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@christianaidphotos has been sharing a series of photographs to raise the profile of internally displaced people ahead of the UN General Assembly this September. In this image from 2007 an internally displaced girl washes her hair in the Salween River at Eh Thu Hta camp in eastern Myanmar. 📸: Anjali Kwatra #myanmar #river #washinghair #idps #internallydisplacedpersons #development
The novel interlaces real characters and gritty events with fictional ones to reveal Colombia’s dark side, the brutality and complexity of its many internal conflicts, and the chronic high levels of violence and human rights abuses which date back to the country's independence from Spain two centuries ago. The most recent bout of fratricidal fighting started in 1964 pitching peasant and Marxist insurgencies, principally the FARC and the ELN, against the armed forces and their paramilitary proxies sponsored by large landowners, cattle ranchers, drug cartels, and corrupt politicians. Cold War warriors from the US State Department, the Pentagon and the CIA fomented sabotage and violence against groups they considered communist only to aggravate the situation. All sides have been responsible for a drama that has left 250,000 dead, uprooted more than six million peasants (a number higher than the displaced from the ongoing war in Syria), usurped millions of hectares of rural land, littered the countryside with anti-personnel mines, and produced thousands of victims of torture, kidnappings, extortion and sexual violence. Despite a long-running dirty war and billions of dollars in US military assistance which went in part toward funding the War on Drugs, the Colombian state has been unable to achieve a decisive military victory over the guerrillas. Marisa Díaz Torres, tired of her mother's racism, prejudices and obsession to emulate the elite, leaves her middle class home in Bucaramanga to attend university in Bogota. After an emotionless marriage which led her to question her sexuality, she sets out across the hidden and neglected Colombia which she, like most of Colombia's city dwellers, did not know existed. She discovers a land of beauty, kindness, and wisdom, and of violence, criminality and rampant corruption where powerful geopolitical forces are at play. She sees first hand the despair of displaced members of indigenous and Afro communities and meets victims of prostitution, sexual violence, abusive government officials, soldiers and guerrillas who were invisible to her in her previous life. A cynical school teacher long past retirement age, an Uruguayan...
#ThrowBack to our visit to Abagana IDP camp, Makurdi. . #TheOsasuShow: Benue Killings, what is the solution? . #FYI: The Benue State Emergency Management Agency registered more than 180,000 displaced persons which it has been catering for in eight camps while over 500,000 IDPs are taking shelter wherever they find space. . Watch the complete documentary on our YouTube channel (link in bio) . #TBT #FlashBack #documentary #IDPs #SDGs #Bokoharam #Herdsmen #BBOG #EnoughIsEnough #TOS
RI Advocates Alexandra Lamarche and Mark Yarnell just returned from a field mission to the Democratic Republic of Congo. Here in Bunia, they spoke with displaced communities from Djugu about their living conditions in an informal camp.
The cocaine trade followed the marijuana trade and brought more wealth and consequently more violence and corruption. The culture of ostentation, excessive pleasures and instant gratification spread like a virulent disease across the country. Cohabitation with the narcos became the norm. People from all walks of life were happy picking up the crumbs and dreamt of becoming rich and attaining status much like in feudal Sicily where the poor obtained privileges and security thanks to the Mafia. Unlike the Sicilian Mafia which relied entirely on family connections, the Colombian mafia was open to everyone, the poor as well as members of illustrious families. Even the grandson of a former president got mixed up in the trade. The narcos’ children emulated their fathers and acted as if they owned the country. They wore expensive jewellery, clothes and perfumes and humiliated, mistreated and trampled over anyone who had less money than them. They bought university degrees barely opening a book, and travelled to New York and Paris with pretty models, and went to private clubs to parade their girlfriends or boyfriends and engaged in wild parties and competed to see who among them consumed the most cocaine. They laughed like heartless hyenas as they drove around recklessly in powerful cars with tinted windows and without regard for others on the road. They knew that they could get away with any crime including murder for daddy would obtain the services of one of the many gangster lawyers trained in one of the law faculties, the highest number in Latin America, which produced more than 15,000 new lawyers every year each one believing to be a god and their clients untouchable, and well versed in the logistics of blackmail and threats to enforce a pact of silence with the wherewithal to disappear witnesses and evidence including video footages from CCTVs, who used the law and the courts to snare justice with succulent bribes which made judges and prosecutors blind and deaf.
The taxi drove by the Bird of Peace sculpture which commemorated the FARC’s indiscriminate bombing of an outdoor concert in 1995 which had killed 23 and lacerated dozens. He got off in the city centre confident that his skills in situational awareness would spot threats before they materialized. The sidewalks were crowded by performers, the elderly, pickpockets and most of all, aggressive indigents and beggars, men and women, who smoked marijuana or bazuco, or sniffed glue in plastic bags and bottles. They were dirty, smelly and boney and had burnt fingers and missing teeth. Most had ended up on the streets because of their drug addiction which made them steal both at home and outside. Store windows displayed voluptuous mannequins meant to imitate many of the city’s inhabitants with bulging bosoms and round buttocks which supported a narrow waist. Their long legs and white faces with rosy cheeks did not exactly match their human counterparts. The dummies stood in feminine poses or simply showed attitude with a finger on the chin or a hand on the waist. Not a single mannequin represented an indigenous or an Afro. In the commercial district of Junin, street vendors sold stickers for car windows with the images of Jesus Christ, Che Guevara and Pablo Escobar and T-shirts and wristwatches decorated with Pablo’s face and also DVDs and books about him. It didn’t take Pinzón long to spot thieves looking for their prey while their partners waited on getaway motorbikes. On Abejorral Street, he saw girls who were referred to as las terneritas, calves, offering oral sex in broad daylight to taxi drivers for the equivalent of a dollar. He heard the slang of the lower classes known as parlache. He had spent many hours listening to intercepted recordings of the creative and playful language meant to conceal the words used in trafficking, consumption, addiction and other street-level crimes. As soon as the parlache lexicon became part of the colloquial language, the proprietors modified it so the slang would continue to be understood only by them.
