I spent election day in Mexico City with Santa Muerte followers. By nightfall the country had returned to “The Perfect Dictatorship,” after a 12 year fling with democracy that didn’t go so well.
Back in Libya
I just arrived in Misarata on a flight full of wounded rebels. The town is still standing, groups of women in hijab and burkhas shop in well stocked stores beneath gaping holes left by Gadaffi’s mortars. Not so many guns on the streets, but lots of young men. It’s good to be back in a free Libya, but everyone intensely waiting to see what this actually means. Always strange to see a place that was once the center of the journalistic world for hundreds of reporters, now empty. But the stories remain, and easy to see the ways the aftermath of this conflict will effect generations to come, for better and worse.
From Tunisia to American and back again, the revolution is being passed around like a good jug of apple cider.
Occupy Tunis represents.
It was a casual affair compared with the revolts this place has seen. And I’m sure a good deal more smoking was going on than in New York. The only stir was an impassioned argument between the organizers and the communists. The protest was against the capitalist system that created the 1% and the 99%, but not everyone was sure they wanted to replace it with communism.
A photostory I just published in October’s Playboy Germany on the war in Nuba mountains. Still going on, still not reported on, and not going away anytime soon.
Morocco starts it’s Revolution.