Photo credit: UNHCR

The following is an interview with Suzan Alsadig: a Sudanese refugee

Introduction

“I was born and raised in Sudan, in the midst of political turmoil and painful events that left a deep mark on my life. I have witnessed civil wars up close—how they tear communities apart and steal dreams. For me, transitional justice is not an academic concept; rather, it is a necessity, and a personal hope. Today, I live as a refugee searching for peace and dignity. I believe that understanding the roots of transitional justice helps us grasp the challenges we face in building a nation that acknowledges its wounds and strives for true reconciliation.”

Historical Context

“Since Sudan’s independence in 1956, internal conflicts have erupted time and again: from the civil war in the south, which ended with the Comprehensive Peace Agreement in 2005, to the Darfur crisis that continues to affect millions. These are not distant events for me—they are my lived reality. My family and I were forced to leave our homeland due to violence and insecurity. Years of unaddressed violations and a lack of accountability have left wounds unhealed and deepened the suffering of civilians, their effects still shaping our lives today.”

My Daily Life Now

“Every day is a blend of strength and challenge. I start my mornings carrying the memories of my beloved Sudan while building a new life here. My days are filled with studying, volunteering to support other refugees, and staying connected to my family despite the distance. Small things—like cooking a traditional Sudanese meal or hearing my mother tongue—fill me with a sense of belonging and hope, even in the face of hardship.”

How My Environment Has Changed

“I left a place where every detail was familiar—faces, streets, scents—and moved into a world I didn’t know, with a new language, culture, and climate. It was painful and difficult at first, but over time I learned to find my place in both worlds. I built new friendships, merged my Sudanese roots with my new surroundings, and realized that home can live in your heart, no matter where you are.”

My Message to the World

“I wish people understood that refugees are not just numbers or fleeting headlines. We are human beings with dreams, ambitions, and the courage to start over after immense loss. We are not only seeking compassion; we want to be seen as people capable of giving, building, and contributing. I hope the world will look at us with open hearts and see in us not a burden, but a source of energy, hope, and resilience.”

An Unhealed Wound… El Fasher Today

“As I write these words, my heart is with my people in Darfur—especially in El Fasher—where the sound of gunfire continues to steal innocent lives. The news from there is not just headlines to me; they are the faces I know, the voices I have heard, the dreams that once mirrored my own.

Every day brings word of someone lost, a family displaced, a child left without parents. I feel helpless being far away, yet the sorrow weighs on me as if I were standing among the rubble with them.

Darfur today mourns not only its past but its present, stolen in front of the world’s eyes. I hope our cry is heard—that people understand this is not just a statistic in a report, but lives erased, hearts broken, and memories burned in fire and smoke.”

Transitional Justice… A Step Toward Peace

“I believe transitional justice in Sudan must be comprehensive—going beyond trials to include rebuilding trust between citizens and the state, and giving victims the chance to tell their stories. The absence of political will, weak institutions, and ongoing violence are major obstacles. Without true justice, there can be no lasting peace.

The voices of women and youth must be at the center of this process. Only when we combine legal accountability with social reconciliation can we turn the page on the past and write a future filled with stability and hope.”

The following story is an excerpt from the book, 17 Days In Treblinka, written by Eddie Weinstein. Eddie Weinstein wrote his memoirs in Germany in 1947. The original manuscript was written in Yiddish.

If you’d like to purchase this incredible book, here is a link:

“I have told my story in chronological order, as I remember what happened to me, my parents, my brother, my uncles and aunts, and around forty first cousins. I cannot explain the nature of the occurrences that I retell here; I leave it to the readers to draw the conclusions.”

The following is a passage from Chapter 2 of the book. If you’d like to read Chapter 1 first, you can find it here:

“In February 1942, the Germans ordered the Judenrat to provide a first batch of workers for the Wolfer and Göbel company, which was going to build the main highway between Siedlce and Brest-Litovsk for the Wehrmacht. This sent the ghetto into a panic, because until then male forced laborers had usually been allowed to come home at night. The only exceptions were a few people who lived in labor camps established in the summer of 1941 for road repair. Even these camps, however, were close enough that the workers could visit their homes at least on Sundays. This time, however, as everyone knew, the Wolfer and Göbel labor camp was located near Siedlce and was tightly sealed. Since some workers from nearby Sarnaki had already been sent to this camp, information about the conditions there was public knowledge. The main type of work, stone-crushing, was especially arduous, and the workday ran from dawn to dusk. The workers slept in unheated barracks and were given scanty rations. One of the names on the Judenrat's list of Wolfer and Göbel laborers was mine.

My parents asked acquaintances on the Judenrat to try to get me exempted, but in vain. Construction on the highway was expected to begin in the spring; even more labor would be needed then. This left me with no options. Weeping bitterly, Mother gave me a bundle with sheets and a blanket. I took a small amount of bread. Mother urged me to take care of myself and gave me a kiss and a hug. Tears welled in my eyes, too, but I tried to keep the other boys from noticing them. I joined the first transport, composed of 207 young Jewish men.

The conditions in the camp were not significantly different from what we had been told. We worked near villages along the Międzyrzec Podlaski highway, smashing boulders that villagers had collected and hauled to us. The fields were still covered with snow. In addition to all the other hardships, we suffered from the cold and rain. Most of the soldiers guarding us were middle-aged Austrians. Employees of the German firm organized the work, but the overseers were Poles and the group foremen were young Jews who were chosen at random. Those who fell behind or faltered in their work were beaten mercilessly -— in several cases, fatally.

A few days after we reached this location, a Pole named Wasilewski was appointed camp manager. He reported to work at 5 A.M. every day, roused all the workers from their barracks, and ordered them to exercise, i.e., to run in a large circle in the muddy yard. Those who could not run fast enough were ordered to lie down on a bench brought over from the barracks and were flogged on their bare backs.

The daily ration was 250 grams of black bread, watery soup for lunch, and chamomile tea in the morning and the evening. For the first few days, the Germans allowed the Judenrat to provide us with extra bread, so each of us also received a half kilo of bread from the ghetto. Families were permitted to send parcels of food or clothing along with the shipment of bread. Some families, however, could not afford such luxuries.

Other workers in the camp came from ghettos in the Mordy, Sarnaki, Sokolów, and Stoczek regions; they, too, received assistance from their local Judenräte. Jews from the Warsaw Ghetto, who composed a large majority of inmates in the camp, had the worst conditions. Since the Warsaw Ghetto had been established much earlier than the ghettos in the small towns, it was the most impoverished. Families there could not afford to buy the extra quota of bread, which meant that the men from Warsaw had to survive on the German company's rations. Most inmates who starved to death — as happened every day - were from Warsaw.

Many workers contracted serious lung diseases and had festering sores. However, the supervisors did not regard these as illnesses and rarely agreed to send a sick inmate home. By the time I acquired all this information, I had been in the camp for twenty-three days. I was filthy (showering was prohibited), I wore a lice-infested vest, and I had a severe cold and a high fever. Aware that I could not survive in such conditions, I discussed the possibility of escape with my friend, Michael Rak. The next day - it was the seventh day of Passover (April 9, 1942)—we left the camp for work in the pouring rain. The trucks were waiting for us across the road, near a row of small Polish houses. Michael and I stepped into a courtyard and hid behind c of the buildings. After the trucks drove away, we walked across fields until we reached a barn, where we hid until nightfall. Then we double-timed it over the 20-plus miles to Łosice, arriving there before dawn.

