Linda Blake - Global Reporter - blog

Candid Kerala

Tue, 25 May 2010 05:38:12 -0800

Wading through the lagoons and sun ripples in Alleppey, Kerala.

Oktoberfest 2009

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 01:21:31 -0800

I did some filming at d’Wiesn, the biggest beer fest in the world. This 12-day Bavarian beer binge is held annually in Munich, Germany.

Millions scoop up gingerbread hearts for their beer-drenched lovers of the hour. Ich liebe Dich!

Most sing and dance to canned American wedding songs as they topple off the table-tops. Folks gorge on Hendl (chicken), extra salty to increase thirst for more and MORE brew.

Be warned: the women who haul the big jars of beer around are masochists who find pleasure in elbowing unsuspecting Oktoberfest virgins *such as myself* in the aisles.

A nice substitute for the insanity of India.

A showcase of my refined ability to multi-task.

Cell Phone Symphony

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 13:39:19 -0800

I went to what can best be described as a "cell phone picnic" at the NCPA Theater this evening in Mumbai.

Instead of being told to flip off their cell phone before the show, attendees were encouraged to call a series of mobile numbers. The corresponding mobiles were on stage set to vibrate. Each one was positioned at different angles over loose guitar strings.

Above is an MP3 snippet of the cell phone symphony in action. It was a fun way to hook into India's ubiquitous cell phone use. It was also a nice tongue-wag to theater etiquette.

I enjoyed it though the older couple in front of me exited the theater with an irritated gait. “What’s the point of this?” one asked me.

The performance was presented by German audio technicians Bettina Wenzel and Hans Koch. John Cage followers - to be sure. Koch joked with me after the performance “no one in India uses vibrate on their mobiles.” He hoped this would be an ear-opener.

Organic Change

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 13:23:08 -0800

Indian farmer Havantro Deshmukh criss-crosses his 20-acre cotton plantation in Eastern Maharashtra - barefoot. He wiggles his toes through the spongy mud, unearthing a snarl of cow dung and worms –instant markers of his organic street cred.

Deshmukh converted his farm from chemical to organic nearly a decade ago. Since, then, he says his consistent profit has helped him to "escape debt" and conceivably death in a part of rural Maharashtra known as India’s suicide belt.

In 2006, more than 1,000 suicides were reported in the Vidarbha region of Maharashtra - that's one suicide every eight hours.

Deshmukh equates the suicide-prone quarter to a separate country all together. “This is Bharat, Bharat means Village,” Deshmukh declares. He points toward the road out of town. “That is India and India means city.” And in a single gesture, Deshmukh has encapsulated India’s rural-urban divide.

I’ve been excavating this divide through a series of video pieces for the Wall Street Journal. I have just completed a print/video companion for WSJ on the benefits of organic farming in a drought-torn India. Check it out

Swine Flu Fanaticism

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 00:20:10 -0800

Don’t think about shaking someone’s hand in India anymore. It’s far too risky. Most have reverted back to “Namaste” greetings with flattened hands warmly pressed together.

It’s all part of the Operation: Swine-Flu-Avoidance. There have been nearly two dozen swine flu deaths in India thus far and just over 2,000 cases.

And people are freaked thanks primarily to news media hysterics. In 2007 more than 331,000 died from TB in India alone. There have barely been 30 swine flu deaths and you’d think an asteroid was about to hit with the impact it’s had. The only possible explanation: TB impacts impoverished slum dwellers. Swine Flu has impacted the media-hungry middle class.

Consequentially, all of the schools here in Mumbai have been closed for a week – that includes 1,1000 state schools, 350 colleges and a slew of private schools. And don’t try escaping to Bollywood. The cinemas are closed for two more days.

Bombay has become a masquerade of surgical-masks. A funny sight when you consider that most doctors wear masks to protect patients from their germs - not the other way around. These strap-ons are no more than a placebo. They are meant to be discarded after a few days lest they become breeding grounds for bacteria. Many here, however, invest in one (now at 4x the original asking price) and treat it as if it is an article of clothing – to be worn until it disintegrates.

Gotta love Facebook, by the way, for offering innovative takes on social tidal wives. One recent update read: “Around 2,000 ppl in India get Swine Flu and everyone wants to wear a surgical mask – 20 million people have AIDS and nobody wants to wear a condom! Wake up!!”

