From Myanmar to America

While people like Myat spent time in jail, others – like Aung*, a 55-year-old man with grey hair and a missing eye – joined the armed resistance against the regime.
 
Aung joined the All Burma Students’ Democratic Front (ABSDF), an opposition group that operated an armed wing. The ABSDF fought alongside other opposition groups, including the Kachin Independence Army and the Karen National Liberation Army, both armed ethnic groups fighting for independence from the junta. 

“I basically spent all of the 90s fighting in the jungle against the junta along the Thai border. Guerrilla warfare against a much stronger enemy,” Aung explained. “In Karen State, where I was stationed, that was daily life.”

By the late 1990s, however, Aung was displaced to Thailand, where he applied for refugee status. Eventually, he resettled in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Myat followed a similar path after serving thirteen years in prison. He was ultimately released in 2004 and moved to Fort Wayne as well.

In America, both men started from scratch. They worked as machine maintenance technicians,  got married, and raised their children in the U.S.
 
“We didn’t know each other back in Myanmar, but in Fort Wayne, there is a large Burmese community,” said Myat. “We found each other there, became friends, and of course talked a lot about Myanmar.”

But even after everything they had endured, life in the U.S. brought its own hardships.

“In Myanmar, families live closely together, surrounded by warmth and support from neighbors. In the U.S., it’s not like that. I felt I couldn’t belong there,” Myat said.

The hardest part, both men recalled, was learning a new language and living in a country that never truly felt theirs.

“I couldn’t leave my past behind. Our country is still under the regime’s oppression after the price we paid fighting the junta,” said Aung.

‘My country has nothing’

Under pressure from the international community and experiencing immense economic need, Myanmar’s political landscape began to change again in 2011. The military started implementing reforms gradually, and in the 2015 elections, Suu Kyi’s NLD party won. 

Suu Kyi led a civilian government that shared power with the military for several years. Although the truce was uneasy and tensions persisted, many believed it was only a slow start toward democratic reforms in Myanmar.

Nevertheless, after a period under Suu Kyi’s leadership, the military seized power again in 2021. The Lady was imprisoned again. Like in 1988, people flooded the streets in protest.

“This time it was different,” said Aung. “In 1988, only a few groups decided to fight. In 2021, the whole country, almost all armed factions, stood their ground.”

Aung argues that Operation 1027, which took place in October 2023, truly shifted everything. All the resistance groups across Myanmar joined forces in the country’s largest offensive in modern history.

“Nothing like that existed in 1988. Just incredible,” Aung said.

Myat and Aung decided to return home, leaving behind their jobs and families in the U.S. Myat has three daughters in Fort Wayne, aged 18, 17, and 11. 

“My family has everything in America, but my country has nothing,” he said. “That’s why I came back. My family understood.” 

Starlink, mobile phones, and drones

In 2021, the year the military grabbed control of the country once again, the two refugees returned to Myanmar to finish what they had started in 1988. They wanted to assist the new generation with the experience they gained during their years of resistance. Myat brought his political and communication skills. Aung contributed his military expertise.

A seasoned soldier, Aung now commands a branch of the Mon People’s Liberation Army (MPLA), which has joined forces with other groups in the Karen area. His missing right eye is a reminder of a battle fought in 1992, a different kind of war, when only a few groups, outnumbered and under-equipped, took up arms against the regime.
 
Back in Myanmar, both men quickly realized how much both the war and the country had changed. Many of the jungles that once offered shelter have disappeared.

“Where there used to be jungle, now there are roads,” Aung said.

Meanwhile, technology has become one of the biggest game changers on the battlefield. 

“In my time, we only had rifles and a few radios. That was it,” Aung described. “Now we have Starlink, mobile phones, and drones.”

A new generation of fighters has also emerged, tech-savvy and often highly educated.

One example is Htet*, a thirty-year-old former aerospace engineering student from Yangon. Like many other young people, he joined the resistance after the 2021 coup, bringing valuable technical expertise.

“I had some contacts in the Karen region. I asked if they were interested in forming a drone unit, and they immediately said yes,” he said. “Honestly, my background is more academic than practical, but I learned by watching YouTube videos. There’s plenty of material out there.”

In the ongoing conflict, drones have proven their effectiveness on the battlefield. The resistance uses drones for surveillance, reconnaissance, and even attacks on vehicles and military targets. But the challenges go beyond learning how to use them.

“Unlike the regime, we don’t have sophisticated UAVs. Our entire setup costs around $1,000 per drone, while the enemy’s costs about $20,000. We buy parts online – from sites like Alibaba or Lazada – and smuggle them into the country,” Htet explained.

A new generation

Deep in the forest, at their base camp, Htet now trains others in drone flight and navigation. In one case, he’s training an all-female team.

“My parents were very traditional and terrified of the army, so they stayed silent in 1988. I didn’t want to do the same,” said Mya*, a 27-year-old teacher from Yangon who now serves as one of the team’s drone operators.

In her previous life, Mya taught in a primary school. When she heard that the army was shelling schools in rebel-held areas, she decided to join the resistance. She joined with her fiancé, who is also her high school sweetheart.

Women like Mya are not only fighting the junta but also defying deep-rooted gender norms.

Burmese society remains deeply traditional, and women are often expected to limit themselves to housework and childcare. Serving in an all-female combat unit is a revolution in itself.

Despite their different backgrounds, one thing connects the generations of 1988 and 2021: a willingness to sacrifice their lives for their country’s good. 

“I left my family in the U.S., knowing there’s no turning back,” Myat said. “Over there, I have three children, but here, I feel like I have 300 kids. We could never abandon the children here. I came here to win this war or die trying. I’m doing it for them, but also for me.”

Mya said she feels similarly.

“I joined the resistance knowing I couldn’t go back to Yangon and be a teacher again,” she said. “It was a one-way ticket. My boyfriend and I are ready to die to bring freedom to our country.”

*Names have been changed to protect the identities of the individuals interviewed.

Matteo Latorraca is a journalist with experience reporting from multiple crisis areas, including Ukraine, Myanmar, Nigeria, and Tunisia. His work focuses on geopolitics, conflict, and social change.