My family was delighted to see me. My mother served me a small bowl of soup; I gulped it down and then slept for twenty-four hours straight. When I woke up, I felt much better. Several days later, the Judenrat sent policemen to arrest me and take me back to the camp with a new transport that had been organized in the meantime. When they came looking for me, I hid. Since my father was out working on the main road at the time, they arrested my mother for a few hours. Father, fearing that I would be identified and shot as soon as I reached the camp, contacted the Judenrat and offered to take my place in the transport. When Rak and I had decided to run away from the camp we had not considered the consequences. We had to get away from it and we did so. Only now did I realize how grave an action it had been, and not only from our own standpoint. In the end, however, the Judenrat agents left me alone.

The ghetto was charged with providing workers to build the Siedlce-Brest highway, but this did not exempt the rest of the ghetto population from forced labor in the vicinity. Most residents preferred the latter because, although unpaid, it was easier than road-building.”

The second installment from an interview series with Colonel Athens - the former Director of the U.S. Naval Academy’s James B. Stockdale Center for Ethical Leadership. He is a retired Marine, having served in significant command and staff positions in all four Marine Aircraft Wings, as a Space Operations Officer with the U.S. Space Command and as an instructor at Marine Aviation Weapons and Tactics Squadron-1. Additionally, he was a White House Fellow under President Ronald Reagan and the Special Assistant to the NASA Administrator following the Space Shuttle Challenger accident.

How did you make your way to NASA?

“I don't know how familiar you are with the White House Fellowship program, but it's a small group of people. Once you get selected, you interview at a lot of different agencies and departments in the federal government, and they're kind of looking to see who they would like and you're looking to see where you'd like to be. One of the places I interviewed during that process was at NASA, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. This was during the recovery from the Challenger accident at that point. The work experience, which was fantastic at NASA. I can't even begin to describe how much I learned there. Watching the recovery from the Challenger accident was an amazing experience. They had to get programs back up and running, getting integrity built back up in the organization, etc. I was lucky to be able to contribute to NASA with some of my background. Eventually, part of my reserve time in the Marine Corps was as a Space Operations Officer for the US Space Command. And that would have never happened if I didn't have the experience with NASA.”

What was it like having to rebuild the integrity of NASA after the Challenger accident? 

“January 28, 1986 is when the space shuttle Challenger was going to launch from Florida. It was very cold that day. There were solid rocket boosters that were on the two sides of the external tank in the Shuttle, but they didn't have enough data to really know if these O rings that are preventing gasses from escaping will work in the lower temperatures. The NASA executives kind of pushed it to the side and said, “we’ve got to get this thing flying.” They thought they didn't have enough evidence to show that there was going to be a problem. Well, there was. The shuttle explodes. Seven astronauts killed in space. This was the first time astronauts had ever been killed in space. Now, in the Apollo era, there was a fire in Apollo, one that killed three astronauts, but it was on the ground. This was the first time that this had actually happened in space. It was devastating to NASA. As the investigation unfolded, it was clear that there was a bad culture that was building up in NASA. I watched how they rebuilt, and they did it by focusing on integrity and safety. They focused on getting NASA back on track, so that launches could happen again. But NASA was very, very depressed after that. You know, it hurt badly to see what had happened. They were able to rebuild the motivation and the vision for the organization, and I got to be a part of that, and watch some of it, and also be involved. It was a very unique time to be there.”

You've had a very diverse career, whether it be NASA or the White House or the military. How are those three fields different?

“I mean, when I think about this, I start with the leadership, right? That leadership is different in different types of organizations, but I think those fundamentals still hold true. It doesn't matter whether you're leading a governmental agency or you're leading a military unit, or you're leading a corporation, really, those same traits are what's very, very important for leaders to be successful. Obviously, one of the things that drives the differences in organizations is their mission, because their missions are going to take them in different directions, and the type of people that might be attracted to that particular mission. So you take the example of NASA. There's a lot of scientists and engineers throughout NASA, because that's what they do. You know, they're in the science and the technical areas. The Marine Corps is more oriented towards a different mission. Again, the type of person that's going to be attracted into that field is going to be a bit different, but how they lead, and how they establish a vision, and how they set standards, all those kinds of things are very, very similar from organization to organization.”

Colonel Athens is the former Director of the U.S. Naval Academy’s James B. Stockdale Center for Ethical Leadership. He is a retired Marine, having served in significant command and staff positions in all four Marine Aircraft Wings, as a Space Operations Officer with the U.S. Space Command and as an instructor at Marine Aviation Weapons and Tactics Squadron-1. Additionally, he was a White House Fellow under President Ronald Reagan and the Special Assistant to the NASA Administrator following the Space Shuttle Challenger accident.

An introduction: (From the WHFP Website)

“The White House Fellowship program, established in 1964 by President Lyndon B. Johnson, is one of the most prestigious public service fellowships in the United States. It selects a small, highly competitive group of individuals from diverse professional backgrounds to work alongside senior White House staff, Cabinet secretaries, and other top-ranking officials for a year. Fellows engage in significant responsibilities, receive mentorship from leaders across government, and participate in educational seminars that provide insight into leadership and policy-making. Alumni often go on to prominent roles in government, business, and nonprofit sectors, marking the fellowship as a springboard for future leaders.”

The interview with Colonel Athens

“I was the Fourth Marine Corps White House Fellow since the program started in 1964. I was there in 1987 and 1988. It was fairly unique for Marines to be there, and there hadn't been a marine White House fellow for a long period of time. When I said I was going to try to apply for it, I was actually encouraged by a couple of people, that's how I even knew about the program. And I decided, okay, well, I'm going to give it a shot. I'm going to put in my application. And then when I talked to the Marine Corps at headquarters, saying, “hey, I'm applying for this program. Is there anything I need to do with you all?” They said, “we don't even know what you're talking about. Sure, go ahead and apply.” And then I was fortunate enough to get selected.

Then the interaction with the President - you know, you got to meet with him on a number of occasions. I got to know him somewhat. Reagan was an interesting man, and he was a great communicator. I learned some things about communication from watching him.. It was one of those life changing experiences. I got a unique tour, though, coming out of the White House Fellowship program on the Marine Corps side.  

We'd meet with prominent Washington DC folks, whether it was the press, or government officials, or businessmen. I learned so much.. You travel a lot as well. In our case, we went to what was then the Soviet Union, England, and some trips within the United States.. It was a very broadening experience for me to see how the higher levels of government worked.”

What was it like to meet Reagan? What were your first impressions? 

“The first time I had the opportunity to go into the Oval Office and meet Reagen, it was going to be one on one. There was a group of White House staff outside the Oval Office, and they said “you need to rehearse your name, because when you go in there, people often forget.” It doesn't matter what you think of that president, politically speaking. He's the President of the United States, and definitely don’t mess up when you’re introducing yourself.” So I was thinking about that as I walked in. It was  amazing to be in the Oval Office with the president. Again, regardless of political feelings. I can tell you he was very warm and engaging. You know, there were sometimes jokes about him falling asleep in cabinet meetings and things like that, but there was certainly no evidence of that. Getting a chance to just listen to what he had to say about how he was handling different things was amazing. It was fascinating, and I didn't forget my name.”

The following story is an excerpt from the book, 17 Days In Treblinka, written by Eddie Weinstein. Eddie Weinstein wrote his memoirs in Germany in 1947. The original manuscript was written in Yiddish. 

If you’d like to purchase this incredible book, here is a link:

“I have told my story in chronological order, as I remember what happened to me, my parents, my brother, my uncles and aunts, and around forty first cousins. I cannot explain the nature of the occurrences that I retell here; I leave it to the readers to draw the conclusions.

