The comedian Tiffany Haddish has been hailed by Vanity Fair as “the funniest person alive right now”...

In today’s Eritrea, there is no difference between the jailer and the jailed. The political culture is so violent and desperate that the president’s own son attempted to escape the country. President Isaias Afwerki’s erratic and mercurial temperament – he has been the head of a one-party dictatorship since independence in 1993 – has culminated in a profoundly dysfunctional nation. A “hit and run” style has replaced any thoughtful long-term planning. Not being able to count on any stable or secure future, many public servants place their energy into amassing as much capital as possible, by any available means.  The distinctive political culture of Eritrea suffers from an unclear boundary between the abuser and the victim. A guard can switch places with his/her captive at any moment. Some of the most notorious prison commanders and security chiefs who terrorized the nation with unchecked power end up in the harshest dungeons; many of them in prison facilities they have had commanded. Such perilous uncertainty enables the president to keep his subordinates guessing. In the current Eritrean political landscape, officials are usually promoted to key posts only after being humiliated and pacified through an intricate web of control designed by Afwerki. For example, Brigadier Gen. Eyob “Halibay” Fessahaye was among the first of the army’s command officers to be incarcerated for alleged corruption in the early 1990s. President Afwerki announced and read the charges against Halibay in a public seminar. Halibay was a sacrificial lamb and his incarceration a warning to the other officers. Shocked at this severe reversal of fortune just as he was preparing to take a new post as internal security chief, Halibay attempted to commit suicide twice while in jail. Later, after his release, in a bizarre twist Afwerki gave him an important post as head of a commission in charge of privatizing government houses. Having gone through the compulsory dehumanization process, Halibay now commands the Special Forces, the elite commandos. Friends who visited him during his incarceration were later rewarded bountifully after he gained power. Of course, Halibay still has no freedom; he was denied an exit visa for a medical checkup in 2016. Nesredin Bekhit is another example of the president’s tactic of cutting a rising official down to size and then rehabilitating them as a way to secure his fear-based loyalty. In the mid-1990s, Bekhit was imprisoned on corruption charges that were publicized in the national media. In 2014, after his degradation and release, he became the minister of trade and industry.  Unlike other ministers, Bekhit spends his time now on the border with the Sudan, Ali-ghider, where he runs the ruling party’s contraband business. While all imports have been outlawed to regular citizens since 2003, Mr. Bekhit can grant import permits to his close associates and former inmates. He has turned some of his friends into overnight millionaires.  Corruption among select high-ranking officials, mainly in the army, is not only allowed but encouraged. The president can use knowledge of their corrupt activities as leverage, to ensure their loyalty. With the implicit support of Afwerki, army commanders are protected in their corruption, including involvement in the complex racket of human trafficking, as long as they remain loyal. Among others, General Filipos Woldeyohannes, the chief of staff and de facto minister of defense, and others such as Brigadier Gen. Tekle “Manjus” Kiflay have the green light from the president to pursue personal gain. Most organs of the ruling party and the government collaborate in organized corruption, mainly by using intimidation and bankruptcy to control and ruin businesspeople. Yet it’s not easy to keep track of when exactly someone runs out of favor with the president. That happened recently to Mr. Yemane Tesfai, the former manager of the Commercial Bank of Eritrea, who ended up in jail for enabling various forms of corruption. Another way that President Afwerki maintains and wields power is by fomenting feuds among his subordinates. He keeps close watch on any animosity between military commanders as a primary means of fortifying his own position. It’s no secret among observant citizens that all the top military commanders and most influential government ministers bear deep animosity against one another. A grievous misreading of the president’s psyche cost Ms. Luel Ghebreab, the former chair of the National Union of Eritrean Women, her job. She mistakenly assumed it was safe to mediate a life-long feud between her husband, Major Gen. Teklai Habteselassie and the late Major Gen. Gebregziabher “Wuchu” Andemariam, when General Wuchu was bed-ridden. After Ms. Ghebreab mediated the dispute, the news quickly reached the president. He called and intimidated her, asking who had delegated her this responsibility. Then he instructed her to immediately conduct congress and vacate her post. Of course, nobody would question such orders from the head of state. Having gone through this public humiliation and left jobless for more than three years, this past July was Ghebreab reinstated as minister of labor and human welfare. The president’s application of fear and terror are manifested in different forms. He verbally and physically abuses most of his subordinates including ministers and celebrities. For example, in 2010 Afwerki granted a rare interview with Al-Jazeera English. The presenter, the South African Jane Dutton, proceeded to openly challenge Afwerki about state abuses and authoritarianism in Eritrea. Irritated by her questions, the president called the journalist “insane.” (Watch) Post-interview Afwerki struck his information minister, Ali Abdu, who had arranged the interview, in front of his staff. Abdu was once Afwerki’s mentee, whom the president treated like his son. Among the most privileged and close associates of the president, he in turn terrorized the nation’s art community and state news media into abject compliance for a decade. Yet, despite closely following Afwerki’s template of terror and repression in the Ministry of Information, he decided in 2012 that he had to flee for his own safety and sought political asylum in Australia.  