The Correspondent, November - December 2007 by The Foreign Correspondents' Club, Hong Kong

CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

THE OFFICIAL PUBLICATION OF THE FOREIGN CORRESPONDENTS’ CLUB, HONG KONG

THE

Where has all the forest gone?

THE

CORRESPONDENT

contents

photograph: afp

Cover image: Top, afp; bottom, bob davis

Fallen trees in Borneo’s rainforest make way for an encroaching palm oil plantation

Cover Story

Media

Borneo’s disappearing rainforest Dictatorships

Media

Thai teenage roleplay Media

Tokelau referendum proves an expensive, if charming, assignment

Joe’s Beerhouse of Namibia Travel

A Perfect Spy

Launch of the Kate Webb Award

vs North Korea from afar

Media

Harry Harrison’s Poisonous Pen

Book Reviews Children of Jihad

Farewell to the VOA’s Hong Kong desk

North Korea close up Watering Hole

Photography

Digital Central under the microscope Then & Now

Salisbury Road, Tsim Sha Tsui

Reuters launches disaster reporting e-tools for journalists

Out of Context Bonnie Engel The Club People Professional Contacts

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

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The Books Club

Letter From David Evans, United Kingdom Please could someone explain why there is a 10% “admin charge” for every $100 put on Club’s stored value card. What is it in the administration process that pushes the cost up from $10 for storing one hundred dollars to $100 for storing one thousand dollars? I am happy to pay an admin charge, but would have thought a flat rate more appropriate. THE FOREIGN CORRESPONDENTS’ CLUB, HONG KONG 2 Lower Albert Road, Central, Hong Kong Tel: (852) 2521 1511 Fax: (852) 2868 4092 E-mail: <fcc@fcchk.org> Website: <www.fcchk.org> President: Chris Slaughter First Vice President: Keith Bradsher Second Vice President: Kevin Egan Correspondent Member Governors Paul Bayfield, Kate Pound Dawson, Matthew Driskill, Ernst Herb, Mark Zavadskiy, Tom Mitchell, Andrew Stevens, Tony Munroe Journalist Member Governors Francis Moriarty, Jake van der Kamp

Letters welcome The Correspondent welcomes letters (by e-mail please to fcc@hongkongnow.com or fccmag@fcchk.com). It reserves the right to edit letters chosen for publication. Anonymous missives will be rejected. For verification purposes only please include your membership number (if applicable) and a daytime telephone number.

FCC Golf Society The FCC Golf Society is planning the coming year’s events. I am helping Julian Walsh with the organisation for what looks like a great year of fun and friendly competition.

Associate Member Governors Andy Chworowsky, David O’Rear, David Garcia, Steve Ushiyama Hon Treasurer Steve Ushiyama

We are planning 10 to 12 twelve rounds of golf to include at least one “road trip” overseas for a two round tournament.

Finance Committee Convener: Steve Ushiyama Professional Committee Convener: Keith Bradsher Food and Beverage Committee Convener: Andy Chworowsky Membership Committee Convener: Steve Ushiyama Charity Committee Conveners: Dave Garcia, Andy Chworowsky Freedom of the Press Committee Convener: Francis Moriarty Constitution Committee Convener: Kevin Egan Wall Committee Convener: Chris Slaughter General Manager Gilbert Cheng

The Correspondent © The Foreign Correspondents’ Club, Hong Kong The Correspondent is published six times a year. Opinions expressed in the magazine are not necessarily those of the Club. Publications Committee Convener: Paul Bayfield Editor: Diane Stormont Editorial and Production Hongkongnow.com Ltd Tel: 2521 2814 E-mail: fccmag@hongkongnow.com Printer: United Business Printing Ltd Advertising Enquiries Sandra Pang, Pronto Communications Tel: 2540 6872 Fax: 2116 0189 Mobile: 9077 7001 E-mail: advertising@fcchk.org

Most events will be played either at Kau Sai Chau (KSC) south, the new east course (http://www.kscgolf.com/eng/eng_index.html), or at Discovery Bay. Fan Ling, Clearwater Bay and Macau are also possibilities. If there is interest, we will also book some one-day packages to the southern China courses such as Mission Hills, Tycoon or Century Sea View. Our schedule will be to play the third Friday of every month except on public holidays. There were no dues charged for 2007 but we will renew your society membership for 2008 at HK$550 in the January 2008 billing. New members wishing to join will be charged an initiation fee of HK$550. We would like to get your suggestions on the golf events for the coming year, especially on course preferences and overseas trips. Please contact Julian or me with your suggestions and comments. Contacts: Russ Julseth 852 9127 2175 Email russjulseth@netvigator.com Julian Walsh 852 90928324 Email jpwalsh@jpwalshco.com

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Cover Story

Where has all the forest gone? A few months ago, FCC members Bob Davis and Stuart Wolfendale came across a tableau of satellite photographs, lined up by the World Wildlife Fund, showing the high speed degradation of Borneoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rain forest cover. One of them featured the year 1985 when Bob and Stuart travelled up the Mahakam River in Indonesiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s East Kalimantan at the behest of another FCC member, Steve Knipp, who was then editing a briefly encouraging phenomenon, an Asian edition of Travel and Leisure magazine. Stuart Wolfendale reports. Photographs by Bob Davis THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Cover Story

e both have vivid memories of the beauty of that trip and, from what we saw of the image comparisons between 1985 and 2005, memories are all anyone will have left. In those 22 years since Bob and I went up that river, Borneo has lost 25% of its original forest covering. In East Kalimantan, the devastation has been even greater: itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s been disappearing at a rate of 2.5 hectares a minute. From what we can make out of the great whitening patch on the recent satellite image that spreads out inland from our starting point at the port of Samarinda, it seems likely that very little of what we saw will ever be seen again.

Previous page: Logging along the Mahakam River. Top: Ferry station on the Mahakam. Right: Bugis boat, Samarinda. Bathtime in Sebulu. Bottom: Inching along by canoe to Mancon.

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Cover Story

Back in 1985, there was a nascent tourism project to take the slightly more adventurous visitor up the Mahakam for about four nights and five days in a flat-bottomed and very basic “houseboat”, then veer off on a canoe with outboard through the rain forest to a Dayak village and spend a night in a longhouse. We were sent along to follow the plot. The Mahakam was flat and wide in its lowest reaches and well suited to the archipelagos of felled timber that had been collected from upstream. It narrowed satisfyingly as we rumbled along in our boat, specially laid on for Bob and me, and crewed by a bosun, his wife who doubled as an excellent cook and housekeeper and his mate who made suggestive, leggy overtures to the maidens of the lively linear villages strung along the river banks. We passed sturdy ships carrying heavy machinery designed to rip out forests, usually at dusk as though

they were sneaking in like rapists through a back window. The dusks and dawns were wraps of beauty. Bob spent a lot of time on the houseboat roof capturing them. Our itinerary took us to Tenggarong, the seat of the long past sultanate of Kutai, where the minor monarchs’ former palace and graveyard served as a sad and tentative museum. Further up was the large floating village of Muara Muntai with a metal street and gas pumps, very much the Chungking of those parts, where we moored. Do I remember even a tinny night club of sorts? Upstream we diverted across the Jampong Lake, a place of unearthly flat calm and brilliance where bird and particularly heron lovers get very excited. From there the outboardpowered canoe took us along the Ohong Creek to the Dayak village of Mancong. The creek was suddenly, startling-

ly real rain forest. The dark canopy overhead filtered sunlight into a wobbly fretwork on the dark water, thick inscrutable jungle to its very edge and shrieking sound effects from the wildlife you could not put a pin between. What on earth was in there? I had never seen a hornbill or a proboscis monkey or a pair of loving otters doing formation swimming. I saw them all within minutes. The proboscis monkey had a red chest like a uniformed guardsman and a nose that rolled out like a whoopee whistle when it shrieked in alarm. It was not the only item on it that stiffened out at a right angle for us. I remember that observation being edited out of the Travel and Leisure article. The specially maintained Dayak longhouse at the village where we spent the night was bogus. The locals had long since moved out into small bungalows with utilities. The longhouse was as empty as a church hall

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after midnight. There was welcoming dancing with headgear which both Bob and I were pressed into fooling around at. I would imagine that for the flotillas of tourists that go up there now, the Dayak experience is more cod than anything of that ilk remaining in the North Sea. We did meet a young Dutch couple back then who had forged far upstream and stayed with unreformed Dayaks. They both looked gaunt, awed and somehow smoked. I doubt whether many tourists now will spot the rare Irriwady river dolphins, shy but curious creatures which swam cautiously with our boat in Semanyang Lake. A study from the early 1990s suggests that deforestation, with its knock-on effects on the lakeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s water, has banished them to much higher reaches of the river. Tourists do get to feed mournful, captive orangutans around Day 5 apparently. They should hold them

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Left: Captain Stuart. Top: Dayak Village, Tanjung Isay. Bottom: Gas station, Senoni. Next page: Crossing Lake Jampong .