I was born in Locise, a small town in Poland, about 11 miles west of the River Bug. The Brukmanns, my mother's family, had lived in that area for generations. My mother, Leah, was the youngest of five children and the only daughter. She married my father in 1912 when she was about 20 years old. 

My father, Asher Weinstein, was born in Bejdy, a village about 10 miles from Locise. He served in the Tsar's army for about three and a half years. Although he had learned tailoring in his youth, I do not recall that he ever practiced that trade, except when he sewed or repaired clothing for members of his family. Since my father found it impossible to support his family as a tailor, he went into business. He went out into the nearby villages with a horse cart and bought eggs, hens, ducks, and geese from the peasant for resale in town. In the summer, he would rent an orchard and a one or two room house where the family would live. 

My brother Israel was born in 1926, and he was two years younger than me. When I was three or four, I was enrolled in a cheder - a religious school for boys of that age - which the teacher ran out of his own apartment. The apartment had a small kitchen and a large room that served as a living room, bedroom, and classroom. The children sat on two benches on either side of a long table that ran down the center of the room; the teacher taught us the Hebrew alphabet and the prayers. I started public school when I was six, but continued to go to the cheder in the afternoon. 

When I was in fifth grade, I was severely ill for about 10 weeks, after which I had to learn to walk all over again. Later, I studied in the Yeshiva in my town. In October of 1938, when I was 15, I went to work for Moshe Goldstein, who owned the only wholesale store in town. My salary was very low, but I was happy anyway, because there were very few jobs to be had in Locise. 

In March of 1939, I looked out through the store's glass door and saw a man running followed by a crowd of children and adults. When the men stopped at a public notice board, my employer, Moshe Goldstein, sent me out to see what was happening. The man had posted a notice that the Polish army was calling up reserves. The whole town was upset by the news. 

After about an hour of silence, one could hear the sobbing of wives and mothers whose husbands and sons had to report for active service. It seemed as if everyone was wailing. I saw small groups forming in the market square. What was happening? What's the world coming to? At about 10pm, peasants from neighboring villages arrived with horse carts to transport the reservists to the rendezvous points established by the Polish army. The men sang army songs as they left town. The older men began to return about three months later. Another three months passed, and then on September 1, 1939, Nazi Germany invaded Poland. World War Two had begun. On Saturday, September 9, the Germans bombarded our town. The Great Synagogue was destroyed, and about 50 people were killed. Many others were wounded. Most of the townspeople fled for their lives. No one was left behind at the clinic to treat the many casualties. 

My family fled to Bejdy, where my father's two sisters and brother lived. We spent about six days with them and then returned home. Several days later, advanced companies of German troops arrived on motorcycles and launched a wave of violence and pillage. People aged 40 or more who remembered the events of World War One regarded this as a matter of routine - what the victors always do. They hoped and expected that life would eventually go back to normal. 

The German motorcyclists left town on the same day. A few days later, two armored vehicles packed with German soldiers pulled into Locise and stopped in the Market Square. The soldiers raided the shops for valuables before withdrawing to the edge of town. These incursions continued for about 10 days. Rumor had it that Germany and Russia had agreed to establish a new border along the River Vistula. 

Russian soldiers arrived several days later. They behaved quite amiably. The younger men flirted with local girls, got into arguments with local teenagers, and proclaimed the superiority of the Soviet regime over ours. Peasants were told that land would be redistributed. Townspeople were told that industry would be developed and everyone would have equal opportunity in property and schooling. 

The young Jews eagerly absorbed the stories of the Russians who asserted that in their vast country, all people were equal in every respect. The hopes of generations of Jews were finally about to come true. Rallies were held, and the Soviet officers told us that they intended to stay; The Red Army never retreated from a place it had occupied. A new town council was formed under a new mayor, and a militia was established. A soldier played the accordion in the market square, and a few people danced to his music. We enjoyed the situation for the few days that it lasted. One evening, however, a new rumor spread: the Russians were withdrawing eastward to the River Bug. That meant that the Germans would return. Locise was gripped by panic, particularly in light of reports about the Germans behavior in the county seat, Siedlce, about 19 miles away. People said that the Germans ordered representatives of the Jews to report to the town hall, where they were beaten, kicked, and thrown down the stairs. Several needed assistance to get back home, and all had their faces bloodied. 

The new frontier was about 12 and a half miles from Locise. Several townspeople packed their belongings and followed the retreating Russians to the River Bug. Many young people also walked in that direction. My mother asked my cousins to take me with them, but they refused because they did not wish to take on the extra responsibility. My brother Israel cried and pleaded with my parents to leave town and cross the river to the Russian side. The exodus would have been much greater had the nearby forest not been swarmed with Polish gangs who robbed Jews of their belongings. We were told that even those who had managed to cross to the other side of the bug found it hard to find housing and work there, so many returned to their homes. The war would not last long, they declared; Poland did surrender, but Germany would fall to the British and the French in short order. The Soviet authorities soon defined those who did not go back home as security risks and exiled them to the forest of Siberia. Meanwhile, the Germans returned to Losice. They announced that they were going to establish a new order that would last for 1000 years. 

One day, an SS officer, or Oberstrumfuhrer, showed up in Losice to serve as military governor, or Kommandant. At first, he walked in the Market Square and kicked or punched anyone who failed to doff his hat as he passed. Later, pedestrians got into the habit of ducking into side streets whenever they saw him approaching. 

One night in December 1939, the Germans arrested six Jews and one Christian, led them to the outskirts of town, and murdered them. People said that somebody had informed the Germans that the victims' children had embraced communism and left town with the Russians. The next day, a notice with the names of the murdered people was posted in the Market Square, announcing that they had been executed. The Germans then established a Judenrat, or Jewish Council, independent of the Polish municipal authorities to govern the Jewish population. They conscripted Jews for public works, some necessary, and others not. The Germans seized the opportunity to abuse and torture the frailer workers. 

Thousands of refugees and deportees from western Poland packed the town, doubling its population. The municipal authorities dealt with the Poles and resettled them in nearby villages. Jewish refugees, in contrast, became wards of their own people. Housing density soon became unbearable. The newcomers had to share not only dwellings, but also kitchen utensils and food with the locals. Efforts began to procure food for those who were starving. A German gendarmerie, known as the Schutzpolizei, (Schupo for short), entered Locise in February of 1940 and established their headquarters above the pharmacy across the street from our house. 

Each month, the Germans announced new and more severe restrictions against the Jews. First, Jews were ordered to wear bands with a Star of David on their right arm. Their right to travel out of town was limited, and they were subjected to more stringent curfew than that applying to the Poles. Still later, Jewish merchants and artisans were forbidden to ply their trades, and more and more Jews were conscripted for slave labor. In August of 1940, the Wehrmacht requisitioned 400 Jews for labor at the Niemojki railroad station, about three miles from town. I received an order signed by the chairman of the Jewish Council to report there the next day. The job involved building a concrete platform more than 500 yards long, laying several railroad tracks and constructing a spur to allow trains to turn around. It was grueling labor. The Germans, evidently facing an inflexible deadline, pushed us to our limits, and we completed the work by the end of February of 1941. This was the second station near the Russian frontier in June of 1941, the Germans used it to move weapons up to the front for the attack on the Soviet Union.

In March of 1941, after my work was completed, I was ordered to report to a place called Mrozy, about 56 miles from home. This was a railroad station near the town of Kalushin, about 19 miles from Warsaw. 50 young men from Losice, including myself, were sent there. We worked a 12 hour shift through the night, starting at 6pm quarrying stone from a mountain and laying tracks. We slept in an unheated freight car. Many workers, myself among them, suffered frostbitten legs. 

