KATHARINE HOURELD Associated Press Writer
October 17, 2009 9:01 p.m.
source
EKET, Nigeria (AP) — The nine-year-old boy lay on a bloodstained hospital sheet crawling with ants, staring blindly at the wall.
His family pastor had accused him of being a witch, and his father then tried to force acid down his throat as an exorcism. It spilled as he struggled, burning away his face and eyes. The emaciated boy barely had strength left to whisper the name of the church that had denounced him — Mount Zion Lighthouse.
A month later, he died.
Nwanaokwo Edet was one of an increasing number of children in Africa accused of witchcraft by pastors and then tortured or killed, often by family members. Pastors were involved in half of 200 cases of "witch children" reviewed by the AP, and 13 churches were named in the case files.
Some of the churches involved are renegade local branches of international franchises. Their parishioners take literally the Biblical exhortation, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."
"It is an outrage what they are allowing to take place in the name of Christianity," said Gary Foxcroft, head of nonprofit Stepping Stones Nigeria.
For their part, the families are often extremely poor, and sometimes even relieved to have one less mouth to feed. Poverty, conflict and poor education lay the foundation for accusations, which are then triggered by the death of a relative, the loss of a job or the denunciation of a pastor on the make, said Martin Dawes, a spokesman for the United Nations Children's Fund.
"When communities come under pressure, they look for scapegoats," he said. "It plays into traditional beliefs that someone is responsible for a negative change ... and children are defenseless."
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The idea of witchcraft is hardly new, but it has taken on new life recently partly because of a rapid growth in evangelical Christianity. Campaigners against the practice say around 15,000 children have been accused in two of Nigeria's 36 states over the past decade and around 1,000 have been murdered. In the past month alone, three Nigerian children accused of witchcraft were killed and another three were set on fire.
Nigeria is one of the heartlands of abuse, but hardly the only one: the United Nations Children's Fund says tens of thousands of children have been targeted throughout Africa.
Church signs sprout around every twist of the road snaking through the jungle between Uyo, the capital of the southern Akwa Ibom state where Nwanaokwo lay, and Eket, home to many more rejected "witch children." Churches outnumber schools, clinics and banks put together. Many promise to solve parishioner's material worries as well as spiritual ones — eight out of ten Nigerians struggle by on less than $2 a day.
"Poverty must catch fire," insists the Born 2 Rule Crusade on one of Uyo's main streets.
"Where little shots become big shots in a short time," promises the Winner's Chapel down the road.
"Pray your way to riches," advises Embassy of Christ a few blocks away.
It's hard for churches to carve out a congregation with so much competition. So some pastors establish their credentials by accusing children of witchcraft.
Nwanaokwo said he knew the pastor who accused him only as Pastor King. Mount Zion Lighthouse in Nigeria at first confirmed that a Pastor King worked for them, then denied that they knew any such person.
Bishop A.D. Ayakndue, the head of the church in Nigeria, said pastors were encouraged to pray about witchcraft, but not to abuse children.
"We pray over that problem (of witchcraft) very powerfully," he said. "But we can never hurt a child."
The Nigerian church is a branch of a Californian church by the same name. But the California church says it lost touch with its Nigerian offshoots several years ago.
"I had no idea," said church elder Carrie King by phone from Tracy, Calif. "I knew people believed in witchcraft over there but we believe in the power of prayer, not physically harming people."
The Mount Zion Lighthouse — also named by three other families as the accuser of their children — is part of the powerful Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria. The Fellowship's president, Ayo Oritsejafor, said the Fellowship was the fastest-growing religious group in Nigeria, with more than 30 million members.
"We have grown so much in the past few years we cannot keep an eye on everybody," he explained.
But Foxcroft, the head of Stepping Stones, said if the organization was able to collect membership fees, it could also police its members better. He had already written to the organization twice to alert it to the abuse, he said. He suggested the fellowship ask members to sign forms denouncing abuse or hold meetings to educate pastors about the new child rights law in the state of Akwa Ibom, which makes it illegal to denounce children as witches. Similar laws and education were needed in other states, he said.
Sam Itauma of the Children's Rights and Rehabilitation Network said it is the most vulnerable children — the orphaned, sick, disabled or poor — who are most often denounced. In Nwanaokwo's case, his poor father and dead mother made him an easy target.