Cover Story

tightly. In the wild, deforestation has reduced the orangutan to such small and scattered groupings that the gene pool is collapsing and they will be gone within a couple of decades. So apparently will over 75% of all lowland rain forest in Borneo. It is difficult to imagine what is left for the tourists to see even now. The 22 years since Bob and I were there has been cataclysmic for East Kalimantan. Forest fires, mostly man-made, took on a global notoriety. The transmigration policy of the Suharto regime imported slash and burn farmers from other islands who set the place alight. Certainly the cyclical El Nino phenomenon of 1998 was unusually strong but the severity of the burning contagion was anything but a natural phenomenon. Uncorrupted, dense, damp rain forest does not get to burn that way. Carelessly logged forest which collapses in the canopy and piles of drying tinder fallen to the ground does. In that year across Borneo an area twice

the size of Belgium was destroyed. Contractors with connections and money are continuing to log illegally in supposedly protected national parks to supply an insatiable global appetite for wooden furniture and floor coverings, veneers, chipboard and plywood. Will customers take an orangutang too, please? It is alleged that more democratic decentralisation of authority in the Indonesian provinces has led to less well paid officials who are cogs in a whole new commerce of corruption. Huge areas of lowland are also being converted in to palm oil tree plantations. The demand for cheap cooking oil outstrips even that for fake Bourbon dining chairs. I have a gentle memory of a quiet deeply forested stretch of river where our bosunâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s wife beckoned over a tiny boat and bought a freshly caught fish which had just been roasted over a small fire somehow kindled right there. I have a more boisterous mem-

ory of a brothel with jaunty girls suddenly appearing on the riverbank, probably in hope of luring passing loggers. Bob followed them a way into the jungles to take pictures, made his excuses and left, of course. Those memories are being crowded out by a dark awe. The thick forests of England were reduced to almost nothing over a period of about 800 years. At the rate it is disappearing now, the forest cover of Borneo, five times larger at least, will have been stripped down to a quarter of its 1985 spread in just 60 years. Over one third of that depredation will have taken place well within the working lives of a couple of visiting freelancers. By the time those are over and with the exception of a small fraction of highland forest too difficult to be bothered with by loggers, it will all be gone and Borneo will be a semi tundra of eroded soil, smoky little farms, skinny palms all in ratty rows and feral dogs.

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Dictatorships

Through the

Looking Glass

North Korea from within and without. In this pair of articles, recent visitors report on viewing the Hermit Kingdom up close and from afar. When it comes to getting a grasp on what’s really going on, there’s apparently little difference. In this close-up perspective Bonnie Engel reports on one of the rare press trips to North Korea in recent years.

hrough connections made by FCC member Karin Malmström, several people from the FCC joined a journalists’ tour of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea from April 27 to May 2, 2007. In addition to Karin, members who braved the Hermit Kingdom were Robin Lynam, Charlotte Cochrane and Bonnie Engel. Colin Tillyer, a former FCC member, couldn’t resist coming along too, despite the hefty charge in euros (no stinking US imperialist aggressor dollars there, except the ones they make themselves).

Along with a three-member crew from the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, two of whom are based in Beijing, three European print journalists and author Bradley Martin, the Hong Kong contingent hopped an Air Koryo Tupolev 154 from Shenyang to Pyongyang to begin one of the strangest trips imaginable. The two German print journos, Jutta Lietsch and Anne Schneppen, had visited Pyongyang before, as

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had Martin, who took 13 years to write his book, Under the Loving Care of the Fatherly Leader: North Korea and the Kim Dynasty, based on many eyewitness trips to the country and extensive interviews with refugees. Regis Arnaud, a French correspondent stationed in Tokyo, had never set foot there. The tour organiser, a dynamic South Korean-American named Susan (Chayon) Kim, who consults for the DPRK consulate in Shenyang, has been encouraging the regime to open up to the world and to journalists. Ours was the first successful tour she had arranged in 2007. We

Dictatorships

Americans, Brad, Karin and I, had a bit of trouble being granted visas, but Americans and other foreign visitors were being admitted in larger numbers during the Arirang Mass Games and eventually they came through. The cost was high and had to be paid in cash in euros in Shenyang, perhaps signifying the hunger for hard cash by the Kim Dynasty as well as a canny understanding of the forex markets. The main purpose of the tour was to take us to a performance of the Arirang Games, (pictured top) a gigantic, six week-long orgy of regimented choreography and propaganda (tickets to the games cost many extra euros). Before the games, however, our five minders, four Mr Kims (including the bus driver) and one Mr Jang or Chang, had their hands full trying to herd 12 independent-minded journalists through a long itinerary of monuments and sacred places dedicated to the Great Leader Kim Il-sung and a few to his son, Kim Jong-il, the Dear Leader. Any requests for deviation for visits to factories, schools, hospitals, markets and the like were met with the standard phrase, “It’s not on the itinerary.” Facts were hard to come by. Ask one Kim and get one answer, ask another Kim and get another. There are 30 or 20 million people in the country, there are three or two million people in Pyongyang, there is 100 percent literacy in the country (or not), and so forth. The absence of reliable

information was expected but frustrating to those trying to ascertain any changes in the economy or condition of the citizenry. We were told exactly how tall and how deep and how much things weighed, though. We were not allowed to take pictures on the way to Mount Myohyang along 160 km of dead straight road, nor on the 160 km dead straight road to the military base at Panmunjom (pictured below), on the 38th parallel, which divides the Korean peninsula. That was probably because there was absolutely nothing to boast about. All we saw was lots of fallow land and a few newly planted trees. There are no bees or insects to fertilise them so these trees probably will never bear fruit – unless the Dear Leader asks the citizens to do it by hand. There were no old trees, no birds,

Photos by Robin Lynam

no farm animals, no insects, no grain, no bushes, no machinery, no tools, three tractors (two broken) and few means of other transportation except the stray army truck. The villages looked bleak and deserted, with a few people hunched over the few little paddies that had a few strands of rice growing in them. We did see some small herds of goats occasionally, but the rest of the two trips were eerie in their blankness. There was an abundance of nothing and the experience of the countryside was a potent parallel lesson about climate change, global warming and the consequences of ruining a landscape through famine. Likewise, Pyongyang at night was eerie too, no noise and no lights, no stoplights, little traffic, no markets (or none that we were allowed to see), no stores, no street vendors and no restaurants or nightlife. All the people we saw were clothed and fed, but all were walking like robots, even the soldiers. The hotels had lights (dim) and foreigners banquet halls set up for us with fairly edible food. Both of the hotels where we stayed (Pyongyang and Myohyang) had a bar, but the prices were all in euros and the drinks were expensive except for local beer, which was pretty good. The FCC contingent brought their own booze and party snacks. Mango juice and vodka never tasted better than on those long bus rides. The Arirang Games are a real expe-

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

rience in discipline, regimentation, propaganda and choreography. Move over Busby Berkeley! Just try to get thousands of dancers and musicians on and off a huge field without collisions or missteps, with all the themes of the regime endlessly repeated and drummed into the heads of young people about the revolution and endless struggle for reunification (under the benevolent rule of Dear Leader, of course). Watching hundreds of young people and children dancing and doing acrobatics in synch without a hitch, and dropping from the sky on bungee cords in heart-stopping displays of agility and strength, was enough to give me the chills. It was a stunning display of control and relentless rehearsal, not only of the dancers and performers but also of the 20,000 young card-changers that took up half of the May Day Stadium. They comprise human pixels in a backdrop of nearly 100 scene changes, some arty, some propaganda, some sinister military images, all with perfect timing and terrifying grunts. None of the performers are paid. After participating in the Arirang Games, the army must seem like a holiday for these kids, and the food’s probably better. Among the highlights of the actionpacked five days, the group visited the bogus (according to Brad) birthplace of the Great Leader and Comrade Kim Il-sung, the Kim Il-sung square, very reminiscent of Tiananmen in Beijing, the Arch of Triumph (10 m taller than Napoleon’s) and the International Friendship Exhibition at Mount Myohyang, which was promptly dubbed the “mausoleum of gifts”, a huge bomb shelter containing 200 rooms of displays of presents to Great Leader from countries around the world. Tucked into those mountains is a Buddhist monastery, a welcome relief from the propaganda, but there was only one monk. However, the highlight of that day was seeing a real squirrel. Must have been a particularly fast one.

North Korea from Afar This long view from Dadong was written and photographed by Cecilie Gamst Berg

o this is where I’m going to meet my maker. In the balmy autumn sunshine with butterflies and other insects fluttering around, a lazy brook trickling past and a breeze teasing my hair, it seems so implausible that in a second I may be dead. Then again I am standing on North Korean soil – illegally. Who made the big hole in the not very tall or solid fence separating China and North Korea, accommodating daredevil tourists who want to feel the thrill of stepping on to North Korean territory, I wonder? Whoever did it has also taken the trouble of erecting a thoughtful sign in Chi-

nese warning people against throwing things, taking photos or using mobiles, making gestures or laughing at “anyone on the other side”. A lone wooden board in the middle of nowhere – and yet I somehow find it best to obey it. After all, there is nothing much to photograph ... and I definitely don’t feel like laughing. As I stand on North Korean soil, looking into a thorny and mysterious thicket, I can’t help thinking that at this exact moment, men may be pointing at me with AK47s. Yet the setting is so pastoral. There is bird song, the smell of flowers and earth, and in the distance I can hear

Bonnie Engel is a correspondent for HK Prestige and Asian Art Newspaper

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Dictatorships

an amplified voice shouting “...hamniDAAAAA!” and “...sumniDAAAA!” Is it Radio Pyongyang’s DJ saying “Goooood morning you crazy groovers out there! Well, the traffic’s heavy in the capital this morning as usual, but before we rock up with the traffic report we’re going to play Kim Jaewon’s latest hit: Sexy Comrade, I Love Your Funky Badge”? Maybe not. I’d been dreaming of coming here, the border town of Dandong in Liaoning province, for years, thinking it would be a remote, Dickensian, semi-Korean wild East with Cultural Revolution characteristics. Instead I find a forest of hyper-modern highrises with only the odd brick factory smokestack left to remind me that the town has been around for more than a couple of decades. Here the idea of advertising has been taken to its proper conclusion. Every square millimetre of wall, floor and ceiling space has been taken up by adverts. Most of them apparently promote, interestingly, the business of weddings; weddings up to the hilt in white satin dinner jackets and oceans of pink lace. Wedding fire crackers rattat-tat constantly, and there are more bridal stretch limousines than buses.

