reading a page of Malala's diary to her young pupils every day in her class, and encouraged them to begin writing their own. As they read her diary, their perceptions changed almost entirely. "They loved reading her thoughts," said Qureshi. "I wanted them to make an informed opinion."
One 14-year-old girl, Sara*, writes in an elegant, cursive hand and at length about her own aspirations and scenes from everyday life. "I think Malala is a brave and an intelligent girl," reads the first entry in her own diary, titled A Tribute to Malala.
"The Taliban should not stop her to go to school because every person has their own life. A killer should not attack on her because it is not right … We all should respect our talented people, as we respect Malala."
Sara told the Guardian that she had enjoyed reading Malala's diary and her story in her own words, and she loved writing her own diary. "It improves my English," she said.
One year on, she says she can't wait to return to school after the summer holiday is over. "I didn't like studying so much before, but now I really want to. My younger brothers, my sister and I … we are all reading our books."
Sara's diary is a reflection of the perils in the city she lives in – Karachi – where an average of eight people are killed in assassinations and clashes between rival factions every day. "About 8pm there were two bomb blasts in Karachi and I'm so sad," she wrote in November. "Why [do] killers kill the people? Do they feel good after killing the people?"
Afrah Qureshi said Sara's father was incredulous at first, when she had a conversation with him in English. "You must have rote-learned this," he told his daughter, according to Qureshi. Now, he's proud of his daughter's English skills.
Aliya, a 13-year-old pupil, exuberantly wished Qureshi "Happy Malala Day, teacher!"
"I love going to school," Aliya said. "My teacher is there, my friends are there. I get up early for school, and I'm even attending summer camp where I've taken every single class. I love studying."
She rattled off a list of things she wants to do when she's older, including going to one of the country's most prestigious private universities. "I want to take science subjects in class 9 and class 10, and then study computer science at LUMS [Lahore University of Management Sciences], and then I'm going to work for Teach for Pakistan!," she said, referring to the nationwide movement of graduates who volunteer to teach in under-resourced schools.
For many of these girls, there is little hope that they will ever get more than a secondary school certificate. Many are taken out of school when they are 14 to get married. In this community, there is no concept of women working, though that is changing in other Pashtun districts in Karachi. At a parent-teacher conference, Qureshi recalled a girl's father telling her that he was "very worried" about his daughter's future. "I see that she's so intelligent and I want to help her, but how?" he said.
Despite the challenges, Teach for Pakistan says these young girls are incredibly eager to learn, and spend their breaks in the classroom so they have an opportunity to closely engage with their teachers. The organisation's teaching fellows work with the communities and the parents – who they consider the biggest stakeholders – to ensure that they are all on board and involved with the girls' education. In Aliya and Sara's school, enrolment has nearly doubled this year as a result. More women are applying to work at Teach for Pakistan, which means that they can place more teachers in girls' schools.
Another entry by Sara recalls a conversation she had with her sister about what she wanted to do later in life. "Sometimes I think: what will I become? I like many professions like singer, actor, writer, teacher, poet whatever, but my most favourite is army ... If I cannot become something special, I want to become a good person."
*The names of pupils have been changed to protect their identity.
But for young Pashtun girls in Karachi, Malala's struggle to get an education in the Swat region amid an insurgency is an inspiration. This part of Malala's life – documented in a diary published by the BBC – has encouraged many of them to start writing and sharing their own dreams of staying in school.
After the Pakistani Taliban attempted to assassinate Malala last October, a young teacher with the Teach for Pakistan programme started reading Malala's diary to her 13-year-old pupils at a government-run secondary school in Karachi.
"They had heard other things about her," recalls Afrah Qureshi, who teaches English to 200 students at the school, in a poor, conservative Pashtun district. "Some said that they had heard she had committed blasphemy, that she had said something about religion. And then I asked them if they had read Malala's diary."
Qureshi began reading a page of Malala's diary to her young pupils every day in her class, and encouraged them to begin writing their own. As they read her diary, their perceptions changed almost entirely. "They loved reading her thoughts," said Qureshi. "I wanted them to make an informed opinion."
One 14-year-old girl, Sara*, writes in an elegant, cursive hand and at length about her own aspirations and scenes from everyday life. "I think Malala is a brave and an intelligent girl," reads the first entry in her own diary, titled A Tribute to Malala.
"The Taliban should not stop her to go to school because every person has their own life. A killer should not attack on her because it is not right … We all should respect our talented people, as we respect Malala."
Sara told the Guardian that she had enjoyed reading Malala's diary and her story in her own words, and she loved writing her own diary. "It improves my English," she said.
One year on, she says she can't wait to return to school after the summer holiday is over. "I didn't like studying so much before, but now I really want to. My younger brothers, my sister and I … we are all reading our books."
Sara's diary is a reflection of the perils in the city she lives in – Karachi – where an average of eight people are killed in assassinations and clashes between rival factions every day. "About 8pm there were two bomb blasts in Karachi and I'm so sad," she wrote in November. "Why [do] killers kill the people? Do they feel good after killing the people?"
Afrah Qureshi said Sara's father was incredulous at first, when she had a conversation with him in English. "You must have rote-learned this," he told his daughter, according to Qureshi. Now, he's proud of his daughter's English skills.
Aliya, a 13-year-old pupil, exuberantly wished Qureshi "Happy Malala Day, teacher!"
'I love going to school'
Aliya said she had been moved by reading Malala's diary. "I felt very bad that she wasn't allowed to study. It was only her parents who did a great service to her and helped her do so," she said."I love going to school," Aliya said. "My teacher is there, my friends are there. I get up early for school, and I'm even attending summer camp where I've taken every single class. I love studying."
She rattled off a list of things she wants to do when she's older, including going to one of the country's most prestigious private universities. "I want to take science subjects in class 9 and class 10, and then study computer science at LUMS [Lahore University of Management Sciences], and then I'm going to work for Teach for Pakistan!," she said, referring to the nationwide movement of graduates who volunteer to teach in under-resourced schools.
For many of these girls, there is little hope that they will ever get more than a secondary school certificate. Many are taken out of school when they are 14 to get married. In this community, there is no concept of women working, though that is changing in other Pashtun districts in Karachi. At a parent-teacher conference, Qureshi recalled a girl's father telling her that he was "very worried" about his daughter's future. "I see that she's so intelligent and I want to help her, but how?" he said.
Despite the challenges, Teach for Pakistan says these young girls are incredibly eager to learn, and spend their breaks in the classroom so they have an opportunity to closely engage with their teachers. The organisation's teaching fellows work with the communities and the parents – who they consider the biggest stakeholders – to ensure that they are all on board and involved with the girls' education. In Aliya and Sara's school, enrolment has nearly doubled this year as a result. More women are applying to work at Teach for Pakistan, which means that they can place more teachers in girls' schools.
Another entry by Sara recalls a conversation she had with her sister about what she wanted to do later in life. "Sometimes I think: what will I become? I like many professions like singer, actor, writer, teacher, poet whatever, but my most favourite is army ... If I cannot become something special, I want to become a good person."
*The names of pupils have been changed to protect their identity.
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