"Even churches who didn't use to 'find' child witches are being forced into it by the competition," said Itauma. "They are seen as spiritually powerful because they can detect witchcraft and the parents may even pay them money for an exorcism."
That's what Margaret Eyekang did when her 8-year-old daughter Abigail was accused by a "prophet" from the Apostolic Church, because the girl liked to sleep outside on hot nights — interpreted as meaning she might be flying off to join a coven. A series of exorcisms cost Eyekang eight months' wages, or US$270. The payments bankrupted her.
Neighbors also attacked her daughter.
"They beat her with sticks and asked me why I was bringing them a witch child," she said. A relative offered Eyekang floor space but Abigail was not welcome and had to sleep in the streets.
Members of two other families said pastors from the Apostolic Church had accused their children of witchcraft, but asked not to be named for fear of retaliation.
The Nigeria Apostolic Church refused repeated requests made by phone, e-mail and in person for comment.
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At first glance, there's nothing unusual about the laughing, grubby kids playing hopscotch or reading from a tattered Dick and Jane book by the graffiti-scrawled cinderblock house. But this is where children like Abigail end up after being labeled witches by churches and abandoned or tortured by their families.
There's a scar above Jane's shy smile: her mother tried to saw off the top of her skull after a pastor denounced her and repeated exorcisms costing a total of $60 didn't cure her of witchcraft. Mary, 15, is just beginning to think about boys and how they will look at the scar tissue on her face caused when her mother doused her in caustic soda. Twelve-year-old Rachel dreamed of being a banker but instead was chained up by her pastor, starved and beaten with sticks repeatedly; her uncle paid him $60 for the exorcism.
Israel's cousin tried to bury him alive, Nwaekwa's father drove a nail through her head, and sweet-tempered Jerry — all knees, elbows and toothy grin — was beaten by his pastor, starved, made to eat cement and then set on fire by his father as his pastor's wife cheered it on.
The children at the home run by Itauma's organization have been mutilated as casually as the praying mantises they play with. Home officials asked for the children's last names not to be used to protect them from retaliation.
The home was founded in 2003 with seven children; it now has 120 to 200 at any given time as children are reconciled with their families and new victims arrive.
Helen Ukpabio is one of the few evangelists publicly linked to the denunciation of child witches. She heads the enormous Liberty Gospel church in Calabar, where Nwanaokwo used to live. Ukpabio makes and distributes popular books and DVDs on witchcraft; in one film, a group of child witches pull out a man's eyeballs. In another book, she advises that 60 percent of the inability to bear children is caused by witchcraft.
In an interview with the AP, Ukpabio is accompanied by her lawyer, church officials and personal film crew.
"Witchcraft is real," Ukpabio insisted, before denouncing the physical abuse of children. Ukpabio says she performs non-abusive exorcisms for free and was not aware of or responsible for any misinterpretation of her materials.
"I don't know about that," she declared.
However, she then acknowledged that she had seen a pastor from the Apostolic Church break a girl's jaw during an exorcism. Ukpabio said she prayed over her that night and cast out the demon. She did not respond to questions on whether she took the girl to hospital or complained about the injury to church authorities.
After activists publicly identified Liberty Gospel as denouncing "child witches," armed police arrived at Itauma's home accompanied by a church lawyer. Three children were injured in the fracas. Itauma asked that other churches identified by children not be named to protect their victims.
"We cannot afford to make enemies of all the churches around here," he said. "But we know the vast majority of them are involved in the abuse even if their headquarters aren't aware."
Just mentioning the name of a church is enough to frighten a group of bubbly children at the home.
"Please stop the pastors who hurt us," said Jerry quietly, touching the scars on his face. "I believe in God and God knows I am not a witch."
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Churches involved in torture, murder of thousands of African children denounced as witches
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Minton report: Carter-Ruck give up bid to keep Trafigura study secret
by David Leigh
Lawyers for oil traders Trafigura finally abandoned attempts to keep secret a scientific report about toxic waste dumping in west Africa, that was shown to the Guardian.
