Mozambique's Opposition Chief Mondlane Faces Terrorism Charges
'The charge has already been formalized,' Mondlane told reporters in a press conference broadcast on state-owned TVM Tuesday. 'The next steps now are to gather local and international lawyers' to discussion options, he said.
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Yahoo
38 minutes ago
- Yahoo
No One Was Supposed to Leave Alive
No One Was Supposed to Leave Alive The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. This article was featured in the One Story to Read Today newsletter. Sign up for it here. One night in mid-May, some of the Venezuelan migrants deported from the United States to a prison in El Salvador tried to break the locks on their cells with metal rails from their beds. It was a futile gesture of rebellion; no one thought they could escape. Still, punishment was swift. For six consecutive days, the inmates were subjected to lengthy beatings, three inmates told me. On the last day, male guards brought in their female colleagues, who struck the naked prisoners as the male guards recorded videos on their phones and laughed. The female guards would count to 20 as they administered the beatings, and if the prisoners complained or cried out, they would start again. Tito Martínez, one of the inmates, recalled that a prison nurse was watching. 'Hit the piñata,' she cheered. When the government of El Salvador opened the prison complex known as CECOT in 2023, the country's security minister said the inmates would only be able to get out 'inside a coffin.' This promise has largely been kept. The Salvadoran human-rights organization Cristosal has documented cases of prisoners being transported out of the jail for urgent medical care, but these inmates died soon after, before anyone could ask them what it was like inside the prison. What little is known about life in CECOT (the Spanish acronym for Terrorism Confinement Center) comes from the media tours staged by President Nayib Bukele, which show men crammed into cells with bare-metal bunkbeds stacked to the ceiling like human shelving. In most of the videos posted online, the men—some with the facial tattoos of the country's gangs—stand in silence. The Salvadoran government has encouraged CECOT's terrifying reputation, turning the prison into a museum where Bukele's tough-on-gangs tactics can be exhibited for the press. But media visits are also strictly controlled. Interviews with prisoners are rare and tightly supervised. [Read: El Salvador's exceptional prison state] On Friday, for the first time, a group of prisoners walked out of CECOT's gates as free men. They were 252 of the Venezuelans that the Trump administration had deported to El Salvador in March when it alleged—while offering little to no evidence—that they were gang members. This month, Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro negotiated a prisoner swap with the United States, releasing 10 American citizens in his custody and dozens of Venezuelan political prisoners. In return, the Venezuelans in El Salvador were put on a plane and sent to Caracas. They brought with them detailed accounts of beatings and harsh treatment. (The government of El Salvador did not respond to a request for comment about their claims.) Four former prisoners told me they were punched, kicked, and struck with clubs. They were cut off from contact with their families, deprived of legal help, and taunted by guards. All recalled days spent in a punishment cell known as 'the island,' a dark room with no water where they slept on the floor. Those days, the only light they could see came from a dim lightbulb in the ceiling that illuminated a cross. I talked with Keider Alexander Flores over the phone yesterday, just a few hours after Venezuelan police officers dropped him off at his mother's house in Caracas. Flores told me that he and his brother left Venezuela in 2023, trekking through the jungles of Panama's Darién Gap and riding buses all the way to Mexico. They applied for an appointment to cross into the United States legally and arrived in Texas in August. Flores soon settled in Dallas and started an asylum application, but he didn't complete the process. He found work laying carpet. His real passion was music: He DJed under the name Keyder Flower. In one of his Instagram posts, he flexes his teenage muscles as he plays tracks by a pool. [From the September 2024 issue: Seventy miles in hell] In December, after a DJ gig at a house party in Dallas, Flores was riding in the passenger seat of a friend's car when they were pulled over. Flores told me they had smoked marijuana, and the police took them to the station. Later he was sent to ICE detention. At an immigration hearing, the judge told him that he wouldn't be able to return to the United States for 10 years, because he had broken U.S. law. When asked what country he wanted to be deported to, Flores said Venezuela. While in ICE detention, Flores learned that he had been flagged as 'an active member' of the Venezuelan gang Tren de Aragua. Federal agents showed up to interview him, he said. They had seen his pictures on Instagram and said his hand signals looked suspicious. 