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For the people of
the Maldives
Written by Dr. Eric Winkel
Produced by Ely Winkel
Companion volume to the DVD
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Map of the Maldives
more information on the
Maldives, please click here |
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Bridge Academy in the Maldives
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L to R: Ely Winkel,
Shayna Rose Ortiz,
A.J. Aguilar, Mohamed Nasheed (Anni),
Eric Winkel, Vairea Rice |
Aminath Najeeb,
Jennifer Latheef,
Fathimath Nisreen, Ely
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Mohamed Nasheed and A.J. |
Shayna, Nisreen, Eric,
Ely, A.J., Vai |
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The Setting
 The Maldives is a string of more
than 1,000 islands south and west of India and west of Sri
Lanka. The population is a quarter million, with 80,000 living
in Male', the capital island.
Known to the ancient Greeks, the Maldives islands were visited
by traders following the monsoons for centuries. The language,
Dhivehi, is an Indo-Aryan language, related to Indic languages
and the proto-Sinhala language Elu. Many geographical names are
related to Tamil, a South Indian language. As Muslims, Dhivehi
people have incorporated at least two hundred Arabic words into
the language.
Aggression has been culturally taboo for centuries. Until
recently, people had to think back decades to recall a murder or
serious crime.
The economy had been largely subsistence, supplemented by those
with cash with imported foods. Although rich in many ways, the
tiny islands are unable to sustain much that the rest of the
world considers food staples, namely wheat and rice. There are
some chickens, eggs; there are a few goats for `Id al-Adha. But
to eat the way neighboring people eat requires importing cans of
condensed milk, cans of cheese and tomato paste, bags of flour,
sugar, and rice-and grinding stones. If you see a stone in the
coral islands of the Maldives, it has been imported.
One of the strategies of tourist development, which started in
the 1970's, has been to divide the islands into three
categories: inhabited (by Maldivians); uninhabited (available
for coconut harvesting, for example); and tourist resorts.
Although this means that most Maldivians do not bump into
foreigners who make in a day what they make in a year, the
disparity between the super-rich Maldivians and everyone else is
visible.
There is a natural balance between the population and the
ability of the island and ocean to provide. When you can get
fresh water from a well, tuna from the ocean, thatch for your
roof from some trees, coconuts for food, oil, and husk for
firewood, an income of a dollar or two a day is not necessarily
poverty. But when that life is not possible, and when you have
to move to Male' so your children get an education, and you face
rents of ten dollars a day, then there is a problem. The natural
balance has been upset by government control of fish canning,
government control of entrepreneurship and trade, and government
control of education and training. Into this mix add the tourist
dollar. When a typical flight lands in Hulhumale' island
airport, it carries three hundred Europeans who are going to
spend about half a million dollars that week. And there is
another flight landing in thirty minutes. And more that evening.
 The cultural fabric that provided most people with success and
happiness has been torn, and the number of young people turning
to drugs is rising and further rending that fabric. Drug use is
criminalized with very little governmental sympathy for addicts
or efforts to help them.
By showing the poverty of the islands, the President has been
able to get millions in aid every year, while the country's
wealth from tourism puts it on top of the South Asian countries.
Who is this President? We asked the creator and editor of the
Dhivehi Observer, nicknamed Sappe', this question. This is the
information he gave us.
Maumoon Abdul Gayyoom seized the government in a coup in 1978.
There is no separation between the executive, judiciary, and
legislature. He is the Head of the Judiciary and appoints some
of the seats of the legislative assembly.
He is Finance Minister, Defense Minister, Commander in Chief of
the Army and Police. This means he runs the security forces,
coast guard, army, police, and even the fire department. He is
also the Supreme Religious Leader.
The only TV and radio station is owned by his government and
operated by the Ministry of Information, Arts and Cultures,
which was run by his brother-in-law for more than 15 years until
2004.
Opposing this situation, and providing for the first time
reliable news about the Maldives, are Minivan Radio and the
Dhivehi Observer. (The latter news source is single-handedly
published by Ahmed Shafeeq Ibrahim Moosa [Sappe'].)
 "The struggle began the day
Gayyoom came to power in a covert coup in 1978," he told us. "In
1980, he confirmed in an address to the parliament that he was
in possession of illegal firearms at the time of his oath of
office. Many thought that he was going to be a good leader as he
was an Islamic scholar with an education from Azhar University,
which was highly respected in the Maldives back then. But his
oppression began immediately. He began arresting and torturing
people arbitrarily from the moment he assumed power, from the
arrest and banishment of the mother of popular activist and
Amnesty Prisoner of Conscience Naushad Waheed with her six-week
old daughter in 1980-for saying that former President Nasir was
better than Gayyoom-to the imprisoning of the mother of Evan Naseem in 2004 for apparently complaining to people that the
authorities had beaten and murdered her son Evan in jail in
September 2003.
Sappe' continued: "Gayoom's twenty-eight year old regime in
Maldives cannot be described as anything but a murderous and
callous dictatorship. He holds the world record for nepotism. At
one point almost all of his brothers and in-laws were in cabinet
posts. He spends well over 15% of the national budget to finance
his billionaire Arab sheikh lifestyle while 50% of the
population lives on less than a dollar a day. And, worst of all,
he has no regard for the rule of law, undermining the
Constitution as if it does not exist. To give an example,
freedom of expression, assembly and association are guaranteed
by the Constitution, in Articles 25, 26 and 27, yet we get
tortured and sometimes murdered for raising our voices at an
official, let alone criticizing a government policy.
Let me give you a personal account. My own brother, one of the
most sought after architects in the Maldives, was charged with
the attempted murder of six heads of states back in 1991. The
reason? He was the editor-in-chief of a magazine called Sangu,
which was exposing the corruption of Gayyoom's regime and was
promoting freedom and democracy. He was two years in solitary
confinement and two more years in jail and [then under] house
arrest. Today, he is out of politics but his associate and
friend Mohamed Nasheed (Anni) remains. He is again under house
arrest, despite being the chairman and a founding member of the
Maldivian Democratic Party, which has more than a third of the
voting population as subscribed members. I believe that is a
world record in itself.
"The key people that keep Gayyoom in power are those who
directly benefit from his autocratic and corrupt system. We have
exposed the fact that almost all the ministers and police chiefs
have had personal loans given to them. Almost all the MPs until
now were bribed and bought off with financial and other favors.
And many of the elite businessmen still side with him because
they know that a democratic government will not allow them to
get away with the injustices they are doing today. The key
institution for all this control and opposition is the notorious
National Security System, which was headed by Gayyoom for over
26 years. Police, the army, the coast guard, the firemen and
jail security personnel are all under this umbrella.
