The Rotana swimming pool in Khartoum - favoured Saturday venue of Sudan's expat aid workers

There’s a fascinating blog post by Duncan Green, Oxfam GB’s head of research, about whether the charity should open up its guest house swimming pool in Nairobi. Apparently it’s closed at present for fear of…

Reputational risk – back in the UK, where swimming pools are luxury items, Oxfam’s big cheeses saw a tabloid scandal in the making and closed it (see right, the blue of the pool is a protective tarpaulin, not water). It didn’t help when some bright spark decided to advertise for a swimming pool attendant on the Oxfam website……

Swahili Street has an interesting response:

The aid business is a very strange world. It sees itself as a world apart, which is self fulfilling. Thinking that yours is a world apart leads to both guilty hand wringing, as seen in Oxfam’s empty pool, and also a deeply unattractive  sense of entitlement, as seen in some of the comments on the post.

I think this hits the nail on the head. Charities have a lot to think about in East Africa. The billions of pounds poured into Somalia, Kenya, Uganda and the rest have made little difference to sustainable development. There’ll be another famine scare in the Horn in a year or so’s time, despite the 2011 appeals. Few of them dare speak out about the corruption and poor governance that means the region cannot move forward. And at times, the charities seem more interested in beating the others to funds (such as the occasion Oxfam moved forward its Darfur appeal to beat an upcoming one by the Disasters Emergencies Committee).

There is plenty for the charities to mull. The issue is not a sodding swimming pool. After all, I’ve swum with plenty of aid workers in plenty of pools across the region.

“It’s very simple, there’s an inherent conflict of interest for the security detail that’s arranged. The only evidence I have is on the Blackberries. What if they were confiscated when I arrived or just snatched out of my hand? Then the whole evidence process changes.”

He said he would have been happy to return if his safety was guaranteed by the military. But was upset when the Interior Ministry took responsibility instead.

One sure fire to try to stop Mr Ijaz coming was certainly to give responsibility for his safety to Rehman Malik, the man in charge of Benazir Bhutto’s security on the day she died, and part of the government that Mr Ijaz’s allegations could bring down.

In some ways the no-show suits both parties. Mr Ijaz’s evidence is looking less credible by the day and he now has a useful excuse not to come. And for a government facing multiple threats it neutralises one of the risks to its survival – for now.

But once again in Pakistan, we’re left wondering whether truth is the loser.

Geoff Lawson, an earlier Pakistan coach, rates Misbah the cleverest man in Pakistan cricket. “He has a statesman-like demeanour, which so many Pakistan captains lacked,” Lawson said. “He handles adversity analytically, not emotionally.”

African Union soldier outside aid camp near El Fasher, South Sudan, 2005

On one of my final visits to Khartoum I was discussing the gnarly old peace-versus-justice debate with a diplomat, who used a comparison with a peace process closer to home. She was making a point about the utility of issuing a warrant for the arrest of President Omar al-Bashir even as negotiations continued for independence for Southern Sudan… (taken from Saving Darfur)

“It would be like arresting Martin McGuinness during the Good Friday negotiations.”

I was reminded of this by David Aaronovitch’s column in the The Times on Thursday (I’m afraid those of you who prefer not to pay for your journalism will not be able to read it) in which he sets out the dilemma by comparing one family’s desire for justice in Northern Ireland for their dead relative, with the benefits of sweeping such cases under the carpet, those benefits being:

It is that the peace process has succeeded partly because we have not sought too assiduously to examine who did what in the bloody recent past.

Not only have terrorists been released and pardoned, but it was also decided not to seek extradition in many cases of terrorists who had fled abroad on the ground that, as Charles Clarke put it when Home Secretary, it was “neither proportionate nor in the public interest”.

We hear much about the competing demands of peace and justice, but usually with reference to Sudan or Kenya and during the Arab Spring in Libya or Syria. But the debate rumbles on in the UK and Ireland too. And of course it must be desperately difficult for anyone who has lost a relative to see men they suspect of murder taking on positions of responsibility.

Aaronovitch spells out the dilemma without drawing a conclusion.

But reading again about how setting aside horrendous crimes in the north of Ireland was seen as an important part of finding peace, I’m reminded again that vantage point matters. How easy it is to try to impose lofty ideals of justice on faraway lands; how much more difficult to do it at home, where bombs and bullets can affect our loved ones.