The post In Myanmar, the Old Guard and New Blood Are Uniting To Fight the Junta first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

When I was really young, my father arranged for my older sister—who was 19 at the time—to be engaged to a man who was 50 years old. That man already had a wife and kids.

My sister, in a country like Afghanistan where saying no to your father was unthinkable, stood up for herself. She refused to marry him. And that was the beginning of hell for all of us. Violence became part of our everyday life. Every day. Every night. Screaming, beating, crying. It was like we were being eaten alive from the inside. Slowly fading. Slowly dying.

She fought back for 13 years. My father couldn’t force her to go, but at the same time, we lived in a tribal society where breaking traditions was a crime. Relatives kept pressuring us, talking, judging.

In the end, after 13 years of war inside our own home, we finally got her out of that nightmare. We did that by paying the equivalent of $40,000. A fortune. My father had to sell the land he inherited from his father to make it happen.

On babies and divine punishment

But even after all that, my sister’s suffering didn’t end. In Afghanistan, if a woman is over 20 and unmarried, no one wants her. And if she’s divorced? She might as well give up on the idea of marriage altogether. So, in the end, she had no choice. She married another man. A man old enough to be her father. A man who already had ten grown children.

Now, she has many daughters, all under 12. She kept having babies, hoping, praying, that one of them would be a boy.

In Afghanistan, a woman is only “lucky” if she gives birth to a son. That’s when her husband starts treating her like a human being. But she never had a son. And as if that wasn’t enough, her eldest daughter was born with vitiligo.

In a society like this, where women are already treated like nothing, having a skin condition like that, it’s like a curse. It’s a life sentence.

Yesterday, my sister told me her husband told their 11-year-old daughter that her condition was “God’s punishment.” God’s punishment. On a child. What kind of God punishes a little girl like that? My sister lives like a prisoner. Trapped in a room without a bathroom, without a toilet. And that kills me inside.

The post What Happened When One Woman Tried To Escape Forced Marriage in Afghanistan first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

Natia, a young film critic who recently moved to Germany, attended the protests in Berlin to stand up for freedom and justice back home.

Georgia’s European future is written into the country’s constitution. However, the Russian-aligned ruling Georgian Dream party has recently turned its back on the country’s European path. They’ve done so even though around 80 percent of the population backs EU membership.  

“We just want to defend ourselves,” Natia explains. 

Georgians and their local allies take part in a human chain for Georgia. Photo by Gia Gagoshidze.

An unwelcome shift away from Europe

On November 28, 2024, Georgian Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze announced his government was suspending the country’s membership application to join the European Union until at least 2028. Many Georgians, especially young people living in major cities, were horrified. 

Since then, Georgians have taken to the streets across the country. Many believe that the government has no legitimacy and is hanging onto power illegally.

Irregularities mired the elections that took place in October last year. The government also passed a controversial foreign agents’ law in the months leading up to the election. The bill mimics Russian legislation that Moscow has used to silence civil society organizations and independent activists critical of the government. Activists in Georgia say their government passed a similar law to crack down on dissent.

Rigged elections, repressive laws, and the government’s decision to shift the country away from Europe have been enough to mobilize hundreds of thousands of people in Georgia. The last few months have been colored by a near-constant arm-wrestling between Georgia’s pro-European population and its increasingly pro-Russian government. Tensions escalated after the government’s announcement on November 28. Those tensions have also played out in international cities like Berlin and Brussels, where a sizable Georgian diaspora lives. 

An “existential moment” for Georgians everywhere

Fearful for their country’s future, the Georgian diaspora kicked into action to make its voice heard in dozens of countries. Many Georgians living in the European Union are especially committed to their country’s European future. They know the benefits of living in the EU. They also know life would be much more challenging under pro-Russian, authoritarian leadership. 

Aware of the city’s importance for their country’s European future, Georgians in Brussels marched in front of Europe’s most important institutions. Lucas Ablotia, a Georgian journalist and LGBTQ activist exiled in Brussels, said he couldn’t watch the news without acting. 

“Everyone left, right, and center, even communists and capitalists, were together,” Ablotia tells Lazo Magazine. Ablotia noted that everyone felt a sense of unity because they faced an “existential moment” together. 

Many Georgians at home also felt hope when their compatriots protested around the world and brought their demands to Europe’s power centers.

Pointing “the way” to Europe

According to Gaga Gogoladze, a Berlin-based activist from Georgia, the first protests against Georgia’s October elections took place in Germany’s capital. Gogoladze and his friend Giorgi Kakabadze, a PhD researcher based in Berlin since 2021, are two of the co-founders of the pro-European Georgisches Zentrum im Ausland (GZA, the Georgian Centre Abroad), a collective of Europe-based Georgian civil activists. 

When thousands of pro-European Georgians decided to make a human chain in Tbilisi, activists in more than 40 countries followed suit. The GZA activists organized a human chain near the Russian embassy in Berlin.

GZA, which organized protests around the Brandenburg Tor, has become the backbone of pro-European Georgians in the German capital.

The organization’s acronym also means “the way” in Georgian. Kakabadze says it’s supposed to point the way to Europe.

The activists say GZA has served as an alternative embassy in Berlin. Through engaging with German media, politicians, and members of the public, GZA began discussions about Georgia that the official embassy wasn’t willing to have. Gogoladze and Kakabadze say that many people still see Georgia through a post-Soviet lens, with all its accompanying clichés.

“People never updated [their view of Georgia],” explains Gogoladze. 

Russian-led disinformation continues to describe Georgia as a country within the Kremlin’s orbit. That is why, for Kakabadze, one of GZA’s most essential endeavors is the fight against Russian propaganda. 

GZA began approaching German politicians, particularly representatives in the Bundestag. At first, it was sometimes difficult to generate interest in Georgia. Yet, in the wake of the pro-European protests, many of Germany’s four big pro-European political parties expressed renewed interest in the country.

Georgia is “not just food, drinks, and dances,” Kakabadze stresses. “It also has European values and people.”

A fight against apathy

Georgians abroad who try to bring attention to their country’s fight for its European future often face a recurring question: Who cares about a small country in the Caucasus? 

Facing this lack of interest and the persistent stereotypes about the post-Soviet space, many Georgians have lost interest in speaking out. Some have internalized the belief that no one cares about their country.

