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HARARE: IS IT REALLY THE WORST CITY ON EARTH? dodie ste®eo p®odu©tion ™ Page 1 of 12 For a change, I don’t want to discuss politics. I don’t want to debate whether big bad Bob Mugabe is actually an African national hero, as many on this continent believe, or some brutal dictator, as we are told relentlessly by the ABC, CNN, NBC, BBC, The Economist, virtually the entire Western establishment media. ‘Data’ about Zimbabwe is developed somewhere, to serve Western political interests, and then it is recycled, repeated by hundreds of websites all over the Internet. Old reports are not updated when the situation improves. Incorrect statistics are hardly challenged. I don’t want to discuss all this now. One day I might, and in great detail. Now the world is in turmoil: President Hugo Chavez is dead; he passed away or, as some believe, he was assassinated. And this poor and ravished continent – Africa – is experiencing the latest wave of carnage sponsored and organized by several Western nations. From West Africa to Somalia, from Mali to DR Congo, flames, tanks, aircraft, drones, and also misery and hopelessness are once again killing millions. As Chavez, proud leader of the global opposition and a favourite punching bag of Western propaganda, was put to rest, I took off from Nairobi. Three hours later I found myself approaching Harare International Airport, endless plains and fantastic rock formations under the wing of the Brazilian-made Embraer of Kenyan Airways. I had to do it; I had to come, as a gesture, as my tribute to the Latin American revolution, as my internationalist duty towards Africa. Instead of mourning Chavez, I decided to continue working for the revolution that he triggered and which I always tried to be part of. ‘The world’s least liveable city on earth’, I read before coming here, ‘The worst city on earth’. There were expat surveys, surveys by The Economist, and at some point surveys that ‘leniently’ depicted Harare as the 4 th worst city on earth, not the worst, in 2012. I am used to working in war zones and in the most hopeless and dangerous slums. I am used to the cities of the sub-Continent, of DR Congo, of Haiti. I survived many Western outposts all over the world, officially glorified but collapsed urban centres like Jakarta, Nairobi, Kampala, Djibouti, Phnom Penh, and Cairo. I was not afraid of ‘horrible’ Harare. But I was not convinced by reports coming from the West. That’s why I decided to return to Zimbabwe. Once again, I would use my own eyes

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For a change, Idon’t want todiscuss politics.I don’t want todebate whetherbig bad BobMugabe isactually anAfrican nationalhero, as manyon this continentbelieve, or somebrutal dictator,as we are toldrelentlessly bythe ABC, CNN, NBC, BBC, The Economist, virtually the entire Western establishment media.

‘Data’ about Zimbabwe is developed somewhere, to serve Western political interests, andthen it is recycled, repeated by hundreds of websites all over the Internet. Old reports arenot updated when the situation improves. Incorrect statistics are hardly challenged.

I don’t want to discuss all this now. One day I might, and in great detail.

Now the world is in turmoil: President Hugo Chavez is dead; he passed away or, as somebelieve, he was assassinated. And this poor and ravished continent – Africa – is experiencingthe latest wave of carnage sponsored and organized by several Western nations. From WestAfrica to Somalia, from Mali to DR Congo, flames, tanks, aircraft, drones, and also miseryand hopelessness are once again killing millions.

As Chavez, proud leader of the global opposition and a favourite punching bag of Westernpropaganda, was put to rest, I took off from Nairobi. Three hours later I found myselfapproaching Harare International Airport, endless plains and fantastic rock formations underthe wing of the Brazilian-made Embraer of Kenyan Airways.

I had to do it; I had to come, as a gesture, as my tribute to the Latin American revolution, asmy internationalist duty towards Africa. Instead of mourning Chavez, I decided to continueworking for the revolution that he triggered and which I always tried to be part of.

‘The world’s least liveable city on earth’, I read before coming here, ‘The worst city on earth’.

There were expat surveys, surveys by The Economist, and at some point surveys that‘leniently’ depicted Harare as the 4th worst city on earth, not the worst, in 2012.

