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Algeria and Back
Gray. That was my answer when the young Algerian woman asked me what my first impression of Algeria was. We were just coming in for landing at Algiers airport, I had left Morocco's blue skies and sunshine and yet a mere one and a half hour flight east along the Mediterranean coast and I was surrounded by grayness. But as I think about it more I think that "gray" was perhaps a very apt answer. On arrival it was gray, chilly, cloudy (the Algerians said it was merely foggy but I maintain it was cloudy) and drizzly. What a dreary welcome. But how far from what I really sense Algeria is today. Algerians want to know what you think of Algeria. What impressions you came with. They are very conscious of their recent past which saw some 150,000 people killed and many thousands more "disappeared". And journalists were a primary target. In fact, as recent as 7 years ago a car bomb exploded at La Maison de la Presse - a compound for many of the journalists in the country. Security to get into the compound today is high. I was never really sure how to answer the question. I mean I arrived in Algeria with really only one preconceived notion, or at least one overwhelming thought in my head - terrorism, very black and white. But I was definitely not going to say this to my Algerian hosts who clearly continue to try to move beyond the violence of the 1990s - they do not want to be defined by the violence that seems to have left an indelible scar on the country. The other reality was that I had been so busy in Morocco I had had little time to do my usual background research that I do before hitting unknown territory. The NDI (National Democratic Institute) office in Algiers had sent me some background on the Algerian media but that was about the extent of my knowledge. Yes, sad for a journalist, I know. But as I later told the director-general of radio it was also kind of liberating - I could form my own ideas based on what I saw and what I gathered from talking to people and not based on anybody else's ideas. As we drove into the city, the drizzle continued and the surrounding grayness reminded me of Vancouver, Canada. The city itself evoked another place in my mind and it took me some minutes to realize what place that was. Finally, Genoa, that was it! The Italian port city built between the Mediterranean and the mountains where I had lived for two years in the early 90s. The city's white buildings with blue-shuttered windows hugged the sides of hills, narrow, winding roads wound their way up and through the hills. It was incredibly picturesque and I just hoped that the sun would make an appearance over the next 10 days. We finally arrived at my hotel, a gargantuan monstrosity very clearly built in Algeria's heyday of the 1970s. Our car was stopped and searched (as it was every time subsequently) before we were allowed to enter the grounds. The hotel itself - well it really was like the 1970s with a hangover. But the view from my top floor (the 9th) was spectacular. I looked over the port of Algiers, the city and the Mediterranean and in the distance looking east, mountains. The next day the sun was shining. The city looked absolutely beautiful and the sea shimmered. And the sun kept shining till the day I left. Over the course of the next ten days I would suffer from a cold and food poisoning (or some other kind of violent stomach issues!) but the work was incredibly gratifying and perhaps some of the most rewarding over the past several months. During my first workshop I was training a group of women journalists to train other women to be spokespeople. My new "trainers" were then put through their paces two days later as they helped me train a group of 20 women (and one man) to be spokespeople for their associations. It was actually kind of fun watching the interactions, the coaching, and the coaxing as they newly trained spokespeople did interviews in front of the camera. The workshop also served another goal - to try to forge some kind of relationship between the journalists and these women's organizations. I think it was a success and there was already talk of a follow-up event. My final workshop was a subject near and dear to my heart but one that I had never offered as a workshop. The topic was the role of media in conflict resolution and peacebuilding and clearly was also near and dear for the Algerians as they continue to emerge from the years of terrorism in the 90s. The workshop opened with a roundtable dealing with Rwanda as I had just been there 2 years ago and the other speaker, the director-general of Algerian radio, had been there with the UN mission right after the genocide. It was absolutely fascinating to hear this man's stories. He had never done radio before Rwanda and had left Rwanda with a case of severe malaria and ended up in a coma for nearly a month. We agreed that Rwanda had a way of changing you. After the roundtable, it was just me and a group of journalists. I was concerned that there might be some volatile discussion about the Algerian situation - I needn't have worried. In the end these journalists were seriously interested in knowing what possible role they as journalists could play in the future of their country. And they were clearly upset when the one day workshop came to an end - they wanted more. I felt bad and while one part of me wanted to stay and give them more I also desperately wanted to get back to Rabat which would bring me that much closer to being back in the US with my husband and dog. The day I left it was again gray as if to remind me of the grayness on my arrival, to emphasize that things in Algeria are not black or white. I was shocked at the security to get on to the plane. We not only had to identify our bags on the tarmac, but then our carry ons were examined and each person was frisked. Once on the plane, I was eager to get going. As we took off, the grayness of the clouds dissipated and the sun came through, and I watched the city of Algiers disappear below me. |  |
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Previous Columns
Leaving Morocco
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