But what do I care? As soon as I get off the train from Beijing I have only one thought as I run past the gigantic Mao statue dominating the main square: to see, across the Yalu River, North Korea in all its glory. The spanking new, pastel-coloured tower blocks on the Chinese side of the river seem to have been built specifically to taunt the drab and dreary edifices on the other side. Apparently glass-less, the windows in the grey, three-storey houses on the North Korean river bank gape darkly. There’s

no sign of human life and the many factory chimneys issue no smoke. It seems that nobody lives there; that it is in fact a kind of extremely unattractive Potemkin village, but what do I know? Perhaps there are thousands of people milling around, hard at work trying to make something edible out of tree bark. The Yalu River bank is the main tourist attraction of Dandong, but apart from some scattered souvenir stalls where you can pose for photos in Korean dress, there is not much to do except gaze and gaze at the other side. People use the river for clotheswashing and swimming. Many swim perilously close to the other side, I feel, but then again the North Koreans and Chinese are supposed to be as close as lips and teeth. This doesn’t keep North Koreans from throwing rocks at Chinese speedboats taking tourists to get a glimpse of the tantalising Hermit Kingdom, but trucks full of Chinese goods keep trundling across the Friendship Bridge between Dandong and Sinuiju as proof of the brotherhood between the two countries. A few steps away there is another bridge, bombed by the Americans but left in its half state to become a great tourist attraction.

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On the Broken Bridge (entry: 30 yuan) loud music thunders out of speakers posted every 10 metres. The familiar tones of Cavatina (of The Deer Hunter fame) at full blast seem a bit incongruous in this setting, especially when they are followed by Hotel California. No less incongruous is the Ferris wheel on the North Korean side, by chance not moving that day. Nor the next. Trying hard to find some North Korean souvenirs I trawl the river bank, but it turns out that everything for sale is manufactured in treacherous South Korea. Disappointed I settle for a packet of fags from the Pyongyang Tobacco Company. Returning to Beijing I am privileged to observe China in microcosm: the long-distance sleeper bus. Holding a legal ticket (and registered by police with my Hong Kong ID card – so reassuring in case of incineration) I am not a little vexed when a few miles out of Dandong about 50 mud-encrusted travellers pile in to the bus, settling on the floor and on spare plywood boards kindly put up by the driver between the already very close-together upper bunks. Instead of having a 20 cm gap between me and the people on either side, I now have a farting bint 2 mm

from my face, her knee firmly planted in my stomach for the rest of the sleepless 15 hour journey. At 1.30 in the morning, the surplus passengers are brusquely herded off the bus with much shouting and shoving. The boards and blankets disappear and the driver and his helpers beam innocent smiles as a fat policeman sticks his head in, checking that everything is above board with only registered passengers in evidence. A couple of phone calls and a short drive later, and back the illegal passen-

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gers flood with their farting and smoking and their softly whimpering kids. I keep reminding myself that I chose the sleeper bus over a hard seat on the train and that at least I’m able to lie down, but it’s like talking to the Great Wall. Here is Chinese capitalism at its best – uncomfortable for everyone, with a guarantee of dying should a spark from the incessantly smoking peasants set fire to the sea of blankets – yet at the same time providing a much-needed, well-oiled service for the people who are prepared to put up with discomfort and abuse. The registered passengers look aghast as the non-registered ones pour back into the bus, but the driver scoffs at our weak protests. After all, when we bought the ticket we had only been promised a bunk bed, not that we would actually be able to sleep in it. It’s the market, innit! If you have a whole bus, largely empty by Chinese standards, only an idiot wouldn’t fill it to the absolute rafters. The policemen get their cut, I get my moment of being in North Korea, and everybody gets to experience what it was really like for those early pioneers travelling to the US on the Mayflower. Death by AK47 suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.

Travel

Africa’s Most Famous Beer House Written and photographed by Garry Marchant

oe’s Beerhouse is the only bar in the world that I know (and I have seen a few bars) that features old toilets as part of the décor. But Joe’s is no dump. The sprawling bar/pub/ restaurant in Windhoek, capital of Namibia, immodestly but probably accurately claims to be Africa’s most famous beer house. I can’t say whether that’s true. But it must certainly rank as one of the most popular. From the street, “Africa’s best pub” on Nelson Mandela Avenue in the suburb of Eros is singularly unimpressive, like a walled compound in a boring subdivision. Only a fierce thirst prevents me from getting back into the cab to return to the city centre. Joe’s doesn’t appear especially large but this sprawling watering hole consists of several sections and can serve 500 customers at a time. Seating is indoors under corrugated iron roofs, or outside under a number of lapas (thatched roof gazebos) set around a pond. This vast bar is a haphazard assembly of junk, antiques, curios and memorabilia. Its junkyard-chic ambiance makes it unique, a local legend. The old toilets set around one table serve as seats as well as decoration. I have seen western saddles as bar stools in a Texas saloon, but this is even quirkier. A tree supporting a massive bird’s nest grows in the middle of the room and trophy heads and animal skulls adorn the walls. The faint-hearted may

The faint-hearted may find it disconcerting to dig into a juicy kudu steak while looking up at the head of a cute kudu hanging on the wall. find it disconcerting to dig into a juicy kudu steak while looking up at the head of a cute kudu hanging on the wall. Old, blackened pots, fishnets, buckets and antique railway lanterns add

to the amusing clutter. Little kerosene lamps with electric bulbs light up the tables. A huge poster of a Namibian John Wayne-type on a horse promotes Windhoek Bier. Another poster boasts “Beer, helping ugly people have sex since 1863.” The manager tells me that the owner, Joe Gross, a German cook, started the bar as a small venture several years ago, decorating it with an eclectic collection of memorabilia. It has changed venue since and greatly expanded. Now, Joe gets the oddball treasures from his friends’ farms, reminding me of the sign, “We buy junk and sell antiques.” A huge bone, perhaps from a dinosaur, hangs from a ceiling, a truck muffler, broken wagon wheels, corncobs, boat bumpers, dusty beer mugs and other paraphernalia are scattered around, apparently aimlessly. A huge Kaiserstrasse street sign

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indicates the bar’s Germanic origins, while another sign, “Beware of snake,” in three languages, is a reminder that we are in Africa. The waitress says 70% of the restaurant customers are tourists, many from tour groups, while local Windhoekers come mainly to drink. Besides its exceptional atmosphere, Joe’s has an excellent menu featuring a wide variety of German and African dishes. This is a carnivore’s dream, specialising in grilled game – including kudu steak, gemsbok fillet, antelope, zebra, ostrich and crocodile – cooked outdoors over an open fire. Servings are so massive that few outsiders can finish the large portions, although perhaps Joe Gross can. As well as grilled game, Namibian dishes include the ostrich potjie (a stew) and Bushman sosatie, a kebab of ostrich, crocodile, zebra and kudu. German fare includes pork fillet and eisbein (pork knuckle) with sauerkraut. “We make the best eisbein in the world,” a waiter boasts.

One evening we have gemsbok steak and steak Madagascar, both excellent, but too much for a normal appetite. Other diners report that the zebra, like much game, tends to be dry; the kudu is excellent; the ostrich acceptable but crocodile appalling. The game knuckle in red wine (“for the strong man”, the menu says) is apparently delicious, but a challenge to even a true trencherman. Chilled draft beers are pure nectar in this hot, dry climate. Joe’s also claims to cater to vegetarians, with dishes such as baked potato with salad and sour cream, potato fritters and Greek salad, although all the charred flesh around might put them off. One stout fellow digging into a giant plate of springbok asks, “If we aren’t supposed to eat animals, why are they made of meat?” Service is relaxed, Namibian style (sometimes painfully slow). One afternoon we wait a long, long time for

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lunch – necessitating several orders of the fine Namibian beer. But the day’s special – stir-fried egg noodles – is big enough for four people, and as tasty as from a Hong Kong beachside food stall, with noodles, small chicken pieces, chillies and vegetables. This single portion is so big that two of us can’t finish it. Evenings, the atmosphere is more African, with local music, a large boma with a blazing outdoor fireplace and candles flickering on the solid wood tables. Joe’s is well stocked with local and imported beers, as well as a large selection of fine wines (including South African, of course) and the usual spirits and liqueurs. This extensive beer house includes a craft shop and gallery hung with photographs depicting the Namibian wilderness and wildlife. The shop stocks some attractive hand-made African artefacts but Joe’s is beginning to acquire the Disneyesque trappings of fame and success, selling T-shirts, bush jackets and ball caps. It also has a website, and word is that they are to open more beer houses, perhaps even forming a chain. But it hasn’t gone posh. Joe’s hasn’t abandoned those old toilet seats.