As a management practice, Afwerki employs physical assault to derail confidence and instill insecurity in top government officials. This practice can become life threatening at times. About a year before his imprisonment with an alleged role in the January 2013 military mutiny, Abdella Jabir, the former head of Organizational Affairs and one of the top five executives of the ruling party (People’s Front for Democracy and Justice), was violently ambushed in the capital, Asmara, by supposedly “unidentified” assailants. Never publicized, this assault was neither a robbery nor an attack by political dissidents. Having recovered from his assault, Jabir continued his normal functions in the party until his eventual arrest.  The president treats family members as he treats his subordinates. He routinely belittles and ridicules his eldest son, Abraham, and reportedly has stopped communications with his youngest son, Berhane, over the last four years. Frustrated with the dysfunctional, corrupt system and his father’s abusive treatment, Berhane Isaias Afwerki attempted to flee the country illegally in 2015. He was intercepted by border patrols while preparing to be smuggled out from the border town of Tessenei. Initially the border security who discovered him were not aware that he was the president’s son.  It is this complex and enigmatic nature of President Afwerki that has rendered de facto the political culture of today’s Eritrea. The long-term consequences of a new nation with such political culture is not difficult to guess. * Editors’ note: Sources for this post have not been named for their protection.

When he was fifteen, the Gabonese Luc Bendza embarked on his life journey to China to follow the footsteps of his childhood movie stars, Bruce Lee and Wag Yu. Notwithstanding objections from his family, culture shock and economic hardships in China, and racism in his new country, Bendza joins a prestigious wushu academy (the kind of martial arts he wanted to master) and excels. But Bendza went beyond that, to become a professor at the school for more than 20 years; winning the first world championship of wushu; and met and worked with Jackie Chan and starred in kung fu fiilms (working with Bruce Lee's producer).  Bendza’s remarkable life is now the subject of a 72-minute documentary film, Samantha Biffot’s film “The African Who Wanted to Fly” (2015). https://vimeo.com/208480038 The documentary is shot in China, Gabon and Belgium with narrators speaking in their respective languages, mostly French and Mandarin (it is subtitled in English). Weaving back and forth in time and space, Biffot’s documentary opens with the current phase of Bendza when he accomplished “half of his dreams” and established his name. Slowly, the documentary delves into his upbringing to narrate—through his siblings and childhood friends—his obsession with Kung Fu. Born into a family of teachers in middle-class family in Gabon, Bendza, like most of his contemporaries, where other means of entertainment was little, spent his afternoons practicing martial arts. He was obsessed with Bruce Lee and attempted to mimic his gestures and utterances at home with his family and friends outside. Unlike his friends who had other lives, Bendza lived an aloof style; focusing on his ultimate goal—to fly. Already named “master” among his contemporaries at his early age, he attracted a crowd of about 300 to 500 people from his neighborhood and other far places during his King Fu shows with his group. Bendza’s life changed when he met a Chinese visitor who came to Gabon as interpreter to the Chinese medical team; Bendza befriends him and immediately impresses his guest. After noting his determination to go to China and study martial art, he agrees and helps him convince his family. As the documentary film shows, China was not easy for Bendza. Being the only black person in the whole school, combined with the lack of cultural exposure of Chinese people at that time posed serious challenges. From young students in a desolate area running away from their seats after seeing him on stage to locals who would use derogatory words on the streets even when walking with his family to his in-laws who initially resisted to allow their daughter to marry a foreigner, Bendza has gone through many cultural trials and tribulations. It is against such continuous challenges and walking in a tight rope, balancing the two cultures and nations that he eventually came all the way to accomplish his dream. In tough times when he was pushed to the edge of quitting, it was the wushu discipline that helped him continue unabated. Biffot’s excellent documentary is more than Bendza’s personal journey. Rather it seamlessly captures the popular cinema culture in many parts of Africa of the mid 1980s and early 1990s. Bendza’s aspiration has been widely shared by many young boys who dreamed of one day becoming Bruce Lee and other martial art masters. Biffot’s