I am used to working in war zones and in the most hopeless and dangerous slums. I amused to the cities of the sub-Continent, of DR Congo, of Haiti. I survived many Westernoutposts all over the world, officially glorified but collapsed urban centres like Jakarta,Nairobi, Kampala, Djibouti, Phnom Penh, and Cairo.

I was not afraid of ‘horrible’ Harare. But I was not convinced by reports coming from theWest. That’s why I decided to return to Zimbabwe. Once again, I would use my own eyes

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and ears and my own brain, challenging the official propaganda coming from London andWashington.

Downtown Harare, worst city on earth?????Harare International Airport is simple but modern. The staff appears to be unmotivated andslow, but they are friendly and in possession of great sense of humour. There is no tensionand there are no insults, no power games, as at Nairobi airport, or in Phnom Penh. Nothrowing passport to your face and no finger printing and photographing, as is done at allthird world airports that are known for sending intelligence to the West; from Bangkok toNairobi.

After I purchase my visa on arrival, immigration officers can’t find change. I have to wait forfive minutes. While I am waiting, we chat about the Kenyan elections and problems.

Soon after, I am driven through green and quiet streets, some carrying fairly interestingnames like Benghazi and Julius Nyerere, towards Harare’s modern and elegant city centre.

Right from the beginning, something just does not feel right. The worst city on earth: Isearch for sandbags and gunners like in New Delhi or Mumbai, for gangs roaming the streetslike in Colon in Panama, for the garbage-clogged rivers and horrid pollution of Jakarta orAlexandria. I see nothing like that here; no appalling slums and no burning fires, real ormetaphoric.

There are a few beggars on the sidewalks, but less than there are in New York or Paris. Thepavement is often broken, uneven, even potholed, but it is nothing compared to Kampala,Nairobi or Mombasa.

And then, as I am slowly approaching my hotel in the centre of the city, it strikes me that, atleast through the window of a car, Harare could be described as a beautiful city! Of course, itis not as stunning as Cape Town, it is on a much smaller scale, but in a very modest way it isvery attractive.

I pinch myself. I blink few times, quickly. I ask my driver to slap my face, but he refuses.“Why, sir?” he appears bewildered.

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“But…” I mumble. “Harare appears to be a very nice place.”“It is”, replies driver.“But…” I continue to wonder, “It is supposed to be the most terrible town on earth.”“Who says?”“The newspapers in the West… The reports, surveys…”“Oh”, the driver smiled. “Then we should slap their faces, not yours. For lying, you know…”

Harare from the mountains.I suggest this: let’s not talk about the President and about the past and political present ofthe country. Let me just take you for a long walk through Harare, so you can get to knowthe city described by our propagandists as the worst, absolutely the worst, in the world. Andlet me throw a few images into the bargain.

Just stay by my side and let’s walk, for several days, searching for the truth.

But before we stroll, let’s listen to some voices from the UK and the US – those that aremanufacturing public opinion all over the world.

On 07th September 2011, iAfrica reported:A top research group on Thursday rated Zimbabwe’s capital as the worst of 140 world citiesin which to live. The British-based Economist Intelligence Unit said its researchers excludedcities in Libya, Iraq and other war zones. Harare, where power and water outages occurdaily, scored a 38 percent “liveability rating,” the group said.

The group said the threat of civil unrest and the availability of public health care and publictransport in Harare were intolerable. Energy and water supplies were undesirable, it said,calling phones and Internet services uncomfortable…

In 2009 the BBC claimed that Zimbabwe’s women had an average life expectancy of 34 yearsand that men on average did not live past 37. That information was duplicated by countlesswebsites.

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Other BBC reports were republished word by word by thousands of news and referenceoutlets, including Wikipedia:

The health system has more or less collapsed. By the end of November 2008, three ofZimbabwe’s four major hospitals had shut down, along with the Zimbabwe Medical School,and the fourth major hospital had two wards and no operating theatres working. Due tohyperinflation, those hospitals still open are not able to obtain basic drugs and medicines.

Predictably, the official propaganda news agency of the UK threw in colourful words like‘genocide’ and ‘tragedy’, and selected quotes from several medics who blamed the situationon the Zimbabwean government.