Travel

Costume Dramas Cosplay is a Japanese fad which involves dressing up to look like an imaginary character in a book, film or other artwork, and it has become an exotic niche trend among some young Thais in Bangkok, much to the delight and confusion of a gawking public, writes Richard S. Ehrlich.

‘I

like this hobby,” Puntarik Panprasert, 19, said in an interview. “I spent 5,000 baht on my costume because I’m interested in these Japanese cartoons,” she said, describing her outfit as Toshiya from the Japanese band Dir En Grey. “To dress like this is very cool and different from normal society. We often meet like this, whenever there is an event,” Puntarik added. She was attending a recent boisterous gathering of a few hundred cosplay fanatics in front of MBK shopping mall in downtown Bangkok. The free “J-Trends in Love” event included live music by Cosplay Love Love and other electric bands, and was sponsored by the Mainichi Japanese Language Institute, which offered classes in Japan for “computer graphics, animation, fashion design, flower arrangement and cartoon”, according to brochures distributed at the event. “My character is Hatake Kakashi from Naruto. He can fight very good. I’ve been doing this for two years,” said Chutimon Sriariyametta, 24, who sported a spiky grey wig, black cloth headband and a black costume at the MBK gathering. “At first, I did it because my friends said let’s do it, but I discovered it is interesting and funny. I go to cosplay events which I find out about on Internet websites. Sometimes we just go to the park. I have more than 50 friends like this in Bangkok. “Sometimes I spend 1,000 baht a month for pants and a shirt. I ordered someone to make this jacket. I think the [animated] characters from Japan are beautiful and more lovely than Thai characters. My parents don’t care about all this, but sometimes they think it’s good what I’m doing,” Chutimon said.

“We can ‘cos’ every character that we love. I don’t care about new trends – but I think now the trends are [South] Korea’s superstars, singers, and movies. They are the boom in Thailand. So you can see more cosplaying about Korean characters. “I like to cosplay because I can be a character that I like, such as a samurai, magician, ninja, fighter, etcetera. It is fun to think how to create the options, such as a sword, shoe, or gun. I like the time when my friends and I do those options together. “Thai culture is an open culture,” she said. “But the clothing of cosplayers in Japan is more sexy than Thailand. In Thailand, if a character that you want to ‘cos’ wears clothing too short, you may change it to be longer, or something like that,” Chutimon said. Conservative Thai society, meanwhile, appears thankful that the dressing-up is for light entertainment. ’It is good they are dressing like humans, not like Snoopy or Donald Duck,” commented Dr Chantima Ongkosit, a psychiatrist and chairman of Bangkok’s Manarom Hospital. “Young people are using Japanese cartoon characters at an age when they need to be independent and prove their autonomy. Maybe they look to Japan as the leader of the Asians, because of its financial power,” the psychiatrist said. Thai society bears similarities to Japan’s hierarchy of royal family, parents, teachers and Buddhism. To loosen up, many Thais indulge in harmless, seemingly infantile behaviour such as plastering their homes, vehicles and work places with Hello Kitty and other cartoon pictures. Many Thais engage in pretence because feigning is frequently used

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Many Thais engage in superficiality, and pretending, because feigning is frequently used when a solution can’t be found or to avoid confrontation.

when a solution can’t be found or to avoid confrontation. Cuteness is also idealised, even among men who are taught to speak softly, move gracefully, and smile demurely. Both men and women insist on sanuk (fun) during work, play and relationships, so cosplay makes a neat fit. But no one takes cosplay too seriously. Describing Thais’ adoption of cosplay as “benign, harmless and eccentric”, Dr Chantima said: “Teenagers want to rebel, and may want to dress up quite outrageously, but in

a cute way. This is the safest way of challenging or rebelling.” Choosing a traditional Thai character from local cartoons or history would probably be too conformist for them, Dr Chantima said. “This is a group that still hasn’t found themselves. They need someone to copy, and someone to identify with. They are announcing to the world, ‘I’m different!’” Richard Ehrlich is a Bangkok-based correspondent. His website is http://www. geocities.com/asia_correspondent

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Comment

Poisonous Pen What the local papers didn’t print A selection of cartoons by Harry Harrison that either didn’t make it into the newspapers © Harry Harrison (hurryup@netvigator.com) here or were published overseas.

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Media

Another One Bites the Dust

Vaudine England laments the demise of the VOA’s Hong Kong Desk where she worked part-time.

he last day of February 2008 will mark the closure of the Asia regional news centre of Voice of America. That sounds almost too definite. Closure dates have slid since the sad day in October when the word from Washington arrived in Hong Kong. Jennifer Janin, or “Dear Leader” as she was better known, has already left and has returned to the language services of VOA in Washington, and is

sorely missed. Rarely do journalistic operations produce brilliant management – Jen, who is also a former FCC Board Member, is the exception. During almost eight years of constant expansion of the regional office under her command, we could be forgiven for forgetting that Washington sat behind it all. She dealt with the interference, protected and supported her staff in Hong Kong and across the region.

VOA’s idea, back in 1996 when this office opened, and more so in 2000 when expansion began, was that Asia deserved specialist editors, generating and editing stories about the region. That now seems to have changed. The de-centralisation of power has been reversed and lots of other complicated things appear to be at work. VOA is reorganising its news operations, including more television alongside the radio. The fate of EngVaudine England

Kate Dawson (former FCC President and aka at VOA Hong Kong as “Deputy Dear Leader”) pinned up an insight from cartoonist Dilbert on the VOA wall soon after Washington dropped its bombshell. The text read:

‘W

hy does it seem as if most of the decisions in my work place are made by drunken lemurs?” “Decisions are made by people who have time, not people who have talent.” “Why are talented people so busy? Because they’re fixing the problems made by people who have time.” She should know.

L-R: Back row: Victor Chin, Virginia Yuen, Eliza Leung, Daniel Lam. Front row: Barry Kalb, Jennifer Janin, Heda Bayron, Naomi Martig.

Editor Barry Kalb:

‘T

his is the glue for all of the Asia correspondents because we know the story, we’re getting real time information here and we’re paying attention to it. We can call the correspondent in Islamabad and say such and such is happening in New Delhi, we help shape the daily coverage here, in addition to simply editing what the correspondents do.”

Regional journalist, broadcaster and mentor to those even younger than her, Heda Bayron:

‘W

hen I started here there were only three of us, so all these years seeing how this office grew, the people that were added, the whole family that has been created, it’s really, really sad to finally say goodbye to everybody, especially Jennifer.”

A Nameless Editor:

Journalist Naomi Martig:

‘F

“I

rom Washington’s perspective it was helpful to have people awake enough to do it in real time when it was overnight there. The thinking now is that with all our great technological and digital advances, that coordination and technical support can be done by people who are half asleep.”

t’s very sad to see it closing because I have never worked with such a unique group of people who work so effectively together. I am going to spend what little savings I have, and am going into temporary retirement or sabbatical to study Mandarin so that I can be even more employable in future.”

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Jennifer Janin’s leaving note:

‘I

t has been my privilege and pleasure to work with such a dedicated and fantastic group of people for close to the last eight years. Each of you has not only contributed to making VOA a better news organisation, you have enhanced my life by making me want to come to work everyday. Few people are ever lucky enough to like their jobs, never mind really like the people they work with. I have been able to say both in my time here in Hong Kong. What I have loved most about working with you is the decency and humanity all of you have shown in your work, to each other and to me. It is a rare commodity and one that I value tremendously. So please never change or sell your selves short. I have no illusions, that in my future professional life, I will ever be able to replicate what I’ve shared with all of you. So please accept my deep gratitude and affection.” lish broadcasting is unclear. It may be that Hong Kong is seen as a backwater, or that Asia is of less importance, and who has ever understood how the

budget works anyway? What continues is the reporting. Staff correspondents remain in Beijing, Seoul, Bangkok, Jakarta, New

Journalist Claudia Blume:

Engineer Daniel Lam:

‘I

loved working here. This has been one of my best working experiences ever when it comes to working in a really great team, people have been fantastic, almost like being in a great big family, great working atmosphere, lots of laughter, a lot of team spirit which you don’t find very much, you really felt it was a team of people working together creating a great product. “I was always asked to do interesting fun stories which I really enjoyed and I felt I could do whatever I liked. It’s a really bad decision to close this office. I don’t think the cooperation with Washington will be as smooth. The people who work here all know Asia, they are real experts on Asia. I don’t think the people in Washington will be able to fill that gap. I’m also stringing for Germany, and it’s not as smooth I can tell you!”

t worked fine for the past 10, 11 years ... I’m very sad, astonished; it’s unexpected why they need to shut down the news centre here, I don’t know. They want to centralise.”