"Up until recently, press freedom was non-existent in any shape
or form. Those who tried to speak out, for example in Sangu in
the early 90's and Sandhaanu ten years later, were simply put
behind bars, charged with terrorism and crimes against the
state. After witnessing the incidents of September 2003 with my
own eyes, I decided to live in exile in the UK and launched my
website news source Dhivehi Observer to expose the truth about
the regime to the world and to our people. It has succeeded in
doing that and today, despite harassment and even detention and
torture, we are enjoying a kind of press freedom that our nation
has never seen before."
 Sappe'
tells about his background
"When I was a teenager, I
wanted to be a genetic engineer and move to America and be rich
and famous! But, as I grew up, my conscience told me that my
duty towards my own country was the most important duty I had in
life. Many tried to make changes and paid a very high price, but
I live in a different age. I was born in the internet age and
here was a tool I could use to reach out to my people. I took
the best advantage of that."
The
story of Evan Naseem
 "The events of September
2003-the brutal murder of Evan Naseem on the evening of 19th
September in Maafushi jail by twelve security policemen, and the
killing of innocent inmates the next day during a riot by
inmates demanding to know why Evan was murdered-was by far the
most significant turning point in our struggle for democracy and
freedom in our country.
"When Evan Naseem's mother complained about how brutally her son
was murdered by the police force, she was thrown in jail and
reportedly tortured and even sexually abused. Is this not the
perfect example of how sick Gayyoom is?
"I saw the dead body of Evan Naseem with my own eyes. There was
not an inch on his body without a bruise. It woke me up; I felt
responsible for his death. Here I was one of the lucky
Maldivians with a Western education, thinking of escaping from
it all and going to live in London. I saw the body of Abdulla
Ameen, who was the first to die that night, when he was shot in
the head. I saw the body of Faseeh; he had bullets all over his
body; and two fingers were missing. I remember patting him and
saying to him, 'I am sorry, we have been too quiet for too long.
But not anymore.'
"Of course, people were scared to speak up, and despite the fact
there were widespread unrest and riots across the capital,
everything sort of subsided. But then BBC came to the Maldives
in early October and I decided it was time to speak up publicly.
I gave an interview to the BBC in which I explained the whole
history of Gayyoom's dictatorship and how he runs a police
state. But of course they did not broadcast everything, only a
single statement, in which I said that if Gayyoom found anyone
to be a threat to his system, that person would be completely
destroyed. I then vowed and promised my fellow Maldivians that I
will do whatever is within my power to expose the tyranny of
Gayyoom and work to oust him from power. By this time, there
were others who had stationed themselves in Sri Lanka [for
safety], and from then on we all worked together, to ensure that
our country is free of tyranny as soon as possible so we could
emerge as a prosperous democracy. I think the period beginning
from 20th September 2003 to this day is the ultimate period of
struggle for freedom, democracy, and justice in our nation.
"According to our sources, more than 40,000 people have been
arrested and detained in the Maldives for nothing more than
expressing their absolute and basic right to freedom of
expression guaranteed by the Constitution of the Maldives."
What should the
international community do?
"I believe the
international community must live up to its promises. We have
the President of the United States telling the world that he
will bring an end to tyranny and dictatorship, at the same time
as it feeds hatred and creates conflicts leading to terrorism
and the rest of it. Yet, here we are, fighting for our freedom
and for a democratic government, and the U.S. is too busy with
Iraq and Afghanistan. A fraction of the work they do on those
projects can bring freedom, democracy and above all social
justice to our nation. The bottom line is, the international
community, especially the great democratic nations of the world
like the U.S., U.K., and our closest neighbor-India-must live up
to their promises and deliver on them. The world must not let a
secret dictatorship flourish here, in one of the most beautiful
and oldest countries in the world." |
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The Interviews
Mohamed Nasheed "Anni"
Amnesty International Prisoner of Conscience - under
House Arrest
Jennifer Latheef
Amnesty International Prisoner of Conscience - under
House Arrest
Fathimath
Nisreen
Amnesty International Prisoner of Conscience -
released 9 May 2005, re-arrested 20 April 2006
Fathimath
Shaheeda
Producer, Minivan Radio
Abbas Adil Riza
President, Henveiru Branch, Maldivian Democratic
Party (MDP), not charged with a crime but not
permitted to leave the country
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Mohamed Nasheed ("Anni")
Mohamed
Nasheed "Anni" started with a small magazine Sangu in 1989, and
after six months the entire editorial staff was arrested. Anni
was put in solitary confinement for eighteen months. After his
release, he stayed in India for a while and then moved back to
England. Anni says:
"After about eight months, I came back to Colombo [Sri Lanka]
and started working for the Island newspaper. The [Maldivian]
government started harassing us-they see Colombo as their
backyard. So the intimidation became very intense. High ups in
Male' sought me out in Colombo and gave me explicit details of
what would happen to me if I didn't come back. This was a very
difficult time in Colombo as well; there was the JVP uprising at
that time."
Anni's editor quit during that time and Anni wasn't sure what to
do. The Male' government was still intimidating him, Sri Lanka
itself was in uprising, and it was a dangerous time with much
criminal activity and human rights activists being killed all
around.
Anni did leave Colombo, came back to Male', and got married.
Gayoom did nothing to him for five or six months. But when Anni
started writing again, one piece a week, and he was again sent
to jail.
The Maldivian Democratic Party
Anni co-founded the Maldivian Democratic Party. About it he says
"We are an emerging political party, and you don't get that
often in the world, especially the Muslim world. It's not very
often-pluralism is not very common in Islamic societies. So here
you have a situation, with a dictatorship, and an emerging
party, and we are criticized for not having policies! You cannot
make policies in Dhoonidhoo [the prison].
"In spite of Gayoom, we are trying to build a party. I really do
not want to talk to Gayoom. It's easy to talk to him. Even
tonight, I can sit with the key military man and have tea; the
fellow has switched sides. It's falling apart, it's really
falling apart. I have spent four years inside, inside the jails.
That's really where the Gayoom government is, in the jails.
That's where his actual security apparatus is. That's really the
epicenter.
"There is a new generation coming up, a new group of people who
don't want to beat me up-they went to school with me! It was
easy when he had Adam Zahir, when Gayoom had his own people
running the show. But now with a new generation taking over,
it's not so simple for him. It's very difficult now for the
police and military people to beat me up. When I was arrested
the last time, one fellow was trying to beat me up and another
policeman came and started beating him up!
"We want to bring about change in government, through a
multiparty approach. We don't want to impose democracy from the
top, but from the roots up. The best thing the international
community can do is help build capacity, not engage with the
government, saying this is the government in place. But if
another government were put in place, they would deal with that.
It's a bad message for the man in the street, that it doesn't
matter what the government is.