In October 1928, the banana workers formed a union. They demanded the abolition of contract work and vouchers as a form of payment, a 50 percent increase in wages, improvements in hospital services, hygienic living quarters and paid Sundays for rest. The strike dragged on. The company brought in scabs. The Minister of Industry in Bogotá ruled in favour of the company that the striking labourers were not employees of the company since they were sub-contracted. The workers were left in limbo and situation deteriorated. Washington threatened to send in the Marines to protect the interests of the American company from the ‘communists’. Threats from the hegemonic power could not be taken lightly especially since Colombia had recently lost Panama and Washington had acquired the habit of sending warships and mercenaries to Central America to play on local rivalries and install radically pro-Washington governments which allowed American businessmen to gain control over the region’s main export, bananas. American companies had, in effect, become the de facto governments in many of the Central American countries. President Miguel Abadía Méndez declared a state of emergency and dispatched the regional military commander, General Carlos Cortés Vargas, to Ciénaga to break up the strike. The company provided the general with a luxurious home and the assembled soldiers with alcohol, food and access to whorehouses. The general immediately replaced the soldiers from the coast with soldiers from the interior. After Sunday mass, the striking workers and their families gathered in Ciénaga’s central plaza expecting to hear from the governor. They waited until nightfall in vain. They moved to an area near the train station to put down for the night. At the crack of dawn, intoxicated soldiers arrived, blocked off the streets and set up machine guns on the nearby roofs. General Cortés fired a shot in the air to wake up the throng of sleeping bodies and gave them five minutes to clear out. A trumpet call announced the start of the five minutes. There was confusion. No one moved. When the allotted time elapsed, the general gave the order to shoot.
集めたまきを頭に乗せてキャンプ内を運ぶ国内避難民の子どもたち。まき集めは貴重な収入源だ＝コンゴ民主共和国北キブ州ゴマのムグンガ３キャンプで２００９年 children collecting fire woods on their heads=Democratic Republic of the Congo, 2009 #congo #コンゴ #難民 #africa #アフリカ #2009 #drc #photojournalism #refugee #毎日新聞世界子ども救援キャンペーン #海外難民救援キャンペーン #コンゴ民主共和国 #camp #firewoods #idps #woods #democraticrepublicofthecongo #idp #dark #mainichi_photography
Year after year, the defence ministry’s year-end report used a heavy dose of magical realism to show that the number of FARC and ELN guerrillas killed, captured, or demobilized was higher than the previous year. The president had come to office on the promise of squashing the guerrillas, “the head of the snake” as he called them, within six months. At the start of his administration, he had announced that there were 28,000 guerrillas. Halfway through his first term, he claimed that there were only 8,000 guerrillas left. A year later, he claimed that 8,400 guerrillas had demobilized. True enough, the Air Force using American-made smart bombs and silent helicopters was hitting the guerrillas hard. Voters congratulated themselves for putting a saviour in office. However, once the guerrillas understood that they needed to stop moving in large groups which made them easy targets from the air, the body count dried up. A macabre scheme was implemented to fabricate higher counts by means of extrajudicial killings. The scheme used recruiters, transporters, room and board providers, battlefield scene stagers, kill verifiers, burial services and a reward schedule drawing on a secret budget. For every kill, 500 dollars were dished out to the soldiers, 1,500 dollars to the battalion commanders and higher amounts and benefits to the colonels and generals. By 2007, the gruesome practice had become so common that more than 40 percent of registered combat kills were civilians who had been falsely fingered as guerrillas. To the government’s opponents, the soldiers' commanders and their political masters must have been aware that the extrajudicial executions were official policy. Public opinion was homogenized and conditioned to accept the news presented as trustworthy. Journalists hardly did any field investigations to determine what was really going on in the countryside and refrained from questioning, analyzing and most of all, confronting the government’s version of events. If someone had taken the trouble to crunch the numbers, it would have shown clearly that the numbers in the official narrative which showed that the guerrillas had been extinguished more than once.
The cattle drivers spent 12 hours on the saddle and slept around the campfire with only a blanket and their saddle. Small groups took turns singing ballads, reciting poems and improvising stories during the night. Their voices were meant to cover over any sudden noises which could trigger a stampede. Yecid didn’t tire listening to the ballads under the open skies mixed with the moans of the cattle. When it was his turn to sing, he did so knowing that he held the power of life and death. He had so much fun as a cowboy that he postponed university. Thoughts about university went out the window when he married Noorah, a Palestinian farm hand’s daughter, in a Catholic ceremony. His father was very disappointed with the turn of events. “Cattle, my son, is the oldest form of wealth,” Jacobo would tell Yecid proudly years later when he owned more than 200 heads of cattle in the rich grazing lands of the Sinú River valley. The workers respected their employer for his work ethic, fairness and concern about their well being. Noorah planted her own vegetables including onions and eggplants which the locals considered poisonous. Adriana was born first and Manuel followed four years later. The two children grew up on an isolated ranch. They went to school on horseback. Their mother never stopped warning them, especially Adriana, about the evil spirit, jinn. “Try hard not to be attractive,” she kept telling her. “Envy and evil work through the power of the human eye. Be careful of the penetrating gaze of people whose eyebrows are connected especially if their complexion is pale. They can cause a great deal of misfortune.” Adriana did not pay attention to the ancestral superstitions. She refused to wear the evil eye amulet and did not take seriously the passages from the Koran her mother often recited to garner her protection. She became increasingly distant from her family. Some nights, she did not come home and her mother worried to death standing by the window to wait for her. The day Adriana set foot at the University of Córdoba in Montería, she changed forever. She started to speak and dress differently and smoke cigarettes and marijuana.
Fifi untied the dog. The animal wagged its sickle-shaped tail believing it was being called to work or play. It had relished the company of his master and done everything in its power to protect him, and make him happy and laugh. Hours earlier, Fifi had dreamt that he had taken his new friend home. His two younger brothers had rushed to the dog with big smiles and hugged it. The dog had jumped on his mother and licked her hands. “We’ll take her for vaccinations,” his mother had said. “We’ll give her all the care and our love. She must have belonged to a rich family and now she is a street dog.” The dog abruptly stopped and pulled away with its tail between the legs. The dog’s sixth sense had detected fluctuations in energy. Fifi didn’t know what had gotten into it. The subspecies of the wolf had been interacting with humans for such a long time that it could interpret human moods, faces and most importantly, energy. Its ears stood ready to perceive the smallest sound and voice inflection. Its pupils dilated fully and nose widened to pick up the scent of the smallest particle. It howled like its ancestors from thousands of years ago to communicate with the other dogs. The pack realized that the affective bond with the human masters had been broken for they saw the Angel of Death. They growled and raucously howled and barked louder and louder to ward off death. The captain handed Fifi a cook’s knife and told him in a normal tone of voice to kill the animal and remove the heart. Fifi was confused. He stood still and stared at the knife in his hand. “Now!” shouted one of the assistants and landed a hard punch on the side of Fifi’s head. The Shepherd-Husky barked furiously and pulled away more violently.
