July 26, 2012
The mother of an unarmed black Florida teen who was shot and killed by a neighborhood watch volunteer says she is mentally prepared to handle whatever verdict or sentence is handed down to the shooter, even an exoneration.
Sybrina Fulton made the statement to reporters July 25 after she and husband Tracy Martin tearfully addressed a town hall on violence and racial healing in Cincinnati.
The couple talked mostly about their grief and the importance of preventing similar shootings.
The February shooting of their son, 17-year-old Trayvon Martin, led to nationwide protests over race and self-defense laws after police didn't arrest the shooter, George Zimmerman, for more than a month.
One of the protests was held in Cincinnati in March.
July 19, 2012
By KIM CHAKANETSA, Associated Press
Annah Nankie Nhlapo has been waiting 22 years for a home. On a dusty narrow road on the outskirts of Johannesburg, the foundation of her new house is finally taking shape.
Recently, to commemorate the U.N.-mandated Nelson Mandela International Day, housing charity Habitat for Humanity worked with volunteers to build 67 houses across South Africa, in honor of Mandela's 67 years of political service. Nhlapo is one of the lucky ones to be handed keys on Friday July 20.
For two decades, she and her five children have lived crowded into one of the flimsy shacks that sprawl across Orange Farm, a settlement named after its original purpose.
"I'm happy and I feel proud of myself because it's been a long time staying in a shack that is leaking water," said Nhlapo, a 47-year-old single mother.
That the house was built to honor Mandela resonates with Nhlapo, who sees South Africa's first black president as a champion of nation building.
Across the country, and even abroad, people were doing good deeds to honor the country's most famous statesman on his 94th birthday Wednesday July 18.
Former U.S. President Bill Clinton got the celebrations off to an early start the day before. He and daughter Chelsea met for 1 ½ hours with Mandela in his birth village of Qunu in a remote, southeastern corner of the country. Photographs tweeted by one of Mandela's grandsons showed the Nobel Peace Prize winner comfortably seated in an armchair with a blanket over his knees and with the Clintons and his wife, Graca Machel, at his side.
Then Clinton, Chelsea and Machel each planted an avocado pear tree to mark the occasion. Clinton said he is fond of the trees, an African symbol of growth and sustenance.
Children began their school day Wednesday by singing Happy Birthday to Madiba, the clan name by which Mandela is fondly known. South Africans of all colors to whom Mandela is a hero came up with creative ways to do 67 minutes of community service.
Many volunteers collected books, distributed sanitary pads and cleaned up neighborhoods. In Pretoria, a tattoo parlor was hoping to tattoo clients with 67 images of Mandela's face, with proceeds going to charity. On Constitution Hill last Saturday, artist James Delaney used coffee cups to create a mosaic of Mandela.
Asked what would be the best gift for Mandela, Nobel laureate Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu said the greatest gift the nation could give would be "to emulate his magnanimity and grace."
"Mr. Mandela taught us to love ourselves, to love one another and to love our country," Tutu said.
Mandela's 50-year fight, including 27 years in jail, helped bring democracy and freedom to the once white-ruled South Africa. But the country remains beset by tensions over continued white minority domination of the economy, massive unemployment, poor education and health services and the millions who remain homeless or in shacks.
When Mandela's African National Congress won power in 1994, the housing shortage was a priority.
Eighteen years in, informal settlements without electricity and running water have ballooned and the lack of adequate housing for the poor is at crisis point, said Kate Tissington, a senior researcher at the Socio-Economic Rights Institute of South Africa.
"You get the sense from government officials that there is a never-ending battle to eliminate the housing backlog," she said.
Some 3 million homes have been built for some of South Africa's 50 million people, according to Xolani Xundu, spokesman for the government Department of Human Settlements. But 2.2 million more homes are needed, he said.
Tissington said population growth and the influx of people into cities and towns have contributed to the crisis.
The high demand and low supply makes informal settlements, like Nhlapo's shack at Orange Farm, a viable option.