documentary projects how the dream of many young boys could have been had they trekked their journey. Biffot masterfully overcomes the inevitable challenge of a documentary film--the long and intensive interviews. “The African Who Wanted to Fly” breaks the long narration through music, enticing scenery of nature and footages from films, and reenactments. The soundtrack of the film has also played a key role in making easier to follow the documentary. At times, serene and melancholic instrumental Chinese music and other times vibrant hits that also combines Gabonese beats, the music transitions from one scene to the next and weaves back and forth in time and space smoothly. The underlying teachings of martial arts--living harmoniously with nature—is also manifested in documentary. The communal music performances in the parks across China is well documented and serves the purpose of breaking the monotony in the film. The making of the documentary film and watching itself is an embodiment of the wushu philosophy as it is produced in line with art of living in peace with nature that withstands violence. At bigger scale “The African Who Wanted to Fly” also helps soften the image of China in the continent where it is devolving into cheap products and market control. The popular perception of Chinese about Africa, as demonstrated in the film is, borrowed from the Western media and even becomes worse as it is copy of the original. It is mainly through such cultural exchanges and sports that perception of each other can be improved. Bendza is living testimony. Where others failed, sports and arts can bridge such gaps.

• This review is part of our round up of the films screening at Encounters International Documentary Festival taking place in Cape Town and Johannesburg from 1-11 June. For screening details visit www.encounters.co.za.

Eritrea has expelled all international correspondents and banned local private newspapers since 2001. One consequence is that Western media have had to play up their “unique” or “rare” access to “the North Korea of Africa.” Over the last two years, some leading media--having gone through endless bureaucratic hassles and rejections--such as the BBC, France 24,  The Wall Street Journal, and The New York Times  have covered Eritrea. Some independent journalists have (dis)covered Eritrea too. For many of us who lived our entire lives in the country, of course nothing is nearly revealing apart from their “sensational” stories.  (An exception was the The New Yorker’s coverage in December of a mass defection by members of the Eritrean national team.) Reporting on Eritrea has reduced into a standard template: it starts with description of how clean and peaceful the capital city, Asmara is (there is also emphasis on its Italian colonial legacy, here reduced to architecture and café culture), inhabited by friendly people. This is usually followed by long descriptions of the palm-tree-lined streets of the capital; disproportionate part on the capital’s art-deco and futuristic buildings; some confused and contradictory notes on the overcrowded cafes (with a note of the recent mass-exodus), visits to the remnants of war tanks near Asmara (linking it with the bloody war of independence) and at last interviewing the usual suspects, media-friendly officials such as Yemane Ghebreab, the ruling party’s political affairs and presidential advisor and the minister of information, Yemane Gebremeskel. The latter two get to dole out their regular scripts of “we are in emergency state and the international community should pressure Ethiopia to demarcate the borders.” Before the recent “opening-up” policy, during the tenure of Ali Abdu, former information minister who later absconded and sought asylum in Australia, many international media were allowed around Independence Day (in May) where they would strictly be escorted by the journalists of the ministry of information and end up only interviewing the President. Recently, however, Yemane Ghebreab would direct the show with an extensive briefing of each person to be interviewed beforehand, including the seemingly random “taxi drivers.” The guides-cum-interpreters are of course recruited by the party. As has consistently been the case, many Eritreans outrightly decline to be interviewed, especially by TV stations. Among the chief reasons are the institutionalized fear hammered by Eritrean national media that every expatriate, especially from the West, is as “a CIA agent” and want to destabilize Eritrea. Such narration has been inculcated among average citizens and it is very common in Eritrean cities, for random people to stop a foreigner from taking photos. This is coupled with possible warnings of government escorts before any interview where they traditionally instruct subjects what to say. Of course there is also the language barrier as English is the language of instruction in schools, but not widely spoken in the country unlike many countries of Africa. Not to mention the possible reprisal if someone openly criticizes the system be it inside or out of the country, most international correspondents also miss out on Eritrea’s closed culture. Let alone with random international journalists, even among family members between home and the diaspora, hardly do many Eritreans openly share the difficulties they are going through. The usual response is “everything is going well.” The inherent culture of fear extends to exiled Eritreans. With little changes in the ground, most political activities in the diaspora have been long-drawn-out and for many it became a never ending saga. Yet most of the recent exiles are held