Just after 7.30pm Carter-Ruck, libel lawyers for Trafigura, wrote a letter to the Guardian which said the newspaper should regard itself as "released forthwith" from any reporting restrictions. An MP revealed the report's existence to parliament this week, after the Guardian was hit with a "super-injunction" banning all mention of it and other UK media were then subsequently notified of, and therefore bound by it.
The Minton report, commissioned in 2006 from the London-based firm's scientific consultants, said that based on the "limited" information they had been given Trafigura's oil waste, dumped cheaply the month before in a city in Ivory Coast, was potentially toxic, and "capable of causing severe human health effects".
The study said early reports of large scale medical problems among the inhabitants of Abidjan, were consistent with a release of a cloud of potentially lethal hydrogen sulphide gas over the city. The effects could have included severe burns to the skin and lungs, eye damage, permanent ulceration, coma and death.
The author of this initial draft study, John Minton, of consultants Minton, Treharne & Davies, said dumping the waste would have been illegal in Europe and the proper method of disposal should have been a specialist chemical treatment called wet air oxidation.
Although the report was cautious, pointing out that unreliable press reports and "mass hysteria" might have led to exaggeration of alleged ill effects, its contents were unwelcome.
Trafigura subsequently did not use the report in the personal injury report in the claim against them and did not dislcose the report's existence.
It issued a series of public statements over the next three years saying the waste had been routinely disposed of and was harmless. Trafigura based this decision on other reports produced from an analysis of the slops obtained from the Probo Koala ship. Trafigura dismissed complaints of illness in a lawsuit brought by 30,000 inhabitants of Abidjan, before being forced last month to pay them £30m in compensation and legal costs in a confidential out of court settlement.
The oil firm then conceded in a public statement that the toxic fumes could have caused "flu-like symptoms" to the inhabitants. But it was accepted in an agreed statement by both sides that expert evidence did not back the more serious claims of deaths, miscarriages or serious injuries, made in previous official statements by the Ivory Coast and British governments and in a UN report.
Before the settlement announcement, Trafigura's lawyers Carter-Ruck obtained a super-injunction from a judge, banning the Guardian not only from revealing the existence of the Minton report, but also from telling anyone about the existence of the injunction.
They said the Minton report was confidential because it had been obtained for possible use in litigation. Trafigura said the report was only preliminary and had proved to be inaccurate. They said hydrogen sulphide in the waste could not have broken down into a dangerous gas after the dumping and that other experts had concluded: "no other chemicals were released in concentrations capable of causing significant harm to human health".
Carter-Ruck was unable to prevent the publication of internal company emails by the Guardian, which confirmed Trafigura executives had been aware in advance that their waste was hazardous, and knew that it ought to have received expensive specialist treatment. Company traders talked about making "serious dollars" from paying someone to take away their "shit".
Attempts by Carter-Ruck to suppress the Minton report led to a controversy about parliamentary privilege this week, when the law firm initially tried to prevent reporting of parliamentary questions tabled by the Labour MP Paul Farrelly. They later abandoned this attempt. Carter-Ruck was accused by MPs of potential contempt of parliament.
Tonight, Alan Rusbridger, the Guardian's editor, said: "I welcome the climbdown by Trafigura and Carter-Ruck. Now people can read the Minton report they will realise why it was in the public interest for it to be published. It has taken a five-week legal battle – involving journalists, lawyers, bloggers and parliament itself – to force this information into the open. Never again should a newspaper be threatened with contempt of court for reporting parliament. And judges should think again about the use of super-injunctions which are themselves secret. This is a good day for parliament, open justice and free reporting."
Pierre Lorinet, Trafigura's chief financial officer, told the Telegraph: "We decided that our best course of action at the time was to get the injunction, because we didn't want more inaccurate reporting on things which are very clearly wrong effectively. It is a heavy-handed approach, absolutely. With hindsight, could it have been done differently? Possibly. The injunction was never intended to gag parliament or attack free speech."
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
French Connections
Dear Jean,
So you’re 23. The economy sucks. You’re foundering in school; in fact, you have to redo your second year of legal studies after requiring two stabs to complete the first year. Like many unfocused students, you might joke that you are on the eight-year undergrad plan. You’ve even dabbled in acting.