Logic aside, a friend of mine who works for AFP concluded that most middle class Indians aren’t afraid of actually getting swine flu. Rather they are terrified of having to go to a toxic government hospital. Picture the reality there: stray blood-thirsty dogs, hundreds of coughing people crammed into a damp room – to the corner are brick piles of dead bodies covered in clothes with lifeless feet poking out.

That explains why there have been numerous reported hospital-breaks (aka prison breaks) from people who were admitted into hospitals with flu-like symptoms. Unable to stomach the conditions, they slipped out the back door. Just goes to show, the hospitals here may be sicker than the patients. Do they make surgical masks that big?

India's Holiest City Celebrates Solar Eclipse

Wed, 12 Aug 2009 08:49:54 -0800

Prayers and chants were at a fever-pitch in India's holiest city of Varanasi on July 22nd as Indians witnessed this century's longest solar eclipse. I shot footage of the shadow crawling across the sun and over crowds gathered in the Varanasi waterways.

Swarms of locals took auspicious dips in the Ganges waterways. During the stretch of darkness, I could feel a tense sense of mortality. Everyone seemed to release a collective sigh of relief once the sun re-appeared. Sins forgiven. Above is some footage I gathered from the memorable morning.

Organic Farming

Wed, 12 Aug 2009 08:23:18 -0800

I have been doing a series of video profiles on rural India for The Wall Street Journal. Most recently, I went to the Vidarbha region of Maharashtra, known by most as "India's Suicide Belt.”

Of the roughly 16,000 farmers who commit suicide annually in India, one quarter of them transpire in this drought-prone region. The farmers face high production costs met by low market prices and have trouble breaking even. They end up debilitated by hunger and debt. Suicide is their escape.

This year, the numbers could increase in such an erratic rainy season. I looked for a sliver of hope on this ongoing saga. There is an organic cotton farmer named Vasant Pohekar in the area who is encouraging more than 5 thousand at risk farmers in the region to make the shift to Organic Farming. This practice, with higher profit margins and lower input costs, is saving farmers’ money and quite possibly their lives.

The piece will be featured on the Wall Street Journal website in the coming week.

I shot ample footage of these women laborers. They spent up to 8 hours a day crab-walking through the fields plucking weeds at intense speeds. I, on the other hand, could barely handle 8 seconds. It was interesting to take their profession for a test-drive. It generated much respect and quite a few chuckles.

East Africa

Wed, 12 Aug 2009 07:47:07 -0800

As a freelance journalist, I find it thrilling that I I can stick my thumb to the wind and use my instincts and curiosity to decide where on the earth to go next. Each country is a commission away. I had always longed to go to East Africa so that is exactly what I did this past June.

I started out in Kenya where I enjoyed an unforgettable Safari in Masai Mara. Here is a 30 second edit of some recreational filming I did.

It was amazing to see animals up-close and in their natural habitat. At one point, the protected van we were in stopped before a group of lionesses standing fully upright in pounce-mode. About 10 feet away was a small animal crouched in the brush. You could see its heart beat moving in ripples across it's shiny fur coat. I've never seen that type of fear in such a close and intimate way before. The lionesses did not find the prey, much to some of the insensitive photo-snapping tourists' dismay... some of whom were literally voicing coordinates to the active lionesses. Not sure if that is worse than a journalist I heard about who once ordered his pizza lunch to be delivered to a refugee camp, but it's pretty icky to say the least.

I then skipped over to Uganda.

The first thing I noticed were ads scattered throughout Kampala encouraging women to plump-up. Need a booty or love handles? We’ve got just the miracle stuff for you! Chubbery encouraged? A definite change in pace from the Western suck-it and tuck-it thinking.

I arrived into Uganda when the country’s new annual budget was released. A large amount of funds were allocated to farmers in the form of alluring loans, though I wanted to find out if they actually saw the money. So, I grabbed my mic, hopped into a shared taxi and went to a village a couple of hours outside of the capital.

Shoeless children, as young as five years-old paced through the fields in Central Uganda’s Mukono District. Most used their bare hands to uproot crops. It was here where I learned a valuable lesson in the importance of cultural sensitivity while reporting. Point blank. Africans express themselves differently than Indians. In India, people fling themselves in front of the camera with ham-like determination. In many parts of East Africa, there is a deeply seeded paranoia of mics or cameras.