"It's a very exciting time; we've never had this before in our
history, and it's very sad that I have to be in house arrest
now. There's so much work to be done! If we fail, this country
will fail. Gayoom is an entrenched dictator, in place for the
last twenty-eight years, and he can't reform. It's very
important that we succeed. It isn't in anybody's interest to
have a failed country in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
"What I have come to understand is that you can't build
democracy in a drawing room. It's not a draft. You don't do
that. You have to go through the streets; it has to come from
the grassroots. We need room to do that. We need to make sure
Gayoom doesn't lock us up each time we have a rally. We are a
responsible people. We are not going to topple him. It's not in
our interests to topple him. It's not because we love him.
Gayoom is really irrelevant. He is totally outside of this
exercise. What we are doing is having a grassroots exercise.
"We want to safeguard the demonstrations. We don't want money.
The international community should understand, please do not
pump in huge amounts of funds to this dictatorship. We don't
want money. We want room. We don't want aid. We want the
security to do this. We are a rich country and we can live by
ourselves, we can enjoy our resources and the international
community can enjoy these resources as well.
"The minute we start empowering people-all the islands are
coming up. They are not asking for the sun and moon and stars,
they are asking for a harbor to be deepened to make room for the dhoanis [boats]. All they are asking for is that, and it costs
the government 500 thousand rufiyas [$40,000]. It's less than
two days tea expense for Gayoom. The man spends 40,000 rufiya
[$3,000] an hour!
"Male' has to relinquish power and Male' really has to give up.
It's a history of a thousand years of Male' conquering atolls.
It has come gradually and now the whole system is gridlocked.
The seat of government has been here but there are tendencies to
break apart. These atolls in the past would have been different
provinces, run by themselves."
Torture
When asked about the torture he experienced in the jails, he
said, "It's not easy to talk about the torture. I have come to
terms with it more by laughing. It's not a pleasant place. I
wouldn't recommend it. You should not make a booking there! The
torture depends on the imagination of the torturer, how he will
go about it. A torturer looks at the limbs and wonders how many
ways he can break it; it depends on the imagination, and most of
these torturers have a big imagination!"
The Future
Anni wrapped up the interview by saying, "We have to get the
party to at times even revolt against us. If we succeed, in
fact, my success would be my demise. It's not yet working
exactly, but it's there."
Anni's situation now
Right now, Anni is still under house arrest. His latest arrest
was 12th August 2005 while holding a peaceful vigil. He was kept
in Dhoonidhoo jail for 81 days and transferred to house arrest
1st November 2005. We met him February 2006. |
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Jennifer Latheef
 Jenny's Story
The
first time I was taken was 22 September 2003 by the NSS; it was
12:30 in the afternoon.
I don't know what they wanted me to do. The only thing, I think
they wanted me to break, and I was determined not to. They made
me sit in one place, for ten hours, and I think they just wanted
me to break, to say I'll sign anything.
It helped that they told me about the investigation, ridiculous
things, like I was jumping on top of things.
I think a person can do it when you know you've done nothing
wrong. They called me a terrorist, that I was throwing a stone,
which even that I didn't do.
I didn't get any word about my family, and was my father taken,
which was my biggest fear, or would my sister be taken. I was
happier that I was there instead of him.
I think a lot of people have that in them.
We were in a place where we could not see the sun. We were told
not to speak. But eventually we did speak to each other-what
more could they do, we were already in jail!
I was in there for 45 days and then I was transferred to
Dhoonidhoo, which scared me, because I had always heard stories
about Dhoonidhoo, and I was being taken by myself, and I didn't
know what was happening; it was late at night.
It was raining really hard that night; it was 12:30. For a
moment I thought they might just throw me in the sea.
It was 57 days and then I was brought home under house arrest.
And on the last day I found out my father was in Sri Lanka and
they had just signed and registered MDP.
I was released on 9th December, because 10th December is Human
Rights Day, and we were all released on the 10th and I was going
to leave to go to Sri Lanka. But the next day they said, no, you
can't leave the country. So I was still here when 12th August
happened.
I don't think a lot of people here-the Maldives has had a strong
presidency, and there is that fear-we don't have the experience
of speaking out.
So I was with my family, my brother and my sister, and my aunt [Aminath
Najeeb], and everybody, and they took all of us. The entire
family: my aunt, my cousin, my aunt's husband.
The first 24 hours of arrest are the most fearful. The first
thing when I got down from the vehicle, they slapped me, punched
me in the face, the blood falling on me, and tied me up like
this, my arms really high up. So I couldn't bring my arms down
and it was so painful on my shoulders.
The sexual abuse, the verbal abuse, the things they said they
would do to us, and that was hardest, because you know they are
capable of it, just right next to you telling you what they are
going to do.
Most of the time, the times they beat us was when we would go to
the toilet, so we tried not to go to the toilet, but I had to
go, and that's when they beat us.
When we were taken to Girifushi [island jail], they told us they
would kill us, put concrete on our feet and throw us into the
sea, drown us. And you believe it because you know they could.
Obviously religion helped for me. I hadn't done anything wrong.
It was just something I had to do, for my country, and oddly
enough, I'd say most people got stronger because of that, even
people who were not taken, they knew that three hundred people
were just taken, innocent people, in a peaceful demonstration.
I'd say a lot of people turned out to be heroes in this country.
Twenty seven years of oppression, it's finally dissolving.
It's very slow, but considering the fact that it's prolonged,
it's not slow; people just get frustrated, they just want him
out.
After 13th August, every night for three consecutive nights
people demonstrated on the roads; I was taken for one day, but
they went out [and demonstrated], despite all the beatings, and
news bulletins saying that we've been charged.
That means the country is coming to, it's like Gaza but we don't
have weapons; and you live in such a small community, there's no
place to hide, so we have to be open, we have to say we don't
use guns, we don't believe in guns, and this is actually how we
give each other strength.
If you're taken, just go, they have to release you. With me
being sentenced, it's always, charge me, eventually they have to
charge me, but they have nothing against me, so it's just a
matter of time.
I think I adjusted to it in my head, that things happen for a
reason, and I think me being jailed has shown a lot of people,
shown internationally, what this regime really is, that he is
not sincere [about reform].
When I saw the tanks, I just stood in front of them; there were
a whole lot of people, I was angry too, but I'm not the sort of
person to take that anger to that level of violence, so it was
stand in front. On 12th December, that was terror.
We were here and my little cousins were here, and there were
fifty policemen with batons battering the door, and you don't
want your little cousins to see you get taken away; we got into
it, so we can deal with it, but not them.
I think we're coming to understand that the president is getting
cornered and running out of excuses, running out of things that
he can possibly do.
It's peaceful because we are the most peaceful people around; we
have no guns. Our strength is our mass; we have more people who
believe in us, like MDP and the reformers.
They've tried to instigate violence, but we never allow it. But
when someone has been taunted so much in jail, and then if he is
violent-there was only one incident-I don't agree with it, but I
understand how he could become violent.