We loaded mud onto small freight wagons, which we emptied hundreds of yards from where we had dug it up. Starting in June of 1949, the Germans used this location to hide railroad cars that transported fuel for use in the attack on the Soviet Union. When a German guard clubbed me on the fourth night of this labor, I decided to escape. After I had put several dozen miles between myself and Mrozy, I met a peasant who agreed to take me to Siedlce in his horse cart. From there, I continued on foot and reached home the next morning. When mother saw me, she danced with such joy that I thought she had gone crazy. When she calmed down, I studied her closely. Although I had been away for only a week, she had aged visibly. I later found out that a young townsman who managed to run away before me had told people that none of the workers would make it home alive. 

Before the month was out, the Wehrmacht soldiers were posted to Losice and needed barracks. Many men, including me, were drafted to build the barracks and later to clean them, especially the latrines. 

In mid May, the Germans ordered the Jewish Council to supply 200 Jewish workers to repave the road to Sarnaki, about 12.5 miles from Locise and only a few miles from the River Bug. At first, we thought the Germans were moving soldiers and supplies up to the Soviet frontier to protect them from bombardments each morning. However, more and more soldiers moved in and occupied the finest houses. By the end of May, the soldiers had been equipped with many armored vehicles. In June, the streets were so clogged with tanks that one often had to wait hours to cross the road. There was movement around the clock. 

On Saturday, June 21, the Germans suddenly left town. We were sure they had gone to take part in an attack on the Soviet Union. If so, bombardments would surely follow. Each family bundled up its belongings. Indeed, the German bombardment began at four or five the next morning. By 7am, the sky was filled with German aircraft. All the townspeople closed up their homes and fled westward. My parents joined their relatives in Bejdy. We all returned within a week, by which time the Germans had advanced into the Russian interior. I spent the summer working wherever the Jewish Council sent me. 

Hardly a week passed without a new German directive concerning the Jews. Jews were forbidden to circulate freely. Jews had to remove all metal implements, jewelry, furs and woolen items from their homes. We were repeatedly fined for alleged infractions of these rules. The worst blow, however, was the establishment of the ghetto, which totally isolated us from normal life. The Locise ghetto was set up on December 1 of 1941. Since only a small portion of the town was set aside for this purpose, the overcrowding was unbearable. My family had to leave its house, which was outside the designated ghetto limits, and move into one room on a different street called Donaj Street. We shared these quarters with a refugee family from Warsaw, meaning that eight people lived in that one room. A family from a nearby town that had five daughters was also living in the building. For lack of a better alternative, they occupied a butcher shop. Somebody helped them put up a shelf along the wall in those cramped quarters to serve as a bed. The place had no heating whatsoever, and the girls had to spend the entire winter on that shelf. Such conditions became routine. 

Signs forbidding Jews to leave the ghetto with warning of death were posted on every street. Similar notices appeared outside the ghetto, warning the townspeople that the ghetto was infested with typhus and must not be entered. In fact, a typhus epidemic did break out during that first severe winter. It claimed many lives, even among young people. The dead were taken for burial in the Jewish cemetery, which was located outside the ghetto, but only one member of the family was allowed to attend the interment. 

As an example of the restrictions, the sidewalk on Bielska Street was reserved for Jews but the street for Poles, because it was the main road between the county seat, Siedlce, and Biala Podlaska. Jews were allowed to cross the street at only two places. Sometimes a child or adult forgot this rule and stepped off the sidewalk elsewhere, risking immediate death. 

The Germans gave us coupons good for 200 grams, or about seven ounces of bread per day, but the quantity of flour that reached the baker was seldom enough to provide this ration for everyone. Several days after the ghetto was established, a gendarme apprehended three Jews 15 feet outside the ghetto boundary and wrote down their names and addresses. One of the culprits was named Miriam Rivke Schwartz. About a week later, all three were removed from their homes at midnight and murdered at the edge of town. From then on, whenever the Germans caught a Jew outside the ghetto without permission, they shot him on the spot. On several occasions, my mother wrapped a large kerchief around her head, and left the ghetto at 5am before daybreak, went to nearby villages to barter clothing for food, and returned after nightfall. My mother's cousin was once caught outside the ghetto. A gendarme led him straight to the Jewish cemetery and shot him. The employment of Jews outside the ghetto made it easier for them to buy food. Some artisans, whose workshops had been confiscated, managed to obtain permits to work outside the ghetto walls. In the ghetto itself, there was no longer any demand for anything except food. People bartered valuables and tools for bread and potatoes. Many ghetto inhabitants sold everything they own.”

The Colombian Army at this time was attempting to stop the bleeding and keep the rebels at bay. This resulted in numerous conflicts between them and the ELN. However, the situation became increasingly complicated due to the rise of paramilitary groups. These paramilitaries were initially formed by landowners and businesses to protect themselves from guerrilla extortion but evolved into powerful militias that often colluded with the Army.

The paramilitaries and the Army both targeted the ELN, but their actions also led to widespread human rights abuses, including massacres of civilians suspected of supporting guerrillas. 

Suzanne Blanc worked for the International Committee of the Red Cross: they attempted to protect civilians who were caught in the conflict by enforcing international laws of war. She was a young Swiss woman coming into a warzone with zero combat experience. This provided an extra challenge in her experience, but it also ended up being her strength.

Here is Suzanne Blanc’s story:

“I worked in a town in the north of Colombia, where the Red Cross office was based. I worked for the international committee of the Red Cross, first in Rwanda, then in Bosnia, and finally in Colombia.

My job, as someone working for the Red Cross, a neutral organization, was to maintain good relations with the army, the paramilitaries, and the ELN communist guerrillas. The problem, though, was that we didn’t always know where each group was. The guerrillas weren't stationed anywhere; we had to find them in the jungle. We had to be careful, in order to make sure our Red Cross vehicle wasn't followed by the Army, who could then track us and then attack the guerrillas. There was an agreement with the Army not to follow us, but it was extremely complicated, because we had to inform them of our routes to avoid landmines, which they had placed.

Every Monday morning, I would head off alone with my driver in the Red Cross car to a little village in the middle of nowhere. I would stay there the whole week in a hotel room. First thing in the morning, family members of kidnapped people would line up outside my hotel room. Every day, from seven in the morning to seven at night, people came to me with life-and-death stories of their kidnapped loved ones, asking for help. It was too much to bear. It was really a tough scenario. Colombia was psychologically and physically difficult. The climate was incredibly hard—really, really humid. Psychologically, it was tough because my organization, the Red Cross, was the only international organization working there. There was no one else. I always felt very alone. It wasn’t like in Bosnia or Rwanda where we worked in big teams. Colombia was my last mission. I was burned out. 

This was a difficult political context because it was during the civil war in Colombia, involving three different parties. The international aid we provided had complex implications. On one side were the guerrilla forces, represented by an organization called ELN, inspired by communist ideology, particularly by Che Guevara. Another group was the paramilitaries, the extreme right, who did the dirty work for the Army.

The guerrillas kidnapped people they suspected of working for the paramilitaries or those they thought they could get a lot of ransom money from. It wasn't our mandate to negotiate for the hostages' release. We just wanted to transmit messages from the hostages to their families to let them know they were alive and in good health. If there was a negotiated release, we ensured it went smoothly.