in a limbo state. Combinations of such independent factors have developed an incestuous culture and extremely stifling atmosphere where a random social media post will immediately be reported to the state security back home. The level of control and fear for those who live in Eritrea could be difficult to be understood by outsiders who go to Eritrea on a short visit. Such misreading of culture is execrated by the obvious lack of cooperation from Eritreans living inside the country and the journalists’ frame of reporting. As most international journalists only cover what is easily visible from outside, they can hardly delve into the layers of fear and institutional control. For example, since the beginning of October 2016, internet cafes--where the majority of Eritreans access the web via slow, dial-up connections -- started to fill out detailed identifications of users. Not to mention the restriction of movements (apart from the capital and maybe the port-city, Massawa), but it is widely manifested that most of the journalists also land in the country without doing their initial home-works. For example, it has been more a year now that President Isaias Afwerki has moved his office to a dam construction site called Adi-Halo, about an hour’s drive from the capital. None of the most recent coverages have discussed this while it is public knowledge that President Afwerki has practically abandoned his task and is working as site manager (including himself working personally working in the construction), and receiving state guests. Hardly mentioned in the international media coverage is also the bizarre salary increment, commonly referred as “Adi-Halo salary,” where the president from his construction site, gives random salary rises to selected ministries. As a result, a fresh graduate with first degree in one ministry (the country follows fixed and flat scale salary without increment) can earn about twice higher than a master’s holder who worked for ten years in another ministry. What best characterizes “Adi-Halo salary” is being so arbitrary. In addition to the regular Western framed questions routinely asked to Eritrean officials (they all have polished answers for each of them as well) such as when is Eritrean planning to conduct an election; implement constitution and ask the fate of the Eritrean-Swedish journalist, Dawit Isaak, there are also issues Eritreans want to know and be investigated. For example, despite the recent mining boom in the country, no one knows where the money is going. It is public knowledge among Eritreans that the ruling party and a clique of the President are having exclusive and unaccounted power with the mining income. Yet this has never been investigated apart from Canada’s CBC TV, although that was also mainly if the government is using free labor. There has also been a consistent misreading about who is who and who are the most influential people in the system below the President. For example, last year the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Osman Saleh, in an interview with Radio France International stated that all political prisoners and journalists who were held since 2001 are well and alive. In response, Amnesty International has issued a statement calling him to release them. Anyone who is familiar with the Eritrean situation, however, is well aware that Osman Saleh is just a symbolic minister and hardly is expected even if himself knows the fate of the political prisoners. The same is true with the Minister of Justice, Fawzia Hashim, frequently interviewed regarding the new normal of arbitrary arrests and endless underground prisons. However, the ministry of justice is just a powerless office and the generals have the highest authority in Eritrea. Despite the fact that the majority of the youth are in the military and even all civilians are armed since 2012, most international correspondents have been puzzled by the lack of crimes and violence. Of course Eritreans have been armed for generations and everyone is tired of guns. Repercussions of armed robbery or killings are also deeply ingrained in such closed and small society. As for the crowded cafes and coffee shops in the capital, there is a clear and short explanation to this: most government offices do not have work tasks to adequately keep their employees occupied and they can hardly pressure them to stay in office during work hours. Hence civil servants naturally spend most of their times in coffee shops exchanging gossip/discussing football or use it as refuge. As the economy of the country depends on informal and illegal channels, such as contraband goods and black-market exchange, those who run the informal economy use the cafes as centers; so do families. The level of migration and family disintegration of Eritrea over the last decade is beyond anyone’s grasp. Take my family, for example, out of nine siblings only three are left in the country and seven of us (six with our families) are exiled. Two out of four are exiled in my wife’s family; two out of three in my roommates’; and three out of four in my brother-in-law’s family, etcetera. The little amount of money being sent to family members at home are not good enough for saving, but to be spent in cafes with friends. This is coupled with lack of culture of saving where most people do not even have bank accounts. For example, I have worked for about six years in Eritrea, often taking more than two relatively well-paid jobs, but I never had a bank account. This is also common. Do you still want to cover Eritrea? Change your frame and do your homework before starting that derailing entry process.  