"We are very happy to be on our own land." Mine clearance allows people to return home. People like Nagaratnam who returned home 22 years after being displaced during the conflict in northern Sri Lanka. 📷 @misshelaineous #landmines #mineaction #charity #nonprofit #NGO #humanitarian #globaldev #SriLanka #aidworks #humanitarianaid #internationaldevelopment #dogood #minefield #landmine #help #donate #aid #socialgood #giving #makeadifference #change #lka #IDP #refugee #IDPs #withrefugees #portrait
Myanmar An internally displaced girl washes her hair in the Salween River at Eh Thu Hta camp in eastern Myanmar. Some 3,000 people were living there after fleeing their villages. Photo made for Christian Aid in 2007 by Anjali Kwatra. In September 2018, the UN is due to discuss the situation of Internally Displaced People. There are twice as many IDPs worldwide as there are refugees (approx. 40 million). Christian Aid is calling for a comprehensive response, to ensure that the way IDPs are treated should be properly funded, inclusive, respectful of Rights & ambitious in scope, to match the scale of the problem. . . #IDPs #ChristianAid #christianaidphotos #unitednations #photography #conflict #reportage #documentaryphotography #socialdocumentary #displaced #refugees #camps #health #income #generation #women #children #child #internallydisplacedpeople #thedisplaced #socialjustice #photostory #asylumseekers #makeshifthome #onassignment #compellingimage #forcedfromhome
“On this day, take time to think of our country’s past. Learn from our freedom fighters and stand in the gap to make this country a safe ‘haven’ for the next generation. This is the duty of all patriots. Your country is your pride, build it and watch as others take pride in it. Happy Independence Day.” #independenceday #15august #freedom #IDPS
How often do you help the needy? How would you like to put a smile on Faces of #displaced persons who, for no fault of theirs, has been put through so much pain, loss of loved ones & forced out of their homes? Living under very uncomfortable conditions at the mercy of well meaning individuals for hope. You can Join US , CATHOLIC YOUTH ORGANIZATION OF NIGERIA, ST THERESA'S DEEANERY, JOS (CSTD) as we reach out to IDPs in plateau state. Lend a hand, lets heal the world. #practicalEvangelism #Humanitarian #loveyourneighbourasyourself #give #IDPs #CSTD #CYON #hope #blessings
I don't only crochet during class or instead of doing homework. I even crochet on a Friday night in a roof top bar. You may call it crazy, I call it committed 😉 #creativity #charity #crochet #instacrochet #syrianrefugees #idps #syria #butterfliesofhope #crochetaddict #yarn #amigurumi #beirut #lebanon
İki gənc rəfiqə AYAP-ın Bərdə Kitab Klubunda birlikdə kitab oxuyarkən. Oxuyun və paylaşın. 👧👧🌐🕊️📕📕 _____ Qeyd: AYAP- Azərbaycan Gənclərinə Dəstək Proqramı Beynəlxalq Avrasiya Mətbuat Fondunun (BAMF) layihəsidir və BMT-nin Uşaq Fondunun (UNICEF) dəstəyi ilə Tərtər, Bərdə və Goranboy rayonlarında həyata keçirilir. ______ Two young friends reading book together at AYAP's Barda Book Cafe. Read & share. 🕊️📕📕 Note: AYAP-Azerbaijani Youth Advocate Programme is a project of International Eurasia Press Fund (IEPF) and is being implemented with the support of Unicef Azerbaijan at Tartar, Barda and Goranboy regions of Azerbaijan. @unicefaze @un_azerbaijan @unfpa @unhcrpartners @unicef @unpublications @sdgsclub @sdgaction @umudmirzayev_iepf @unacanada @undp #reading #books #youth #sharing #smartness #girls #foreverychild #library #bookclub #IDPs #rurallife #adolescents #kids #peace #education #world #globalization #AYAP #UNICEF #IEPF #Azerbaijan
Marisa was especially fond of Giselle. They had been classmates since they were ten. The two were opposites in every way. Giselle was talkative and extroverted with an olive complexion, a round face, brown dreamy eyes and full red lips. She was spontaneous and bent on revealing rather than concealing. Her breasts were like two watermelons and her nipples were permanently erect and often showed through her blouse. Her favourite colour was red. Marisa was a listener and introverted. She had cold blue eyes, dark blond hair and a narrow face. She was tall, demure, organized, and deliberate in her actions and tended to be assertive like most people from Santander. Her breasts were like two grapefruits. Untouched. Her favourite colour was green.
Today I woke up thinking and missing this people, this place this work! #humanitarianwork #Iraq #Kurdistan Hoje acordei pensando e com saudades dessas pessoas, desse lugar, desse tipo de trabalho! #tbt ————————————————————— - - - - - - - #journalism #journalismday #latergram #tbt #throwback #humanitarianjournalism #warzone #internationaljournalism #womenjournalists #igers #traveler #discover #information #kidstalented #kurdistan #idps #war #photography
Thirty-five guerrillas waited on the side of a road. Camilo, a thoroughly inexperienced fighter, was tasked to tug a rope when the first and last infantrymen in the army patrol went past him. The combatants on both sides, with the exception of Camilo, were from the ranks of the country’s poor. The young army sub-lieutenant leading the patrol felt uneasy going into the densely forested area and ordered his soldiers to spread out into three squads. According to plan, Camilo tugged the rope once and a second time to signal that the patrol was inside the zone of ambush. The guerrillas did not realize that only some of the soldiers were in the zone. They opened fire. The ambush had been botched. Camilo came out of a ditch eager to retrieve a rifle to replace his small .38 calibre revolver. It was expected of all ELN guerrillas to obtain their first weapon of war on the battlefield. A wounded soldier on the ground had his finger on the trigger. Camilo Torres, the bearded and emaciated symbol of Liberation Theology, met his death. He was only 37 years old.