But Gogoladze and Kakabadze remain determined to do this delicate work. They engage with people directly and try to break through defeatism and apathy. 

“It also matters for Europe,” stress the two GZA co-founders. They are trying to warn people that Russian influence and meddling can impact countries across the continent. 

“It already happened, much faster than we thought,” says Gogoladze, pointing to recent cases of Russian interference in countries like Moldova and Romania. 

Many in the Georgia diaspora believe their commitment to a European and democratic future can revive hope in the European Union. That’s especially important when democracy feels fragile everywhere.

“We are almost the only hope in the world to democratize and renew things,” concludes Ablotia, the Brussels-based activist. “Because we see almost everywhere that democracy deteriorates.”

Paul Mazet is a French freelance journalist based in Berlin, where he reports on the local impacts of international developments. He studied history, international relations, and social sciences in Toulouse, Glasgow, Paris, Dublin, and Berlin.

The post In Berlin and Brussels, Georgians Fight for Their European Future first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

The old man speaking with me had reason to worry. The intensity of violence in his area had subsided in recent years, but the threat was always there. Meanwhile, poverty was always present. The market day saw small sacks of groundnuts traded for a few bundles of wilted kale but not much else.

The good news is that many communities find a way. After dozens of interviews and focus groups with over 700 people in South Sudan, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Myanmar, I had pages of notes. They documented how everyday people engage in local peace building and problem-solving in the midst of broader conflicts.

The bad news is that communities struggling with poverty and violence are far more common than we like to acknowledge. They also aren’t confined to remote regions in “other” parts of the world. 

Still, we rarely ask NGOs — or researchers like me — to try to understand why many of our own towns and cities in the United States and elsewhere are also beset by cycles of violence and poverty. Nor do we take time to identify the “pockets of peace” that could provide a foundation for strengthening our communities.

It’s true that conflict, crime, and terrorism constitute different types of violence. But there are more parallels between them than we might assume. Research shows that gangs and extremist groups have similar dynamics. Those include how they recruit (by exploiting vulnerabilities) and justify violence (by activating ideologies). Many armed militias are not that different, mobilizing loyalties around political and ethnic identities.

The commonalities of conflict

Many theories exist about what motivates violence, but three stand out as having particular relevance across these diverse contexts. First is the issue of threat perception. If people feel threatened or become convinced that they should feel threatened, it becomes easy to convince them to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do.

A second motivation, related to the first, is “othering,” or creating an us vs. them dynamic between identity groups based on ethnic, religious, racial, political, class-based, or other differences. Group distinction may reflect a natural human instinct. But it also occurs when elites exploit genuine grievances or vulnerabilities and frame an out-group as the source of threat.

A third motivation involves people turning to (or being recruited by) violent groups if they are convinced that official institutions or authorities cannot or will not protect them. In these situations, even individuals who do not personally join armed groups often feel pressured to rely on them for protection.

These motivations are further facilitated by access to arms. The Small Arms Survey indicates that over one billion arms are currently in circulation worldwide. Only two percent is in the hands of law enforcement. As such, “disarmament” in conflict areas faces similar challenges to gun buyback programs in places like the U.S.. The sheer number of arms in circulation leads to less incentive for individuals or groups to hand in their weapons. People feel they are at risk of being left “defenseless” when others don’t follow suit. In South Sudan, for example, rebel groups were reluctant to disarm because they assumed the state would keep arming its allied militias.

Pockets of peace

During my fieldwork, I heard much about “pockets of peace,” or community-led initiatives to prevent violence and improve living conditions.

In South Sudan, for example, I met with “peace committee” members who aim to resolve local disputes around land, water, and debts before they escalate into violence. In Burundi, I heard from everyday community members who were trained to diffuse interpersonal conflicts and find compromise solutions. While in the DRC, I spoke with young men — some former child soldiers — who had formed a motorbike co-op as a sustainable form of income. I spoke with young female widows who had started a farming collective to build back their lives after conflict.

Initiatives like these are becoming best-practice models in the international development sector. But Americans can learn from them, too. Indeed, many similar “pockets of peace” exist in U.S. cities, offering safe havens or alternatives to violence. 

For example, in Chicago CRED, former gang member Curtis Toler now oversees a team of two dozen gang-violence “interrupters.” In New York, the Save Our Streets (SOS) program in the South Bronx reduced gun victimization by over 60 percent. In Washington, D.C., members of the Guardian Angels serve as night-time conflict de-fusers in metro stations and high-crime areas.

Hyperlocal problem solving

Success from such initiatives is not automatic. From my work in central Africa, it’s clear that interventions were most effective when they were community-led. They often focus on hyper-local problem-solving. The local-level emphasis of community initiatives can be challenging for those (including myself) who seek broader transformational changes, whether in conflict areas or our own cities. But in reality, focusing on resolving interpersonal or local-level disputes can prevent resolvable conflicts from escalating.

At the same time, institutional backstops can help. Those could be local courts in South Sudan, the local police in DRC, or the local administration in Burundi. Similarly, in the U.S., many community-based violence interrupter programs liaise with authorities. For example, Baltimore’s Roca program partners with law enforcement, juvenile justice agencies, and social services. It can be challenging to balance necessary engagement with authorities and legitimizing what may be seen as oppressive actors. Yet individuals or agencies within broader systems often seek to engage with communities on common goals of development and violence prevention.  

It is also clear that such initiatives struggle in contexts where basic needs are unmet, as poverty reduction and violence prevention reinforce each other. As one villager in Burundi commented, “If there is no peace, there is no development,” and the reverse is also likely true. 

Opportunities for livelihoods and a sense of place and purpose can help make individuals, especially youth, less susceptible to recruitment by armed groups, gangs, militias, or extremist organizations, wherever they may be. Having basic needs met — food, water, housing, and healthcare — can prevent individuals and communities from being exploited while facilitating better social and institutional trust.

Community development can be a highly pragmatic form of violence prevention at home or abroad. I went to Africa to identify replicable models to share with NGO partners. But the “pockets of peace” I observed offered ideas and inspiration that extend well beyond the villages I visited, challenging us to apply those same lessons closer to home.

Julie M. Norman is an associate professor of politics and international relations at the University College London.