But you’ve got things in your favor, like great shoulder-length hair and a lot of energy. You have plenty in common with Daddy, at least superficially—the way you look, speak, and gesticulate, among other things—but you’re way better looking, and blond.
Oh, and your dad happens to be France’s workaholic president, Nicolas Sarkozy, and that’s where opportunity begins. You could follow him into the family business, use the Sarkozy name as a battering ram to power, and ape your father’s tactics and paths on all fronts. You could even create a powerful political alliance with dad…
Plenty of disconcerted French people fear that the charming Jean Sarkozy’s surreal political rise over the last two years suggests just such a strategy. After all, there aren’t precedents for a struggling young law student to become a top political figure in France’s most influential rich conservative bastion, as “Sarko Junior” is doing, thanks to his father’s strong political brand and his diamond-grade Rolodex.
If his pending gig at La Defense is confirmed in December, Jean will be outpacing his father’s early ascent; Sarkozy became mayor of Neuilly at the age of 28.
This week it became clear that the Sarkozys’ many political allies have opened the way for Jean’s all-but-certain election as president of the public development agency that will oversee a multibillion-dollar overhaul of La Defense, the sprawling financial district full of banking and corporate offices just beyond the northwestern edge of Paris. France’s “Midtown Manhattan” is not merely the workplace of 150,000 employees at the offices and headquarters of some of Europe’s largest corporations; it is a multi-billion-euro financial nexus. The position at La Defense is unpaid, but extremely high profile—perfect for a political up-and-comer looking to develop influential relationships and stack up chits to cash in later. (No wonder Nicolas retained his place atop La Defense’s developmental authority until 2007—when he was elected president of France.)
Jean can also schmooze corporate France as head of the conservative majority on the powerful county council in France’s wealthiest geographic department. He can access the power elite at his dad’s workplace (the Elysee Palace) and also through his young wife, Jessica Sebaoun, an heiress to the Darty electronics empire. Yes, the path to Jean’s future appears to be lined with gold, in more ways than one.
Not since George W. Bush’s youth has the political future seemed so bright for such a bumbling student. Jean’s meteoric launch began in his father's political fiefdom, when he was elected to the county council by residents of the leafy, rich Parisian suburb of Neuilly-sur-Seine. (Nicolas was, incidentally, long the mayor of Neuilly, and his rise to the presidency was based in large part on relations developed there.) After just three months on the council, Jean was propelled to the leadership of its right-wing majority. If his pending gig at La Defense is confirmed in December, Jean will be outpacing his father’s early ascent; Sarkozy became mayor of Neuilly at the age of 28.
France has for centuries prided itself on being a meritocracy, so many people are now mocking the prospect of a presidential spawn who craves to outdo his father on their dime, which is how many here saw George W. Bush’s political career. In the nation that long ago guillotined its royal family, the reaction to Prince Jean, as the British press dubbed him, has been biting. On Twitter, the "#jeansarkozypartout" (jeansarkozyeverywhere) hashtag has taken off, with hundreds of suggestions for—and rumors about—the young man’s stunning potential: Jean Sarkozy will replace Ban Ki-moon as head of the U.N.; Jean will coach France's beloved national soccer team; he will model for the next bust of the female French national figure, Marianne; he has asked Pope Benedict to step down so that he can replace the old man.
A fast-growing Facebook group, with more than 600 members, suggests that France’s Mini-Me should receive the Nobel Peace Prize “more than the illustrious, unknown and incapable…Barack Obama.” And a “Jean Sarkozy Application for iPhone” demonstration video highlights the ease with which Jean Sarkozy can enter French politics, speed past competitors and—when “papa” calls—know that this is the moment when “everything has changed.”
But beneath such satire, French people are raising real questions about whether, two and a half years into his presidency, Nicolas Sarkozy is giving into royal hankerings that have undermined past presidents. Opponents in the capital accuse him of using his son to orchestrate a crass familial power grab that is part of a broader effort to seize control of major development projects around Paris, to the detriment of the capital's Socialist-led government.