Bahati Mbuto, 34 years old, South Kivu Province, D.R.Congo Bahati means “Luck” in Swahili. But Bahati says she hasn’t had much #luck lately. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ "When we heard the #gunshots in the middle of the night, I knew it was time to flee. We left everything behind, there was no time to take anything. We could already see corpses of villagers lying on the ground. I fled with my children, and my husband fled in another direction. I don’t know where he is, I have not heard from him since that day we left.” ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Bahati lives in Fizi territory, in the southern part of South Kivu Province. Since late 2017, the national army have launched #military operations to wipe out the #rebel group Mai Mai which has been controlling the area for years. The constant #combats between the two armed forces have caused many civilian casualties and wave of mass #displacement throughout the area. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Bahati says she walked for 3 days with her 8 children until she ended up in Malinde. She has been welcomed by a local woman, and given a small shelter to sleep in. Bahati explains it is the first time she has left her village. “My children have never gone to school, because there is no money to pay the fees. I never went to school either. We hardly have enough to eat in one day, how can I think about paying school fees?” ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀Bahati earns some money through a #UNHCR supported community project. The women make biomass briquettes, which are balls of combustible waste which can be used to cook with, instead of firewood. They help the environment by reducing the number of trees being cut. Bahati and the other women in the project sell their briquettes to the #refugee camp nearby. "I earn more than most people working in the fields by making briquettes but it is not enough (1.25$). I can buy some manioc flour to make fufu and a few vegetables for the children to eat in the evening, but we are all hungry. My older children help me with the work so we can earn a little more”.
Xərçəng xəstəliyindən qorunmağın yolları: - Siqaretdən və spirtdən uzaq durun 🚭 - Sağlam qidalardan həzz alın🥕 - Fiziki aktiv olun🚴♀️ - Həddindən artıq günəş şüasından qorunun və bunun üçün qoruyucu vasitələrdən istifadə edin☀️ - Ana südü ilə qidalandırmaq qadınlarda xərçəng riskini azaldır🤱 - Uşaqlarınızın xərçəng xəstəliyi riskini azaltmaq üçün onları Hepatit B və HPV-yə qarşı peyvənd etdirin🚼 @umudmirzayev_iepf @unicefaze @un_azerbaijan @who #protection #cancer #nosmoking #children #AYAP #breastfeeding #UN #UNICEF #youth #healthy #peace #IEPF #healthydiet #active #life #happy #girls #betterfuture #standuptocancer #ayap #idps #azerbaijan #baku #project #campaign
I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples. To our courageous and dedicated volunteers Teslim Balogun Bawo Deirrick Lori Theophilus M. Emem Samuel Munza Munzafs Omotayo Ayomide Eunice Abdulrauf Abdulrauf Tina Raymond Rukayat Anifowoshe &Mercy Thank you for your courage, sacrifice, time and energy, for leaving behind all that is familiar and comfortable to serve others. Thank you for your readiness and compassion and for seeing the need and responding. Thank you for sharing your skills and knowledge to help improve lives and build the capacity of those who have not had the same good fortune of opportunity and health – but thank you also for knowing that the experiences you will live and the people you will encounter will teach you more than you could have imagine. Thank you for your patience, respect and perseverance, is never easy. But most of all thank you for your kindness, care and love and for being the inspiration the world needs. We couldn't achieve this without you Guys. I love you all with the love of God 💕 Stay blessed 🙏 #humanity #idps#heathmatters #theydeservebetter #weareoneNigeria #voluntaryservice #pulsenig #channelsnews #cnn #WHO #newsnija @blessingraymondella @bdlori @teslim.b @rkdupe @munzafs @joyriss27
"My family and I have missed many opportunities in life because of the war; now is the time to catch up. The sooner the minefield can be cleared, the faster we can get on with our lives." Thousands of people in Sri Lanka, like Mrs. Vijitharan, are waiting to go home and take control of their own futures. 📷 @misshelaineous #landmines #mineaction #charity #nonprofit #NGO #humanitarian #globaldev #SriLanka #aidworks #humanitarianaid #internationaldevelopment #dogood #minefield #landmine #help #donate #aid #socialgood #giving #makeadifference #change #lka #IDPs #IDP #refugee
💕💕💕🌏🌏🌏💕💕💕 #Repost @goal_global ・・・ At least 1 million people, many of whom are women & children have been in need of urgent humanitarian assistance following recent inter-communal conflict in Southern #Ethiopia. Last week, heavy rains further worsened the conditions of civilians who fled violence there. @goal_global, alongside @UNHCREthiopia, @Norwegianrefugeecouncil & #SavetheChildren responded to the crisis by providing plastic sheets, sleeping mats, & fleece blankets to cater to the basic needs of some of the most vulnerable #IDPs in the region. #humanitarianaid #IDPs #globaldevelopment #emergencyresponse
Tired-looking men and women wandered barefoot between rows of tents. Moans and groans and the stench of vomit permeated the air. A woman was arguing in accented Spanish that it didn’t matter that she had her period. She insisted on taking part in the ritual. A shaman who looked like an elderly grandmother with several necklaces and a crown of feathers was murmuring a chant. An attendant showed Tito the location of the washrooms and gave instructions on what to do with a bucket used for vomit. Tito found his tent number, went inside and laid down for a nap. He woke up to shouts and stepped out. Attendants were looking for someone who spoke Russian as they tried to push people away. A convulsing man lay on the grass face down. Suddenly, he started to bang the ground with his head, feet and hands and squealed like a pig. He got up as if trying to fly. It had been years since Tito had watched a convulsing body make weird sounds. He was awoken in the middle of the night and led to a circle. It was dark. The shaman chanted and the invisible faces hummed loudly. A bowl of foul-tasting brew was passed around. The hallucinogenic effect was instantaneous for everyone except Tito. The bowl was returned to him to ingest some more. An unbearable pain hit the centre of his body and a bright blue light blinded him and he fell. The pain was much more than any of the bullets he had taken over the years. He tried to get up on all four but fell again. Wave after wave of vertigo came over him until he couldn’t move his legs. The shaman rolled him over and beat his stomach with leafy branches which might have lasted a minute or an hour. He vomited until he could vomit no more. “Not even a pink elephant!” he complained in the morning. He had endured the pain and vomiting for naught. He suspected that the ritual was an opportunity for fraudsters to dupe gullible people especially foreigners and even rape them while under the influence. As the van pulled away, there was a commotion. Someone had wandered off into the woods.