Engineer David Richardson:

‘W

e look after the technical sides of radio here, I’ve gone round the region building studios. See what I’m designing here now, a studio here for the Mandarin service ... to give him something more tailored to his needs.”

Long-time Bangkok stringer Ron Corben

‘T

he value of the immediacy of the Hong Kong bureau and ease of access to the key people came on the night of the Thai coup of September 20, 2006. “I was having dinner in a pub when I was called on my mobile about rumours sweep-

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Delhi and Islamabad. Stringers elsewhere will continue filing too, to the overnight shift staff in Washington. VOA says that newsgathering will continue in Hong Kong – which means that one staffer for the Mandarin language service continues operating here. For the rest, it’s the boot: three broadcast engineers, two administrators, a trilingual reporter for the Chinese service, half a dozen editors and the multi-skilled Hong Kong correspondent Heda Bayron, not to mention deputy leader Kate Dawson. Most of these people already have great ideas for new futures here and there. But they all, to a man or woman, will miss working in such a fun office. Reproduced here is what they said about it.

ing Bangkok that a coup was underway. I checked with the AP and editors at The Nation and confirmed the boys in green were in fact on the move after weeks of speculation. I immediately rang Kate [Dawson]. She said she would immediately return to the office as I returned to the VOA Office in Bangkok. “The long association working with Hong Kong staff meant we had a great understanding of the requirements and support in real time. Having that confidence meant that the coup story was edited and ‘voiced’, and then going ‘to air’ efficiently.”

Former Tokyo stringer, now New Delhi Staffer, Steve Herman:

‘A

s one who has spent the bulk of a career in Asia, there have been only a few times when I’ve felt that the editing stars have converged and I’ve been blessed to work with editors who were incredibly competent, understood the region and were really nice people to boot. The VOA Asia news hub

was one of those places. “But in many organisations (not only in the news business) there’s a growing perception that ‘jeez, we can do all of this out of headquarters or outsource it to Mongolia’ because of the technology in the pursuit of cost savings. “However, there’s no substitute when it comes to quality for having people on ground with experience in the region they are covering. I think this will prove to be the differentiating factor for quality news organisations that survive in the 21st century, regardless of their geographic origination.”

Radio and TV journalist Victor Chin:

‘I

think it’s a shame that VOA Hong Kong office will be closing soon. Hong Kong is one of the very few cities in the region that enjoys genuine press freedom. As China’s most open city it serves as a role model for mainland China and I could not imagine they are closing the Hong Kong office just for budget reasons.”

Media

afp

Kate’s sister and brother, Rachel and Jeremy. The poster shows Kate in her Indochina war-reporting days.

The Spirit of Kate Webb Lives On

gence France-Presse has organised two functions at the FCC this year in memory of one of its finest foreign correspondents, Kate Webb. The first was a sad occasion, a wake following her death from cancer on 13 May. The second, on 27 November, was entirely different: it was held to celebrate her life – and to celebrate it in a manner that Kate would surely have applauded. Jonathan Sharp reports. The event was the launch of the Kate Webb Award, an annual 5,000 euro prize in the form of a travelling scholarship for a journalist in the Asia-Pacific region. Administered by the AFP Foundation and offered in collaboration with Kate’s family, the award finances a reporting trip

afp

Eric Wishart which the applicant might otherwise be unable to afford. “It is very fitting that we are hav-

ing an award in her name for journalists in Asia,” said Eric Wishart, AFP’s Asia-Pacific Regional Director. Fitting because Kate spent almost all her working life in Asia and enjoyed a special relationship with her local staff, helping them, advising them, and arguing – sometimes with generous use of her rich and colourful vocabulary – on their behalf. Added Eric: “The aim of the award is to train and develop journalists in developing countries, promote journalism, freedom of the press, and the very important fundamentals of journalism – accuracy, fairness, impartiality – all things that Kate certainly would have subscribed to ... The spirit of Kate Webb lives on.” The winner will be announced each year on March 24, Kate’s birthday.

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

It was also entirely fitting that the launch of the award was graced with the presence of Kate’s sister Rachel and her brother Jeremy. In her moving comments, Rachel said Kate would have been immensely proud of having an award in her name, but at the same time would have insisted she did not deserve such an honour. In his remarks Jeremy recalled an incident that reminded him that Kate was a very private person who was not in the least interested in following in the footsteps of so many foreign correspondents and writing a book about her exploits. He said he made the terrible mistake, after a few drinks with Kate in a pub, of suggesting that she write her memoirs – and was rewarded with a torrent of Kate’s expletives deleted. Kate did however leave six or seven boxes of diaries, but mostly detailing the stories she wrote, and with very little about what she felt personally. There were other touches at the AFP function that Kate would have appreciated. As Eric said, by coincidence, during that same week AFP was holding what it calls a hostile environment training course. “We have a rule in AFP that we don’t send people into the line of fire without proper training, which was not the case in Kate’s day. Those days she walked in with a pen, a notepad and a cigarette. That was it.” The FCC verandah was decorated with a huge banner, presented to Kate when she left the AFP Jakarta bureau, her last posting before her retirement. As Eric commented, it’s not often that departing news agency bureau chiefs earn this treatment from their local staff. “They (the staff) usually give you a present and then go to the pub, get pissed, and say ‘Thank God he’s left’. Kate was something special ... An exceptional reporter, an exceptional human being.” Those who would like to contribute anecdotes and memories to a biography being written about Kate can submit them c/o her sister, Rachel, at rmil5168@bigpond.net.au

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

afp

Kate’s sister and brother, Rachel and Jeremy.

kees metselaar (5)

Jonathan Sharp and Marc Carnegie.

Marc Carnegie

Hubert van Es and Luke Hunt.

Mervyn Nambiar and Luke Hunt.

Jeremy Webb and Philip Bowring.

Media

On a wing and a prayer FCC member Sam Chambers has travelled more than his fair share. Yet nothing could compare with a recent foray to a far-flung colony of New Zealand in the South Pacific. His story:

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

he FCC was, in its own imitable way, partially responsible for the excursion of my lifetime. A few Pinot Grigios circa 6 pm at the Main Bar on October 18 got the ball rolling on a lengthy evening that would end in a messy, beer-drained fog in front of a TV watching England’s defeat by Russia on a plastic pitch in a European football qualifier.

Andre Eichman

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

The next day, feeling the worse for wear, I bought the South China Morning Post for the first time in months by way of providing something of a barrier between me and my heavy head and the rest of the passengers on a somewhat later than planned Lamma ferry ride. On page 13 an AFP report from Wellington caught my eye. A tiny trio of coral atolls called Tokelau would vote the following week in a referendum to end 130 years of colonialism under first Britain and later New Zealand. I’d never heard of the place, but it immediately sounded like an interesting story – the birth of a new nation, albeit one with a population of just 1,447. Grandiosely, I thought this could be my “East Timor”. It also might get me to the South Pacific for the first time. And Tokelau (pronounced Tok-er-lau) just tripped off the tongue so enticingly. Getting into work I Googled around and noted that no journalist was on site yet for this story. Little wonder given its location. To get more remote than Tokelau, you’d have to apply to NASA. It was the last territory of the British Empire to hear of the outbreak of World War I, five months after hostilities broke out. It was also the last place on earth to have telephones. To get there from Hong Kong involves flying to either Auckland or Sydney and then on to Western Samoa where a twice monthly cargo boat makes the 30-hour, 500-km schlep to coral heaven. As luck would have it a ferry departed the following Monday, getting into Tokelau a day ahead of the vote. I put the gun to the head of numerous editors of papers and magazine around the world telling them cockily that this was a great tale, journos would surely be thin on the ground, yet yours truly, with an ace photographer, would be present and correct. Everyone bought in straight away with the exception of the SCMP – “We’ll probably just take the wires from Wellington, thank you”. Quick text to photographer Andre Eichman to cancel everything he was doing and prepare for the trip of a lifetime. Next, contact my trusty travel agent. Flights to get there in time were looking nigh on impossible and the whole venture looked to be blown out of the water until some bright spark pointed out that Samoa is behind the international dateline. Phew! We were back on. Saturday night we boarded Cathay Pacific Flight 101 – making the ultimate sacrifice in the name of journalism in

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missing the Rugby World Cup final – and headed to Sydney. From there a budget airline to Apia, Samoa – a land full of prodigiously rotund people and more churches of all denominations (even Scientology tents) than you could shake a crucifix at. After 24 hours we boarded the 30m grey-hulled MV Tokelau and set off on our voyage, skimming through an ocean of the most incredible deep, rich, copper sulphate-coloured hue. Through squalls, rolling waves, endless, tinny Polynesian music on the speakers and nothing whatsoever on the horizon as far as the eye could see we ploughed forth for more than a day. Bunking down on deck brought little in the way of sleep, but adrenaline was keeping me going. At 12 sq km in total land area the atolls of Fakaofo, Nukunono and Atafu are mere specks on the map. Located some 500 km north of Samoa and between eight and 10 degrees south of the equator, the atolls have no capital, port or airport. First discovered by the grandfather of the poet George Byron in 1765, they became a British protectorate in 1889 and were transferred begrudgingly to New Zealand at the third time of asking in 1926, after Wellington had taken control of Western Samoa from the Germans post-World War I. In 1948 the name Union Islands was dropped in favour of Tokelau Islands and sovereignty was transferred to New Zealand. Both New Zealand and the United Nations have been pushing Tokelau towards independence for a long time. A referendum 15 months ago had failed by just 34 votes to get the two-thirds majority needed for sovereignty transfer. That shouldn’t have been a problem this time, we read, as local leaders were predicting at least an 80% vote in favour of ending their colonial status. On the horizon on Tuesday at midday a thin green line appeared that gradually took the perforated shape of thousands of coconut trees – we were approaching Fakaofo, the southernmost atoll. Riding the dinghy to shore along a blasted-out coral chan-