Not one glimpse of diversity, no arguments from ‘the other side’.

Not even a word about what the majority of those in the Southern part of Africa believe, oreven what some members of the Western establishment have recently confirmed.

According to African Globe [17th November 2012]:The United States government has, for the first time, admitted that the illegal sanctions itimposed destroyed Zimbabwe’s economy and were hurting ordinary people.

Incoming US Ambassador to Zimbabwe David Bruce Wharton made the admission yesterdayat a media roundtable discussion in Harare and pledged to work with authorities inZimbabwe and the US to normalize relations.

The admission comes after the World Diamond Council said it was also engaging the USgovernment and the European Union to lift sanctions they imposed on Marange diamonds,despite Zimbabwe having received the Kimberly Process Certification Scheme nod to exportthe gems.

But I promised: no politics… Let’s just walk and see.

The ‘Trauma Centre & Hospital Harare’ is in a quiet part of the city and it could easily qualifyas one of the most elegant medical facilities I have seen elsewhere in the world. It is stylish,full of artwork and at the same time high-tech and immaculately clean.

I greet two representatives working at the reception area. One of them is Ana – a young,sophisticated lady who came to Zimbabwe from Serbia.

“I came here to see whether Harare has any operation theatres”, I mumble, suddenly feelingembarrassed. “You see, there are some reports that say that the capital shut down all of itshospitals, or at least all its operation theatres.”

‘Now it’s out’, I thought, expecting blows. Instead I receive big and welcoming smile.

“Would you like some water, of coffee? We can show you around. Before you came, therewas already one film crew that was investigating the same issue.”

I am taken to a high-tech emergency room, equipped with the latest technology. Then I amasked to take off my shoes, and to change my clothes. Next thing I realize, I am wearing awhite coat and being taken through a sterilization room to two operation theatres that look

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more like the interior of a space ship. Surgery rooms are not the places where I wouldnormally choose to spend my evenings, but these are damn beautiful surgery rooms! And,above all, despite what they say in London, they actually do exist!

“Let me take one photo of you, standing next to the operation theatre, so they don’t say inEngland or the US that the images are pirated from some medical journal”, Ana sayslaughing.

“We have specialized Laminar flow theatres used for Key Hole surgery, and Orthopaedics…” Ikeep taking notes. I have no clue what is she talking about, but what I see looks definitelyimpressive. Ana continues: “Thoracic and Vascular Surgeons are available at the Hospital. Wehave neurosurgeons on call…”

After the tour I am invited to drink coffee with Dr Vivek Solanki, owner of the hospital.

“I should not be speaking about the competition”, he smiles, “but in Harare we have plentyof operational hospitals, with decent to excellent operation theatres. It is all propaganda,about the medical care in this country. Of course, there was a very short and tough periodaround 2008, but it did not last long.”

I ask doctor Solanki whether this super modern and efficient hospital is only for the richest ofthe rich.

“I have introduced a new concept here”, he explains, passionately. “Of course this is aprivate hospital, but we are determined to serve the Zimbabwean people. So, in contrast towhat happens in the US, here, when the ambulance, taxi or the relatives bring a patient tous, a patient who needs emergency treatment… no matter how complicated the case is, wetreat the patient, regardless whether he or she has money or insurance. We never ask, andnever check whether he or she can pay. We stabilize the patient first, and only after he orshe is out of danger, the choice is given: if he or she chooses to pay, we keep the patient. Ifnot, we transfer him or her to a state hospital, and charge nothing for saving their life. Wealso treat babies under 6 months, as well as elderly over 70, for free.”

“We lose money”, whispers Ana, expressing outrage, half-jokingly. “But he owns the place,and there is nothing we can do about it.”

“I became a doctor thanks to the President”, volunteers Doctor Solanki. “The education inthis country is free. I am Zimbabwean, a third generation Indian. I received help when Ineeded it. Now I have to give back to my country. I build hospitals. I am a doctor. I knowhow to cure people, save lives. That’s what I have to do.”