Guerrilla commanders were always very polite with me and my Colombian driver. But it was tricky. For instance, one evening, a guerrilla chief invited me to stay overnight for a party, which required sensible decision-making on my part. Obviously, I could not do this. I had to be careful. Being a woman in this situation requires you to be alert at all times. 

My stories, though, often involved the paramilitaries, who were extremely violent. They killed, tortured, and left bodies in the streets as a sign of their power.

I was in contact with a paramilitary chief in the village, who accused his childhood friend of being a traitor and working for the ELN guerrillas. To avoid a killing, I decided to mediate. This meeting happened around midnight at the paramilitary chief’s house. It was a tense moment as I entered with the accused friend, thinking it could either work or fail disastrously.

Inside, it felt like a scene from a film, with armed men around the table. I had to explain the situation in Spanish, which wasn't my first language. Despite my fear, we spoke for an hour. Surprisingly, both men agreed to a truce, and the accused friend was still alive when I left Colombia a few months later. If he had been killed, I wouldn't have forgiven myself.

The paramilitaries and guerrillas didn't care about international humanitarian law. The guerrillas had their own system of justice, which they enforced through their courts.

Strangely, being a woman in such a macho environment was an advantage. They didn't see me as a threat and were much more fearful of men, allowing me to navigate the complexities more effectively. They almost didn’t take me seriously, being a woman. This may have saved my life.”

The end of apartheid in South Africa was a pivotal moment in the history of South Africa. It ended decades of institutionalized racial segregation and discrimination. These government sponsored laws enforced white supremacy. This led to widespread oppression of the black population, which represented a majority of the South African population. The black population outnumbered the white population by about 4:1. The struggle against apartheid was led by figures like Nelson Mandela and the African National Congress (ANC). Key events, including Mandela's release from prison in 1990, culminated in the 1994 multiracial elections. Nelson Mandela's election as the first black president of South Africa symbolized the official end of apartheid and the beginning of a new democratic era.

Introducing the Guest

“My name is Andrew Thompson. I grew up in New Zealand and I trained in medicine. Quite soon after I graduated, I went to work in Cambodia as a doctor for the Red Cross, and then I stayed there to work with the UN. I saw a lot of war. First in Cambodia and Bosnia, and then I went to work in Haiti. But I want to tell you about my most inspiring mission and it was one that I did in South Africa. In South Africa, in April of 1994, was the first free election - and it ended up bringing Nelson Mandela's party, the ANC, to power. So, the UN sent observers to cover the election. And so I went as a UN observer, and I wasn't there as a doctor. I was there just as a UN staff member observing whether the election was free and fair.”

What were you looking for as an election observer? Did they give you any training?

“The idea was to have as many outsiders there as possible. So if there was any cheating, someone could ring the alarm bell. I mean, either side could have cheated. It was the most observed election in history, I think. It was fair and it was free - and it was peaceful. They just said go and make sure it's free and fair and check that the polling was fair. I didn't have any training. I guess I looked for double balloting, or people with weapons trying to intimidate voters one way or another, but none of that happened.”

If you had found that the election was not free and not fair, what were you supposed to have done about that?

“I suppose I was supposed to report to my boss who would report to his boss and then I don't know what would have happened after that. Because as I was saying, we didn't get any training for that. I mean, a lot of it was common sense. You know, in a funny way, it didn't matter much because it was obvious who was going to win. Once it was decided that there would be one man, one vote, obviously the black Africans were going to win it right? They had a large majority. That's what the whites had resisted for so long, for decades. So the result wasn't a surprise, but the fact that it was peaceful and there was so little violence on polling day was a huge relief.”

The Tension in the Streets

“They sent me to a town in the north of South Africa called Petersburg, and Petersburg was a white town. Many of the whites in that town were quite racist, and they feared the arrival of a black majority government, and they knew that was going to happen. They knew that they would lose the election - there was this political situation which was tense, very violent. I remember this tension well, because we were with the UN, so we had a team with many different races. I had colleagues who were African, European, Asian, both men and women. And one time I was walking with a colleague from Botswana down the main road and we got jeered at by some whites in a car. They didn't like the idea of a white man walking with a black woman in the streets. That’s to give you an idea of how racist their thinking was. It was very, very tense because many people thought there would be war after the election. They thought the black government would take power and that the white army wouldn't accept that, so it was extremely tense.”

Meeting Nelson Mandela 

“I remember two moments very well, but one was when Nelson Mandela and his team were on the campaign trail. He came with his team to Petersburg, the town where we were living, and my boss sent a message to the hotel that he was staying in: “the UN team would like to visit you and present their credentials.” I thought that was ridiculous. Nelson Mandela, who's about to win the first free election after 40 years of struggle, why would he be interested in a UN team? And, you know, I said to my boss, “you're an idiot. You don't understand. This guy is one of the most important people in the world at the moment. He is not interested in the UN team.” But, through his people, Nelson Mandela said, “Yes, I'd like to meet the UN team,” which is already amazing, just so humble of him. And so we went out to a hotel, and he was staying out in the countryside. On a Saturday morning, there were about eight of us there, and we walked into the lobby of the hotel. I expected there would be massive security, because you can imagine the threats to Nelson Mandela's life at that time from white extremists. And it was very, very casual. There were two bodyguard-looking types, African men, in the lobby. One of them came up and said, “Oh, you must be on the UN team. Mr. Mandela is a bit tired but he'd like to receive you in his hotel room.” I thought that this was just amazing. This is crazy. Where's the security? There were just these two guys! And so we filed into Nelson Mandela's hotel room, his bedroom, and it was quite a small room.  I'm thinking, this is Nelson Mandela. I'm Andrew Thompson. I'm sitting on the floor at his feet next to his bed. He just started talking and he was so humble and so great. And you notice funny details at that time. He had cotton wool sticking out of both his ears, it looked very strange. He had bad ear infections when he was a prisoner on Robben Island for 30 years, and so his hearing was affected. He went around the room, and we introduced ourselves, and from each country we came from, he knew someone in that country. So I said “I'm from New Zealand, Mr. Mandela, and I'm a medical doctor.” He said “I met your prime minister last week, you know, give him my regards.” I said, sarcastically, “well, I don't see him very often, but I'm glad, thank you for that.” You must realize what a towering figure he was internationally, because when he looked around, he knew important people in every country that we represented. And so we talked to him and I'm still thinking, you know, they're going to kill this guy. We are here with the UN. There are no bodyguards. There's no one at this hotel. This guy is gonna get assassinated. I was worried. Anyway, we talked to him for about an hour, back and forth, and then we left and went back to where we were living in Petersburg. Before we left, a couple of the secretaries asked him for a photo. So we took photos with Mr. Mandela. And I thought, well, I'm a UN official. We’re supposed to be neutral in the election, so I can't be seen having photos with him. So I didn't get a photo with him. That is one of the big regrets in my life. They had a photo and I didn’t, because I was too neutral to take a photo with Nelson Mandela.”

The Election

“Some weeks after that, the election happened, and the whole world was watching, waiting for terrible violence. However, we all thought that the election day was peaceful. There were long lines of black people and white people at the election booths peacefully. I have a very moving memory from midnight on the day before the election. All around the country, there were ceremonies where the old flag was pulled down from the flagpoles and the new flag went up. So in Petersburg, where we were staying, there was the town hall and a pond, and in the middle was the flagpole. My colleagues went to bed, but I said, I'm not going to bed. I'm going to be there at midnight for this. This is historic. So I went down to the Town Hall to watch, and the flag of the apartheid regime, which was so hated by most of the people in South Africa, came down. 