Same-sex couples young and old and of varying physiques and colours, many with piercings on their nose, eyebrows, lips, all over their ears and tongue, were on the sidewalks. A group of bikers, muscular and with long beards and beer bellies, held hands and kissed. Soledad became curious and jittery when a topless woman walked toward her. She turned into the first stairway. Disco music blared and her entire body shook. Large crystal balls from the ceiling reflected multi colour lights across the floor, walls and ceiling. A petite girl with a drink in her hand reached up to her and planted a kiss on her lips. It had been sudden. Right then, a Carlos Vives song came on. She moved toward the dance floor. She heard the sounds of the gaita , a tubular flute, the taliraai, a musical friction bow and the maraca in the background. The rhythm represented everything good about Colombia. She was in the right place to forget her sorrows. She was exhilarated. "Like the roads at night waiting for the moon to give them light. Like the leaves waiting for the wind. Like the sun to frighten the cold away. Like the earth waiting for rain and the sea for the river. That’s how I’ll wait for your return, to the land you have forgotten." She held her arms high and her hands moved like a ballerina performing Swan Lake. Her hips gyrated and her feet did half and full circles. As the song came to a close, the DJ blew a siren and repeated it in a remix version and louder. She felt beautiful, happy and human. She was in heaven. A woman came up to her and offered a glass of soda water with a slice of lemon and a napkin to dry her face. She was slightly older and just as tall. Soledad followed her to the bar. Her name was Isabelle. She had a nice mannerism. They ordered two glasses of red wine.
She thought of taking a boat from the La Bodeguita pier to Playa Blanca on the Barú peninsula about 20 minutes away to take a dip in the blue and green water populated by playful small fish, then grab a lunch and spend the afternoon walking on the beach and maybe rent a hammock for a couple of hours. She had done it once before. There was garbage dumped in the bushes, and flies and even a few rats on the beach. She decided to do something different. She took the bus toward the La Popa Convent which had been built on a hill by the barefoot Augustinians in 1607. She had taken tourists up to the convent numerous times. She got off before the hill. The driver said something as he pulled away. She hadn’t paid attention. She stood in the middle of the street. Men, women and children, the refugees about whom everyone complained, idled shirtless and barefoot or wore cheap flip-flops. Pigs sifted through garbage on the side of the street. How crazy of her to have put on a rather short skirt! She should have felt threatened by the surroundings but she wasn’t. What do I do next she was thinking when a heavy-set woman in a colourful petticoat and a short-sleeve red blouse limped toward her. “Señorita, I invite you to come to my humble house so you don’t have to stand here alone.” She had thrown Marisa a lifeline. “I watched you get off the bus. You are a good person to have come to our neighbourhood. I am Matilde. What is your name?”
The atmosphere was festive. A small brass band with several side drums played porros. Advertisements for Cerveza Aguila, Aguardiente Antioqueño and Ron Caldas were plastered on every available surface. The air turned electric when hump-backed zebu cows hired for the day from local ranchers were released one after another to face dozens of tormentors some holding sticks, many barefoot and all farmhands or from the ranks of the unemployed and day labourers who were well versed in mistreating animals and perfectly willing to risk their lives and limbs. They were agitated and drunk on cheap aguardiente, firewater, supplied free by the organizers to help them be fearless. Marisa and Jasmine were in shock. The event was a mix of blood, alcohol, machismo and without rules. The frenzied animals went after no one in particular but after the entire group of tormentors all at once. Spectators in the stands jumped over and joined in, and others fled and slid underneath the enclosing fence. Those who defied the bulls had small denomination peso notes thrown at them from the stands by wealthy cattlemen and businessmen.
. On a Sunday afternoon, Javier Ordóñez drove a passenger to a cockfight south of the city. “Come inside and discover something new!” the passenger said. “Half a million people in Bogotá come to cockfights. Thousands make a living off these birds.” He went in as he needed a bathroom break even though he had restricted his fluid intake all day. He had already had a urinary tract infection once. “Usually the fights don’t last more than a minute,” the host explained as two large birds faced each other and bets were placed. “Where else do you see people agreeing to exchange money without written contracts and signatures? We are as good as our word here.” Sure enough, within seconds one of the roosters lay dead, its neck slit by the opponent’s metal spur. How come this is not prohibited, Javier wanted to ask but didn’t. “My nephew chooses the parents very carefully for stamina and strength. He marks their eggs and removes them for incubation. After about 21 days, the eggs hatch. For the first few days, the baby rooster stays close to its mother to keep warm. After a month, it roams freely in an open area. My nephew watches what they eat carefully and makes sure that they don’t get into any fights. Cocks are congenitally aggressive toward all males of their species. Once their sexual hormones start to develop, he places them in solitary to allow their full development. After a year, he starts preparing them to fight. He cuts off their comb and wattle and removes the feathers from their legs to give them more agility. Before their first fight, he also removes the feathers on the head.” Javier walked to his taxi. The lad who was supposed to keep watch over the vehicle was not there to receive his tip. Javier needed to make up the time lost by working well into the quiet Sunday night. Two men with crew cuts walked up to him and asked if he was free to give them a ride. Javier had two hours left to live.
Montes de María’s proximity to the Magdalena River and the Caribbean coast, and road link to the Comuna 13 slum in Medellín made it a strategic transportation corridor for the narcos, guerrillas and paramilitaries. Newcomers arrived to appropriate lands even though most of the area was classified as a displacement risk zone and had restrictions. The Ministry of Agriculture eagerly granted credit to the new owners and the Ministry of Energy and Mines granted mining licenses. Soon, green deserts of African palm and banana plantations and devastation from mining covered areas which previously had been rich in fauna, flora and soil.