The post What Working in Remote Conflict Zones Taught Me About America first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

In late May, local authorities in Cameroon’s Mezam district imposed a dusk-to-dawn curfew on motorbikes. It was an attempt to curb rising insecurity fueled by a protracted civil war in which motorbike drivers became targets. Economic activity has since taken a nosedive. 

“At first, I would get up at 5 am to transport passengers, take a break at 1 pm, then resume at 3 pm. By the time I stop work at 10, I must have saved at least FCFA 8,000 [$13.28],” said the 34-year-old father of two. “But now, I can barely save half of that amount. This can hardly meet all the needs of my family.” 

This latest economic hardship adds to the list of losses Ketchu has suffered due to the eight-year conflict in Cameroon. He’s still struggling to repay the loan he used to purchase his bike after armed men seized his first motorbike.

A colonial past leads to violence

Violence has torn through Cameroon’s two English-speaking regions, in the northwest and southwest of the country,  since 2016. The violence erupted after the government imposed French-speaking teachers and lawyers on Anglophone schools and courts for years. Now, Anglophone militants are fighting Cameroon’s armed forces for their own breakaway country, which they named Ambazonia.

The present-day Republic of Cameroon emerged from a complex colonial history that created the conditions for the current conflict. Present day Cameroon was annexed by the Germans in 1884. The territory was later divided and ruled as separate entities by the French and the British after the German defeat in World War I.

When the country gained independence in the early 1960s, the British and French-controlled territories reunited and formed a federal state. Around 80 percent of Cameroon is French-speaking, while around 20 percent of the population speaks English. 

The country’s linguistic diversity didn’t immediately cause conflicts. However, the government dissolved the federal structure that guaranteed the rights of the minority anglophone population in 1972 following a controversial referendum. 

In the conflict that erupted eight years ago, more than 6,000 people died. At least 1.1 million others became internally displaced, and around 70,000 more fled to neighboring Nigeria. At least 2.5 million people are dangerously short of food. 

Dr. Simon Munzu is the retired chairman of the Coalition of Cameroon Federalist Groups and Activists (CCFGA) and a former United Nations Assistant Secretary-General. He says the ongoing conflict stems from the Cameroonian government’s desire to “dominate, marginalize, assimilate, and subjugate” the English-speaking territory and population. 

“Cameroon, since 1961, has been a country with two colonial heritages: English and French. Not only with respect to its two official languages but also in all spheres of public governance,” Munzu said. “The architects of reunification acknowledged this reality.”

A vicious cycle of violence

In response to the May administrative decision restricting the movement of motorbikes, Anglophone rebels ordered cab drivers in the region to change the color of their vehicles from yellow to white and blue—a symbol of the flag of their secessionist revolt. 

Rebels burned some drivers’ vehicles because they failed to comply with the order. Clashes between the Cameroon soldiers and Anglophone separatists now occur on a near-daily basis. Both have repeatedly been accused of engaging in village raids, massacres, unlawful killings, looting, arbitrary arrests, the use of torture, sexual violence, and arson attacks.

Survivors claimed a heavily-armed group of Anglophone rebels broke into a village in the South West region in the early hours of November 6. They killed at least 30 unarmed civilians. That gruesome attack was similar to another act of violence that Anglophone separatists allegedly perpetrated in June 2022, when at least 32 civilians were killed and many more wounded. 

One community allegedly hired separatist fighters to settle scores with another over a land dispute. Other gruesome killings have been recorded before these periods. One example was the massacre of school children in the South West region in 2020 and 2021. Both the Cameroon military and the leaders of the secessionist movements accused each other of being responsible for the attacks. Government soldiers also killed 21 villagers on February 14, 2020. 

A military stalemate and civilian suffering

Today, the conflict in Cameroon is in a deadly stalemate. Each of the belligerents believes it can defeat the other in battle. Separatists want to prove that they are in control of the English-speaking territory that they call their homeland. 

Their struggle has disrupted livelihoods and crippled the social, economic, and cultural activities of most of the population. However, it has fallen short of achieving its primary objective of gaining independence for the country’s English-speaking population. 

Continued violence constantly exposes civilians in the Anglophone regions – including French-speaking Cameroonians – to the risk of atrocities. 

Clarisse (a pseudonym to protect her safety) is a 19-year-old French-speaking Cameroonian studying at the University of Bamenda in the English-speaking North West. She said she must “constantly stay indoors” for fear of the unknown. 

“It is very risky living in this kind of environment,” she said. “Silence is the best way, especially if you are a Francophone. You have to just protect yourself and stay quiet. Just be simple to people.” 

Clarisse says she’s still “haunted” by the threats she received from a fellow student. He had spoken rudely to a lecturer in a classroom group chat, and Clarisse called him out. But after she learned that the student had links to separatists, she decided to stay quiet. 

“Since that incident, I went back into my shell,” she said. “I no longer really feel at ease in class. I feel insecure.” 

Fleeing to safety abroad

In the face of the worsening security situation in Cameroon’s Anglophone regions, U.S. Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas announced in October that the U.S. would extend Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for the central African country for 18 months. That means Cameroonians in the United States can remain at least until June 7, 2025, because their home country has been deemed too dangerous. 

The move came in response to a petition from 30 U.S. lawmakers. They called on the Biden administration to renew TPS for Cameroon to protect the more than 20,000 Cameroonians estimated to be living in the United States. 

The organization Human Rights Watch also called attention to the fact that the United States government had approved the return of 27 Cameroonian asylum seekers who later experienced severe harm in Cameroon after their deportation. Even before that case occurred, the rights group had repeatedly claimed that Cameroonian authorities were subjecting returned deportees and members of their families to serious human rights violations, including rape, torture, other physical abuse, arbitrary arrest and detention, inhuman and degrading treatment in detention, extortion, and threats. 

Failed peacebuilding

In the heat of the conflict, the government of Cameroon launched some initiatives aimed at ending the fighting. For a month in 2019, the warring parties participated in negotiations known as the Major National Dialogue. But those negotiations, which didn’t involve critical leaders of the Anglophone revolt, eventually fell apart. 

Then, in September 2022, Cameroonian President Paul Biya halted a Swiss-led peace dialogue. 