Government-subsidized housing, often built on cheaper vacant land on the outskirts of urban developments, is not always linked to bus routes or services such as clinics, making it even more difficult for people to survive.
Corruption is another factor undermining efforts, as sometimes people who do not necessarily qualify end up being allocated subsidized housing, Tissington said. This creates a lot of tension.
"A lot has been happening in political and policy circles over the years," Tissington said, "but implementation on the ground has not kicked in and people are getting increasingly impatient with living with compromised access to basic services."
Every day there are protests, sometimes violent, against the lack of housing and other basic services like electricity and potable water.
Ryan Horsfield, a volunteer who had taken two days off work to help build the homes at Orange Farm, believes citizens also have a role to play.
"I don't think it's up to us to sit back and say the government must do it or not. If something is not happening we should all get in and try make it happen," he said.
Which is exactly what Mandela had in mind when he retired from politics at age 90 and told the world that "It's in your hands to make the world a better place."
July 19, 2012
William Raspberry, who became the second black columnist to win a Pulitzer Prize for his widely read syndicated commentaries in The Washington Post, died Tuesday July 17. He was 76.
Raspberry had prostate cancer and died at his home in Washington, his wife, Sondra Raspberry, told The Post. A Post spokeswoman confirmed his death.
Raspberry, who grew up in segregated Mississippi, wrote an opinion column for the Post for nearly 40 years. More than 200 newspapers carried his column in syndication before he retired in 2005.
He won the Pulitzer for commentary in 1994. His columns often dealt with urban violence, the legacies of civil rights leaders and female genital mutilation in Africa.
Raspberry started at The Post in 1962 as a teletype operator and began working as a reporter within months. In 1965, he covered the riots in the Watts section of Los Angeles, and he began writing a column on local matters a year later.
At the time, the only nationally syndicated black columnist in the mainstream media was Carl Rowan. Raspberry’s column moved to The Post’s op-ed page in 1970.
“Bill Raspberry inspired a rising generation of African-American columnists and commentators who followed in his path, including me,” said Clarence Page, a Pulitzer-winning columnist with the Chicago Tribune.
Although he considered himself a liberal, Raspberry’s moderate, nuanced positions on issues including civil rights and gun control garnered criticism from both the right and the left. He was especially concerned with the problems of ordinary people. He told Editor & Publisher magazine in 1994 that reporters could “care about the people they report on and still retain the capacity to tell the story straight.”
He taught journalism for more than 10 years at Duke University. A collection of his columns, “Looking Back at Us,” was published in 1991.
The son of two teachers, Raspberry was born in 1935 in the northeastern Mississippi town of Okolona. He attended Indiana Central College, now the University of Indianapolis, and joined The Post after a stint as a public information officer with the Army.
July 19, 2012
By HENRY C. JACKSON and SOPHIA TAREEN,
When Rep. Jesse Jackson Jr. disappeared last month for a mysterious medical leave, it took weeks for anyone in Washington to even notice.
It was a measure of the disconnect between his famous name and his stature on Capitol Hill. The 47-year-old son of the legendary civil rights leader has become simply a congressman who can deliver the pork back home.
Jackson arrived in Washington 17 years ago with a star quality that set him apart from his 434 colleagues in the House. Yet he has never lived up to those high expectations on the national stage, gaining a reputation in the nation’s capital for quixotic pursuits such as trying to impeach President George W. Bush and push through constitutional amendments that had no chance at all.
One big reason given for his failure to rise to a more statesmanlike role is the cloud of suspicion that has hung over him for more than three years because of his dealings with corrupt former Gov. Rod Blagojevich.
“He was, up until about 2008, clearly a rising star,” said Dick Simpson, a former city alderman and a political scientist at the University of Illinois at Chicago. “After that his whole reputation collapsed, and he’s not been able to move forward.”
None of that seems to matter in his Chicago-area district, where the Democrat has brought home close to $1 billion in federal money and won every election since 1995 in a landslide.