'I was doing a cool sign, but they said it was a gesture of Tren de Aragua,' Flores told me. Flores knew about CECOT. He had seen videos at the ICE detention center in Texas, where the TV sometimes showed cable news. In mid-March, he called his brother from detention to say that he was about to get deported to Venezuela; two days later, he was put on a plane. ICE guards didn't let the passengers open the window shades during the flight. Flores and his fellow detainees found out they were in El Salvador only after they had landed. Another newly released Venezuelan prisoner I spoke with, Juan José Ramos, told me he'd entered the United States legally, with an appointment for an asylum hearing, and had barely settled down in Utah when ICE agents stopped his car on the way to Walmart, arresting him with no explanation. He said that when the men arrived at CECOT, they saw inmates wearing white T-shirts and shorts, heads completely shaved. Ramos asked a Salvadoran guard who these men were and why they were crying. The guard replied: 'That's you. All of you will end up like that. We will treat you all the same.' Flores, Ramos, and others I spoke with shared similar accounts of what happened next. The Venezuelans were taken to a wing of CECOT known as Module 8, with 32 cells, and didn't interact with the rest of the prisoners. The inmates communicated with one another via hand signals, because when they spoke, they were beaten. They slept on metal bunks, often without mattresses. Soap and juice bottles were luxuries afforded prior to visits by representatives of the Red Cross, who came twice during their four-month stay. Sometimes, the guards gave the prisoners better meals than usual, took pictures with their phones, then took the food away, Ramos, Flores, and others told me. A riot broke out in April, after guards beat one of the inmates to the point that he started convulsing, Flores told me. The incident convinced the Venezuelans that they had to do something. 'If your friend was being beaten, would you leave him alone as they beat him?' Flores asked me. [Adam Serwer: Trump's Salvadoran Gulag] Seven of the Venezuelans arrived days after the rest, deported from Guantánamo, where a hunger strike had broken out. They suggested doing the same at CECOT. Flores, Ramos, and others I spoke with said every inmate they knew joined the hunger strike, which lasted for several days. Some took their protest further by cutting themselves on the corners of their metal bunks. They called that a huelga de sangre: 'blood strike.' Three or four days after the strike started, two prison directors came to negotiate. The inmates agreed to end the strike in exchange for an assurance that the beatings would stop. 'They let us live for a while,' Flores told me. But in mid-May, when a few inmates refused to have their cells inspected, the guards beat them. That's when a second riot broke out. The guards responded by shooting the inmates with pellets. Then came the six days of beatings. Martínez, 26, told me he was pulled over while driving in El Paso, Texas, in February because his license plate had expired. The officer was ready to let him go with a warning, but asked Martínez to remove his shirt. Martínez had tattoos of Bible verses and the name of his wife. The officer called ICE. Martínez, who fell ill after the hunger strike, had to be taken to a clinic, where a nurse told him he had suffered serious liver damage. After the beatings, Martínez told me, some inmates vomited blood, and others couldn't walk for days. 'If they're going to kill us, I hope they kill us soon,' he said he told himself. The guards told him he would spend the rest of his life in CECOT. Until early Friday morning, when Martínez was sent home as abruptly as he'd arrived, he had believed them. Nick Miroff contributed to this story. Article originally published at The Atlantic Solve the daily Crossword
News24
3 hours ago
- News24
Ramaphosa warns Trump's tariffs highlight urgency to diversify vehicle exports