As the tides have crept higher here over the years the pigs have learnt to swim and even fish for eels, a remarkable tale of adaptation to global warming

nel through stunning azure waters, the swell and the waves rocked our little boat so much that for a brief moment I was convinced that I, along with my laptop, was about to topple overboard. A deal with a Dutchman for the dot tk internet suffix had brought the islands into the online age. I dashed to the municipal building on the crowded island of Fale where internet access could be had, interviewing a local leader and other islanders en route and banged out a few vox pops ahead of the final day of voting. Fakaofo is most famous for its pigs. Since most of the 128 coral islets that surround the three lagoons of Tokelau are no higher than 2 m above sea level and the highest point is just 5 m, these atolls are the canary in the mine when it comes to climate change. The

pig pens on Fakaofo were located on the shore and as the tides have crept higher here over the years the pigs have learnt to swim and even fish for eels, a remarkable tale of adaptation to global warming. Perhaps we humans will evolve to have webbed feet if the ice caps continue to melt. There was no time to tarry. We reboarded our ship and headed to the wondrous middle atoll of Nokonuno, where we would spend the night. The middle island is Catholic, has the largest lagoon and the territory’s only hotel/bar. It was also the one place where we truly struggled with internet access. Sending picture files from this slice of paradise proved impossible. We ate wonderful wahu barricuda cooked with tinned pineapples that night, washed down with a few warm

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

bottles of Vailima beer from Samoa in the simple but lovely surroundings of the Luanna Liki Hotel. Up bright and early the next day for dawn, I can honestly say those few hours were some of the greatest of my life – interacting with the super friendly locals and swimming in the sublime lagoon. The inhabitants like to call Tokelau the last paradise on earth, and I am in no position to disagree. I always considered myself a mountain man over a beach type when it comes to destinations. That said, I’ve been to incredible beach places – Zanzibar, Mozambique, Philippines, Cote d’Azur for starters – but in my view, nowhere on earth can match the stunning coral atolls of Tokelau. Back on to the ship and onto the final atoll, Atafu, where the last day’s votes were taking place. Would the unofficial, and rather nifty, flag of Tokelau be raised on the announcement of a yes vote, I mused as we made the five-and-a-half hour interatoll journey. The colours of the Atafu lagoon just blew me away – a kaleidoscope of blues and turquoises that even the craftiest Photoshop wizard could never realise. We met the Ulu, or leader, of Tokelau. The head of each atoll takes it in turns to run the territory for a year at a time. Kuresa Nasau, the Ulu, spoke softly and thoughtfully of his aspirations post decolonisation. A national anthem had been drafted and would be endorsed by the General Fono or parliament the following day. A seat at the UN beckoned, as did Commonwealth entrance. At last, Tokelau would get a voice of its own on the international stage – and access to international aid. Ahead of the vote announcement some kids took us on a boat out on the lagoon – a colour sensory overload ensued. Armed with snorkel and mask we explored the coral, diving among fish of all shapes and shades. The sense of euphoria arising from just experiencing such a tropical heaven, with its 360-degree paradise vision, will live with me forever. In the main hall counting was over.

A draft letter to New Zealand Prime Minister Helen Clark spoke of the Ulu’s pride and joy at the decision to vote yes. I’d written a skeleton report ahead of the vote noting the “overwhelming” decision to decolonise. What then happened shows journalists, especially of the freelance variety where HK$13,000 in flights have been paid per person, should expect the unexpected. Have contingency plans to hand. The Ulu read from a sheet of paper. He said 88.3% of the population had voted. There were 697 votes. Five were deemed invalid. A total of 446 had

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

agreed with the motion. Now, I’m rubbish at maths, but 446 did not sound like a number that was going to make this my “East Timor”. A surprising 246 disagreed. The motion failed by 16 votes or a poxy one percent. Uh, oh. This was a very, very long way to travel to report the spellbinding news that a New Zealand colony ... was still a New Zealand colony. Oh crap! For a brief moment there was almost a reprieve when a clearly stunned and deflated Ulu stated “... so the motion was approved” before the tubby red-faced New Zealand colonial administrator urgently whispered into his ear. The Ulu regrouped to correct himself: “... was not approved.” Urgent rewrite, consultation with photographer. Play the global warming card. We filed our story to a decidedly mixed take up. That evening’s “celebration” dinner was muted. We did some more shots the following morning, worked some magazine angles and will make our money back, just. The sea journey back with the UN team who had monitored the vote was boisterous with the Papua New Guinea ambassador to the UN leading the chorus to the Flintstones as we scraped the depths of our karaoke knowledge. Was it worth it? Absolutely. This is a territory whose remoteness has shielded it from so much of western society’s ills. Its village elders way of law and order is not ideal, yet somehow functions. How long it will last is debatable. Not just because it might disappear under the waters in as little as 20 years, but because society is changing. TV, for instance, arrived for the first time last year and in this short space of time the pernicious effects of television have had a frighteningly rapid effect on the youth of Tokelau. Before one hungover Thursday I’d never even imagined I’d ever go to the South Pacific. I’m now trying to find angles on a return trip, though I’ve learnt not to rely on referendums to fund my passage.

An Invitation For Entries

Entry Deadline 21 January 2008

Submissions are invited for these prestigious awards, now in their 12th year, which provide professional recognition to outstanding reporting in the area of human rights.

THE 12th ANNUAL

HUMAN RIGHTS PRESS AWARDS 2007 ORGANIZED BY THE HONG KONG JOURNALISTS ASSOCIATION FOREIGN CORRESPONDENTS' CLUB, HONG KONG AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL HONG KONG See http://www.hkja.org.hk, www.fcchk.org and www.amnesty.org.hk

OBJECTIVES AND CRITERIA

The goal of the Human Rights Press Awards is to create increased respect for the basic rights of all people, heighten general awareness of human rights issues and, where threats to those freedoms exist, to focus attention upon them. Judges look for originality, professionalism, amount of effort, depth of understanding of issues and, where relevant, courage on the part of the journalists or publisher. To be eligible, a submission should address an area covered by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and relate to Hong Kong or the Asian region. Each entry must cite the specific Article(s) of the Universal Declaration to which it pertains. Submissions are sought in both English and Chinese. They will be assessed by separate panels of distinguished judges. Photographs will be judged jointly. Material published online can be submitted.

Media

Reuters launches disaster-reporting website

euters news agency has launched a set of free online tools to assist reporting on emergencies. AlertNet for Journalists (http://www.alertnet.org/journalists) is designed to provide a short cut to the context and contacts useful for covering such stories. It contains background briefings on scores of crises. Its interactive mapping service lets users zoom in on anywhere in the world and measure distances. These is also an online contacts book listing phone numbers and e-mail addresses for hundreds of aid workers in war zones and disaster areas around the world. AlertNet also provides tip-offs about potential crises, country statistics and tools to create graphs to illustrate stories. The website was set up by the Reuters Foundation charity in 1997 following the Rwandan genocide. At the time, aid agencies were criticised for their lack of co-ordination in the post-Rwanda relief operation. AlertNet was launched to help improve communication and co-operation in the humanitarian world. Although the service is primarily aimed at aid workers, increasing numbers of journalists are using it too. In 2004, AlertNet and the Columbia School of Journalism in New York carried out the biggest survey to date of relations between aid agencies and the media. The resulting report examined the barriers reporters face in covering humanitarian crises such as conflicts, earthquakes, floods or famines. Journalists’ gripes included the difficulty in finding aid workers willing to talk to the media, a lack of authoritative background on complex crises and a dearth of reliable statistics. To address these and other problems highlighted by the report, Alert-

The alertnet services

AlertNet home page (left) and interactive map Crisis briefings: Background on around 80 emergencies, including timelines and web links

Aid agency newswire: Press releases, case studies and features from relief groups

Country statistics: Upto-date, sourced data on all countries, from health indicators to refugee numbers

Humanitarian Heads Up: A weekly e-mail newsletter with early warning of looming crises

Who works where: Aid agencies on the ground and contacts

World Press Tracker: An interactive graph that allows users to keep tabs

Net put together the free web-based toolkit on AlertNet. The project is being part funded by Britain’s Department for International Development, which has provided £470,000 over two years. The Foundation has provided £851,000 over the same period for running and developing the AlertNet site. AlertNet has formed partnerships with some 400 member aid agencies which are committed to sharing information on the website. Benefits for them include free access to Reuters photographs, which they can use in their appeals and publications. A dozen other organisations with humanitarian expertise provide news and information feeds to the site. These content partners include several UN agencies, the UN news service IRIN, the International Crisis Group think tank, Human Rights Watch, the Famine Early Warning Systems Network and the

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

on global trends in crisis coverage Mediawatch: Articles on humanitarian themes picked from the world’s press Interactive training: Online training modules to hone skills for reporting humanitarian issues

Tropical Storm Risk warning service. It also carries stories from Reuters correspondents around the world and AlertNet’s own reporters. Aid workers and reporters are encouraged to contribute personal accounts from the field and their thoughts on humanitarian issues through web logs (blogs). These currently address a range of issues such as China’s involvement in Africa to the merits, or otherwise, of using celebrities in campaigns. An undercover blogger is currently reporting from Burma. Members of the public are free to comment on the blogs, helping generate a lively, global debate. Journalists have said they find the blogs a good source for story ideas. The Reuters AlertNet team can be contacted for media commentary on humanitarian issues. AlertNet also offers disaster reporting workshops for journalists and media students.