In another effort toward ending the conflict, Canada led secret “pre-talks” to assist the two sides to initiate a formal dialogue. Anglophone leaders issued a joint statement affirming their commitment to participate in negotiations with Canada’s facilitation. But three days later, Cameroon’s government brushed aside Canada’s efforts, denying that it had asked a foreign party to resolve the conflict.

“All those measures have failed because the government is acting in bad faith,” says Munzu, the former UN Assistant Secretary-General. “It refuses to acknowledge the exact nature of the Anglophone problem. It, therefore, refuses to adopt real solutions that could resolve the problem and end the crisis.  The measures it has taken so far are purely cosmetic.” 

A proposal for compromise

To end the conflict, Munzu suggests that the government of Cameroon acknowledge that two Cameroons – the English-speaking and the French-speaking – came together in 1961 to form a “union of equals.”  

The government must also “stop the pursuit of its program of assimilation and subjugation of the English-speaking territory and its population,” he said.  

Meanwhile, the separatists should acknowledge that Southern Cameroonians voted to gain independence in 1961 by joining the Republic of Cameroon. That forged the two into one sovereign and independent country. He argues they should drop their ambitions of forming an independent country. 

“The Cameroonian people should [then] hold a national conference to establish and implement a constitutional framework for the new governance of their country that meets their aspirations across the ten regions,” Munzu said. 

As the conflict drags on and the international community remains silent, civilians like Ketchu, caught between the warring parties, continue counting their losses while hoping for a miracle.

About the author

Nalova Akua is a Cameroonian multimedia journalist covering conflict, human rights, health, and the environment.

The post How To Understand the Changing Dynamics of Cameroon’s Forgotten War first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

In this part of the Ethiopian highlands, most people rely on agriculture to make a living. Many devote significant tracks of their small plots of land to producing coffee. Here, the Women’s Development Army, a grassroots movement, is spearheading change in its quest to combat hunger, malnutrition, and poverty.

Malnutrition in Ethiopia is a significant challenge. In 2019, 38.6 percent of children under five were stunted, or too short for their age. Today, that figure is likely higher as communities face the impact of climate change and conflict. The country is also experiencing a cost of living crisis. Food prices have skyrocketed over the last year. 

The Hunger Project, a global nonprofit active in Ethiopia since 2004, argues that innovative and community-based solutions can address the root causes of malnutrition. That’s where the Women’s Development Army, an informal, grassroots group of about  30 women, comes in. 

Sustainable solutions for development challenges

The Women’s Development Army is fighting to improve living conditions in their community. They actively participate in the trainings organized by the Right2Grow Program, which aims to combat malnutrition and stunting among children. This consortium brought together The Hunger Project, five other international non-governmental organizations, and over forty-five local civil society groups. The organizations were from Ethiopia, Bangladesh, Burkina Faso, Mali, South Sudan, and Uganda. They all aim to give more children under the age of five the chance to fulfill their potential. 

Like all of The Hunger Project’s work, this program invests in the potential of individuals living with hunger. After working with a community to define its vision for the future, The Hunger Project trains local leaders to help them reach their development goals. These leaders then train their neighbors, creating an amplifying effect. 

The Hunger Project works within communities for many years. That means the communities continue to benefit from the knowledge gained from the training programs even after the organization leaves. 

“Through the training, we’ve learned the importance of healthy and nutritious food,” said Seida, one of the project participants. “Now, our children get good and nutritious food several times per day, and their brains develop well.” 

Meet Seida

Seida, a mother of six, is at the forefront of this women’s movement in Gurage. She is one among the many women who have started cultivating diverse and nutritious local crops. Her farming gives her family access to healthy foods despite the unpredictable market and climate conditions. She primarily grows vegetables for her family’s consumption and sells the excess at the market. 

“Nothing here was bought at the market,” Seida proudly declares, gesturing to her thriving garden. 

Seida grows avocados, beans, oranges, garlic, basil, carrots, chili, and bananas. At the training sessions, she learned how to incorporate these crops into recipes that her children will eat and to preserve crops to limit post-harvest loss. 

Many of the families in Gurage needed access to clean water, not just nutritious foods. Livestock and other animals had contaminated the community’s water sources. The dirty water was making kids very sick, and some became malnourished as a result. 

Following training on advocacy and citizens’ rights, the Women’s Development Army lobbied their local government to dedicate resources to improving their water supply. 

Sieda and her group worked together to build a fence around their water source, and as a consequence of their lobbying efforts, the district water office clarified the water so it was safe to consume. 

The local government also built a pipe system so the village could access water from their homes. As a result of this work, 34 homes in Sieda’s village now have access to clean and safe drinking water. Women can now devote their time to essential tasks to sustain their livelihoods rather than countless hours traveling and collecting clean water. 

Women warriors

As the sun sets over the highlands of Ethiopia, the collective efforts of the Women’s Development Warriors have fostered a sense of hope within the community. Their determination, resilience, and unwavering commitment to change have transformed their lives and community. 

“According to our monitoring and supervision actions in the village, we have observed numerous changes as a result of the Women Development Army’s efforts,” said Tsege Antuwan, a nutrition expert with the District Health Office. “The majority of the community in the village is involved in vegetable production, there are communal and family level toilets, they have clean water and community awareness has been raised to achieve zero undernutrition in the village. This result is the consequence of the commitment of the Women’s Development Army members.’’

The story of the Women’s Development Army can inspire countless others to take action and strive for a world where every individual, regardless of gender or circumstance, has the opportunity to thrive.

Ailani Roldan is an intern with The Hunger Project’s global communications team and a senior at Baruch College in New York City.

The post Women in Ethiopia are fighting hunger and child malnutrition first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

“I read books, but a lot of information came in at once, so I felt more confused and stressed,” Ngoc said. “Luckily, with the support of the doctor and my family, I overcame this period.”  

Three years later, Ngoc decided to help other mothers and fathers who may have questions about childbirth, delivery, and raising young children. She created an app called Momby, a play on the words mommy and baby, for parents in Vietnam. 

Ngoc built the app with the support of the nonprofit Alive & Thrive and the Innovation Incubator at FHI 360 Global Nutrition, which promotes technologies to improve nutritional outcomes worldwide. 

“I saw that it was necessary to have personalized content so the parent doesn’t need to look at all the resources,” she said. 