The only way I could get interviews with farmers was by talking to them for 20 minutes, then pulling out a notebook, and then finally asking them if I could pull out a mic. Only after being placed through a gradual escalation process would many people finally speak. However, I still needed a local stringer to stress my pure intentions. Once they finally open-up however, they hold nothing back.

I ended my trip in Rwanda where I interviewed ex-armed Rwandan combatants (FDLR) at the Mutobo Reintegration Camp near the Congolese border. Most had fled to The Democratic Republic of Congo during the Rwandan Genocide 15 years ago. Once there, they were quickly embroiled in a civil war that still rages on today.

There were more than 1000 people in the camp - including family members. Most admitted they had been too scared to cross the border and return home despite being innocent of genocide crimes. Most were told by FDLR leadership in the DRC that if they attempted to go to Rwanda, they would be shot on arrival.

But, they found out otherwise thanks to the power of radio and mobile phones. One of the former rebels said he learned that Rwanda was a safe and normal place through listening to Voice of America reports.

The most sight at this camp was the collection of ex-reblels yapping away on mobile phones. Most here said they started using mobiles to reach their friends in Congo and report back on their lives at the camp. Standing on Rwandan soil, they explain to those still in the Bush "come home, you have nothing to fear." Powerful stuff.

Some moving interviews with the combatants and behind-the-scenes footage of camp-life will be viewable on www.vjmovement.com this September.

Nepal Dispatch

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 01:09:31 -0800

It has been an eternity since I've updated this blog. Shame on me – especially since these past few months have been plump with adventure. I’ve scaled mountains in Nepal and gone on Safari in East Africa. Filed some stories while I was at it, too.

I find it so interesting that in a place like Nepal cultural traditions stand so strong against the backdrop of constant political instability:

Last May, I shot over there to Kathmandu, Nepal after the resignation of the Himalayan Country’s Maoist PM. I braved power outages on deadline and juggled politicos’ hidden agendas. My makeshift workspace was a seedy guesthouse in Kathmandu. I was being cheap as I get paid a minimal freelance wage per report. But, as we all know, there is often a high cost of being cheap. The sound pollution from the drunken backpackers made it impossible to track my narration. This despite my efforts to make a sound-fort out of yak wool. I often had to wait until 2am to voice. (Mind you I have no right to rail on their merriment. Two years ago I was one of those rowdy hippies scouring the globe with ten dollars to my name.)

Eager to prove my chops in the Himalayan Country,
I hustled and was granted rare access to Nepal’s UN-monitored Nawalparasi cantonment camp. I interviewed former Maoist rebels who were in limbo. The Maoist PM’ s resignation primarily had to do with the fate of these very ex-combatants who were negotiating integration into the Nepali Army.

I felt strange entering the camp with only a translator by my side. And, as is expected, when I arrived I was asked: the uncomfortable question: “Oh, is it just you?” This seems to transpire each time I go to a shoot. And in an eager quest to maintain my credibility, I will often respond jokingly: “Yes, One Woman Army!” of “That’s right, I’m THAT good!” Having one person shoot/edit/produce a story solo for a major news organization is still a novel concept. Instead of it garnishing acclaim (as it should), it often implies blue-collar or low rung on the totem pole.

The real challenge for me is flying solo, yet still competing with major well-funded news operations. After getting what I thought was exclusive access to the camp, for example, I found out that BBC News went there shortly after. Before I could wrap my head around my footage and spit out a script for Voice of America, they already had a personality-driven story up and running on the network. I was bummed, but easily quelled this feeling by eating my way through a tub of peanut butter.

It didn’t help that my time had been cut short at the camp due to an “internal order.” I had asked the Commander a question that he did not appreciate and was escorted out shortly after. Namely, how do you respond to the fact that the United States still recognizes the Maoists as a terrorist group? He responded “you Americans are so quick to label groups terrorist for your own comfort and control.” He added “to bomb and interrupt stability - that is a terrorist. Our party, our army is for social transformation. “

Choice words for disarmed combatants. For reference: the U.S. definition of terrorism: … premeditated, politically motivated violence perpetrated against noncombatant targets by subnational groups or clandestine agents.