The lookout whose job was to alert the team of any unanticipated arrivals, sat at a table in the bar area next to the pool which gave him a full view of the exterior corridors and the target’s door. The entry team went in. Their CIA trainers referred to surreptitious searches as black-bag jobs for the small black bags which carried the tools required to open locks and safes. They put on latex gloves and unplugged the phone jack right away. The photographer took dozens of digital and Polaroid photos of the room. It was his responsibility to restore the room to exactly how it was. The lock specialist opened the room safe. It was empty. The Samsonite attaché case which the target had with him at the airport had been tucked away flat in the corner of the closet. The position of the case was photographed before the lock specialist carefully placed it on the desk and picked the two combination locks. He opened it slowly as the photographer continued to take photos. “I don’t know how we used to do it with those tiny Minox miniature spy cameras with black and white Kodak Plus-X ASA 125 film,” the photographer wondered out loud. There were three empty film canisters over some magazines and documents. It was a dummy trap to alert if someone trampled with the case. Every piece of paper and the magazine covers were photographed using a tripod. None seemed to be important.
Mariela’s mother had for years followed the national pageants held in Cartagena every November. She stayed on top of the lives of past, present and future beauty queens, their love affairs and courtships, divorces, acquisitions and the many scandals which plagued the pageants. She just couldn’t get enough of the queens who preferred the rush of Adrenalin, bullets and incarceration over a life of tranquillity. Ohh, the drama! She was five years old in 1958 when Luz Marina Zuluaga of Manizales, the runner up to Miss Colombia who gave up her crown in order to get married, was crowned Miss Universe, a first for Colombia. The Hippie Queen in 1968 represented Bogotá as the ‘thinking woman’ on the urging of the city’s mayor and future president of the republic, Virgilio Barco. She went on stage wearing a ruana bent on demolishing the elitist event, exposed her shaved head under a wig and spoke about abortion and euthanasia. The jury awarded her the prize for Best Friend. She went on to become an anthropologist and studied violence in Colombia. When the Catholic Church objected to the bathing suit segment with threats that any girl wearing it would be excommunicated and banished from confessional schools, instead of bathing suits the more discreet participants wore fisherman’s pants and the less discreet wore shorts. The bathing suit made a comeback and drowned out the Church’s objections when the narcos began to compete against each other to have their trophy girlfriends crowned in order to kickoff a career in modelling, telenovelas, or TV broadcasting. Virginia Vallejo, the model turned television goddess, became Pablo Escobar’s mistress. When she turned on him, she was flown to Miami on a DEA plane under the protection of the US government. Years later, she would write the book Loving Pablo, Hating Escobar. Miguel Rodriguez Orejuela, the head of the Cali Cartel, took Miss Colombia 1974 as his mistress. Miss Vichada married the narco Justo Pastor Perafán. Miss Atlantic, who was labelled the Queen of the Mafia, went on to represent Colombia in the Miss Universe contest in Miami only to embarrass herself and her country. When it was revealed that Miss Amazon was...
The school was not what she expected. She looked around for clues. A large wooden crucifix hung behind the desk and a framed photograph of former president Julio César Turbay wearing his habitual bow tie hung on a sidewall. Her eyes landed on a stack of postcards on the desk. “We have under our roof pregnant girls from excellent families. We send postcards written by them to Europe and over the course of several months, have them mailed to their friends and relatives to give authenticity to their absence. The only event that we haven’t attempted to organize is a welcome at the airport.” She hadn’t tried to be humorous. “The parents and I require total confidentiality and expect the girls to be treated delicately. We want them to call us by our first name as they would their friends. At no time should they be made to feel ashamed.” Marisa was uneasy. The lie perpetrated on the hills outside Bucaramanga was that the girls were in Europe learning a new language, a rite of passage for teenagers from families who were well off or needed to appear to be well off. “The newborns?” she asked. “They’re adopted by good Catholic families. All identifying information for the children is kept confidential.” “How soon after birth?” “Within hours. The separation must be kept from the girls until the very end. The foetus is a human life which deserves to live. Even though the Constitutional Court wishes to decriminalize abortion, the Church and the Conservative Party will do everything in their power to block such a move. You understand, of course, that when the Church condemns abortions, she does it as a friend of women because she’s aware of the moral and psychological damages which abortions inflict.” “I was under the impression that you were looking for a regular teacher,” Marisa said unmannerly. “I won’t be able to work here.”
The errand boy found himself behind the steering wheel as the other drivers were on the road. He was to drive a group of chulavitas and a staunchly Catholic peasant who had fought on the conservatives’ side in the Thousand Days’ War to Santa Rosa de Viterbo. Their mission was to check into information about a man who persisted in wearing a red tie, the colour of the Liberal and Communist parties, and refused to heed warnings to remove it. The group arrived at their destination in late afternoon. Townspeople readily identified the target. The sergeant in charge listened to the investigators who had put the pieces together in little more than an hour. They spoke with a smile that the man was admired, envied and resented by his neighbours for he had fathered eight children with his wife, four more with his sister-in-law and two more with his mother-in-law. Some of the townspeople interviewed believed that he was responsible for fathering even more children but, to uphold the virtue of the women not related to him through wedlock, he refused to identify them. Most importantly, the investigators had determined that the old man had no association with the Liberal Party let alone the Communist Party. The sergeant lit a cigarette while he decided what to do. He did not want to go back to Chulavita and make a case to his commander as to why they hadn’t eliminated their target. It was important to fulfil orders. “It won’t be the first time somebody’s killed for no reason,” he concluded. He instructed Celestino who was polishing the chromed swan hood ornament on the Packard coupé without a license plate, to converse with the old man after he left the central plaza and headed home so they could cut off his tie. Celestino saw the old man turn the corner. He walked toward him and stopped to ask for the time. The old man pulled out a pocket watch. Two chulavitas came from behind and stabbed him between the shoulder blades. The man fell flat on his face. The chulavitas fled in different directions. Celestino was the last to arrive at the car. Celestino had difficulty holding the steering wheel steady driving back in the dark of night. Everyone except him laughed.
