This link has been bookmarked by 121 people . It was first bookmarked on 20 Jan 2007, by ashley.
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Devon AdamsThis blog expands on Nicholas Kristof’s twice-weekly columns, sharing thoughts that shape the writing but don’t always make it into the 800-word text. It’s also the place where readers make their voices heard.
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PBS Special on “Half the Sky”
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Tim THuman rights, Nicholas Kristof
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Some 75 million children of primary-school age are not attending school, and 225 million older children are not attending secondary school. The UN estimates that $11 billion a year could get these younger kids in primary school by 2015. The Global Campaign for Education calls for $16 billion in new spending a year to get kids in primary school and junior high school. My own calculations are that if you aim to get 90 percent of these kids in school (the last 10 percent are always the hardest), that could be done much more cheaply. Simply deworming kids, at 50 cents per person per year, substantially increases school attendance. So does a free school lunch program (through UNICEF and WFP), at 11 cents per child per school day.
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29 Oct 09
findacauseGreat blog. Really neat ideas coming from here as well as multiple links to really cool people and projects.
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“So how do you like socialized medicine?” So he answered: “Fine. And how do you like socialized sewerage?”
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19 Aug 09
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pcomm123The New York Times’ Nicholas D. Kristof blogs about human rights and the effects of globalization, focusing on third-world countries.
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09 Jul 09
camille jolleyThe New York Times’s Nicholas D. Kristof blogs about human rights and the effects of globalization, focusing on third-world countries.
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Sarah GreenNicholas D. Kristof addresses readers' comments and posts frequently on his trips and the issues that shape his perspective.
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Frida LeeNicholas D. Kristof, an Op-Ed columnist for The Times since November 2001, is the winner of two Pulitzer prizes. Mr. Kristof has lived on four continents, reported on six, and traveled to 140 countries, plus all 50 states. During his travels, he has had u
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18 Aug 08
tony tuNicholas D. Kristof addresses readers' comments and posts frequently on his trips and the issues that shape his perspective.
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University of Chicago has created an on-line test called “the police officer’s dilemma,”, in which you encounter 100 pictures of black and white men, some armed and some unarmed. The idea is to shoot those who are armed and holster your gun when you see someone unarmed — and the program measures how fast you do these things. Try it — if you’re like most whites and many blacks, you’re quicker to shoot blacks than whites.
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January 19, 2007, 6:40 am
We Have a Winner…
“Your Turn”: The Darfur Genocide -
Last month I launched a contest for readers to submit their own writing about Darfur, using my reporting or other source materials. I called it “Your Turn” and thought I would be inundated with earnest newspaper columns from college journalists. Instead, most entries were letters, essays or poems.
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And now, the envelope please….The winner is Melissa Fitzgerald, who wrote a lovely fictional letter from a Darfuri woman to an aid worker. It captured the mood of a refugee camp and was also painfully evocative. Naka Nathaniel, the photographer and web maven who accompanies me on trips, and Winter Miller, my researcher, helped choose the winner, and all three of us agreed that Melissa’s entry was by far the best. Afterward, it turned out that Melissa knows something about how to connect with audiences: She’s an actress who played the deputy press secretary on the NBC show “West Wing.”
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The runner-up in this contest is a poem by Carolyn Torella of Lagrangeville, N.Y., entitled “We Are Missing.” It’s right below Melissa’s letter. Congratulations, Melissa!
Dear Katy,
There is not much time now. I see you and the other relief workers packing and getting ready to evacuate, so I know the Janjaweed must be on their way. There is nowhere else for us to go. No place for us to hide. We can only wait.
I know that we have never spoken. I have not been able to speak since the day my village was attacked, but I wanted to say Thank You. Thank you for feeding our children, removing the bullets from our bodies, and for caring for us with love and kindness. This has been more meaningful than you will ever know. I ask you to please do one more thing for us, for me. Please tell the world what is happening to us. I know that I will be killed tonight, which is why I need to tell you my story. So someone knows.