In the car, as I am driving towards the city centre, I receive a text message from Nairobi:“Life expectancy in Zimbabwe for women is 34 and for men it is 37 – incorrect. Evenaccording to the CIA Fact Book 2012, the life expectancy at birth in Zimbabwe was 51.82est., higher than South Africa, where it stands at 49.41 est.”.

“It is all because of AIDS”, sights my driver. “That nose-dived our life expectancy. But youknow, things are getting much better here, lately, and everyone who is honest would tell youthat, no matter what they think about the President. For instance, we get all that anti-

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retroviral treatment for free here. We also get free condoms, as well as plenty of informationfrom the government.”

“They also get help from China”, I am told later, by one of the UN staffers working in Harare.“China provides doctors and free medicine. It helped this country a lot.”

In the ‘big operation theatre’ at Harare Trauma Centre.Suffering from Western sanctions, the Zimbabwean economy collapsed. Since then it hasbeen undergoing slow but steady recovery.

I am sorry, again; we said ‘no politics’. We said ‘let’s just go for a walk’. So here is my arm.Let’s resume our slowly stroll through the city.

Right next to my hotel is the entrance to a magnificent swimming complex, Les BrownMunicipal Pool. I don’t know whether it is public or not, and I forgot to ask, but it appears tobe. Right next to it are Harare Gardens, a beautiful English-style park with people resting onthe grass, enjoying picnics, and reading.

To have such public and ‘open’ areas like parks is unthinkable in Jakarta, where there is onlyone public green area of substantial size, MONAS. And Jakarta is a monster with 12 millioninhabitants, while Harare has a population of only two million. Two million that are enjoyingseveral magnificent parks and gardens, wide sidewalks and art exhibited in public areas, allover the city.

But let’s not forget – Harare is a ‘defiant’ nation, a country that refuses to fall on its kneesand to salute its tormentors. While Jakarta and Phnom Penh are the capitals of two marketfundamentalist countries. They are choking on their own fumes, they have almost nothingthat could be defined as public left, but in the eyes of Western regime, they can’t be as badas Harare, Caracas, Havana or Beijing! They are enjoying great immunity fromuncomfortable questions; as well as full, hearty support from business-religion publicationslike The Economist.

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There are also almost no public spaces in other African capitals that have been serving asWestern client states for year and decades, like Kampala, Kigali, Addis Ababa and Cairo,although, in the latter, at least, people are able to gather on the city’s bridges.

But Harare, we are told, is the worst city on earth!

There seems to be no crime in the city, and there are no disagreements about this. BlackZimbabweans and White Zimbabweans, foreign experts, cops and doctors – I spoke to allthose groups – they all say that Harare is one of the safest cities on African continent. InNairobi or Tegucigalpa, in Port-au-Prince, you cannot walk down the street because of fear ofviolent crime. The level of danger for Indian women in New Delhi and other cities of the Sub-Continent is almost as high as it is in war zones.

But it is Harare – one of the safest cities in sub-Saharan Africa – that is depicted as the ‘leastliveable’ city on earth.

I look around and I notice that the people lying on the grass, or, at least, many of them, arereading newspapers and magazines. Why do they do it? First of all, because they are literate;because this is the most literate nation on the entire continent, from Suez to the Cape ofGood Hope.

According to All Africa from 14th July 2010:Zimbabwe has been ranked as the country with the highest literacy rate in Africa taking overfrom Tunisia, the latest UNDP Statistical Digest shows. Tunisia has held pole position foryears with Zimbabwe second best and number one in Sub-Saharan Africa. Zimbabwe’sliteracy level currently stands at 92 percent, up from 85 percent while Tunisia remains on 87percent.

“It shows how literate, how educated is Zimbabwe”, I am told by a senior UN official workingfor the UNEP in Nairobi, who for obvious reasons does not want to be identified. “When youwork with Zimbabweans, things get done. Things are working there. It is real tragedy that somany top professionals had to leave for South Africa during the crises. Zimbabwe is a victimof defamation campaign conducted by Western media outlets. Can the same be said aboutPresident Jacob Zuma of South Africa?”

Could it be that things are not so bad in Harare? There are several decent hospitals,preventive medical care, the highest literacy rate, some of the lowest crime rates on thecontinent, and public spaces all around.