Now Ngoc hopes parents will turn to just one source for personalized advice: the Momby app.  

The Momby app includes information on breastfeeding, nutrition, and healthy development for babies, as well as the health and well-being of the mother. The app also has a version for fathers to help them understand what the mother may be going through during childbirth.  

 “The parent can find almost any topic related to pregnancy,” Ngoc said.  

The app includes a digital assistant, Doti, who answers questions, provides evidence-based information on child nutrition developed by a team of pediatricians and obstetricians, and recommends good practices. If there are questions that Doti cannot answer, users can speak directly to experts who can answer them.  

Instead of Googling an answer to a question, users have a one-stop shop to find reliable and trustworthy information they need to make informed decisions. That easy access could become especially important as the worldwide shortage of healthcare workers grows.  

The World Health Organization estimates that there will be 10 million fewer healthcare workers than needed by 2030, mostly in lower-middle-income countries like Vietnam. 

Reaching rural families in Vietnam

Meanwhile, the Momby app has the added benefit of reaching rural areas where people are more likely to struggle to access adequate healthcare and information about nutrition. 

Ngoc is now introducing the app to more families across Vietnam with the help of the country’s National Targeted Program for Socio-Economic Development in Ethnic Minority and Mountainous Areas – a government-funding program that aims to improve people’s lives in minority or remote mountainous communities. 

According to data from the Alive & Thrive Initiative, ethnic minority populations in Vietnam are more than twice as likely to experience stunting than the Kinh, the ethnic majority population. 

The initiative will connect parents in these rural communities with nutritional counseling services and improve the nutrition of pregnant mothers and young children there. Nutrition counseling centers, called Little Sun clinics, will provide support groups to promote childhood nutrition in more remote villages, particularly those far from communal health centers. 

With the establishment of Little Sun clinics, Momby can assist local healthcare staff in better connecting with mothers for check-ups and consultations. Momby also introduced the initiative to provincial healthcare authorities.  

Around  1,200 Little Sun clinics that provide nutrition counseling will use the app. 

All about breastmilk

Momby also has strict rules about promoting formula and breastmilk substitutes.  

Parents in Vietnam – like in many places around the globe – are besieged by advertisements for breastmilk substitutes. These ads have been undermining trust in the role of breastfeeding. Advertisements appear on various platforms, including apps or online articles, claiming to provide advice and information on maternal and child health.  

Momby, on the other hand, does not sell products or promote advertisements. Ngoc and her team are committed to providing accurate and objective information, not selling breastmilk substitutes. 

The app also lowers the cost of fact-based advice for parents. By obtaining free counseling via Doti, Momby allows users to receive information without the financial burden of seeking a healthcare professional. 

Currently, Momby has around 40,000 users, Ngoc said. But that number will likely grow because Internet use is widespread in Vietnam and Southeast Asia, with over 400 million users. 

Dr. Phuong Huynh, head of the Division of Scientific Management at the National Institute of Nutrition in Vietnam, said that smartphone usage is high in the country, even in rural areas.  

“The smartphone is used a lot in Vietnam, and especially during the COVID time when direct contact was impossible,” she said.  

Huynh said she hopes that more rural, minority residents use the app, not just people in the cities. 

“I hope that women in that community can use that app to learn,” she said. “And even to connect with the health provider in their area to get the right support.” 

Kristi Eaton is a journalist and communications consultant.

The post A New App Teaches Parents in Vietnam To Care for Babies first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

I’m speaking with a 37-year-old Green Party member of the European Parliament, Daniel Freund. He came on my radar after arguing that the European Union’s infringement proceedings against Poland don’t go far enough. We talked about everything from democratic backsliding in Europe to corruption. Here’s what he had to say about how the European Union can put its house in order.

This interview was originally published on January 16, 2022, in Lazo Magazine’s weekly newsletter. It’s a conversation between Lazo Magazine’s founder and Editor-In-Chief, Cristina Maza, and  Daniel Freund. 

Cristina: You are a relatively new MEP. How long have you been involved in politics, and what made you decide to get involved at the European level?

Daniel: I have always been a political person. Fighting for the things that I believe in: justice, a sustainable future, and the European Union. I joined the Green Party in 2005 while at university as I was deeply impressed by Joschka Fischer’s vision for further European integration.

I come from a border area myself, Aachen, the city of Charlemagne. I went to kindergarten in Belgium, to school in Germany, and met my wife on an Erasmus exchange in Paris. When the European project, which had given me so much, came increasingly under attack by Brexiteers like [former UK Independence Party leader Nigel] Farage and illiberal politicians like [Hungarian Prime Minister] Viktor Orbán, I decided it was time for me to do something. I ran in the European elections in 2019 and was elected to the parliament.

Cristina: When it comes to the European Union’s crackdown on democratic backsliding in member states like Hungary and Poland, you have argued that infringement proceedings don’t go far enough. Why is that, and what measures would you like to see in their place?

Daniel: The European Union is in a severe crisis. There are several member states where the EU’s treaties are called into question, where independent judges are attacked, where independent journalism almost doesn’t exist anymore, where NGOs and universities are thrown out of the country, and where corruption by the political elites is rampant. Poland and Hungary are the most evident examples. But elements of this exist in several more member states, and the crisis is spreading.

The EU’s answer to this crisis was too little too late. The Commission only launched a so-called Article 7 procedure – for violations of the fundamental values of the Union – when the crisis had reached two countries. But Poland and Hungary promised each other mutual protection, thereby making Article 7 useless because it requires unanimity to work.

Infringements are an important tool to ensure that all member states respect the rules that were jointly agreed upon and that EU law is applied in the same way across the Union. But infringements alone are not going to solve the rule of law crisis. First, Hungary and Poland have over 100 ongoing infringement procedures between them. It’s doubtful that a few more will stop these governments from attacking democracy and the rule of law.

Second, infringements are often too slow. When Hungary kicked out the Central European University, the university went to the European Court of Justice. Two years later, it won on all accounts. Hungary’s actions violated the treaties. But the university had already left Hungary. Infringement was too slow.

The language that is understood by the Polish and Hungarian governments is money. The two countries are the biggest recipients of EU funds. Almost all public investment in new roads or fast Internet is co-funded by the EU. Those who do not play by the rules should not receive EU funds.