Borderlines (2015) is Michela Wrong’s debut novel. Taking the perspective of a British narrator named Paula, it tells the tale of a newly-independent fictitious African nation named North Darrar, which relapses into border conflict with its neighbour. Although the country is never mentioned, Wrong’s North Darrar looks very much like the real African nation of Eritrea. The story very much seems like a fictionalized account of events and anecdotes that took place in Eritrea in the last decade, events which Wrong has written extensively on in other publications. In this well-written novel, Wrong weaves the picture of a curious and naive British lawyer who lands in Africa for the first time, carrying with her all the stereotypical images of the continent. And, at least initially, the bond between North Darrar and Paula, seems driven by her career more than anything else. As the story unfolds, Wrong depicts a country encapsulated in an early decolonizing process, trying to present itself to the world amid acute shortages of skilled human power, resources, and paranoid political leadership. Paula encounters a society that is generous, simple, hopeful, and yet ruled by a culture of pervasive paranoia. The paranoid culture, as the narrator Paula eventually understands, results from the long years of colonial rule, isolation, and political corruption. The commingling of seclusion, detachment, and inwardly looking culture further reinforce, according to one of the characters in the novel, the trauma and mutual distrust in the society:

Half the residents are related to each other and the other half fought alongside one another during the liberation struggle. They loathe or love each other, often simultaneously (102).

The story is roughly divided into three parts. The first section is where the narrator lands in a country that is yet going through the early steps of decolonization. Described in vivid detail are: impressive and ruined buildings; hope and anxiety; sense of loss and victory; as well as the seemingly monotonous life of the diplomatic and expatriate communities. In the second part, Paula and her team collect facts and evidence about the border conflict, as part of her preparation to represent the country in the international court of justice in The Hague. The third part chronicles hopeful stories of citizens who are gradually zombified. Paula also gets involved in the internal affairs of the country, campaigning against the political system’s corruption, which effectively ends the job that sent her there in the first place. What is interesting is that Wrong’s writing avoids a simplistic over-generalization about the population of North Darrar, that reduces a people's complexity into one-dimensional stereotypes. Different characters such as Dawit, who doubles as operations and opposition; the truly devoted yet ambitious revolutionary character of Dr. Berhane; and the pleasant personality of a government agent named Abraham all help paint the book’s multi-faceted landscape. The descriptions of a monotonous and slow daily life, the wearisome entrances into the world of international law where time is jagged into an eternity, punctuated by a sudden course of actions that result in unexpected outcomes, are symbolic representations of the country and its fate. Although at times the narrative seems extended, the story also benefits from the author’s wonderful curiosity for detail. This allows the author to create an interesting picture of the country by intertwining small stories into a bigger image of a state in limbo.