So I went down, and when the flag of the apartheid regime came down, it was sort of a funeral march for many of the white South Africans watching, because they felt as though their country was gone. And then, the new South African flag went up. The multicolored flag of the rainbow nation, right? And there was a black band, which piped it up. You could see the contrast between the two regimes, the white one that was dying, and the new one that had risen. When the flag came up, I started crying. I was so moved by this contrast, and this historical moment, I was just on my own crying like an idiot. 

I went over to the white mayor, and he was folding up the flag, looking very sad and probably really, very worried that war was going to break out within the next day. And I said to him, “would you mind if I took that flag? You know, do you need it?” He said, “no, I don't.” So there I was. I had the old South African flag in my hands. And then, one of his counselors came up to him and said that the flag was to go to some historical museum, so I had to give the flag back. The following day was the election, which went so well. I've still got the newspaper from that day, and there's a helicopter shot of a queue snaking round from an election booth with both black and white people voting peacefully. I still get tears when I think of it now. There was a big banner: “One long line to freedom,” it said. 

And then, maybe three weeks later, I was in Cape Town. The Parliament of South Africa is in Cape Town even though the capital is Pretoria. So Mr. Mandela, who was the president-elect, came down to Cape Town with F.W. de Klerk, who was the outgoing president, and Desmond Tutu, who was the famous Anglican Archbishop. They stood on the balcony of the parliament in Cape Town, which is a colonial building, and there was a crowd of people. Mandela, from my point of view, wasn't a very charismatic speaker. He was quite soft spoken when you met him in person. Tutu, on the other hand, is very charismatic. He speaks with huge enthusiasm. He throws his arms around and he's a clerical guy, a preacher, and he was the one to introduce Mandela. And here is the handing over of power after centuries of injustice and apartheid, and we all started dancing. An African woman who was dressed in an African flag, like her dress was the ANC flag, she picked me up and literally swung me around in the air with joy. And she was smaller than me, but I was skinny I guess. And I just had this memory of Mandela and Tutu and de Klerk standing up there. De Klerk was part of the peace process because he was the first white president who said okay, we have to move towards majority rule. So this image of these three men, and then being swirled around by this African woman, you know, those are my memories of that intense time. 

At exactly that time, the genocide was breaking out in Rwanda. At first, here in South Africa was this moment of magic. Inspiration for the whole world. At the same time, a few hours flight to the north, this incredible brutality was breaking out. Months later I was in Rwanda, dealing with the mass graves in my work for the UN war crimes tribunal. I would think back to that time in South Africa and think, why, why did one country go down the road of peace, and why did Rwanda erupt into into mass murder and genocide? I still can't put those two together in my mind happening on the same continent at the same time. Anyway, I was very privileged to be there. And I never did get that South African flag.”

“I am 30 years old and Ukrainian. I grew up in Ukraine and currently live in the western part of the country. Previously, I lived in Kyiv and other regions, including central Ukraine. The war began in 2014. In Ukraine, we acknowledge that the invasion began in 2014 when Russia annexed Crimea.

In 2014, I was in college when Russia invaded. Before that, we had the Revolution of Dignity, which took place from November 2013 to February 2014. This revolution began because the then-president Yanukovych, influenced by Russia, refused to sign an important trade agreement with the European Union. This led to massive protests that eventually resulted in the overthrow of Yanukovych. Shortly after, in March 2014, Russia invaded Crimea, and conflict began in eastern Ukraine.

During the protests in Kyiv, things became dangerous. The government set up snipers to shoot at protesters. This period felt like a nonstop cycle of unrest and transition. Many Ukrainians, including myself, did not fully comprehend the gravity of the situation until later.

The war in 2014 was mainly confined to eastern Ukraine, unlike the full-scale invasion in 2022, which affected the entire country. By 2016-2018, many Ukrainians had become accustomed to the ongoing conflict, even though there was still hope for a resolution. The Ukrainian government took a clear pro-European stance, passing laws and policies aligned with European standards (versus Russian interests).

In 2021, the situation escalated as Russian troops began gathering near the Ukrainian border. Despite warnings from international partners, the Ukrainian government reassured the public, aiming to prevent panic. Many Ukrainians, including myself, did not believe a full-scale invasion was possible. I remember once, I was talking to my friend on the phone. He believed that the Russians would invade, and I was saying that a full-scale Russian invasion was not possible. It could never happen. I was very wrong. Everything really felt like it happened so quickly. 

On February 24, 2022, I was living in Kyiv. I woke up to messages from colleagues and the sound of distant explosions. I was sitting in my room when I heard the explosions, but I didn’t know where they were or how far away they were. I didn’t want to believe that it was real. My friend and her eight-month-old daughter were staying with me. We quickly packed our essentials and tried to stay calm. We were told that we had to have a go-bag at all times. The situation in Kyiv rapidly deteriorated, and we spent nights in a school basement used as a bomb shelter. Some people stayed in their apartments, and they put tape on their windows so that the windows didn’t shatter if there was a shockwave. 

There was chaos on the streets. Everyone was going to the ATM to get their money out. They rushed across the streets to get food and household items as well. It was so crazy. I went out to go buy food for my dog, but the prices had gone all the way up. It was also really difficult to get gas, as you can imagine. This all happened in the week of February 24, when the full-scale war broke out. Later that week, I tried to call a cab, but if you wanted to call a cab, you had to do it 24 hours in advance. When I tried to do this, the cab never even came. It was a mess.

There were some bomb shelters there, but they weren’t good at first. A bomb shelter is supposed to have two exits, but the one near us only had one. It also had terrible ventilation, etc. My friend refused to take her baby into the shelter, because she thought she wouldn’t do well there. 

Most transportation was not running well, but the trains were still going. Many people used the trains to escape. 

Eventually, my friend decided to leave, and after a week, she managed to evacuate with her daughter. I stayed behind with my dog, but a few days later, I also evacuated to western Ukraine because I had connections to the transportation company. The journey took 22 hours, and I have been in western Ukraine since.

Since then, I've been back to Kyiv, but I haven't moved back permanently. Although our offices are in Kyiv, we can work remotely. I've considered moving back a few times, but my dog, who is a rescue, gets very scared. Explosions would be terrifying for her. Right now, there aren't Russian troops beyond the front lines, primarily in eastern and southern Ukraine. Occasionally, they cross the border in the northeast, but they mostly attack from the sky, targeting critical infrastructure with missiles. This means air alerts are frequent, regardless of where you are in Ukraine. They attack our electrical grids and our water supply, etc. During the beginning of the war, this shocked me. I knew the Russians were invading, but they began to act like animals. I thought this kind of war, (targeting civilian areas), was not possible anymore. I was wrong about this. Even here in western Ukraine, we’ve had some recent attacks. Initially, I thought this area was much safer, but now I'm not so sure.

In the first six months of the full-scale invasion, I was in complete denial, hoping the situation wouldn’t escalate. Now, over two years later, it's clear that this conflict won't end soon or easily. Research centers have surveyed Ukrainians on what victory looks like for them, often pointing to the 1991 borders when Ukraine gained independence. Despite this, about 20% of Ukrainian territory is currently occupied.

I was discussing with a friend how the war affects every aspect of our lives. It's difficult to plan for the future because everything is so uncertain. I admire those who are brave enough to get married, buy houses, or have children during this time. I could never do that, I am too scared. For the first six or seven months, military experts made various predictions about the war, including threats of nuclear weapons and attacks on critical infrastructure like the power grid.

In October 2022, these attacks on infrastructure began, leading to frequent blackouts throughout the winter of 2022-2023. Streets were dark, and people relied on generators and portable power stations. Local governments set up "points of invincibility" where people could charge their devices and warm up. I was fortunate to be on the same power grid as a local post office, so I didn't experience power cuts, but many others did.