Of course there are recurring electric blackouts in Harare, but not more frequent than inNairobi, Kampala, Kigali, Mombasa, Lagos, Addis Ababa, Jakarta, Dhaka, Colombo, tomention just a few places. Water supply desires to be better, but it could be hardly definedas a tragedy as it definitely is in Indonesia, Sub-Continent and most of Africa. Government isshort of cash, and it has serious problems with garbage collection and recycling. But despitethat, Harare still looks very clean by Africa standards and more at par with much wealthierKuala Lumpur than with the cities like Manila or Surabaya.

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Harare National Library at sunset.Not influenced by horrible reports coming from the UK and the US, left to my own impartialjudgment, I could easily believe that this is one of the most liveable towns in the SouthernHemisphere.

But that’s exactly the point: I am not supposed to be left to my own judgment. I am notsupposed to evaluate, objectively, what my eyes are seeing and what my ears are hearing. Iam supposed to be pre-conditioned, told how to see things and even how to analyze what Isee.

Mr. Hezekiel Dlamini, Advisor for Communication and Information at UNESCO Office inHarare, is originally from Swaziland, but he was based for many years in Ghana, France andKenya, before accepting post in Zimbabwe. He blends in well with this country, which hefinds ‘beautiful’ and ‘comfortable':

“It is much quieter here than in Nairobi,” he explains. “In Harare, culture is very importantand very diverse and interesting. You can get true, vibrant and traditional local culture in thecentre and in other parts of the city, or you can drive to Borrowdale just a few miles away,as well as to other suburbs, and there you get what is common in the South African whitesuburbs or in Cape Town – all those luxury malls, movie theatres showing latest releases,posh cafes.”

We are sitting in a simple but comfortable café, near the glass wall of the National ArtGallery. It is quiet, almost serene here. Several impressive art exhibitions are taking placeinside the institution, while vast sculpture park is dotted with dating couples dressed in theirbest attire, sitting on the grass. Like in Nicaraguan parks, young people come here to holdhands and whisper intimate confessions in the shade of impressive artwork, instead of sittingin some stereotypical chain cafe in the middle of depressing and dull shopping malls,listening to banal music or loud announcements.

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“You can eat local food, you can eat in several Chinese places, and there are Indianrestaurants, Portuguese restaurants, even few sushi places.”

Mbare Township – as bad as it gets in Harare.“Are whites really suffering here, as we are told by Western media?” I ask.

“Of course not!” Hezekiel is laughing. “Just drive to any of their suburbs. Go to Sam Levy’sVillage or to any other big mall. You will see – things are still segregated, not because of thegovernment, but because of the white minority. They have all they want in their suburbs;their managed to create their own universe. If I bring my daughters to a white school, theywill say ‘no’. They will not tell me that it is because I am black African; they will argue thatthe school is full. And the government can do nothing about the situation.”

I drive to posh suburbs equipped with golf courses, sports clubs, beautiful pedestrian malls,supermarkets stuffed with the most exquisite food products imported from South Africa andEurope, with elegant cafes and designer stores selling Hermes and LV garments.

It is all here. By then, I understand nothing.

Harare has everything! How could anyone think for one second that this is a hell on earth?

I said ‘no politics’; not this time… But let me at least ask couple of rhetoric questions: isthere any reason why this country is suffering from sanctions and humiliation, from viciouspropaganda and demonization, other than because it has decided to re-distribute its land; or,because it made an attempt to stop Rwanda from performing yet another coup in DR Congoon behalf of Western companies and governments; or because it co-operates with China inthe mining of diamonds; or because it is firmly rejecting Western imperialism?

What about misery, what about slums?” I ask my friend Hezekiel, few hours later.

“There is Mbare slum”, he explains. “But it is not as terrible as Kibera or Matare in Nairobi.”

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I drive there. Mbare is not a friendly suburb, but it is small, at most one-kilometre square butprobably much smaller. It looks more like South Bronx than Cité Soleil in Port-au-Prince. Ithas basic infrastructure, including sport facilities. While places like Kibera slum in Nairobi arehousing hundreds of thousands, some say one million people, crammed in inhumanconditions; the population of Mbare must be at most ten or twenty thousand.