Having lived all my life in Eritrea, I left the country in January 2012. Some European countries have recently claimed the situation in Eritrea has improved in order to justify accepting less Eritrean refugees. I wanted to share my firsthand experience of what daily life is like in Eritrea - a country with the highest ratio of imprisoned journalists that does not allow international media. Yesterday, a new report from the UN Commission of Inquiry on Human Rights in Eritrea said “It is not law that rules Eritreans – but fear.” National ceremonies to distract from a grim reality Eritrea is a country engaged in continuous cycles of ceremonies. The Independence Day celebration (May 24) goes on for about ten days in which the whole country shuts down and the media continuously broadcast footage of the armed struggle. It is followed by Martyr’s Day (June 20) and then a ten days long National Festival. After the festival comes the Commemoration of the Armed Struggle (September 1). Those nationalistic holidays are coupled with Christian and Muslim holidays; all are broadcast live on the national TV station. Fish is rarity in a country that has more than 1000 kms (621 miles) of sea coast. Mining is booming, but has hardly improved the deteriorating living conditions. Government employees are underpaid and therefore disfranchised. Government salaries that were restructured in 1994 do not allow for incremental raises or promotions – despite that a decade later, inflation has increased by 700 percent. With the current inflation rate, a Minister’s gross monthly salary is equivalent to less than $100.00. As a result, corruption is rampant. Private businesses were crippled when the government tightened its import policy in mid-2003. The ruling party’s company, Red Sea Corporation (09) is the sole importer of goods. Basic food commodities are rationed and allocated to families, often based on their obedience in attending party meetings and doing mandatory community work. A growing penitentiary state The three bodies of government remain dysfunctional. The military commanders continue to assume the highest authority. With their unlimited power to issue arbitrary arrests, the country has turned into one big penitentiary state with numberless underground prisons. As reported by Amnesty International, there are currently more than 10,000 prisoners of conscience. Although every Eritrean is by default a member of the Defense Army, the government also started another program in 2012. It decreed all government employees and others demobilized from the army for medical reasons would be enlisted in the reserve army, known as the militia. All civilians (aged 18 – 70) with the exception of ministers are now required to go to military drilling. Every member of the militia is required to report regularly to guard major government institutions and residences. All are armed. In addition to the frequent military training, members of the militia are also forced to leave their homes for weeks at a time to do manual labor in the dams being built around the capital. Since 2003, the last year of secondary school education has been taught in the military training center, Sawa. (The only university, University of Asmara, was officially closed in February 2006.) In the last year of secondary school, students combine military training and academic studies amid difficult weather and acute shortages of basic supplies. At the beginning students at the colleges were also doing regular military training and the colleges were under the command of the military training center. Although the military interference in the colleges has slowly eased, students continue to be watched and organized under close scrutiny of the ruling party and its many manifestations. Every summer, substantial students and young lecturers from the colleges attend a mandatory political indoctrination program in a desolate place far from the capital called Nakfa. Despite a shoot-to-kill army along the border, thousands flee daily The country’s manpower and capital have fled the country. Despite that there is not currently an armed conflict, the country has 357,400 registered refugees from a population of 6 million people. This makes it second to Syria in terms of the numbers of refugees. But leaving the country is not as easy as the staggering figures indicate. From age 6 onward, Eritreans cannot leave the country officially unless they are granted permission by the government for ‘exceptional conditions’ - like government delegates or critical medical reasons that go through a tedious screening process. The young people who are fleeing the country daily must navigate a dangerous journey across tightly secured borders guarded by an army that follows a “shoot-to-kill” policy. In very complex situations, where the border guards turn into smugglers and the security personnel selectively negotiate, some people have to pay sums of $5,000 to be smuggled by cars from the capital.   The only safe thing to talk about is football The remaining young people are stranded in Eritrea with few options. Religious practice, like any other form of individual freedom, is highly controlled. The government closed all Pentecostal churches and nationalized their properties in May 2002. Only the official Islam, Orthodox Tewahedo Church, Protestant, and Catholic faiths are allowed. Believers of the growing Pentecostal churches have to practice in hiding under the vigilant eyes of state security. If they are caught, they are imprisoned in unusual military prison centers in very tight and small ship containers until they renounce their faith. The sole alcoholic beverage and beer factory, run by the ruling party, produces a limited quantity of alcohol; alcoholic drinks are also rationed. It is only for this reason that substance abuse is not a common trend among young people living in a state of limbo. As communication with outside world is nearly impossible, people take refuge by watching European football and re-runs of Arabic dubbed Turkish soap operas; the often crowded cinema houses broadcast live football matches of Premier League or La Liga. The usual discussions and bets in public spaces are only about football. Most youth wear jerseys of the European clubs; even the President watches football and is a public Arsenal fan. My experience of life in Eritrea is best captured in the Moroccan poet Abdellatif Laâbi’s poem, “In Praise of Defeat.” As Laâbi describes: “Death has grown weary/Even peace is ugly,” because in the poet’s description, “The fear of living/has replaced/ the fear of dying.”