The Commission should use the rule of law conditionality and cut EU funds to both countries.

In the regions in Poland that declared themselves “LGBTI free,” we saw that just the threat of withdrawing EU funds made them retract their declarations.

Cristina: Tell me about your plans for the European Parliament’s Anti-Corruption Intergroup. What are its goals, and how will it function?

Daniel: Before I was elected to parliament, I led the EU work of the organization Transparency International. I have a lot of experience in the fight against corruption. So I knew that fighting corruption only works when it is coordinated across party lines and borders.

When I came to the parliament, I founded the anti-corruption intergroup. There are now 130 members from 6 political groups working together. It has been very successful in coordinating better legislation, and it is very helpful to hear from colleagues about their experiences and best practices from different member states.

The Biden administration made clear that the fight against corruption and kleptocracy would be one of their priorities. We have already seen Magnitsky sanctions against Bulgarian individuals, for example.

That’s why we’ve decided to join ranks with U.S. politicians in an alliance against kleptocracy. International cooperation and coordination are absolutely crucial in the fight against corruption.

Cristina: What kind of laws would you like to see in place to clamp down on corruption within EU institutions – including problems surrounding revolving door issues – and boost transparency in lobbying and consultancy in the Brussels bubble?

Daniel: The European Union actually has reasonably good laws to deal with different aspects of corruption. Also, with political corruption and lobbying. I would say that we should start by implementing those rules and using the tools we already have.

There are rules for revolving doors, which is when European Commissioners become lobbyists after leaving office. There is a two-year cooling-off period. At least on paper, because the Commission ignores the rules in practice.

We need independent oversight of the existing rules on lobbying, conflicts of interest, and revolving doors. And sanctions if the rules are broken. That is why I have proposed an independent EU ethics body, and a large majority in parliament has supported my proposal.

We also have a rule of law mechanism to deal with corruption and rule of law violations, but the Commission refuses to use it, despite being sued by the Parliament. We need to use all tools to fight corruption.

We also need to ensure that institutions that fight fraud, corruption, and mismanagement: the court of auditors, the European prosecutors, and the anti-fraud office, are well-funded and well-staffed.

And we should finally be able to know where EU money is being spent and who gets it.

It might sound bizarre, but the EU spends 160bn euros per year and we don’t know who gets it. We do not know, for example, who the biggest recipient of EU funds is in each member state. That makes it very difficult to track corruption and conflicts of interest.

Cristina: And how do you think MEPs can most effectively combat euro skepticism in their home countries?

Daniel: Transparency and communication are really important. Always showing and explaining to citizens that we are stronger together. The big challenges of our time are climate change, large companies not paying their taxes, and corruption. No country can face them alone. Our only chance is to work together in the European Union.

In my own work, I sometimes expose corruption and mismanagement in the EU institutions. Some might say that could fuel euro-skepticism. But I firmly believe that we need to keep our own house in order.

The EU should lead by example. I think that builds citizens’ trust in the EU.

The post How the European Union Can Fight Corruption first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

This interview was originally published on November 21, 2021, in Lazo Magazine’s weekly newsletter. It’s a conversation between Lazo Magazine’s founder and Editor-In-Chief, Cristina Maza, and Stefan Vladisavljev, an expert on Chinese influence in the Western Balkans at the Belgrade Fund for Political Excellence.

Cristina: How did you get involved in this issue?

Stefan: For the past couple of years, I’ve been closely following the Chinese presence in the Western Balkans and Chinese influence through foreign direct investments like infrastructure projects and preferential loan agreements. I’m basically following all topics that are China-related in my part of the world.

I became interested in the Vietnamese workers because the company involved is the biggest foreign direct investor from China in Serbia since the beginning of the contemporary relationship [between Serbia and China] in 2009.

It is estimated to have invested around 900 million euros since 2018.

China had large investments before that in Serbia. But those were mostly the purchase of already existing assets, like old industrial socialist factories. This one started from scratch.

It’s interesting to follow because there was never this much foreign direct investment coming from China in this part of the world before this.

Cristina: What can you tell me about Zrenjanin, the Serbian city where Vietnamese workers are building a factory?

Stefan: It’s in the northern part of Serbia, called Vojvodina. It’s an autonomous province in Serbia.

Vojvodina itself is separated into three different regions, and Zrenjanin is the biggest city in the Banat region in Vojvodina. It is the regional center. It has a population of around 80,100 people, approximately, since we haven’t had a census since 2011. But it is an old industrial regional center that dates back to the communist period.

It is recognized as one of the most vivid industrial centers in Vojvodina still today. It has significant companies from different countries, not solely Chinese investment. There are big companies and factories from Germany. There are also big domestic companies there.

Cristina: How did these Vietnamese workers become a national story in Serbia?

Stefan: The workers came to the attention of some local NGOs who realized they were being abused. They’re being kept in deplorable living conditions and experiencing terrible working conditions.

Ling Long is the name of the Chinese company that we’re discussing. It is constructing a tire factory. When the factory is finalized, they will produce car tires for export.

The factory is still under construction now. But because Ling Long is not a construction company, they must hire subcontractors for the construction. That subcontractor hired Vietnamese workers.

This is one of the concerns with Chinese companies in Serbia. They often bring subcontractors and workers from abroad. Usually, those workers are from China. But in this case, they brought workers from Vietnam.

A few days ago, one of the major television stations in Serbia produced a report about the dire living conditions of these Vietnamese subcontractors. They are living without electricity. They only have access to one liter of water a day per person. Ten people are sleeping in the same room, often without mattresses. They don’t have appropriate winter clothes. Right now, at night in Serbia, the temperature is around 0 degrees Celsius.

They also said the company took documents from the Vietnamese workers. Some weren’t paid regularly. They aren’t getting enough food.

Following these initial reports, civil society organizations began saying that we are dealing with a case of human trafficking.

I think that’s probably an overstatement. The workers said they signed contracts with an employment agency. They knew they were going to Serbia. But the conditions in their contracts have not been met.

Civil society organizations went to the factory to check on the situation on the ground, and they confirmed the media reports.

Then the organizations sent an official request to the relevant government institutions about the need to inspect the situation and find out why basic living standards and the labor rights of those workers are not in line with Serbia’s national laws.