The realisation of a peaceful nation can start with even the smallest step forward: with a football game and the determination to create a brighter future for all. . A JRS Yambio project in South Sudan is making this a reality. In June, a large crowd of 1,000 people gathered together at St. Mary’s Park in Yambio, a town that has witnessed conflict and violence since late April, to enjoy a football match between the town’s two secondary schools. The match was dubbed as Unity F.C vs. Peace F.C. . During half time, participants engaged with different peace actors and agencies. They learned about the causes of conflict, the importance of listening and effective communication, challenges in their own communities, the core values of love and forgiveness, and they were asked to be peace ambassadors and spread these messages in their communities. . #refugees #IDPs #peace #future #hope #sport #football #SouthSudan
When the world is at its darkest, it's up to us to light it up. One smile at a time, one step at a time, one kind act at a time and one journey at a time, we can change the world. We promise! #love #kindness #kids #children #change #childrenfirst #care #work #westafrica #quotes #quoteoftheday #education #fitness #health #fitnessmotivation #idps #inspire #positive #photography #africa #doctors #nigeria #kindness #beautiful #ngo #music #motivate #mother
At least 1 million people, many of whom are women & children have been in need of urgent humanitarian assistance following recent inter-communal conflict in Southern #Ethiopia. Last week, heavy rains further worsened the conditions of civilians who fled violence there. @goal_global, alongside @UNHCREthiopia, @Norwegianrefugeecouncil & #SavetheChildren responded to the crisis by providing plastic sheets, sleeping mats, & fleece blankets to cater to the basic needs of some of the most vulnerable #IDPs in the region. #humanitarianaid #IDPs #globaldevelopment #emergencyresponse
In the early hours of September 22, 2010, the Omega Task Force conducted an operation in the region of La Macarena in Meta. For the entire day, the Air Force dropped bombs using 30 Kfirs and Super Tucanos equipped with precision-guided systems. The next morning, 27 Huey helicopters ferried in troops to identify the cadavers. The new president who was attending the UN’s General Assembly confirmed that one of the dead was the head of the FARC’s powerful Eastern Bloc, Victor Julio Rojas Suárez, alias Jorge Briceño Suárez or Mono Jojoy. He had died clutching an American-made M16 rifle and wearing a Rolex watch inside a concrete bunker from suffocation and collapsed lungs caused by the explosive waves from the thousand pound bombs. He had been located when either a Rolex watch or a pair of special diabetes boots en route to him were replaced by ones with a chip planted in them. Among the items the soldiers seized was an abortion registry with names, the age of the guerrillas which ranged between 12 and 18 years and their time in the organization. An Ecuadorian missionary who said she had received help from the FARC in the past was the first person who wanted to claim Jojoy’s body. It took six months for the brother to be able to claim the body. Almost immediately, paintings, murals and statues of Jojoy were elaborated with the help of university students and raised in many of the FARC’s areas of influence.
On the first anniversary of the collapse of Puerto Colombia’s wharf, a protester knelt next to the missing mid-section of the wharf and shouted his complaints against the central government for not keeping its promises. Three topless girls wobbled on the beach waving the flags of countries whose embassies the protesters intended to approach for financial assistance. They hoped that people not accustomed to public nudity not even on a beach would be shocked into action. To add drama, the group claimed that one of its members who had drowned a few months earlier had actually taken his own life to protest the state of the wharf. The protesters should have known that any money sent from Bogotá to repair the wharf would have found its way straight into the pockets of local politicians many of whose ancestors had their Colombian start at the wharf. A thousand kilometres to the south, the Minister of Defence was signing an order for government officials to dub the extrajudicial murder of innocent civilians by the armed forces, which by any objective definition were war crimes, as ‘false positives’. “This could turn very ugly,” the minister’s wife had warned. She had heard from her drivers and bodyguards that the victims were innocent peasants, common criminals, drifters and the handicapped. “It’s indefensible to randomly kill hundreds maybe thousands of innocent people and hold them out as guerrillas. It’s only a matter of time before the international justice system will want to know who had the ultimate responsibility for pressuring the military to show false results. You need to urgently get to the bottom of these monstrous killings.”
The 12th World Education Summit 2018 was held on 09-10th August at The Leela Ambience Convention Hotel, New Delhi. We were present on both days of the summit. We were one of the active participants and our president @karnnarayankumar gave his view on the session named "Re-imagining education- New paradigm and new perspective" which was held on 10th August,2018. Here is the glimpse of the same. #edu #summit2018 #world #IDPS
More than seven years after the start of the conflict in Syria, millions of people remain displaced. Every day Syrian babies, like the one pictured above, are born in exile. - You can send help to Syrian refugees right now by following the link in our bio. . . . . . . 📸: ©UNHCR/David Azia #withrefugees #refugeeswelcome #refugee #refugees #displaced #idp #idps #refugeecamp #syriacrisis #syriaconflict #syria #baby #fact #themoreyouknow #sendhelpnow #helpnow #donate
الأربعاء ( 8 اغسطس 2018 ) تستمر حملة التوزيع للمواد الغير غذائية ( سلة NFIs ) ( فرش - بطانيات - أدوات مطبخ - مصباح شمسي - حصائر - دلو ماء ) والتي ينفذها المركز المجتمعي للنازحين التابع لاتحاد نساء اليمن . حيث تم التوزيع ل 211 اسرة في مديريات ( الظهار ، المشنة ، جبله ) وقد تم التوزيع في مدرسة [ 26 سبتمبر ] بمديرية الظهار بمحافظة اب. - 120 أسرة في مديرية ( دمنة خدير - الراهده ) بمحافظة تعز وقد تم التوزيع في مدرسة [ الثورة الكويت - الثانويه ] . يأتي ذلك ضمن أنشطة المركز المجتمعي للنازحين لتقديم خدمات الحماية والإيواء للنازحين وفي اطار الاستجابة الطارئة المستمرة التي ينفذها المركز لنازحي الحديدة الواصلين الى محافظتي إب وتعز . #اتحاد_نساء_اليمن #المركز_المجتمعي_للنازحين #YWU #IDPs