I know your name is Katy because you introduced yourself to me with your big open and warm smile. I was unable to respond, so I will now introduce myself. My name is Fatima. I was living in a village with my parents, my dear husband, Abdul and my two beautiful children, Osman and Gida. Osman, my son, was 3 years old. So smart and full of life and energy. He loved to sing and dance and he had the most beautiful infectious laugh you’ve ever heard. My baby, Gida, was only 4 months old and she was a very happy and smiley baby. She loved to watch her big brother and she loved to be held and sung to sleep.
The day the Janjaweed attacked our village, began like any other day. I woke, prayed, and prepared a fire to begin the morning meal. My husband and children were still asleep. All of a sudden, hundreds of men, the Janjaweed, rode into our village on horses and camels and behind them, government soldiers rode in on trucks. The Janjaweed shouted, We will not allow blacks here! This land is only for Arabs! My husband and I grabbed our children and started to run. As we were running we heard my parents crying and screaming. The Janjaweed had set fire to their hut, burning them alive. They shot my husband and stabbed his body with their bayonets. They made us watch as they stuffed his body in the well. They kept shouting, You blacks are not human! We can do anything we want to you! Six of them grabbed my children from me and raped me. They whipped me. They laughed at me. My son was watching. I willed myself not to cry. One of the Janjaweed said, You belong to me, you are a slave to the Arabs and this is a sign of a slave. He slashed my leg with his sword. They allowed me to crawl over to my children. I held them as the men laughed. They grabbed Osman from me and one of them said, You have a choice, your son can either be burned alive or shot to death. Osman ran towards me, his arms reaching for me and they shot him. His little body fell to the ground.
Gida and I somehow survived that day and we eventually made our way to the Chad/Sudan border to this camp. I don’t really know how I was alive but I had to keep walking to get to this camp for my baby. We had no food, so my milk dried up. The night we arrived at this camp, Gida died in my arms.
I know that you are a brave and good person, Katy, and there must be more people like you where you come from, please tell them about us. It is too late for my parents, my husband and my children. In a few hours it will be too late for me. But there are more of us and it is not yet, too late for them.
Much love and courage for your journey.
Always,
Fatima
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About Nicholas D. Kristof
Nicholas D. Kristof, an Op-Ed columnist for The Times since November 2001 and previously one of its associate managing editors, is the winner of two Pulitzer prizes. Mr. Kristof has lived on four continents, reported on six, and traveled to 120 countries, plus all 50 states, every Chinese province and every main Japanese island. He's also one of the very few Americans to be at least a two-time visitor to every member of the Axis of Evil. During his travels, he has had unpleasant experiences with malaria, wars, an Indonesian mob carrying heads on pikes, and an African airplane crash.. -
And here’s the runner-up from Carolyn Torella who added this note with her entry: “I looked at the photos you took there and my first reaction was, wow, that blue sky could be our blue sky here today. Those mountains look like the mountains I see every day in the Hudson Valley. They have farmers…mothers…children…so do we. But of course, we live in different worlds.”
“We Are Missing”
Those blue skies look familiar
Vapor clouds feathered white
Trees bend with the wind there
Darkness comes with nightOur mountains look the same here
Shaped by passing time
Brown slopes gently curve here
Young feet attempt the climbFathers worked the land there
Fed the hungry night and day
Mothers’ voices singing
Children, go out and play!Now something there is missing
Joy has left the land
Darkness comes by day now
By janjaweeds evil handFathers stand and fight there
Death comes anyway
Mothers raped at daybreak
Babies cry all dayThe graves are getting deeper
The sky unfurling black
Tears upon the dry land
Flesh burns on broken backSomething there is missing
The compassionate outstretched hand
Whole choirs of voices singing
Help them, take a stand!What is missing?
WE are missing.
The We who say we care
The We who have the power
To help you over there.
I’d like to do a “your turn” contest again, maybe with my Cambodia reporting from December, or with material from an Africa trip I’m planning in February, and I do hope we’ll get lots of student journalism entries.
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24 Sep 06
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