I wonder if groups are classified as terrorists if they are merely deemed “capable” of this behavior… And does that expectation end up steering them in that direction--- much like a dry alcoholic eager to suck up scotch because he can’t break free from his reputation as a vagrant drunk.

I will say, when I was at the camp with these “terrorist classified” PLA rebels I felt as if I was on a University campus.

They were in their early twenties. Kids. They spent their days playing volleyball. They walked around in slip-on sandals. And look to the left, they even wore Adidas track suits with the People’s Liberation Army icon emblazoned across the right breast.

That's a wrap on Nepal, for now. Soon I will recount my experiences working in East Africa last month. Much to share about my heart-to-hearts with subsistence farmers in Uganda and chats with former FDLR combatants at a reintegration camp in Rwanda. The lack of trust for journalists in that region is fascinating. “Be careful, you are in great danger,” said one interview subject. “Don’t betray me,” said another. It has made me realize just how much faith my subjects put in me in unstable political climates. A faith I must respect by constantly seeking out accuracy.

Dance of Democracy

Sat, 18 Apr 2009 00:19:33 -0800

Voters showed up in large numbers in Andrha Pradesh this week to kick off the 2009 Indian elections. I was in Hyderabad, the state’s capital, filming the political hustle-and-bustle for Voice of America News correspondent Steve Herman.

There are 16 political parties in Andrha Pradesh alone, some regional and others national like the Congress Party featured on the left.

Capturing the competing political rallies made my head spin. I haven't felt this way since I walked down the Barbie aisle at 'Toys R US' as a wee girl awe-struck by the different incarnations of that dreadful doll

Voters gathered in long lines clinging to what looked like church-fair raffle tickets.

They exited the polling stations with ink stained index fingernails (the Indian version of the "I Voted" sticker one receives in the United States).

Those who are illiterate, like the 82-year-old featured here, also had an ink-blot on their thumbs indicating they voted by finger-print.

During the 2008 U.S. Presidential Election, President Obama soared to financial power thanks to a slew of micro-donations from the American public. Young Americans double clicked on voteforchange.com and zapped over 10 or 20 bucks to secure Obama’s victory. Here in Andrha Pradesh, India (where the first votes for the month-long Indian election have kicked off), it is the complete opposite. The people are on the receiving end of cash hand-outs.

Parties literally hand out wads of cash and liquor to entice voters. In Hyderabad alone, the police seized about 260 million dollars of cash and three times that worth in liquor. That is arguably only two percent of the actual money floating around.

These bills come in small denominations so that party heads can hand them directly to voters in the back alleys of slums and throughout the villages. Just imagine wheelbarrows of rupee notes.

And that is just the pre-election fanfare. While the Obama campaign spoke wistfully of universal health care and timelines for troop withdrawal in Iraq, in Andrha Pradesh the Telugu Desam Party (TDP) promises a television for every home. Vote for me and you’ll be the proud owner of a 14 inch, Chinese made color television! This is an enticing deal despite the fact that many in the state still don't have electricity.

There is a tradition of money distribution in Indian politics. Most parties end up much like “the fat kid in gym class,” just trying to keep up with each other. If they don’t give, then the other party will most definitely win. So, it’s a non-stop game of one-upmanship.

The Western response in this “age of Obama” would be to instantly slam this sort of behavior. It certainly corrupts this notion of free and fair elections which are critical in a democracy.But, I can't help to note the positive side to all of this.

Hear me out. I often call myself a “Pell Grant Pilgrim.” I’ve reached a successful point in my life thanks to the free lunches offered at my public school, thanks to government funded programs for at-risk youth and ultimately was able to go to college thanks to a cart-load of federal aid. In the United States I could get this sort of social welfare through cleaner channels. In India, this reliable infrastructure is just not there.

The fact is, when else are poor villagers and slum dwellers able to go to get this sort of direct financial support from government players? If this is the only welfare program being offered by politicians in an impoverished country, why stop it? As Washington Post Reporter Emily Wax quoted in a recent article “the farmer is like an emperor this election.” Many of these regal villagers are able to use this money to get a good meal in or pay-off a withstanding farm loan. Why not, then, give poor folk the chance to be king for a day?

Signing out, below are some young boys in Hyderabad who have caught election fever!