On the 1st of August, Mercy Hands Emergency and Recovery Team in Anbar distributed 558 core relief items (CRI) kits for 555 families in Kilo 18 camp within a plan agreed with UNHCR to cover all IDPs in Anbar camps with CRI. Each kit consists of Hygiene kit, Rechargeable Fan, and Kerosene Jerrycan. The distribution process was preceded by an assessment conducted by MH-UNHCR joint team to check the beneficiaries’ information. #Anbar #UNHCR #IDPs #camps #Hygiene
The UN Migration Agency in Haiti has completed the first road to Canaan, a fringe, partial IDP camp community that formed after the 2010 earthquake. This new roadway will benefit approximately 200,000 Haitians currently living in Canaan, most of them with no access to electricity, toilets, essential amenities or state services. Funded by @USAID, this new infrastructure will facilitate access to jobs, schools, and hospitals located outside the community. Canaan is a tree-less district located on the outskirts of Port-au-Prince. The community is situated off a national highway, route 1, wedged between salt flats, dry mountains, and the country’s largest waste transformation plant. #USAID #IOMHaiti #IDPCamp #IDPs #Development #HaitiansOntheMove
AYAP Gənclərin Məşvərət Şurasının 15 yaşlı üzvü Əfşanə Azərbaycan Gənclər Fondunun icraçı direktoru Fərid Cəfərovla görüşdə müharibədən zərər çəkmiş bölgələrdə yaşayan minlərlə həmyaşıdının səsini çatdırıraraq, onların ehtiyac və qayğılarından danışır. 🎥🌐🌍👧 __ Miss Afshane, 15, is raising the voices of thousands of her peers living at war-affected areas, by talking about their needs & cares with Mr. Farid Jafarov, executive director of Azərbaycan Gənclər Fondu / Azerbaijan Youth Foundation. @unicef @unicefaze @unhcrpartners @un_azerbaijan @unitednations @umudmirzayev_iepf @unfpa @sdgsclub #ayap #IEPF #UNICEF #SDGs #youngleaders #youth #decision #making #leaders #adolescents #improvement #ideas #refugees #IDPs #needs #care #support #peace #nowar #happiness #Azerbaijan
"It is the JRS mission to accompany the most vulnerable, the most forgotten. None of us is asked to do “the best,” but rather, the best we can." . JRS International Director, Fr Thomas H. Smolich SJ, visited Angola, where JRS accompanies refugees from Rwanda and Congo, and Angolans displaced by civil war. . #refugees #withrefugees #IDPs #displacement #accompany #angola
As part of the Shelter-response in many Iraqi communities, RRI distributes CRI-kits (Core Relief Items) to IDP-families. These kits serve to furnish the provided shelters and to help IDPs to meet their most basic needs. The CRI-kits consist of essential items like matrasses, blankeres, quilts, water jerry cans, kerosene jerry cans, plastic sheets, sleeping mats, heater stoves, rechargeable fans, kitchen sets, cooking stoves, solar lamps, tents and many other things. #shelter #corereliefitems #idps #iraq
Regrann from @usaforunhcr - A young Syrian girl waits at the Jibreen collective shelter for aid to be distributed by UNHCR. For many internally displaced Syrians, the aid provided by UNHCR is the only access they have to food and basic household necessities. . . . . . . 📸: ©UNHCR/Antwan Chnkdji #withrefugees #refugeeswelcome #refugee #refugees #girl #younggirl #littlegirl #syria #syrian #syriacrisis #idp #idps #internallydisplaced #aid #sendhelpnow #aiddistribution - #regrann
In 2017, 16.2 million people (both #refugees & #IDPS) were forcibly displaced due to persecution, conflict or generalized violence. This equates to over 44,000 people each day, the highest number ever recorded by the @unitednations. Many faced attacks as they sought safety elsewhere. Each year on 19-Aug, the UN commemorates #WorldHumanitarianDay to remind warring parties that #Refugees and IDPs are #NotATarget
“My family and I are waiting for the day we can return to our own land.” After almost a decade of displacement and poverty, Mr. Jayaraddinam can finally return home and provide a stable future for his family, thanks to our mine clearance in northern Sri Lanka. 📷 @misshelaineous #landmines #mineaction #charity #nonprofit #NGO #humanitarian #globaldev #SriLanka #aidworks #humanitarianaid #internationaldevelopment #dogood #minefield #landmine #help #donate #aid #socialgood #giving #makeadifference #change #lka #IDP #refugees #withrefugees #IDPS #charitytuesday
These children live in a camp for displaced people in Northern Iraq where our team have vaccinated more than 42,113 young people following the recent discovery of suspected measles cases. _____ Years of armed conflict have left health services in Iraq severely disrupted. To find out how millions have been affected, click the link in our bio, then select this image again. _____ #iraq #northerniraq #northiraq #vaccinations #vaccination #measles #healthservice #doctors #immunology #doctor #msf #doctorswithoutborders #idp #idps #idpcamp
We have been informed of some #idpcamps in #jos #plateau following the incessant attacks by the herdsmen. We at www.onebook.com.ng , in conjunction with Simji girlchild empowerment initiative orphanage are in to see those we can get back to school With @sumviv making the world a better place #humanitarianworks #idps #humanitarian
Click ‘more’ for translation and tags... الْيَوْمَ التقيت بشخص كان طول عمره يحب يقوم بالعمل الانساني. والي جلب الي السعادة انو انا كنت جزء من الدافع االذي جعل هذا الشخص يتجه بهذا الاتجاه. اني جدا افرح من اسمع هذه الاشياء. شكرا لكل دعمكم، حبكم، ثقتكم وكذالك شكرا لكل انسان عنده روح العطاء، وحب مساعدة الاخرين. Today I met someone who told me that he always wanted to be a humanitarian, and mentioned that I was the biggest reason that made him actually go ahead and pursue it! Thank you for your trust, love, support. And thanks for all those who have it in them to help, and extend a hand to those in need. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . My life in pictures Picture No49 #changemaker #peacemaking #hope #iraqiwomen #humanitarianaid #lifeworthliving #love #iraq #refugees #iraqirefugees #idps #kurdistan #erbil #العراق #العمل_الخيري #العمل_التطوعي #العمل_الانساني #المرأة_العراقية #خير #كلنا_العراق #عراقي_وافتخر #sarahakahmed #travelwithsarah #arabhopemakers #الدكتورة_سارة #mylifeinpictures #الدكتورة_سارة_احمد
This photo was taken 2 years ago in Borno State, Nigeria. The children pictured were among an estimated 1.5 million forced to flee from their homes due to conflict. That estimate has now risen to 1.8 million with many still lacking health care services, shelter, water and sanitation systems. _____ Find out why so many remain 'internally displaced people' (IDPs) and what our teams on the ground are doing to help, by clicking the link in the bio. _____ Photo © Abubakr Bakri / MSF _____ #Nigeria #BornoState #Borno #IDP #IDPs #forcedtoflee #Nigerian #medicalaid #doctors #doctor #healthcare #humanitarian #humanitarianaid #medical #MSF #doctorswithoutborders #medecinssansfrontieres #panorama #swipeable #swiperight #swipeleft #instaswipe #pano #panoramic