Now, many of his constituents are willing to cut him some slack over the way he has released only scant details about his medical condition in recent weeks.
Ford Heights Mayor Charles Griffin said that Jackson’s health is a private matter and that he has no problem with the way the congressman hasn’t disclosed his location or detailed his condition beyond calling it a “mood disorder.” Griffin’s town of about 2,700 people is one of the poorest in Illinois, and Jackson was key in bringing it drinking water from Lake Michigan.
“I have no idea what his relationship is on the national level,” Griffin said. “The only thing I know is that he’s ... been successful in bringing back resources and funds to do things to get things moving. And that’s the type of approach we need.”
While Jackson clearly once had his sights set on becoming a senator or the mayor of Chicago, he seems resigned to playing the role of a politician devoted to local issues. He said earlier this year that the late-1990s water project in Ford Heights was a highlight of his career, not his role as Barack Obama’s campaign co-chairman, which earned him a speaking spot at the 2008 convention.
“When I first went to Congress, I promised to bring fresh water to Ford Heights,” Jackson said. “That promise has been fulfilled.”
The Rev. Jesse Jackson’s eldest son was groomed for the national political scene from the beginning, it seemed.
He attended a top private school in Washington and earned a law degree and a master’s in theology. He has bragged about spending his 21st birthday in jail after being arrested in an anti-apartheid protest. He co-wrote books with his father and developed his own charismatic speaking style, one that is often punctuated by vigorous pointing with a raised index finger.
Shortly after taking office, he was deemed People magazine’s Sexiest Politician in 1997. He became one of the most outspoken and most quoted liberals in the House. An almost Hollywood buzz broke out over his svelte new figure in 2005 when he quietly dropped 50 pounds, disclosing months later that he had had weight-loss surgery.
But he also put significant time and energy behind a raft of big-ticket liberal ideas that largely went nowhere.
In 2001, after Bush took office, Jackson began to push constitutional amendments that would guarantee a right to universal health care and housing. In 2007, he was one of a small number of lawmakers to call for articles of impeachment against the president. Earlier this year, he pushed for a raise in the minimum wage, an idea that never stood a chance in the GOP-dominated House.
His highest-profile project in the district, a proposed third airport in the Chicago area, never went anywhere over questions of who should run it and whether it was needed.
Jackson was expected to have distinguished himself more by now.
“He’s got one of the most recognizable names in the country. It carries its burdens and is one that he wanted to attain some kind of national visibility,” said Alan Gitelson, a Loyola University political science professor. But “we can’t point to any area where Congressman Jackson has marked himself as a leader. His role has been relatively more homestyle than anything else.”
Political experts say one explanation was that he was too busy eyeing other offices. He is also under investigation by the House Ethics Committee over allegations he discussed raising money for Blagojevich in 2008 so that the governor would appoint him to Obama's vacant Senate seat.
In recent years, Jackson has spent much of his time addressing both the Blagojevich allegations and an extramarital affair that became public via the former governor’s trial. For much of the past three years, Jackson avoided public appearances and largely refused to do interviews. He did not even host an election night party after he won in 2010.
Still, Jackson has a seat on the powerful Appropriations Committee, a perch that — until the House GOP takeover in 2010 — allowed him to steer big money to his district. That has earned him respect and loyalty.
Earlier this year, he fended off his first real Democratic challenge, crushing former Rep. Debbie Halvorson with 70 percent of the vote even after the congressional map was redrawn in a way that added rural and white voters to his largely black, Democratic and urban district.
Jackson’s two little-known challengers in November — a postal carrier running as an independent and a Republican college professor — have seized on his medical leave to talk about the congressman’s shortcomings. His colleagues have called for more information, but only when asked.
“He should be more forthcoming,” said Rep. Luis Gutierrez, a fellow Chicago Democrat. “That’s what’s best for him ... so that all his friends can be much more supportive and it will stop giving his enemies ammunition.”