Ukrainians have adapted, finding ways to run businesses and maintain daily life despite the challenges. Offices, hospitals, and schools now often have generators. Fundraising campaigns frequently support acquiring generators for these essential services. Employees of international organizations in Ukraine are always encouraged to keep a go-bag ready with a first aid kit and two weeks of food supplies.

Today, war is on everyone’s mind. Any time you have a conversation with a Ukrainian, the topic of war will always come up. It is now a part of our lives.”

On the other hand, Congo-Brazzaville gained independence from France in 1960. At first, they adopted a multi-party system. However, political instability led to the creation of a socialist one-party state under Alphonse Massamba-Débat in 1963, which was continued by Marien Ngouabi in 1968. After Ngouabi's assassination in 1977, Denis Sassou-Nguesso took power in 1979, ruling a dictatorial government until 1992. Pascal Lissouba took control and attempted to undo the years of authoritarianism that plagued his country. At this time, the country was hopeful for a return of democracy. However, a civil war in 1997 saw Sassou-Nguesso return to power with Angolan support, which reinstated authoritarian rule. Since then, Sassou-Nguesso has maintained power through a series of elections marred by fraud. His government offered limited space for opposition and featured frequent human rights abuses. There has been an ongoing struggle between democratic aspirations and authoritarian governance in the region. 

To better understand this conflict, I interviewed Mr. Bertin Mboko - a Congolese man whose father was a high ranking official who attempted to restore democracy in Congo Brazzaville. 

In Mr. Mboko’s words:

“First of all, I want to be precise about where I am from. I am from both (aforementioned) countries, but mostly from “the smaller Congo.” We have the DRC, where my mom is from, and we have the Republic of Congo, which was colonized by France, where my father is from. However, both originated from the same kingdom. I refer to it as the same kingdom because my mother is from the Kingdom of Kongo, spelled K-O-N-G-O. This kingdom spans parts of Congo Brazzaville, the southern DRC, and the northern part of Angola. My tribe encompasses all these three areas. My father's tribe, called Teke, is located in Congo Brazzaville and the southern part of Gabon.

My experience growing up was good because I was a student during the transition to democracy. My father played a significant role in this democratic shift. He was working for the Interior Ministry of President Pascal Lissouba from Congo Brazzaville, and was an advisor. Before democracy, we had a dictatorship. However, during the democratization, my father and his peers tried to implement the democratic principles that we learned about in school. 

When my father and others came to power in 1992, they tried to apply Western democratic practices. Unfortunately, the former dictator, Sassou-Nguesso, supported by certain French politicians, returned to power through a coup d'etat. My father died in a car accident at around this time, during one of his official missions in October of 1997. This was towards the beginning of the conflict. During the democratization, we faced challenges in our attempt to adapt French democratic principles to our Congolese culture, which was a mistake that my father and his colleagues made. Many people opposed the new European ways of life that were being installed. The government my father was part of worked hard to address these issues. The struggle was real, but we aimed to improve the country's situation.

When war broke out, I was a leader in the Student Union. I was 25 years old at the time, in the late 90s. Sassou-Nguesso’s return exacerbated the situation, and we often went on strike to demand fair treatment. In many African countries, wealth is not distributed equally, creating a large gap between the rich and the poor. As a student, I believed that democracy should be applied correctly, which caused some friction with others. Eventually, the war became brutal. I decided to flee to escape the terrible conditions. I had to escape through the rainforest from the Republic of Congo for six months to reach Gabon. It was a difficult journey, but I was lucky to survive, especially since people knew who I was. The rainforest was crazy. There was every animal you could imagine - snakes, birds, lizards, etc. Eventually, I reached the border of Gabon with 75,000 other refugees. I became the leader of these refugees because of my previous role as the head of the Student Union. I also had great leadership skills, which I learned from my late father. Then, I worked with the UN, and helped other refugees by teaching them to provide for themselves - I taught them personal finance and sales. At the time, I didn't have international status, so I was considered a stateless refugee.

I stayed in Gabon for ten years, managing refugees from 24 countries, including the DRC and Congo Brazzaville. I worked for the UN, writing letters and interviewing refugees to determine who met the criteria for resettlement in other countries. Over the years, some refugees were resettled in countries like New Zealand, Canada, and the United States.

It was not easy. The dictator (Sassou-Nguesso) who returned to power did not want us to escape. You can imagine the killings and all the chaos. It was challenging to be safe, so we had to organize ourselves to survive. We had to work two to three jobs because otherwise, they would have killed us. We managed to stay there for 10 years, and eventually, we were resettled. Many of us, including myself, came to the United States. We were spread across several states: most went to Texas, some to Illinois, and I ended up in Rochester, New York. Others were in Pennsylvania, Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, North Dakota, Oregon, and Arizona. I’m not sure what criteria were used to decide where we were resettled, but most of us were former students. I think it was easier for us because we were students.

Before coming to the U.S., I had a meeting with the others. We were going to an English-speaking country. We had studied English in school but didn’t pay much attention because our primary languages were French and our native tongues. Then, we realized that we needed to return to school to understand how this new world works. I encouraged everyone to go back to school, but some chose to work instead. I went to school. Before coming to the U.S., I had a bachelor's degree in economics. I was good at math and physics. However, when I arrived, I studied English for six months at Community College in New York. From there, I went to the Rochester Institute of Technology and earned a bachelor's degree in International Studies. I was awarded a Rotary International scholarship, one of 100 chosen worldwide, and I went to Great Britain to study at Bradford University, near Manchester. I earned a master's degree in Peace and Conflict Resolution, becoming an expert in solving international issues.

Afterward, I returned to the U.S. to do an internship in Washington, D.C., with the State Department, working on macro projects for refugees from Sudan in Chad. This experience allowed me to learn and network, but I had to return to finish my studies in the United Kingdom. When I returned to the States, finding a job was difficult without connections. Therefore, I pursued another master's degree in teaching from a school near Albany, which led me to my current job as a French teacher, which I have held for three years.”

In the 1980s, Romania suffered under the authoritarian rule of Nicolae Ceausescu, the leader of the Romanian Communist Party. Ceausescu ruled from 1965, until his overthrow and execution in 1989. Ceausescu's regime was totalitarian. He instituted severe censorship, and established a violent secret police force. His regime also enforced harsh economic policies and centralized control over various aspects of Romanian society. This led to widespread poverty and hardship. Ceausescu's regime was one of the most brutal in the Eastern Bloc during the Cold War era. It seemed as if it would never loosen its grip on power.

But a combination of factors – especially the fall of other communist governments in Eastern Europe, and a subsequent wave of protests in Romania – contributed to his loss of power. The uprising gained momentum in mid-December 1989, starting in the city of Timișoara. However, it spread to Bucharest, which is the capital of Romania. The Romanian military eventually turned against Ceausescu, and he and his wife fled Bucharest by helicopter. However, they were captured by the military and brought back to the capital.

Ceausescu and his wife were quickly put on trial by a military tribunal, which lasted just a few hours. They were found guilty of crimes against the state, genocide, and other charges. On December 25, 1989, Nicolae and Elena Ceausescu were executed by a firing squad. It was a brutal end to his long reign. 

Introducing Alexandra Platon

It’s always easy to look at the past from an outside perspective, but it’s better to understand it from someone who lived  it. That’s why I interviewed Alexandra Platon, who grew up in Romania, under Ceausescu’s regime. She was seven years old during the revolution of December, 1989.