Some of his more hysterical political opponents have even asked whether President Sarkozy is undermining the pillars of the French republic, but concerns about nepotism are real enough. And the news of Jean's possible La Defense gig has led more than 50,000 French people to sign an online petition calling on Jean Sarkozy to decline the post, focus on his legal studies, apply for a few corporate internships and then, perhaps, re-apply “for this position that was filled in the past by your father.”
Jean Sarkozy, taking a page from his dad’s I’m-a-victim campaign playbook, suggested that most of the criticism is coming from the left, which comes across as an effort to galvanize his right-wing base. But even one of Sarkozy’s closest political allies, Patrick Devedjian—the man forced by age limits to give up the position that Jean Sarkozy is set to take over—implicitly acknowledged the unfairness of Jean’s rise by citing the 17th-century French dramaturge Pierre Corneille: "For souls nobly born, valor does not await the passing of years."
President Sarkozy finally weighed in about his son on October 13, saying that his boy had been “thrown to the wolves without reason.” The strangest aspect of this fatherly defense was that it came as part of a talk with teenage students about France’s great egalitarian traditions dating back to the time of Napoleon Bonaparte, who ended “the privilege of birth.” In France, what counts now, the president said, “is not being well-born; it is to have worked hard and proved by one’s studies and worth.” Nicolas Sarkozy made the same argument during his 2007 bid for the presidency and substantial portions of working-class France bought into it.
The president’s son, meanwhile, responded to the growing controversy by saying, “Whatever I say, whatever I do, I will be criticized. My legitimacy will forever be on trial.” Perhaps not forever—just until he forgoes his outsize ambitions or offers some real indication that he deserves to become one of the most powerful young men in Europe.
Eric Pape has reported on Europe and the Mediterranean region for Newsweek since 2003. He is co-author of the graphic novel, Shake Girl, which was inspired by one of his articles. He has written for the Los Angeles Times magazine, Spin, Vibe, Le Courrier International, Salon, Los Angeles and others. He is based in Paris.
For inquiries, please contact The Daily Beast at editorial@thedailybeast.com.
Britain: Muslim Graves Desecrated in Manchester
source
Posted on 08 October 2009 by Emperor
Muslim graves in Manchester have been desecrated, but of course Islamophobia doesn’t “exist.” No doubt the anti-Muslim blogosphere will say that this is just resistance to so-called “Islamization” and from Europe turning into a Eurabia. Can we expect swift condemnations from the “preserver’s of European culture?” (hat tip: Islamophobia-Watch)
Burning Hijabis
Marija Andric
Two schoolgirls are to be expelled after setting a Muslim girl's hijab headscarf on fire during a school trip.
The 15-year-old girls, from Graz, Austria, escaped race hate charges by claiming the attack was a prank and not related to the victim's religion.
Murder suspect disapproved of his victims
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
source(10-13) 15:31 PDT EL CERRITO -- A man stabbed and bludgeoned his sister and her husband to death in El Cerrito in 2006 because he thought the couple were too liberal, were raising their children wrong and because they hadn't invited him over for Christmas, a prosecutor told jurors Tuesday.
Edward Wycoff, 40, of the Sacramento suburb of Citrus Heights coldly planned the slayings, including getting Lasik surgery and using night-vision goggles so he could find his way around the house where Julie Wycoff Rogers, 47, lived with her husband, Paul Rogers, 48, prosecutor Mark Peterson said.
He also purposefully picked the date for the killings - Jan. 31, 2006 - Peterson said in Contra Costa County Superior Court in Martinez. That was 20 years to the day after Wycoff's grandmother, whom he hated, left his home after breaking her hip, the prosecutor said.
Wycoff regarded his grandmother as "evil" and thought his life improved considerably after she left, Peterson said. Because he believed the couple had also been making his life miserable, he chose that date to break into their home on Rifle Range Road overlooking Wildcat Canyon Regional Park, stab them repeatedly with a knife and bludgeon them with a wheelbarrow handle, Peterson said in his opening statement in Wycoff's murder trial.
Although Wycoff was also armed with a gun, he didn't use it because he didn't want to boost the cause of gun-control supporters, the prosecutor said.
Wycoff, who is serving as his own attorney, told jurors that he still hates the couple "a little."
"They owe me a life," he said. "This has ruined my life, and Julie and Paul owe me for that."