Books

Opening minds At 26 years of age, Jared Cohen already embodies the old Scottish saying about danger and delight growing on one stalk, writes Bong Miquiabas.

rom 2004 to 2006, Cohen journeyed across Iran, Lebanon, Syria and Iraq. It was an ambitious travel plan for a self-described Jewish kid from Connecticut. He intended to interview political opposition leaders as part of his Rhodes scholarship. Instead he encountered excitement (in some cases, life-threatening) alongside the region’s young people, making him privy to perspectives few in the West have experienced. Cohen’s Children of Jihad: A Young American’s Travels Among the Youth of the Middle East, provides a vivid account of his adventures and lessons learned. From the outset, he faces obstacles. His visa application to Iran is repeatedly denied but he persists. He obtains one from the embassy in London. Then, upon arriving in Tehran, Cohen finds himself saddled with an officious government escort. He manages by night to ditch his private “Ayatollah Assahola” and dives into uncensored Iran, abetted by a hotel receptionist and countless eager young people. With stories of bathtub-brewed alcohol, all-night raves, and parties where girls shed their burqas revealing elaborate makeup, a Hollywood script is likely. His description of fleeing Mosul, hub of the Iraqi insurgency, makes for fascinating social commentary. Cohen told me he wrote Children of Jihad to show “why there remains a window of hope and opportunity – the youth, who are 60% of the Middle East.” He says young Americans can play a unique role in reaching a region more curious about the West than many realise: “With technology increasing in prevalence every day, these kids don’t need a visa, money,

or time off from school to engage with their peers.” For each country he visits, Cohen gives a brief history. While informed and helpful to readers unfamiliar with the region, these passages eclipse his remarkably frank conversations with young people. During a lively discussion about Iraq, for example, an Iranian student argues: “People will always see this American democracy as imposed on the regime, so it will always have this stigma attached to it.” Such ardour abounds. Whether eating at a Beirut McDonald’s with fashion-conscious Hezbollah recruits or sitting for a televised interview with earnest Kurdish students, Cohen elicits insight. And nearly every time he discloses his citizenship, the young people regard him warmly, keen to separate Americans from US government policies. Cohen’s point is clear: kids everywhere can be discerning and seek understanding. Formulaic prose notwithstanding, Children of Jihad introduces a fresh voice to public dialogue advocating enlightened engagement with the Middle East. Cohen, now a member of the US Department of State’s Policy and Planning Staff in Washington, is something of a wunderkind. A graduate of Stanford and Oxford, he has criss-crossed Africa and speaks fluent Swahili. One hopes Cohen maintains his robust world view and keeps travelling for a country that needs many more like him.

Children of Jihad: A Young American’s Travels Among the Youth of the Middle East By Jared Cohen Gotham Books, Penguin Group ISBN 9781592403240

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Perfect Spy, Worthy Read Since the master spy Pham Xuan An died in September last year it seemed inevitable that more would emerge about the former journalist and quite possibly the greatest spy of the American War in Vietnam. Indeed it has, writes Luke Hunt.

ew would be disappointed with Larry Berman’s efforts in Perfect Spy. Berman has done his homeworkby meticulously checking and interviewing the leads An left behind, particularly in America, and piecing together An’s side of his story which – despite Berman’s contribution – still contains holes. Quite possibly the full story of how An duped most of the press corps in Saigon, and many others, will never be known. Whenever An made contact with many of his former colleagues at Reuters and Time magazine he was, obviously, careful about what he had to say. And, as he made it clear with me over a series of interviews conducted in 1992, 1993 and 2002, much of the information he was prepared to shed was to remain off the record until after his death. This attitude to information sharing put many a journalist in a bind, a situation made more annoying by An who would often hand out reams of information that needed checking and re-checking, often with people who had long disappeared from public view and would prove difficult to find. From An’s college days in California to the slaughter of Vietnam’s battlefields, Berman has done an honourable job in tracking down many of those people and getting the foundations of what An did and how, out there in the public domain where it belongs. An was a highly regarded journalist for Reuters and some of the most prominent American mastheads. But in secret, he was also a senior officer and espionage agent for the Vietnamese communists and his under-

cover work was vital to their war strategy. He died September 20, 2006, from longstanding emphysema in the former Saigon at the age of 79. A hopeless chain-smoker, Lucky Strike when possible, An adopted the habit as a young man by emulating his earliest hero, Ho Chi Minh. The passing of An heralded mixed responses: sorrow for the loss of a friend, loathing for his use of journalism as a cover and, as always, an enormous respect for his vast knowledge of the complicated mess that became the American war in Vietnam. But behind the emotions, the big question remains: Where did An’s true allegiances lie? Berman concludes without doubt, they lay with the Vietnamese communists. However, he – like many other friends and associates

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

of An – also believes An’s overriding interest was always nationalism and this somehow justified his well-managed life and duplicitous character. This has also resulted in a laborious push from some quarters to lionise An and the extent to which some of his former colleagues have gone to glorify him is often irritating. It’s a point not lost in Berman’s book which is unflinchingly written for a US audience, and a forgiving one at that. I would have liked to have seen more on An’s time working the wires with Reuters and his relationship with other Vietnamese reporters working for the foreign media. I was also left with the impression that An’s critics, of which there are justifiably many, would have enjoyed a wider hearing while An’s highly tempestuous time with the communists after 1975 feels a little glossed over, almost as if life was just a series of misunderstandings. These were important shades in An’s very grey life, particularly during the 1968 Tet offensive and the eventual taking of Saigon by the communists in April 1975. And if his life was replayed in Baghdad today, I doubt whether people would be so kind. However, Hanoi has let it be known that it is pleased with Berman’s overall view. Sources there have given the book a big thumbs up and are touting a movie on An’s life.

Perfect Spy By Larry Berman Harper Collins, New York HB, 336 pp ISBN: 0060888385 / 978-0060888381

Photography

On The Wall By Arthur Hacker

oday the two most popular methods of taking digital pictures are by using either a mobile phone or one of those gimmicky auto-everything contraptions that have a miniature TV screen stuck up the backside. Of course neither of these pseudocameras can take top quality pictures even when handled by an experienced waiter or a madly enthusiastic tourist. The images they create are simply not very sharp. This has given digital photography, by association, a bad name with the uninformed. Even some professional photographers, who learnt their craft during the age of film, have reservations in regard to the quality of large digital prints, but a visit to Kees Metselaar’s recent photo exhibition Off Central in the Main Bar of the FCC reveals that they have nothing to worry about, provided that they possess the skills of Kees and his printer, Excellent Colour Ltd. Just before the Urban Renewal

Authority (URA) announced its Peel Street/Graham Street redevelopment project, Kees, who has lived in the area off and on since 1992, decided it was time to a take a few pictures of the wet market and its inhabitants. Heritage activists will be delighted to know that, in 1839, a market that the British called the Chinese Bazaar was established in Central. This happened just before the Opium War broke out and a couple of years before Hong Kong was actually founded. The Oxford Dictionary tells us that the word “bazaar” means an oriental marketplace. The Rev Karl Gutzlaff’s 1844 census established that Graham Street and Gage Street, which feature prominently in Kees’ exhibition, were built on the site of the Middle Bazaar. So were all the other streets pictured in the show. It may be in somebody’s interest to refer to the development as “the 140-year old street market”. By playing with words the age of the site has been devalued, as a Chinese street

Top left: Kau U Fong, off Aberdeen Street. Herb and spices emporium in Graham Street.

