RITA BELLACOSA et ADNEN HASNAOUI pour la paix en Darfour
Categoria:Interessi Comuni - Cause e idealiDescrizione:Aide HumanitaireMAIL : darfur.ritabellacosa@libero.itSito Web:http://ritabellacosa.blogspot.com/http://ritabellacosadarfur.blogspot.comUfficio:Tunis-Rome
Protegeons Les Civils Au Darfour Et Dans Le Reste Du Soudan MAINTENANT.mardi 29 décembre 2009, jeudi 29 avril 2010.AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL TUNISIE
RITA BELLACOSA says:IF YOU DON' T PROTECT THE PEOPLE OF DARFUR TODAY, NEVER AGAIN WILL WE BELIEVE YOU WHEN YOU VISIT RWANDA' S MASS GRAVES. LOOK US IN THE EYES AND SAY " NEVER AGAIN ” ! Fermiamo il genocidio in Darfur, evitiamo la vergogna di una nuova Rwanda . Tutti i diritti riservati RITA BELLACOSA 2009

DOSSIER DARFUR di RITA BELLACOSA prima puntata

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Firma : Rita Bellacosa
Il Nudo e Il Crudo: Dossier Darfur17/10/2009 - 20:57
Il Darfur, “terra dei Fur”, regione sud-occidentale del Sudan, è abitato in parte da tribù nomadi arabomusulmane dedite alla pastorizia, e in parte da tribù stanziali africane di religione animista, cristiana e musulmana dedite all’agricoltura. Poveri gli abitanti ma ricchissimo il territorio di risorse minerarie e petrolifere che esporta soprattutto in Cina. Dal 2003 il Darfur è diventato un immenso campo di sterminio e distruzione; 300.000 civili massacrati, migliaia di stupri, più di due milioni e mezzo di profughi sfollati per lo più nel vicino Ciad: il tragico bilancio di una spaventosa catastrofe umana che si sta consumando in un clima di inerzia internazionale. Il conflitto scoppiò nel Febbraio 2003 quando due gruppi ribelli, l’Esercito di liberazione del Sudan , ossia Sla sotto la guida di Abdelwahed Mohammad Nur e di Mini Arkoy Minawi e il Movimento per la giustizia e l’uguaglianza, ossia Jem-di Khalil Ibrahim, si armarono contro il governo centrale di Kharthoum pretendendo l’autonomia. Il Presidente Omar Hassan el-Bashir reagì all’insurrezione in Darfur con l’invio dei Janjaweed, i “ diavoli a cavallo”, miliziani arabi filo-governativi. I guerrieri della morte assalgono ed invadono i villaggi, violentano le donne sotto gli occhi dei bambini, seviziano e bruciano vivi gli uomini, distruggono ogni traccia etnica africana. Dopo ogni loro passaggio il villaggio non esiste più; è diventato terra bruciata sulla quale aleggiano le anime delle vittime inermi. Un silenzio pesante ha preso il posto di una vita di fame. Migliaia di donne e bambine in questi sei anni sono state violentate nei villaggi devastatidalle razzie dei gruppi armati e dei Janjaweed. Migliaia di donne scampate allo sterminio vengono stuprate, come riferisce Amnesty International, nel rapporto presentato a Londra il 30 Settembre scorso, nei campi profughi del Ciad e nelle loro vicinanze,quando si allontanano per cercare legna e cibo, dagli abitanti dei villaggi confinanti ai campi, da presunti portatori di pace e da soldati ciadiani, proprio quelli chiamati a tutelare la loro incolumità. Amnesty ha riferito che la popolazione femminile a rischio stupro nei campi profughi è composta da oltre 142mila unità, su 260mila rifugiati che sono fuggiti dal Darfur negli ultimi sei anni, dal 2003 ad oggi, e che sono ospitati in 12 centri di accoglienza ai confini. Il Governo non ha mai indagato né processato i portatori di morte e non ha mai accolto i dispositivi di pace , tra cui la risoluzione N.1706 dell’Onu. Il Presidente el-Bashir ha annunciato più volte il “cessate il fuoco “; annunciato, non reso operativo. Marzo 2009. La Corte penale internazionale dell'Aja emette un ordine di arresto internazionale contro il presidente sudanese Omar al Bashir con l'accusa di crimini di guerra nel Darfur. Viene respinta l'accusa di genocidio. Luglio 2009 Nel corso del vertice svoltosi a Sirte (in Libia), l’Unione Africana (UA) dichiara di non voler cooperare con la richiesta di arresto per il Presidente del Sudan al-Bashir, emessa dalla Corte Penale Internazionale (CPI) all’inizio del marzo scorso.