I did expect the sentence [of ten years]. The First Lady on
national TV in Sri Lanka announced it, so I knew it would
happen. I was as prepared as I could be.
The future
It's just taking too long, giving him leeway; it's been
twenty-seven years, he's had twenty-seven years to reform; it's
not going to get better.
Positive thinking, even in jail, is very important. When we were
jailed, we gave each other strength.
Jenny's medical condition
What the doctors say is the lower vertebrae are fused and I need
physical therapy. I was brought home on the 22nd December 2005
but nothing is helping, so I need permission to go to Sri Lanka
for better treatment. All I know is I have a pain in my lower
back and numbness.
If you go to jail, you'll not have a backbone by the end.
Jenny's situation now
Jenny was sentenced to ten years' imprisonment on 18th October
2005. For health reasons, she was transferred to house arrest.
We met her in February 2006. She is an extremely generous and
welcoming person. It was sad to see her adjust herself often in
the chair and know that it was because of the terrible torture
she endured. Doctors in Male' have said she needs to go abroad
for treatment.
Her aunt, Aminath Najeeb, is the editor of Minivan News, the
only independent daily news media source in the Maldives.
Amnesty International has issued an urgent action for Aminath
because of ongoing harassment. In the words of a very recent
Amnesty International urgent action appeal, "The authorities are
now preparing to detain her, which would put her at risk of
severe ill-treatment. If she is detained for two weeks or more,
she will not be legally able to continue as the editor of a
national newspaper: the government appears to be attempting to
silence one of the few newspapers in the country that dares to
criticize it.
"In the past few weeks, masked men have been circling her house
keeping a constant watch on her movements. On the evening of 16
May she narrowly escaped an attempt by another motorbike rider
to push her off her motorbike in the capital, Male'. A few hours
later she received a summons to appear before the criminal court
on 17 May. The charge against her was the vague offence of
'disobeying an order,' a charge used by the authorities to
silence journalists; the summons appeared to be part of the
government's attempt to close Minivan, which has gained
unprecedented popularity in the Maldives for the quality and
range of its reports."
The country specialist for the Maldives and other Asian
countries is Govind Acharya.
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Fathimath Nisreen
 Nisreen
is an exception-ally outspoken person. She has a strong and
enduring sense of fairness and justice. She knew this from her
early days. She had been offered a scholarship to go to
Australia and become a lawyer, but she declined. She knew that
she would speak the truth; "if I stayed here [as a lawyer], I
knew I would end up in jail."
In tenth grade, her school had a career day, and one of the
professions was the NSS (National Security Service). She
confronted them, and "all my classmates had to drag me away from
them, because I was shouting at them."
Nisreen had a history of asthma, and thought that she did not
qualify for [compulsory military] service. "[The military] gave
me a survey and I just bluntly said everything. I know they had
violated a lot of trainees, and because of that [outburst] they
took me again for an interview. I just argued. I hate injustice.
Even in school I used to debate with teachers. I can't live with
injustice.
"So there came in this interview this captain and they just kept
me there, and arrested me for fourteen days, with no documents,
and then after fourteen days they said I was released. I had an
office job when they called me for the medicals. I knew I
wouldn't pass the medicals, but somehow I got passed. I was
asked to go there [and join the military]. But that day I had a
very high fever. I didn't have any respect for them. So I stayed
at home.
"They took me and arrested me. I met a colonel and he was
swearing at me. I am a chatterbox, and I just argued with him. I
kept to my polite language while he was swearing.
"After two days I decided I won't eat there, even if I starve
there. I'm not going to eat what they give me. One reason, they
could say they fed me. One major came and offered me chocolates
and I was crying but I wouldn't eat anything."
Eventually Nisreen was arrested for her alleged part in the then
illegal newsletter "Sandhaanu." When Nisreen first saw an
edition of the Sandhaanu internet newsletter, she thought it was
by a friend of hers. "I started reading it like everyone else.
If I couldn't read it in the office, I printed it and took it
with me. That's all I had to do with Sandhaanu. My boss was
Ibrahim Luthufee, who was the owner of Sandhaanu, but I had no
idea at the time.
"I respect my boss a lot; he was one person I saw with a lot of
character, a very rare individual. I had worked previously in
different places; he was like nothing compared to them. He told
me that he had a hard experience with the government. He was
probably on the top of the black list. I was very interested in
computers and I wanted to specialize in computers. He wanted to
train me. When I joined [the office], he said he would provide
me a scholarship to study.
"That year my uncle was arrested. He was law-abiding. He
wouldn't let me drive a bicycle on the road without a permit!
Very law-abiding. He was repaid a loan with counterfeit money,
and he got three years jail. That's not fair, that's the same as
people who are making counterfeit money. That year they released
people who were involved in the counterfeit ring, they were
given amnesty, but not my uncle. Again, I was mad at that.
"At that time I got an email from Sandhaanu that they selected
me at random and could I help. It would be good if I were
abroad, they said, to help out. I asked my friend who I thought
was the editor, but he said it wasn't him. And he said he
wouldn't advise me to reply to Sandhaanu.
"When I saw that email again, I just wanted to do something. I
replied that I can't give any help, that if I got arrested my
grandmother would be so upset and I didn't want that to happen.
"I was reading the translation of Qur'an and I came to know that
Gayoom was using the religion, and making us worship him. It's
the only sin that won't be forgiven; while he himself knows
better, he makes us worship him. So that's what I saw the
president doing, making the lawful unlawful and the lawful
unlawful. It was very common at that time to call him kudu-kalang;
it means small lord. I replied, he doesn't give much respect to
the big lord!
"I didn't know about Ibrahim Luthufee and Sandhaanu at all. But
they arrested me and kept me there [in the NSS cell] until 8:30
PM. It started raining. They took me back into a cell. I had
heard about Dhoonidhoo, that they do whatever they want to do. I
heard about an incident, punishment where they cuff the hands
and put the legs inside and the hands around and there is no way
to rest.
"There was a man who was punished like that and the investigator
put him like that and the investigator went to sleep. He woke up
with a nightmare and he went and checked and the man had almost
died. These are the stories I was hearing. It was really dark.
They put me inside a small, small cell. I was there ten days
without talking to anyone. That was one experience where I don't
remember keeping my mouth shut that long!
"Then three or four days after, I appeared for investigation.
They wanted to know about Ibrahim Luthufee. But he never mixed
politics and he never talked to me about those things. They kept
insisting I knew, and they wanted me to write what I know.
"There was this diskette that Ibrahim had given me to hide. He
wanted me to put a zip password on it. They were asking me for
the password. I told them I didn't know. For it to crack would
take years and years. So they wanted me to remember it. They
told me I should just try to remember the password.
"One day the head of the investigation told me they would have
to wait until they crack it, so I would have to wait until they
cracked it. They wanted me to say yes, but what then? What would
I say after that? I didn't know anything! It went on and on, and
after March 28th I didn't hear from them at all.
