Rwanda’s rapidly dwindling Twa pygmies, considered the original inhabitants of this central African nation, now live on the fringes, facing squalor, discrimination and general exclusion.
A small community eking out a frugal living on the flank of an impossibly steep hill in Bwiza in the center of the country embodies the problems they face in post-genocide Rwanda.
Bwiza’s residents came to look for a field, having lost the land their families owned decades back.
They are plagued by alcoholism, lose up to two children for every one born and have little or no access to healthcare.
“A lot of children die. I used to have nine, now I have three,” said Jowas Gasinzigwa, leaning on a crude walking stick.
There are 46 families and just 50 children in the hamlet, 15 of whom attend school. All this in a country where most women produce five or six children.
I now have three and I used to have six,” said Celestin Uwimana, 38. “Many die of malaria because they don’t go to hospital when they have it. Others get meningitis.”
The nearest health center is a two-hour walk away. The pygmies live in leaf huts and respiratory diseases are a major scourge due to leaky roofs and damp.
Zephirin Kalimba, the head of an organization that helps Twa communities through development projects, says they make up between 33,000 and 35,000 of Rwanda’s 10 million people.
Whereas the overall population of Rwanda is on the rise, the number of pygmies is declining, a development likely linked to their displacement from their original forest lands and the end of their traditional hunter-gatherer lifestyle.
Though Twa used to own land, more than 40 percent of Twa households in Rwanda are today landless. They were forced out of forests that were turned into natural parks. It was only after eviction from their ancestral land that they turned to farming in fits and starts.
In Bwiza, the men, in gumboots or plastic sandals, sit in the shade complaining. It is the women who hoe a nearby field belonging to a Twa widow who inherited it from her late non-Twa husband, babies strapped to their backs in the blazing sun.
Both groups occasionally burst into laughter, start dancing and make up a song as they go along: about how “the minister said the Twa need iron sheets for the roofs of their houses” and how “Rwanda has many doctors, but none near Twa villages.”
Kalimba said the community should be afforded benefits given to handicapped people or women in Rwanda. Instead, the Twa are practically excluded from government poverty alleviation measures, he claimed.
The pygmies even had to change the name of their organization, the Community of Indigenous Rwandans, as the government argued that identification along ethnic lines contributed to the 1994 genocide that killed some 800,000 people.
The first recorded reference to pygmies appears to be in a letter written in 2276 BC by the boy pharaoh Pepi II. More recently the French American explorer Paul du Chaillu wrote at length about his encounter with pygmies in the rainforests of Gabon in 1867.
But their short stature has long set them apart, and at times seen them stigmatized. Pygmies were on occasion displayed in zoos or circuses as curiosities and are often considered in their native Africa as either sub-human or possessed with special powers.
The present day Twa try to eke out a living from casual labor and pottery.
When the Twa, who are also found in neighboring Burundi, Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda, can get work it is usually on their neighbors’ land and the pay is a pittance.
They complain of persecution both at work and in school.
“If we go to look for labor where someone is building a house, they’ll only take us if there are no non-Twa workers,” Uwimana said.
“When we earn some money cultivating a communal field ... and we try to put it into the bank, we go to the bank counter and they say, ‘Ha, you’re a Twa’ and refuse to open an account,” he added.
In despair, some of them have turned to drink.
Asked if the same holds true in schools, 14-year-old Justin Nzabandora said the main reason Twa children so often drop out of school is because “they get tired of having other children point to them saying ‘look it’s a Twa.’”
From censoring “poisonous books” to banning “poisonous languages,” the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) tried hard to stamp out anything that might conflict with its agenda during its almost 40 years of martial law. To mark 228 Peace Memorial Day, which commemorates the anti-government uprising in 1947, which was violently suppressed, I visited two exhibitions detailing censorship in Taiwan: “Silenced Pages” (禁書時代) at the National 228 Memorial Museum and “Mandarin Monopoly?!” (請說國語) at the National Human Rights Museum. In both cases, the authorities framed their targets as “evils that would threaten social mores, national stability and their anti-communist cause, justifying their actions
On the final approach to Lanshan Workstation (嵐山工作站), logging trains crossed one last gully over a dramatic double bridge, taking the left line to enter the locomotive shed or the right line to continue straight through, heading deeper into the Central Mountains. Today, hikers have to scramble down a steep slope into this gully and pass underneath the rails, still hanging eerily in the air even after the bridge’s supports collapsed long ago. It is the final — but not the most dangerous — challenge of a tough two-day hike in. Back when logging was still underway, it was a quick,
There is a Chinese Communist Party (CCP) plot to put millions at the mercy of the CCP using just released AI technology. This isn’t being overly dramatic. The speed at which AI is improving is exponential as AI improves itself, and we are unprepared for this because we have never experienced anything like this before. For example, a few months ago music videos made on home computers began appearing with AI-generated people and scenes in them that were pretty impressive, but the people would sprout extra arms and fingers, food would inexplicably fly off plates into mouths and text on
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) legislative caucus convener Fu Kun-chi (傅?萁) and some in the deep blue camp seem determined to ensure many of the recall campaigns against their lawmakers succeed. Widely known as the “King of Hualien,” Fu also appears to have become the king of the KMT. In theory, Legislative Speaker Han Kuo-yu (韓國瑜) outranks him, but Han is supposed to be even-handed in negotiations between party caucuses — the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) says he is not — and Fu has been outright ignoring Han. Party Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) isn’t taking the lead on anything while Fu