Wycoff agreed with the prosecutor that he resented members of Paul Rogers' family for their liberal politics, and that he thought the couple were at times "too easy" when they disciplined their children.
He also said that "it wasn't just Christmas" when he wasn't invited over. It was also Thanksgiving in 2005, the year his and Julie Rogers' father died.
"When someone does that, they hate you - they're out to destroy you," Wycoff said.
Peterson said Wycoff had planned to adopt the couple's three children after he committed the killings.
The prosecutor played for the jury the 911 call made by Eric Rogers, then 17, after the killer broke into the home about 4:30 a.m. The boy's sister, Laurel, then 12, could be heard screaming in the background.
The children tried to help their father, who told them, "I love you all" before dying, the prosecutor said. Eric Rogers brushed his father's hair, telling him, "I love you, papa."
Peterson said Julie Rogers' last words to police were, "Kids OK?"
The children were not harmed. A third child, then 15, was not living at the home at the time.
In an interview from jail after the slayings, Wycoff, who is 6 foot 5 and weighs 300 pounds, said he had tried to disguise himself during the killings by wearing a motorcycle helmet and attaching a ponytail with his late mother's hair.
In a poem, Wycoff wrote, "My sister, I gutted her like a fish," Peterson said.
"And in fact, he did," the prosecutor added, "and he's proud of it."
Wycoff was arrested after he turned up at a hospital in Placer County, seeking treatment for a gash on his leg that he probably sustained while breaking into the home, Peterson said.
Wycoff is charged with two counts of murder along with the special circumstance alleging that he committed more than one murder. Prosecutors said they will seek the death penalty if he is convicted.
Wycoff's opening statement indicated he would try to justify the killings to the jury, rather than deny he committed them.
At the close of his remarks, Wycoff told the "few fans" in the gallery to contact his advisory attorney, David Briggs, if they wanted autographs.
E-mail Henry K. Lee at hlee@sfchronicle.com.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Cities Too Poor To Bury Dead
In morgues across the country the corpses of dead poor are stacking up as the the government runs out of money to bury them. State and county budgets for interring indigent and unclaimed bodies have been drying up faster than usual in the current economy, as more families are unable to come up with the money to lay their loved ones to rest.
CNN's Assignment Detroit project released a report Thursday detailing how 67 people lie in wait at the Wayne County morgue. Unemployment, at a staggering 28% in Detroit, prevents many from affording to provide their family members a final resting place, and Detroit's $21,000 annual budget to bury unclaimed bodies ran out three months ago. More bodies are being left to the control of the state, who are having a harder time picking up the slack.
Detroit may be over-exposed as a cite of poverty porn, but stacks of stagnant bodies rotting in city buildings offer a bleak picture of the city's ability to provide for its most vulnerable citizens. Carl Schmidt, Wayne County's chief medical examiner, noted the despair of the condition. "There are many people with sad lives," he said, "But it is even sadder when even after you are dead, there is no one to pick you up."
But it's not just Detroit. In Jefferson County, Alabama, the state has only recently resumed burying the indigent and unclaimed, reports al.com. The county has been unable to afford to pay its employees who handle burials and grave maintenance since August, but some hospitals have started footing the bill until the county can afford to continue their services.
The state of Illinois faced similar fears as its Department of Human Services announced in June that it would be unable to continue paying for burial or funeral services. Budget cuts, reported the State Journal-Register, had shredded the $15 million the state annually puts aside to bury the approximate 10,000 corpses it takes care of. In August, the state rescinded, and approved $12.6 million for those purposes, which affords $1,655 per indigent burial, according to a report by the Southern, much to the delight of cemeteries and funeral homes. Funeral homes still absorb some costs to bury the unclaimed, but the load is much lighter. "It was going to become a big financial burden," said Tony Cox, coroner of Gallatin County.
The state's backup plan -- relying on funeral homes and cemeteries -- was ultimately an appeal to charity; they are not legally bound to provide interment services, said Harvey Lapin, general counsel for the Illinois Cemetery and Funeral Home Association. The state barely avoided that option.
"One way we look back at a culture is how they dispose of their dead," said Schmidt. "We see people here that society was not taking care of before they died -- and society is having difficulty taking care of them after they are dead."