My own position changed during the 2008 violence in Kenya. A shoddy peace deal rewarded government thugs who rigged an election and opposition figures who launched a wave of ethnic violence with ministerial positions for both. There was no justice in that. But it stopped the killing. And – for me – it was killing that had happened in the streets close to my house. Maybe justice will come now as the ICC decided whether to try six Kenyan suspects for their alleged roles.

In that case the right decision was made. And in Northern Ireland. But too often, a noisy Western lobby continues to push for justice before peace when it comes to conflicts elsewhere, places they have often not bothered to visit – despite claiming to speak for the voiceless.

So here’s my point. If we have set aside questions of justice in order to secure peace at home, shouldn’t we do the same for Sudan, Syria and the rest?

And now there’s a fascinating study of the economic impact of piracy on Somalia, produced for Chatham House, by Anja Shortland of Brunel University. She used satellite imagery to produce before-and-after comparisons of several of the main pirate lairs, such as Hobyo and Eyl. The pictures show how wealth is being spread around and invested in the sort of development that has long been missing from Somalia. While coastal villages may actually have not received as much as they would have liked, her conclusions on how to end the problem of piracy are worth remembering:

A negotiated solution to the piracy problem should aim to exploit local disappointment among coastal communities regarding the economic benefits from piracy and offer them an alternative that brings them far greater benefits than hosting pirates does. A military crack-down on the other hand would deprive one of the world’s poorest nations of an important source of income and aggravate poverty.

What this means for my long-forgotten prediction that Somali pirates would buy Djibouti and launch bid for 2020 Olympics is anyone’s guess…

Khalil Ibrahim in North Darfur, May 2009

The government of Sudan has reported the death of Khalil Ibrahim, leader of the Justice and Equality Movement, the largest and most powerful of Darfur’s rebel groups.

I met him two and a half years ago in the desert of North Darfur. I spent five days dodging Antonov bombers which appeared every morning and evening, when the air was at its most still, to hunt Khalil. He was with some of his senior commanders, who had gathered from all across Sudan – including the South and the East, far from Darfur – to prepare strategy for the year ahead.

It was a fascinating insight into Jem and Khalil. This was a sophisticated movement. As we hid out beneath acacia trees I wandered among the technicals – pickups armed with heavy machine guns – chatting to well-educated fighters, many with degrees or who had left decent jobs to take up arms. Among them I met Khalil Mohamed Ahmed, who was running a mobile media centre, uploading video and press releases to the the Jem website.

And I sat for several hours with Dr Khalil himself, who set out his motivation for walking away from Omar al-Bashir’s government and setting up his own rebel army. As we talked he tried to rebut allegations his force used child soldiers and described how his forces were preparing for another push. Much of his rhetoric was familiar to anyone who has read the Black Book, setting out the inequalities that riddle a Sudan run by a small, northern elite. And his analysis was largely Islamist, arguing not for a more secular Sudan – as say the rebels of the Sudan Liberation army might – but for greater equality in line with the Koran. It was clear he remained influenced (and in touch with) that wily old architect of Sudan’s Islamist revolution Hassan al-Turabi.

In some ways, Dr Khalil wanted to overthrow Khartoum not because it was an Islamist government but because it wasn’t Islamist enough.

And the trip was a reminder that in Sudan’s desert war the good guys were far from squeaky clean.

You can read more about my time with Jem, along with my trip into the Jebel Mara on a donkey with rebels from the SLA, in my book Saving Darfur, which is now available for Kindle.

I’ll spare you most of the propaganda that came from Sudan’s information ministry announcing Dr Khalil’s death, and leave you with its account of how he died…

The rebel movement forces, led by Dr. Khalil Ibrahim, had begun moving starting from Wadi Hawar area and across Al-Malha, Um Kadada, Al-Tuwaisha localities, the outskirts of Um Bader locality and Wad Banda locality. The forces of the Justice and Equality Movement attacked innocent citizens at their villages, looted shops and vehicles, destroyed houses and kidnapped a number local youth from the areas that it has looted along with groups working in gold exploration.

The Armed Forces have been pursuing the rebels of the Justice and Equality Movement, which was well armed and moving in more than 140 cars, since December 14th until they were able to defeat them December 25th. JEM leader, Dr. Khalil Ibrahim was killed, alongside 30 others, including leading commanders in the movement.