"I just stayed inside that cell for four months and twelve days,
and ten days in the other cell. The Qur'an says there is a mercy
from Allah for those who are wronged. So I thought of what
reward I would get in the next world. If I am made to suffer and
I stay patient, there would be a reward in the hereafter.
"Where I was first, I was the only girl in the whole jail. Most
of the females, usually they're drug addicts who will be in
jail. But I got some respect because I was there for another
reason. I didn't get any verbal humiliation because that.
"In the morning there was this guard, saying I was supposed to
go home. I said, don't joke, but because he never talked before,
I thought it might be true. I waited and on my way from
Dhoonidhoo I realized I wasn't going home, but I was going to
Maafushi [jail]. Everyone had said Maafushi is better, there I
would have a fan, because here I wasn't sleeping. And there
would be so many people there I could talk to. I couldn't even
speak to the guards, but Maafushi would be different, I could
talk to some people and I could have a fan.
"I would give anything to cut that twelve days from my life. In
Maafushi I had no toilet, at least in Dhoonidhoo there was an
attached toilet, and the water from the shower smelled. After
one month I needed to clean it. They brought metal [a scouring
pad] to clean it. But Maafushi had the toilet inside the cell,
there was just a partition and the door was open, so whoever
passes can see inside. That one partition didn't cover. And
there was no shower so I had to use a bucket, but because of my
leg injury I couldn't sit long [to shower]. I had cracks in my
skin all over [from the unsanitary conditions].
"The next day on arrival at Maafushi they took me for the second
hearing. I was informed about my 'crimes' and I was made to talk
about the second point. I wasn't allowed to talk about the first
point, the crime of treason, for which they had no proof, and I
was only allowed to talk about the second, about the defamation
of the president. I told them that I would like to talk first
about the conditions and I needed to change these problems, but
they wouldn't listen. The judge said I could talk about the
second crime, not the first. They asked about the statements the
cops took. I said they wrote the statement and made me sign. I
told him that and they just provided me with the court statement
that said the statement I had given was true. On the next day,
when I thought I could talk about the first crime, I was
sentenced.
"I had ten years in jail and one year in house arrest. I thought
al-hamdu-li'Allah [praise to God], because now I could talk to
people! Before they put the meal through the door, so I never
saw anyone. So I thought now I can see people.
About the other prisoners, Nisreen said, "I was really keen on
making friends with them. I believed they were there because
they had a terrible past. Nobody does that by
themselves-something happened that made them do this. I wanted
to hear about everyone's story, but somehow there was a feeling
that I was different. They would shout at me and I didn't know
how to respond to them. For me I always respect friends, I
always give way, but later on people started distancing from me
and shouting at me. I had different ideas, I was learning about
religion, and that was a problem. I fought it hard. They would
pray so fast and I couldn't keep up. It started getting hard.
But I thought I'll wait, it will get better. I tried to be like
them. I didn't watch TV, but I started to do that to be part of
them. It never happened."
The murder of Evan Naseem
"The September 20th
incident, with Evan Naseem; we heard the gun shots. People
started crying when they heard the shots, and I said, no it
can't be real shots, it must be blanks. I tried to calm the
people inside. We were locked up every night. But that time we
were locked up during the day too. We said there are kids
inside, so they let us out, but quickly they took us back
inside. We didn't see the cops until later. We didn't come to
know about it until later.
"In the morning they didn't open up; they usually open up
for fajr [early morning] prayers. For breakfast they served
through the windows. But there were kids, so again they had to
open up but they put us back again. All of a sudden the cops
barged in, helmets and guns, and they were shouting where is he
where is he. I had a lot of blessing from Allah, because I stood
up [bravely] and said, 'Who?' 'That criminal!' I said no one is
here. They were pointing guns at people, and there was one
infant, eight, nine months old. She went into shock, she
couldn't talk or scream, she went numb. The whole of that night
she cried all night. They searched under the bed; again that
night passed with us locked up. They counted us that night and
again the next morning they didn't open up. We all would move
together. In our barracks, we all started shouting and covered
the doors and started beating walls and doors with spoons and
anything, and the cops came and let us loose. So whenever we
were locked up too much, we would bang doors.
"Conditions were worse before, but at that time we needed
attention. We were not used to guns and shouting, and
psychologically we were all disturbed. There were a lot of
problems inside, people having anxiety attacks, but those three
days passed without more problems. But after one week the cops
came and made truce with the inmates. That's when they came and
talked with us.
"They came with some male inmates and said this is what
happened, and that's when we knew what happened on 20th
September. They said they are going to try to improve the place.
Later on we were able to meet the minister. Only three were
allowed to talk, and I was chosen as one spokesperson. They told
me they are trying to get a way so the mothers could be in a
little bit better place, and they started letting us out more
and started conducting classes for the illiterate. They gave us
the opportunity to bring about a set of rules which they would
review, so a lot of things happened in those times. At one point
they promised that they would release all the females out of the
jail.
"I never believed that it would happen, or they would let them
out but they would still keep me in, but I wanted everyone else
at least to leave.
"One more thing I'd like to share. Somewhere around March 2003 a
friend told me what she does to get out of jail, she asked Allah
in the prayers; I never asked to be released, but I asked Allah
to empty the jail. I know Allah is capable of anything and there
may come a time when it happens. The elderly thought there was
black magic done and that's why it would happen.
"When the minister promised to release all the females from the
jail, I started to ask Allah more and more. October 28th was
the first day they started releasing females. Two hundred were
released on that day. First there was 30 and we complained that
there were only thirteen more days until the amnesty day
(November 11th). So if they take out 30 every day it won't be
enough, because there were at the time 1,800 inmates. The next
day they released 200 males and when September 20th happened,
there were forty girls. Finally there was left me and two
others. The other two were, they had killed their child (fetus).
"We didn't hear any news. There were a lot of things going on in
the jail. On the 12th they said up to 11th and then they won't
give full amnesty but half the sentence, so on the 12th all the
females were called out and we were asked to get ready. I didn't
believe, but the guard promised me, that she knew we were
getting out, so we got dressed up and we were to meet the person
for amnesty. Then I was told the amnesty for me was just
reducing my sentence to half! All this time, I believe if you
hope too much and it doesn't happen-but on that day, it was a
slap on my face, but I knew it would be much worse for the
others. No one was able to talk when we were informed, it was
too much of a shock.
"I was made in charge at that time so I requested to meet a
senior official, and I told him that I'm still not asking for
me, but I'm asking for them. It was all a ploy. He asked me to
write a letter asking for amnesty. I would be writing the letter
for those two. So I wrote the letter asking to send me home as
well. I handed over the letters at 9:00 at night and at 11:00
that night we were informed that the next day we would go. I
would be banished and the rest would go home. So my crime was
worse. All the rest had life sentences for murder, but they
would go home and I would be banished.