Years and years to become the intellectual Rita Bellacosa, the writer that all people admire for the culture and the power of the mind. My mess-tin has been frightening, desperate, morally and physically exhausting. I believe to be me always different from the others, I ignored of it, nevertheless, from little girl, the motive. I felt that I would have become someone, I had a clean and strong internal perception of it, also if emotionally I felt an ambition that subjugated me and, at the same time, it put me fear. I have spent my infancy in a small place of country, lost, ignored by the maps. A fist of houses surrounded from cultivated land, the river, the orange bike (I bring her without hands, without hands!), my orange stereo, the roller skate, the dreams of a chic little girl unaware of the contaminations of the power and of the postings of command fruit of intrigue. The life flowed slow around; in me strange alchemies of thoughts of glory imposed me to devour books whether to find the answers to my innumerable questions. An endless thirst to know pushed by the logic of accumulation of notions, examples, teachings. It was my closed world, from where I sometimes escaped sent by some part by my family. I learned to read and to write to four years old and to speak to French. A very nice hooligan with the passion of the books. My grandfather told me to be ambitious because if you are not ambitious you are not anybody and you go from the stalls to the stars, remembered, Never vice versa. Broken on the books, since the elementary school, studying matters before they were explained to school to know them before the others, to excel in any circumstance. I made my first night of study in fifth grade, 9 years old: the Japan that was not explained. I held aside this night and to the examinations of middle school I introduced a book written by me really on Japan that was successful. I was good, good and to ten years old I had my full notebook of orange bookkeeping of expressions in French, in English, courtly words, select thoughts, excerpts of literary works, sentences in Latin, my writings and …l' Greek alphabet. Then I didn't know how much time and how much hope I would have given to the ancient languages and how much enthusiasm. I was superb, great. The test in French language consisted to choice or in a questionnaire or a theme. Nobody chose the theme, too much difficulty. I made the questionnaire and I wanted to also make the theme, in French, on Napoleone. The president of the school came to know me and wanted to meet me. I want to know this little girl that on the judgments points is genial, that writes themes that are exposed and that she takes 10 and praise to the assignments of mathematics. MeIt told me you will become a great character, about you the world will speak a lot. And, not to deny me, to the oral ones I translated without dictionary a Latin passage from the title The horse of Troy. Details, references, advances that the Fate put me before, endless elements magically linked among them in an illegible rebus to the epoch. A few years later I would have gone to Troy from researcher and archaeologist. Resulted the best in the whole school, reaped successes with my themes exposed in glass showcase, with a special mention like expert of the Latin language, with my sour sensuality but sophisticated thoughts already, definite to face the classical studies. Finally! I would have been able to feel happy in the study of the Latin classical works and Greek frets. And I’m here, in the fourth gymnasium school, high school, in the near country that seemed me a metropolis. I entered afraid as I crossed the threshold of a temple, I crossed the columns of entrance and I came in class, the most severe section, with students that lived in a different circle from mine: I was the little girl of country, excellent in his little place , but what time it was found in a new social world by to face and in which to fight for being the N.1. The teacher of French told us to introduce us; I did her but I added: I would want to make a precise statement, he, comes from a place of country but I would want to be judged for my preparation and not for the origin. So much was strong me the uneasiness of my origin! Little Rita! And I studied, I studied. The morning soon the bus, the only one, then kilometers afoot, then school, kilometers, studied again then from hour 14:30 to midnight. To the five of the morning I got up me to repeat. The Saturday and the Sunday general repetition of Latin and Greek. In summer I repeated the programs of Latin and Greek you turn during the past year and I learned the following ones to already know them when they would have explained later them the year V Gymnasium I started to give private lessons of Latin and Greek to maintain me to the studies. I didn't know what I would have had to now pass to arrive to, the nights on the books, the trips with the trains at three o'clock at night in the cold stations and the humiliation ever exhibited, to be alone in a great city and not to have the money to eat. Possession hunger it is not to have appetite, above all when you have not eaten for three days and you have of forehead people that eat and it are gobbled up and you don't have even the money for a coffee. I have never stopped working and job 25 hours on 24 every day, inclusive festivity, putting me in discussion every day to be to the height of the dreams and the projects of that beautiful little girl that studied with in front of itself the lighthouse of his bright future .All right reserved RITA BELLACOSA 2009

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GLOBAL DAY FOR DARFUR 2009

GLOBAL DAY FOR DARFUR 2009

Roma, Colosseo 19 Aprile 2009, ore 10,30

IF YOU DON' T PROTECT THE PEOPLE OF DARFUR TODAY, NEVER AGAIN WILL WE BELIEVE YOU. WHEN YOU VISIT RWANDA' S MASS GRAVES, LOOK US IN THE EYES AND SAY " NEVER AGAIN ".