@PresidencyZA/X Ramaphosa urges the auto sector to reduce reliance on US exports. BMW's new hybrid model aligns with green mobility priorities. Government pledges incentives for electric vehicles (EVs) production and mineral processing. President Cyril Ramaphosa has warned that the newly announced tariffs by the US could pose significant risks to SA's automotive exports, urging the sector to diversify its markets and increase domestic value creation. A 30% tariff on SA's exports to the US is set to be implemented on 1 August. Speaking at the launch of BMW's new X3 plug-in hybrid electric vehicle at its Rosslyn plant in Pretoria on Thursday, Ramaphosa praised the company's continued investment in the country but cautioned that reliance on a few export destinations, such as the US and Europe, could leave the local industry exposed. 'The recent announcement on tariffs by the US, of course, has a huge impact on all of us,' said Ramaphosa. It further underscores the need for us to diversify our export base and to accelerate domestic value creation as well. President Cyril Ramaphosa He said while BMW's decision to export the new X3 to Europe was welcomed, SA must also expand its footprint across the continent, particularly within the Southern African Development Community. 'We need to open our eyes and our ears and see where else our vehicles can go,' the president said. SA's automotive sector contributes 4.9% to the country's GDP and supports more than 115 000 direct jobs. Ramaphosa described the industry as the 'lead spine' of the country's industrial strategy and said the BMW Group's role in its development was both longstanding and crucial. He said BMW's decision to produce hybrid vehicles locally aligns with the country's transition to a low-carbon economy and the global push towards green mobility. 'We are committed and determined to ensure that there is an enabling regulatory and policy environment to make it easier for companies like BMW to continue to innovate,' he said. This includes support through the Automotive Production and Development Programme, the Electric Vehicle White Paper, and targeted incentives for battery cell production, clean mobility research and critical mineral beneficiation. Ramaphosa also praised the company's broader economic contribution, including its training academy, the Youth Employment Service programme and its investment in digital skills through its IT hub. He said BMW's continued presence and reinvestment, including its R4.2 billion pledge at the SA Investment Conference, was a sign of trust in local workers, who the company refers to as 'associates'. 'You are now going to be producing a high-end vehicle for the world market,' he said to the BMW staff at the plant. It will come from your hands, as associates of this company. The Rosslyn plant was BMW's first production facility built outside Germany and has operated in the country for more than 50 years. Ramaphosa described the plant as a model of industrial transformation, job creation and inclusive growth.
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Yahoo
Hungary bans Irish rap group Kneecap from entering country over 'antisemitic hate speech'
Hungarian authorities have banned the Irish rap group Kneecap from entering the country, accusing them of engaging in "antisemitic hate speech" and "supporting terrorism". Kneecap were set to perform at the Sziget Festival, taking place from 6 to 11 August in Budapest. The Belfast-based band, which often shares pro-Palestinian messages during its shows, has attracted controversy in recent months after accusing the Israeli government of committing "genocide" in Gaza. Hungarian government spokesman Zoltan Kovacs said on Thursday that the band's members "repeatedly engage in antisemitic hate speech supporting terrorism and terrorist groups". "Hungary has zero tolerance for antisemitism in any form," Kovacs said in a post on X, adding that the band's planned performance "posed a national security threat," and the band has therefore been formally banned from entering Hungary for three years. "If they enter, expulsion will follow under international norms," Kovacs added. Responding to the spokesman's comments, Kneecap said "there is no legal basis" for Hungary's decision and that "no member of Kneecap has ever been convicted of any crime in any country". "It is clear that this is a political distraction and a further attempt to silence those who call out genocide against the Palestinian people," the band said in a statement on X. During Kneecap's gig at Britain's Glastonbury Festival in June, frontman Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, performing under the stage name Mo Chara, accused Israel of war crimes in Gaza. Ahead of the gig, Prime Minister Keir Starmer said he doesn't think Kneecap's planned performance was "appropriate". Following Kneecap's performance at Glastonbury, a criminal investigation was launched into comments made on stage by the trio. However, police ultimately decided not to pursue further action, citing "insufficient evidence to provide a realistic prospect of conviction for any offence". Kneecap called the investigation "political policing intimidation". Mo Chara has been formally charged with a terrorism offence after allegedly displaying a flag in support of the militant group Hezbollah during a gig in November. He denies the offence. Hezbollah is designated as a terrorist organisation by the UK and the US.