"It was okay. For the first time in one year, nine months, and
eleven days, I saw my home that night. I saw my home. I was at
home to decide which island I would go to for banishment.
"I had a lot of problems at that time, I had back pain, I had
tonsils removed, I don't recall it all, I haven't talked about
it in a long time. Usually if you get an operation done, you get
to stay at home for one week. That's a privilege you get. The
doctors released me and I had a high fever, I told him the
situation, I get to go home after the operation, so he should
release me to home.
"I felt really weak still and when they called me to go home, I
realized I had an injection to take. At the hospital I met my
father who said they informed him I would not be able to go
home. Even after a week I had pain. They all knew I was going
back to the jail.
"I couldn't eat for twenty-four hours. Again, Allah's mercy. I
could make a phone call. Every month you get a phone call. So it
was my time when I was in the hospital. So I called my mom and
begged her to take me back to Male' somehow, I don't want to
stay here. Before that I never spoke like that, but I was
starving and just begging. They called up some officials and
complained about it.
"I got a phone call saying I was released, it says so in the
Dhivehi Observer! Another person called and said he heard Ibra [Ibrahim
Ismail, Special Majlis member] say this. So I called Ibra and
said, Look, you're all wrong. I am not released. They said the
government has a statement. I thought, they can come to arrest
me but they can't come to release me!"
What happened next
"That night Nisreen went
out to the Black Friday demonstration a year after Evan Naseem's
murder in jail. She was immediately re-arrested, 13th August
2004, and spent the next nine months in jail. In Girifushi
jail, she saw Jenny and Evan Naseem's mother. They were all
blindfolded, handcuffed, and bound at the feet. Nisreen
remembers hearing the jailors saying horrible things to Evan's
mother, like 'We will kill you the same way we killed Evan,' and
'This is the same blindfold we used on Evan.'"
Nisreen then was transferred to Dhoonidhoo and shared a cell
with Jenny, but was held in solitary confinement for extended
periods.
Nisreen was finally released on 9th May 2005.
Nisreen's case
Nisreen has been unable to work because of complications arising
from torture in the jails.
Nisreen was re-arrested in Feeali island on 20th April 2006. We
had visited her in February 2006. The new charge that has been
fabricated is that Nisreen was recruiting suicide bombers to be
sent to Sri Lanka and Pakistan for training. Right now she is
under house arrest awaiting trial.
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Fathimath Shaheeda
 Shaheeda's
story: August 2004, the 12th, Black Friday, there was a big big
rally, a demonstration in the Republican square [in Male']. I
just thought I would go and look at what they are doing. I just
wanted to see what people were talking about. My husband had
been going to political meetings. I didn't like it but this very
day I thought I must go and see.
So I was there until Friday. 11:45 AM. I didn't eat, I didn't
sleep. Something told me I had to be there. So I was there.
My husband was there, all my friends were there. Lots of people
I knew were there. I don't know what made me stay that long.
My husband wanted to go to Friday prayers, so we went home and
had lunch and I was about to take a nap. Somebody called and
said, are you going to come back [to the demonstration]? It was
a friend of my husband. He said, please don't come. They have
been arresting people, so don't come, he said. I was really
scared at that time. Later I thought, the children are here for
the holidays, but they will come and take me and my husband.
I was there because I had to be there. It was okay, and I was
kind of prepared. We were waiting for them to come. We knew that
they would come.
Five thirty, the police came. Four of them. They asked for my
husband, Abjee, and they took him. Unfortunately they didn't
take me, fortunately or unfortunately. The very next day, 14th
August, the children were to go home [to England].
So I took them to the airport and said goodbye. I would not go
with them because every day, just every day I thought I wanted
to go to be with my husband. Maybe that was the reason I stayed.
I was thinking when will they come and arrest me so I will be
with my husband.
Everyday people called me and told me they saw him being thrown
around, and so many things, and I started hating [the regime]. I
thought, this is it, I will start some work.
I will not work the way I did before. I need to change. I was
really in bad shape. I sent a letter just to go and see Abjee,
but they didn't want me to go there, they did not reply, they
didn't say anything, so I could not go. My daughter had to leave
from U.K. So I thought, okay, the authorities won't let me see
my husband, and the children are there alone, so I must be with
my children [in Colombo, Sri Lanka.
The next day was very bad. As usual, they break backbones, so
this 'picture' is not good.
While I was in Colombo they released Abjee, so he was here in
Male' and I was there. I came to see him and went back again.
They were in Male' during the tsunami, that was December 26th,
2004. I was to come on the 26th, afternoon flight, 2:30 flight.
My friend in Colombo, a Maldivian friend, said, Shaheeda you
should not go, something has happened, the airport is flooded.
There is a huge wave covering Male'. She said that in Colombo
the same thing happened.
I could not come on the 26th but on the 27th I came to Male' and
during that time, people had started collecting and distributing
[emergency supplies, water] to different islands, and I thought
this is good work, so I went to Thaa Atoll. The worst hit was
Villifushi. I used my counseling skills. I thought I will go and
help them just be with somebody, and I was there for four days
and was with these people. I did not have to say much. The
people I met, they came to me, they cried, they talked, some
couldn't even speak a word. There were very many sad situations.
I hopped from one island to another. And I was there with these
people.
I came back and a friend of mine was with me. She took so many
pictures. I did so many interviews. She wanted to do a
documentary. We had a camera, we had a photographer.
I had to go back to Colombo. I wanted a holiday. My daughter in
UK said she is not feeling well, so I decided to go there. So I
was there in London for a week. Some of my friends are in
Salisbury doing the radio. Every time we talked about the work
they were doing, I would think, what am I doing? They would talk
about their work, and I would think, what am I doing at home
doing nothing? So February 2005 I thought I should be with them.
I went to Salisbury to meet them. I saw these guys working so
hard from early morning to late at night. These men cook and do
all the work and I was just sitting nicely not doing anything,
and one day I told my boss, Ahmed Naseer, the editor of Minivan
Radio, I said, Ahmed-he is a family friend-why can't I help you?
He said, that's a very good idea. Why don't you go and read this
news. That's it!
People now call me Minivan Radio. They come to see me. February
I started working for Minivan Radio, but for six months I didn't
come to Male', because I was a bit scared. So I couldn't really
come, but I did finally come for just two days.
I didn't say I was coming. The MDP had a general meeting. I was
there and people who know me would say, hey Minivan Radio is
here!
I want to talk, they would say, people coming up, 'I want to
talk! How can I call you, what's your number?' It was not me, it
was the radio. They came to talk to the radio. So people came
and they started calling me, wanting to talk. I came for only
two days! I took all the numbers. One guy came up to me and
stopped me and said, 'I never thought you would be this tiny! I
thought Minivan Radio would be so big.'