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

market is simply another name for an oriental bazaar. It would therefore be historically more accurate to describe the Peel Street/Graham Street redevelopment project as being on “the site of a 168-year old bazaar”. Conspiracy theories are rampant. Everything is very confusing. This is not helped by the use, misuse and overuse of the English word “revitalise” by official spin doctors. It is a word that cannot be found in many

English dictionaries of a manageable size. With great difficulty I was able to locate it in a massive dictionary that contains images of 16,376 folio pages printed in mouse-writing. Incredibly the meaning given is only eight words long: “To restore vitality; to put new life into.” To use the word revitalise when describing the proposed 160-metretall transparent tower the Jockey Club plans to erect above the Central Police

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Station Compound is clearly an inaccurate use of the word. Maybe it originated from a bad translation of some obscure Chinese expression that possibly means that altering valuable heritage sites beyond recognition is revitalising them. The mind boggles. The architects describe the proposed tower as a manifestation of “joyful life”. I doubt if the inhabitants of Cochrane Street will have much joy living so close to this massive recon-

Photography

Top: Kees’s favourite photo: two elderly gentlemen wander past Linva Fashion, Cochrane Street. Bottom: Delivery time, Gage Street. struction project in Hollywood Road directly opposite to the entrance to their street. But it is time to stop talking about politics and time to talk about Kees’ exhibition. He told me that his photo of Cochrane Street is his favourite picture in the show. It is a beautifully composed and a very human picture of two elderly gentlemen wandering leisurely past Linva Fashion while a third little old man seems to be completely absorbed by the window display of colourful cheongsams. It reminds us that goods sold in the market are not all fruit and wet fish. Another favourite is of Mrs Yao’s fruit stall in Graham Street which Kees has patronised for years. This tiny alley is reputed to be named after Lieutenant Colonel Henry Hope Graham, an early environmentalist, who kept his British squaddies healthy and sometimes sober by making them plant hundreds of trees during the 1850s,

some of which are still around today. Kees’ still life of a Graham Street fruit stall is positively mouth-watering. The URA plan is that most of the hawker stalls will remain, but all but

three shops in Graham Street will be demolished and replaced by a Hong Kong “Old Shop Street”. This will be comprised of replicas. Ripping down genuine old buildings and replacing

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

Top: Mrs Yau’s fruit stall, Graham Street. Bottom: Chillies; Gage Street.

them with fakes appears to be Hong Kong’s idea of heritage. Many of the best pictures in this exhibition have already appeared in this magazine but they can be seen

at http://www.photokees.com. They include the two large images of Gage Street and the 80-year-old Wing Woo Ho grocery store whose façade will be preserved.

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

To fully value what Kees has achieved try exploring the wet market yourself and you will appreciate how its mood and ambience are brilliantly reflected in Kees’ photographs. They have a charmingly casual touch. Not a single picture looks posed. The most typical street in the wet market is Gage Street. There are seven magnificent pictures of it in the exhibition. Kees’ photographs capture its very soul. It is an extremely narrow one-way street and is generally crowded with bustling people and blocked by a traffic jam. So of course is Hollywood Road. Nobody has yet enlightened us on how the problems created by thousands of new inhabitants, visitors, culture-vultures, office workers, shoppers, etc., etc., etc., and the transport problems that they will create, will be solved. I expect that Kees Metselaar’s wonderful pictures will survive longer than the wet market.

Photography

Then

Now

The changing face of Hong Kong Salisbury Road, Tsim Sha Tsui 1971 and 2007. The road to the left runs to Holts Wharf where today the InterContinental Hotel stands. The Kowloon Canton Railway train is leaving the TST terminal and on the right the Sheraton Hotel is being built.

ÂŠ Bob Davis. Web: www.bobdavisphotographer.com. E-mail: bobdavis@netvigator.com

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

People

Keith Richburg to New York Notice from The Washington Post: “We’re very pleased to announce that [former FCC President] Keith Richburg, currently The Washington Post’s foreign editor and before that one of the paper’s most intrepid and engaging correspondents, will be hitting the road again soon as The Post’s New York bureau chief.

JUmbo jollies Dave Garcia (left) clutches the World Elephant Polo Championship trophy. The Hong Kong team, which triumphed in the 26th annual event at Nepal’s Chitwan Tiger Tops Reserve in November, consisted of FCC members Garcia, Roland Busier and Donal Galvin. Marc van Eijck and Vic McLaglen also took part. The team was sponsored in part by Chopard of which Busier is regional managing director.

THE CORRESPONDENT november/december 2007

“After two and a half years here in Washington reacclimating himself to the strange ways of the newsroom and adeptly helping steer the foreign report each day into the paper, Keith will be in charge of roaming New York and the Northeast and producing a menu of strong front-page enterprise pieces – at a key political moment when New Yorkers lead both party’s presidential fields. “Though he’s not yet familiar with the far corners of Maine, there’s pretty much nowhere else in the world Keith hasn’t been – whether Mogadishu, East Timor, Baghdad or Bangkok. He’s ridden by horseback over the Hindu Kush at the height of the Afghan war, camped out in his car under an Iraqi highway for days to wait out the fall of Basra, written a book on his experiences in Africa and even, or so his bio on the Source claims, managed to spend a year in Hawaii. He hopes to head up I-95 in November. “

Professional Contacts FREELANCE PHOTOGRAPHERS RAY CRANBOURNE — Editorial, Corporate and Industrial Tel/Fax: 2525 7553 E-mail: ray_cran bourne@hotmail.com BOB DAVIS — Corporate/Advertising/Editorial Tel: 9460 1718 Website: www.BOBDAVISphotographer.com HUBERT VAN ES — News, people, travel, commercial and movie stills Tel: 2559 3504 Fax: 2858 1721 E-mail: vanes@netvigator.com FREELANCE WRITER AND GHOSTWRITER Mark Regan - Writer of fact or fiction, biographies, memoirs and miscellanea. Also speechwriting, features, reports or research. Tel: 6108 1747 E-mail: mrregan@hotmail.com Website: www.markregan.com FREELANCE ARTISTS “SAY IT WITH A CARTOON!!!” Political cartoons, children’s books and FREE e-cards by Gavin Coates are available at http://wwwearthycartoons.com Tel: 2984 2783 Mobile: 9671 3057 E-mail: gavin@earthycartoons.com FREELANCE EDITOR/WRITER CHARLES WEATHERILL — Writing, editing, speeches, voice-overs and research by long-time resident Mobile: (852) 9023 5121 Tel: (852) 2524 1901 Fax: (852) 2537 2774. E-mail: charlesw@netvigator.com PAUL BAYFIELD — Financial editor and writer and editorial consultant. Tel: 9097 8503 Email: bayfieldhk@hotmail.com

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Out of Context

What members get up to when away from the Club

Mother’s Ruin

aving “ruined” her mother’s career, Bonnie Engel had to march out and make her own, writes Vaudine England. Well, that’s one way of putting it. Her mother was a radio journalist in Chicago, due to head to New York for a newspaper job in 1942 – only to find she was pregnant with Bonnie. Bonnie has inherited some of her mother’s journalistic genes – with a twist. She is a pioneering one-woman videographer, journalist and art critic. She’s also an Old China Hand having falling in love with China in 1961. “Studying Chinese then was so weird. People used to ask me what on earth I would do for work!” an ebullient Bonnie recalls. The idea, in these times, that anyone speaking Chinese, with skills in calligraphy, art appreciation, business knowledge, broadcast media and the internet would have trouble finding work is frankly bizarre. But Bonnie was moving faster than the people around her. With two marriages dealt with before she was 27, she worked for the Chicago Tribune and completed five years of Chinese language studies, two of Japanese, a Masters in East Asian studies and almost a PhD. One of the joys of her student years was working one floor down from “Good Body Hall” – where Dr Alfred Kinsey studied human sexuality and had compiled the second largest porn library in the world after the Vatican. Bonnie’s voracious mind was expanding by the day. Her research topic was, and is, the Images of Women in Chinese Art and Literature. “Peaches, peonies, pomegranates – how much more suggestive can you get? And of course men are portrayed as mountains, trees, rocks. Let’s make clouds and rain together, with jade swords at the heavenly gates ... it’s

Kees Metselaar

beautiful!” Bonnie declaims. She can still describe her favourite early discovery of a painting of a woman with her leg over a balustrade, enjoying the clouds and rain, as a maid stands by waiting with the tea on a tray. The combination of sexy and mundane wasn’t shocking, it was the beginning of Bonnie’s journey into Chinese art – a speciality she now writes about for the London-based Asian Art Newspaper. She spent the 1970s in and around San Francisco where she participated in cable television’s early debates over public access channels and commercial viability. Being Bonnie, she promptly went out and bought a PortaPak, an early, portable Japanese video kit. “It revolutionised my life. I thought that if people understood the technology and how television was made then they wouldn’t be fooled by it,” says Bonnie, of why she formed a nonprofit organisation called The Public Eye, and filmed artists and musicians around San Francisco. “The 1970s? It was a helluva lot of fun and I don’t remember much about it,” she chuckles. In 1986 she took a 30-day trip to

Hong Kong and stayed 10 years. “All my good fortune in Hong Kong came from the FCC,” she says. Contacts round the bar, via Bob Davis and Lincoln Potter to the late Charlie Smith, led to one job, then another, in writing, editing and translating. All this made Bonnie the perfect extra body in the first small plane race from Paris to Beijing. “They needed a Mandarin-speaking woman with a video camera – and that was me!” she says. The 19,000-mile round trip took five weeks in early 1987 and further hooked Bonnie on the East. But she returned to the US in 1994, where she helped establish one of the early internet ventures, the Yellow Pages Super Highway. It specialises in internet marketing and search optimisation. New deals are in the offing. She’s still involved although she now spends her time back in Hong Kong. But what really matters to Bonnie is art. Unravelling a painting of Deng Xiaoping having a belly-laugh, Bonnie laughs too. “I think he knew that once he’d unleashed China on to the world, we’d never be the same. That’s why he’s laughing,” says Bonnie.

THE CORRESPONDENT

november/december 2007

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