Yesterday, rebels confirmed his death.

And the discussion suggests that pronunciation is the key, with the rather harsh “AH” sound at the end being the closest to the Arabic.

So despite looking – to this eye at least – a little archaic, The Daily Telegraph Style Book has it right!

Wali Mohammed outside the madrassah, madrassa... well you know

Not often I get an email with the subject line “style advice”. On this occasion it could not be dealt with by a pithy “cowboy boots go with anything” sort of response. In fact it was from Telegraph HQ, from the poor chap who has to make sure that assorted correspondents around the world agree to use the same spelling for troublesome words – often proper names – such as Gadaffi, Koran and so on. The problem is those languages that simply refuse to use the Latin alphabet. Transliteration gives a range of options. All could be considered correct. But which is the best one to use?

It can even vary from place to place. In Libya, for example, it may be that Gadaffi is pronounced with more of a K sound, so it could be spelled with a Q or a K.

The issue for news organisations is consistency. There may be no correct answer, but for reasons of neatness a single spelling is preferred. Different spellings will be a distraction to the reader.

And so it was that my story this week on the madrassah in Karachi seems to have sparked a bit of a debate, hence the email asking whether I have much of a preference. The options are…

• Madrassah – this is the current preferred choice, according to the 2010 style guide edited by Simon Heffer. But it looks a little archaic to my eye
• Madrasah – one discussion suggests this may be the best spelling according to the Pakistani Urdu pronunciation
• Madrassa – this was my favourite. But that was based on my lousy English pronunciation of an Arabic word. So probably not a great guide
• Madrasa -preferred by The Guardian and it seems to be the most widely used online. That shouldn’t really matter, but these days with SEO and so on you don’t want readers missing your site because they are using a different spelling variant to search the web

Anyway, enough of my wittering. Just wondered if there were any proper linguists who could tell me the best spelling? And everyone else can lodge their vote on the poll below…

Wali Mohammed, 7, and his father at the Zakarya Madrassa which has been closed since last Monday night

Last week police in Karachi raided a madrassah on the city’s northern outskirts. The local police commander was at dinner but received a phone call from his boss that a TV station was running reports of boys in chains. When his men arrived they could hear screams coming from beneath an open-air meeting room.

Beneath it they found what one commentator called a “torture chamber”, with drug addicts chained to each other in a brutal form of rehab. One little boy was pictured screaming during the rescue.

On Friday I visited the madrassah to find out what really happened. And, as always in Pakistan, the story was not quite how it first appeared.

The madrassah is right at the northern edge of Karachi, Pakistan’s commercial capital. May of the city’s services don’t reach Sohrab Goth, a desperately poor area of dirt roads and half-finished houses, home to day labourers originally from Afghanistan and the south-western province of Balochistan.

Seven-year-old Wali Mohammed, the boy in the picture, was there with his father and dozens of the other madrassah pupils. He hadn’t been chained. Most of the boys were enrolled there to pick up a rudimentary – and free – education. Although the madrassah was closed and its head was on the run, they still gathered there every day waiting for classes to resume.

They were the lucky ones.

Some were at the madrassah because they were troublemakers. Two brothers, 10 and 13, were chained to each other after being brought there by their father for running away and stealing a wheelbarrow from a neighbour. They described being beaten and locked in at night. Then there were the drug addicts, chained in an underground warren rooms.

The most horrifying thing was that rather than being shocked by conditions there, the parents all knew what was going on.

Nor have the revelations shocked people with experience of Pakistan’s patchy drug programmes or mental health facilities. They described wards in hospitals where patients are chained to beds or even given heroin

“The problem is that what facilities exist are very expensive,” said a mother whose son received treatment at a private clinic for drug addiction.

“There is nothing for poor people so I’m not surprised that they have been persuaded to send their children to a place where they were chained or beaten to give up drugs.”

Even the police, who themselves know how to wield a stick, were stunned by the welts and bruising they found on some of the boys.

“The police also use these methods but we have to face the courts and the media. These guys showed no mercy,” said one officer.

So the real horror is not what went on at one madrassah. It is that, in a country where public services are desperately underfunded, this is undoubtedly not the only place where children are sent on such brutal “cures” by parents trying to do their best for them.