These people, they were really scared, this is the first time
they can say something, their true feelings, their thoughts,
what they really want, their emotions, whatever they want to
say.
When I was working for Society for Health Education [headed by
the First Lady], during that time I was narrowly focused, not
seeing the big picture. One time, a doctor was with me, a
foreign doctor, and I was there to translate. On this particular
island the people came to the doctor and the doctor prescribed
medicine for them, the children had fevers, but we had not one
tablet, not even of Panadol. I was there thinking we are here
helping people, but now I realize it wasn't.
I was teaching them what to eat, how to eat, but from where are
they going to get this? Cabbage and this and that, where are
they going to get it? We have local vegetables and local fruits,
but from childhood they were not taught to eat these things. So
stupid of me. So they don't eat it and the children don't eat
it.
With Minivan Radio, in Colombo, two or three times we had to
assemble things in boxes and run to another place. This
particular day [of the raid], I was at home and we had two
foreigners at that time. One person who worked for us, he was
out for two days. He took two days off. This other person had
come for a holiday for two months and he knew we needed people,
so he started helping us. So we had people, people who want a
change, people who believe in what we are doing, who want
change.
Even though they did not do the radio program, they were with
us. Even someone coming and sitting there, trying, was a help.
The Maldives government says this Minivan Radio is illegal. So
many times when I call these people to get information, they say
that's an illegal radio, we won't talk to you. They just won't
talk to us.
We need freedom. This is one reason why we have a good
relationship with the people.
The sponsors [of Minivan Radio] said they can give the money
only for a year. 2004 August, that was one year, and then even
after that they were giving us money. December 19th, 2005, I was
in Male' to cover the MDP congress. I wanted to be here to see,
this is the first time Maldives had a congress. Minivan Radio
should be there, so I came to cover it. I was to go back on the
26th because before I came I was told December 31st will be the
last program. And my boss Ahmed Naseer said you can go to Male'.
So I planned to go back. I was really sad for the people, that
they cannot have this radio. I am really sad. Then there was a
message, 'Shaheeda, good news, we can have the radio until the
end of January 2006.' So I thought, okay, I'll stay here and go
to the islands and do a survey. We need to do surveys to find
out signal strengths, populations, how many listen, so I planned
to go to some atolls. And then all of a sudden, on the 28th
somebody called and told me there is an Interpol raid. My people
said we couldn't stay there. They had a search warrant. They
said we had weapons, we were gun-running, that we were
broadcasting an illegal radio.
They did not find any guns and they did not find any
broadcasting things, so they told the people to carry on with
the work. What we were doing was uploading an email, that's it.
So Interpol came and said you can do your work, that office is
actually the Minivan web site. The Minivan web site and Minivan
Radio are one team.
Even now I'm doing the radio from here [Male']. But I don't
record here. The recording is done outside the Maldives. I'm not
doing anything illegal. I'm just getting information, like what
we're doing here, that's not illegal.
Minivan Radio belongs to the Maldives, it belongs to the
Maldivian people, so it has to be here in the Maldives, it must
be here.
Later, Shaheeda told us about an interview with some frightening
people. She said, "That sound bite, I still have it. We did not
want to broadcast that. Three days back, again someone called
and said there is one guy you should meet. If you're not
recording I can tell you his name." [We ended our recording
here.]
Shaheeda today
We interviewed Shaheeda in February 2006. Shaheeda had just
talked with us Sunday 14th May 2006 when she went out to report
on a demonstration calling for the removal of unelected members
of parliament. She was wearing a shirt with big letters saying
"PRESS." She was physically picked up and dragged off, and
arrested that night. She was taken to some island; she still
does not know what island it was. She was released the same
night, in Male'. She was never informed of charges; never
informed of the sentence; and never informed why she was
released.
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Abbas Adil Riza
 Abbas
became active in the political struggle through his experiences
as an accountant at a resort. He saw on the one hand staff
crowded eight to a room while thousands of dollars were pouring
in from tourists. He knew he had to do something, so he fought
his first battle: at least getting his staff a living wage.
Typical salaries were one thousand rufiyaa ($80/month), 1,500,
or 1,800 ($130/month). These are not living wages. Life in Male'
is expensive, with rents of $500 for a tiny apartment of 200
square feet and brackish water. Abbas was able to get 15% raises
for his staff. He sees this as the first struggle he undertook.
Abbas wrote for the internet magazine Sandhaanu. This is the
magazine Nisreen was accused of working for; the editor,
unbeknownst to her, was her boss, Ibrahim Luthufee, who fled the
country and now lives in exile in Switzerland. Abbas wrote about
labor issues for Sandhaanu.
Abbas says, "We [Maldivians] have enough money, but the
resources are misused. There is so much corruption. I know [as
an accountant] how much money people were getting. And I know
how much money staff is paid. This is simply not socially
responsible."
After the murder of Evan, Abbas, like so many other Maldivians,
was spurred to take to the streets and demonstrate against the
tyranny of the president. Abbas sees this moment as a turning
point, when for the first time the majority of Maldivians could
see that all the things they were saying in internet magazines
like Sandhaanu were actually the truth.
From this moment on, he says, "There was a huge demand for
information about these particular issues." He thinks the
government knew how important this was and wanted to put a stop
to it. The Government forces started widespread intimidation.
They used excessive force when capturing a person, and would
beat the person to such an extent that one's dignity was
completely taken away, he said.
The reaction of the government to the events of September 2003
led to the August 12, 2004 incidents. The human rights activist
Susan Fulhu and others (such as Jennifer Latheef) were captured,
but none of them were charged. Abbas said that the frustration
was enormous.
He remembers the spontaneous gathering and says he addressed the
crowd at one point. "There were probably 5,000," he says, "and
it was a peaceful crowd, with no violence." The demands were the
release of Susan Fulhu and the resignation of Adam Zahir [the
head of the NSS]. "He was the dirty hand," Abbas says, "It was
he who executed the illegal orders."
There was a mass arrest and during the night a big [high-level]
army man came out to the crowd and said he would go in with
[present] their demands, but the next day they [the Government
forces] charged the crowd.
Abbas is very much in touch with the younger generation. He
says, "The majority of this younger generation, those who lived
through these things, most of us, I'm sure, 90% of us, we have
decided to sacrifice." Abbas tells how they decided to join up
in all the parties: "some of us behind MDP, some of us behind
the Islamic party; I went to the Labour Party."
Abbas says that the regime has used an "Islamist" theme of
hatred of other religions. "If you go through [the newspaper]
Haveeru," he says, "prior to the 2003 incident, you will see
full-blown articles creating and enflaming hatred against other
civilizations. The government was showing that it is the savior
of Islam, but while doing that they were [going against Islam
by] not even respecting other religions or other societies.