Here’s Alexandra, in her own words (lightly edited for clarity):

What it was like before the revolution:

“My whole family – everybody – was extremely against communism and socialism. So what happened? I grew up during the revolution, but unlike many families in my country, we didn't really lack the basic necessities. We had our electricity turned off often. However, the main issue was that people didn't have food. This was towards the end, when Ceausescu was starving the population of Romania to be able to pay his national debt. However, my dad had a really good job. He was a professor. He was teaching to a school that was basically on a property of a farm, and so he had access to food. Also, my grandfather was working in the ministry of agriculture. So again, we had food, but they didn't necessarily have money because everybody was paid the same. Unless you were with the communist party, you didn't really have a good income. If you lived outside Bucharest, because people raised animals and they cultivated all sorts of vegetables, grapes, apples, whatever, they were able to sell them. So basically, they had a little bit of an extra income. My great grandfather and my grandfather were beekeepers, so they were selling honey. If you knew the right people, you were able to get whatever you needed. You didn’t need to find stuff on the shelves of the stores. If you knew the people in the back of the store, you would be able to get stuff. clothing, toys, better food.? So that was how I perceived it. Some of my friends had a really tough life, But I can’t say that I lacked anything in a way.”

Alexandra’s family history: 

“I guess my grandparents had it harder. My  grandfather was a refugee of Moldova, although they used to be part of Romanian territory. They eventually lost it. He moved from Moldova to Romania to escape conflict. People were buried alive by the communists. Whatever they’re doing now in Ukraine, that was my family. Yeah, they were thrown in communal ditches, thrown manure over them. They were tied with wires. It was bad. So because of that, part of the family was again very much against communism. They were a target. They had to run, so they ran away. They hid in Romania and they built a new life over there. My family moved to Bucharest.”

Alexandra’s experience of the revolution: 

“The revolution didn’t start in Bucharest, but it came there. And by the time it reached Bucharest my mom was there, right away. At the University Square is where the whole thing happened, basically. So there were a few people, with an army around them. The Army directed them on the streets, and a lot of them got beaten up. My mom was lucky because she survived. She didn't really go to jail or anything like that either. But a lot of people got affected and then it started to get really serious and the army started to shoot people. And my grandfather said, if you continue doing this, risking your life, you have to take your kid with you. Basically, he thought, taking me with her would stop her, because she would not risk her daughter’s life. But she took me anyway. So I remember I was seven years old, and my mom was at the square yelling. Later on, I wrote down everything that she was saying. I still remember it. She was calling them ‘assassins,’ and calling for ‘the end of violence.’ The regime called the protesters thugs, so she said ‘thugs of the world unite.’ It was a vivid moment.” 

So we come from a country that's Christian. 99 percent of people are Christians, and the Orthodox Church is very much involved in politics, which is not right. It shouldn't be like this. Under the communist party, they were against religion. You weren’t allowed to build churches. Santa Claus was not even called Santa Claus. And then, we started to pray publicly in the middle of a square. This was to show that the government can't control us anymore. We are free now.”

On Ceausescu's execution: 

“They had torn down a lot of churches in Romania, a lot of them. And on one of them, on the entryway, was written, “Whoever tears down this holy place, he will die by his own people's hands on a holiday.” And then Ceausescu got killed by the Romanian army on Christmas. Crazy. He didn’t have a fair trial. He was a bad guy, but he didn't deserve to die. It was a military tribunal. It was a trial that lasted an hour, and then he was publicly executed by the army. But he didn't deserve to die like that. You could have just put him in jail.”

What happened after: 

“His right hand man took over the Presidency of Romania. His name was Iliescu, and this guy has actually committed a lot of war crimes. He too should be in jail. He should be prosecuted for everything he did.  I remember he brought in the coal miners from central Romania. It was instigated by the President. He wanted to beat up the population that was against him and his party, which was the Socialist Party. They came in with big trucks and you could see them in the streets. And they were noisy. They were thugs. And my mom took me to her workplace one day, and I remember we were walking on the sidewalk, and all of a sudden these trucks with the coal miners passed by us and she started screaming and yelling and crying and cursing, and they were smirking. I gotta say, I got scared. You're a woman, surrounded by hundreds of men, right? But she's very passionate about the things she believes. And she really wants fairness to succeed in the world, but it usually never does. But yeah, so she was very, very passionate about the cause of the revolution.”

Saddam Hussein was a dictator from Iraq, and he ruled the country from 1979 until 2003, when he was overthrown. He was born on April 28, 1937, in the town of Al-Awja, Iraq. He rose through the ranks of the Ba'ath Party, and Hussein eventually took power in a coup in 1979. This made him the President of Iraq.

Hussein's regime featured authoritarian rule, including human rights abuses, and fierce suppression of enemies. He took aggressive measures regarding his foreign policy decisions. For example, his invasion of Iran in 1980, and the invasion of Kuwait in 1990, which eventually led to the Gulf War.

Saddam Hussein's regime was also infamous for its use of chemical weapons against Kurdish civilians in the late 1980s, resulting in thousands of deaths in what is known as the Anfal campaign.

Following the 9/11 attacks, and amid unfounded allegations of possessing weapons of mass destruction, the United States invaded Iraq. The U.S. intervention quickly led to the collapse of Hussein's regime. He was captured by U.S. forces later that year. Then, in 2006, he was tried by the Iraqi Special Tribunal for crimes against humanity. He was found guilty and executed by hanging on December 30, 2006.

Saddam Hussein was a key political figure in the Middle East, but what was it like to live under his regime? To answer this question, I talked with Mr. Raed Salman, an Iraqi banker. 

Here’s Mr. Raed Salman (lightly edited for clarity):

“Saddam Hussein actually governed Iraq for 24 years. His presidential reign was filled with war and international sanctions. He had positives and negatives. Let us start with advantages. He managed to improve literacy, improve education, and send Iraqis abroad to study in Europe, America, Japan, and more. He created a good healthcare system, making Iraq a destination for foreign talent. These people would come to work in Iraq, and thus Iraqis benefited economically from this situation. He worked hard to transform Iraq into an industrial base, establishing giant industrial facilities and large scientific research centers. He built giant dams to improve irrigation and sustain agriculture in Iraq. He also created a strong army that could curb the other greedy countries. He managed to benefit from the financial avenues of the oil resources.”

“On the other hand, he caused many wars. Some of them ended with diplomatic efforts, but he often opted for more violent approaches. I would like to say that these crises could have been ended diplomatically and resolved without the need for armed conflicts, but he preferred the decision of war. Most countries supported him in his first war with Iran, particularly Arab countries. However, when the war with Iran stopped, he invaded Kuwait. Kuwait was a country that supported him against Iran because of some financial and border issues.’’

“This invasion made Iraq prone to very fierce international sanctions, starting in August of 1990, which remained 13 years. After invading Kuwait, the USA and its allies started a war to drive him out from Kuwait. Iraq remained under the sanctions, which caused the killing of a tragically high number of Iraqi children over the thirteen-year period. In the period of international sanctions, Iraq fell behind and suffered from lack of food and medicine. The education system also became worse, the health care system collapsed, and corruption broke out in society. The Iraqi army became very weak. He did not know how to reform diplomatic relations with the USA. He was arrogant, and this caused Iraq to come under USA invasion. He was a dictator, and he did not care how many people were executed. He forced Iraqis to participate in his political party despite most people not believing in it. Overall, his first round of governance from 1979 to 1990 was kind of good. However, his second one from 1990 to 2003 was very bad.”

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