Cristina: What was the company’s response to these complaints?

Stefan: The Ling Long company hired private security guards. That gained a lot of attention because there were confrontations between the security guards and activists. There was no physical confrontation. It was mostly verbal.

The whistleblower, a Vietnamese worker who spoke to the organizations and the media, got fired. So, the activists tried to get him out of the factory compound, but the private security guards wouldn’t allow them to take him.

But then some of the workers made a human shield between the whistleblower and the private security, and they managed to get the whistleblower out to the civil society activists.

After that, the company closed all the access points to the media. But some journalists had the phone numbers of the Vietnamese activists, so they are still getting some information out.

Cristina: What has the Serbian government’s response been?

The first response was quite broad. They said that there are regular inspections, and they did see any misconduct.

Later, they said that they had reported the bad conditions and some steps would be taken.

The Minister of Construction stated that the living conditions are poor, but the Vietnamese workers are getting paid $900 a month, so they could afford to find better accommodation if they wanted to do so.

After that, the Prime Minister [Ana Brnabic] said the workers would be moved from the compound to a better location. But she pointed fingers at the civil society organizations and political opposition and said they wanted to criticize all Chinese investment in Serbia.

Now the workers have been moved from the compound, and there is barbed wire around the compound. That would never have happened without civil society and the local activists.

But still, this is a trend. This isn’t the first time there have been reports about the abuse of foreign workers hired by Chinese companies in Serbia.

Cristina: Was it confirmed that the Vietnamese workers earned $900 a month? Did any whistleblowers confirm that?

Stefan: No. That was what the Minister of Construction said. The original reports claimed they were earning between 300 and 400 euros a month but weren’t always being paid regularly.

Cristina: What do we know about how these workers were hired and how they arrived in Serbia?

Stefan: My understanding is that an employment agency has hired them. You can reach out to employment agencies if you’re investing in Serbia, and they will make all the arrangements for the workers coming here.

There is also a company in Serbia doing this, and they have connections with Vietnam. There are also Vietnamese workers in other locations in Serbia. Some reports say the workers had to pay around $2,000 to get a job in Serbia. That amount would presumably cover transportation costs to Serbia.

Cristina: What is the legal status of these workers in Serbia?

Stefan: That is a tricky question. When our government signs contracts with the Chinese government, either for infrastructure projects or foreign direct investment, some clauses in the contract exclude workers from Serbian laws.

So basically, while they are working on constructing a Chinese factory, they are excluded from the implementation of Serbia’s regulatory framework based on bilateral agreements that Serbia signed with China.

It is not a usual practice, but it’s an exception that Serbia is making for Chinese companies. The workers are not subjected to our laws because they are working for the Chinese.

Cristina: What do you think this case says about Chinese influence in Serbia?

Stefan: Well, I would put the ball in the Serbian court. No investment is harmful or corrosive on its own. It’s about how you treat investments and what benefits you give to investors.

In the case of China, we have not set any kind of standards, and we have not set any conditions that China must respect.

In the past decade, China has really become an essential economic partner in Serbia, especially in infrastructural development. China is the leading provider of loans for much-needed infrastructure projects. Serbia relies on Chinese foreign direct investment. We have had around 2 billion euros in investment.

Whatever Chinese companies are doing here is because Serbia allows them to do it.

The post Vietnamese Workers, Exploitation, and China’s Influence in Serbia first appeared on Lazo Magazine.

This interview was originally published on December 5, 2021, in Lazo Magazine’s weekly newsletter. It’s a conversation between Lazo Magazine’s founder and Editor-In-Chief, Cristina Maza, and  Abdul Saboor, an Afghan photojournalist based in Calais, France.

At least 27 people died this week, making a desperate attempt to leave the port city and cross the English Channel.

This week, I had a quick chat with Abdul Saboor, an Afghan photojournalist based in Calais, about his journey to the city and why people want to leave it.

Cristina: Where are you from originally, and how long have you been in Calais?

Abdul: I’m from Afghanistan. I’ve been in Calais now for about three and a half years. I left Afghanistan because life was hard. I worked with the U.S. Army, and I was shot and injured a few times. Then the U.S. left the city where I was working. They all went home, and I was left on the ground there, so I decided it was time to leave.

Cristina: How did you travel to France from Afghanistan?

Abdul: Walking. I crossed borders on foot. It took me two years. I stayed in forests, mountains, refugee camps, ‘jungles,’ anywhere I could find. I passed through Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, Bulgaria, Serbia, Croatia, Hungary, Slovenia, and Italy. After that, I traveled to France and then Belgium and Spain. Eventually, I went back to France, and I have been here ever since. It was a very long, long trip.

Cristina: How did you support yourself during that time?

Abdul: When I was traveling, I did a little bit of photography. My family sent me a little bit of money for food.  Now I teach photography at a university one day a week, and I sell my photos.

Cristina: I know that there has been a recent uptick in the number of people trying to cross from Calais to the United Kingdom. Why is that happening now?

Abdul: Because the weather is bad. The camps are like hell. They are cold, windy, and rainy. They are so cold. People are finding the camps very difficult. They don’t have enough to eat. A lot of people made a quick decision to leave. Many people go with traffickers. Some people try to go alone, but some go with traffickers. It’s because they are in the camps, and they think, ‘what else can I do?’

Cristina: How much do the traffickers charge for their services?

Abdul: Different people charge different amounts. Some people charge €3,000,  some € 2,000, or some people say € 5,000.

Cristina: How many people do you estimate are in the camps now?

Abdul: I think there are maybe around 2,000 people. There are a lot of Kurds. There are people from Iraq, Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Sudan, Mali, Eritrea, really everywhere.

Cristina: What is the relationship between the people in the camps and the French authorities?

Abdul: The police are harassing people. Police are trying to evict people. They cut their tents. They give them a very difficult time.

Cristina: Why do people want to go to the U.K. instead of staying in France?

Abdul: Most people going to the U.K. tried another European country first. I don’t want to go to the U.K. because I have asylum in France. They didn’t get asylum, so they decided to go to the U.K. once they were rejected.

You can find out more about Abdul and his work here.

The post Migrants in Calais Are Dying To Leave first appeared on Lazo Magazine.