People have been brainwashed that anyone who wants change is the
devil, trying to christianize people."
Abbas makes the point that he and many others with full time
jobs are putting their lives in this struggle. He writes for the
Minivan newspaper and is active politically. The party he
started with, the Labour Party, was unable to get enough
signatures, so he signed on with the MDP.
"We have a branch of the MDP [in Henveiru]," he says, "and I am
the president of that branch. We tried to bring unity in all we
do. Gayoom has separated us so much." Abbas then spoke of the
intimidation they face, because this seat, in Henveiru, is a
district that the president must secure to stay in power.
"We have 113 individuals-it's tough to sign [up] people," he
says, "they are afraid of what will happen. So even my father
did not sign up!" What Gayoom did was intimidate them so that
they wouldn't become political. "At the end of August," he says,
"they stopped arresting drug addicts," to make people think that
moving away from Gayoom's dictatorial rule will make for a
terrible law-and-order situation. Gayoom wants people to think
that political parties will ruin law and order in the Maldives.
Abbas notes that "the amount of money spent on drug
rehabilitation has not increased, but the number of addicts has
increased dramatically." The government lures them into criminal
activities, "paying them 100 rufiyaa to harass MDP in Male'."
Abbas is in a legal limbo. At a demonstration, the participants
were demanding that the government reinstate government
employees who were fired for political reasons, to sack Adam
Zahir in his role in all the injustice, and to free the
political prisoners. "Very simple," Abbas comments. After the
demonstration, the government made a list and said the first ten
will be arrested. "What a sham!" Abbas says. "If the
demonstration is illegal, then we are all guilty. Why just ten?
The government actually named only two people, Sheikh Farid and
me. According to Gayoom," Abbas points out, "Sheikh Farid is a
religious extremist-but the people think he is a moderate. The
only thing fundamental about him is that he is against Gayoom!"
As for himself, "I didn't know why he picked me. Then it struck
me. I had created a story called 'Chicken Island.' There were
six installments. In each piece, I talked about this imaginary
island and the mass corruption. I talked about the
brother-in-law, the younger brother, and the ruler's own
corruption; about Air Maldives, scandal episode one and two. So
I think, this is the reason he picked me."
Abbas told about someone who called him, saying he was sacked.
Abbas had gone on his annual leave, and when he returned, they
fired him. He didn't even get his holiday pay. "So this is the
extent of the deprivation," Abbas said.
At the demonstration, Abbas had come straight from work without
changing his clothes, impatient to talk to the participants. He
said, "We cannot run anymore. Running will not solve anything.
This is our problem and we have to face it." Abbas then said,
"Today they cannot hit me on the back, because I am not going to
run. They will have to hit me on the face!"
After the demonstration, he got three threatening calls, and he
heard on public media that the attorney general was arresting
Sheikh Farid and Abbas for the demonstration. So in a
demonstration attended by thousands, two were to be arrested!
But then there was no further news, and Abbas never heard that
he was being charged. He was told that immigration will not let
him leave the country, but there is no arrest, no charge. "This
is how Gayoom does it," he says.
Abbas' Situation
When Abbas says, "This is how Gayoom does it," it is actually
the case with Shaheeda, as we saw. We interviewed Abbas in
February 2006. Since then, he has had confirmed that he is on
the list of people who may not leave the country. However, he
still does not know if there will be a trial or even formal
charges.
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Who we are
Bridge Academy has funded travel
for thirty-three students to seven countries over four years,
led by Dr. Eric Winkel. In 2004 and 2006, students traveled from
Las Vegas, New Mexico, U.S.A., to the Maldives. On this last
trip, we worked on two projects, one for human rights and
another one on deaf communication, with Jamaaludheen School
students in Male'.
 Shayna
Rose Ortiz is 16 and in 11th grade. She visited the Maldives and
Sri Lanka just before the tsunami in December 26th, 2005. Shayna
Rose worked hard to introduce these projects to the community of
Las Vegas, New Mexico, and has continued to work on the final
products. She was in charge of video and photography.
 Ariel
Gallegos, 10th grade, did research for the team and was
especially helpful in getting information to the travel team
quickly. Thanks for your hard work!
 Sabrina
Martinez, 10th grade, kept the team organized. She took notes
and kept the agenda, making sure we stayed on task and got our
work accomplished. Thanks for your help.
Vairea
Rice is a recent graduate of Bridge Academy Charter School. She
has directed work for the deaf communication project was in
charge of audio for this project.
 A. J. Aguilar is a 12th grader in Bridge Academy. A.J. was our
director and the grip, making sure everything and everyone was
in place.
 Ely
Winkel was following the day-to-day happenings in the Maldives
from Dhivehi Observer and Minivan Radio and had been wanting
desperately to do something to help the cause. It was her idea
to join Amnesty International and interview prisoners of
conscience. Through hours of phone calls and extensive use of
contacts she was able to get us ring seats for this struggle for
freedom. These interviews are really a window into the
conversation of a Maldivian to another Maldivian, in their
voices.
 Dr.
Eric Winkel is a co-founder of Bridge Academy Charter School.
After receiving his Ph.D., Eric taught courses on Islamic law in
many places, including the International Islamic University in
Malaysia and in Islamabad with the Fulbright program. Author of
five books (including Islam and the Living Law and Mysteries of
Purity, and a novel Damascus Steel) and numerous publications,
Eric concentrates now on introducing languages, cultures, and
countries to the students through exchange programs at Bridge
Academy Charter School. |
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How can you help?
The most important thing you can
do for the human rights activists we interviewed in the Maldives
is join Amnesty International, writing letters and responding to
Urgent Actions. The country specialist in the U.S. for the
Maldives is Govind Bell Acharya.
The Maldives has not had independent media until now. Enjoy this
great opportunity to follow the news in the Maldives and the
efforts our activists and others are making to bring freedom and
justice to the Maldives. Read the
Dhivehi Observer,
Minivan News,
Minivan Daily,
Sandhaanu,
Maldivesculture.com,
and Friends of Maldives.
Talk to people about what's happening in the Maldives.
Write us at
aistudentgroup@hotmail.com
Join
the Bridge Academy Amnesty Group's Insaaf Forum"The Struggle for
Freedom in the Maldives"
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Special Thanks
Bridge Academy Charter School
Amnesty International, Las Vegas #463
Carrol Pearson
Dr. Carol Winkel
Govind Acharya
Amnesty International, United World College Students
Daisy Rice
Dr. Ibrahim Nashid
Dhivehi Observer
Mr.Suppun (Telepix,Kandy)
Ahmed Moosa (Sappe')
Mohamed Latheef
Sandhaanu Newspaper
Mohamed Usaid
Fathimath Yusra
Mariyam Adam
Seema Ahmed
Anonymous Donors (Maldives)
…and the freedom fighter
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Let
freedom ring!
By Eegan |