Historic Harare Mountain and Fort Salisbury are just five minutes drive from Mbare. There isyet another public park there and a commanding view of the historic city centre and theimpressive city skyline.

There is an old, British commemorative sign, which refers to settlers as ‘pioneers’.

“Pioneers!” laughs my driver, sarcastically. “Some pioneers!”

Few young men are busy doing push-ups. It is all very tranquil, and somehow comforting. Ihave no idea why, but it feels like being back in South America, in some part of it.

“No security issues?” I smile.

“Look”, my driver gets started. He has critical mind and wonderful sensed of humour. “InSouth Africa, if you pull out a 100 Rand banknote in some public place, you could get killed.There, that amount of money can fill a few shopping bags, easily. In Zimbabwe, you pull out100 Rand note; people would laugh at you, because it is worth nothing. Things are soexpensive.” Group of athletes stops their push-ups and begins to laugh.

“You are right”, one of them says. “You are so right.”

Soon, a small circle is formed and people plunge passionately into discussion about the foodprices, security and upcoming elections. There is no fear like in Rwanda or Uganda, notension like in Djibouti, Kenya or Ethiopia; all those Western client states.

Nobody calls me names, nobody points fingers at me; I am included in their conversation.

They love their country. Dollarization made prizes high, and Western embargos crippled theeconomy. But people are resilient and tough, and very kind at the same time.

“Why have you come?” Asks one of the athletes.

“Because they keep writing, in the West, that Harare is the worst city on earth”, I reply. “AndI know it is a lie. So I came to write about it – to say that it is a lie.”

“Why? What do you care? We all know it is a lie. This is a very nice city, isn’t it? But we feelpowerless. They write those slanderous things about us, and as a result, nobody comes…Tourism collapsed. Our great ancient cities, our national parks – all are empty now. Whowants to come to the country with such a horrible reputation?”

“Why did you come to dispute those lies?” Asks the second athlete.

I think for a while, I am silent. Then I tell them: “In Venezuela, far away from here,President Hugo Chavez died… Or he was murdered. We still don’t know. When it happened, Iwas in Nairobi, but Nairobi is the Western outpost and to be there did not feel right. Ineeded to fight – to fight against so many things, especially against the propaganda that

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comes from the West. South America is very far, and I decided to come to Zimbabwe. Atleast for a few days.”

There was a silence, long and deep. And then one of the athletes comes close to me, hugsme and says: “Good you are here. I understand. Thank you for coming.”

Book Cafe night club with traditional Zimbabwen dances.At night I go to ‘Book Café’ to hear traditional Zimbabwean music. And close to Midnight Imanage to get into the immense Harare International Convention Center (HICC), wheremore than 6.000 people are awaiting appearance of one of the greatest South African artists– Zahara – a musician, songwriter and a poet.

In this ‘most terrible city on earth’, those thousands of people are roaring and dancing toZahara’s rhythms, whispering her lyrics; while there are no fights, no skirmishes, no littering,no rapes, no violence.

I walk back to my hotel, in the middle of the night, alone, safe, endlessly impressed,suddenly in-love with the city that has been standing tall despite embargos, intrigues, andslander coming from the old and new colonial masters of the world.

As I am strolling, briskly, through the wide and well-lit sidewalks of Zimbabwean capital city,I am thinking about the Cuban medical brigades. These people – brilliant and selfless doctorsand medics – have been deployed wherever the need for internationalist help arises, be itdue to a conflict or a natural disaster.

This is exactly what we – writers, filmmakers, and journalists – need to create, to encourage,to staff: International Investigative Brigades, units that could uncover the outrageous liesand propaganda and nihilism, those appalling by-products of the regime and the Empire.

We needed to form them very soon, before it gets too late.

Meanwhile, although I was walking alone, I did not feel lonely.

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In my mind, I kept repeating to some abstract reader of mine: “Thank you for joining me; fortaking this long and wonderful walk. Not everything is lost, yet. Not everyone is sold. Thereare millions of people, many countries that are still resisting, upright, not on their knees.”