home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME - Man of the Year
/
CompactPublishing-TimeMagazine-TimeManOfTheYear-Win31MSDOS.iso
/
moy
/
121492
/
1214680.000
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1993-04-08
|
2KB
|
54 lines
FROM THE PUBLISHER, Page 4
Andrew Purvis, who reported a good chunk of this week's cover
package on Somalia, may have been destined for his assignment
in Africa. When he was a boy, his paternal grandfather, a
chemical-company executive, filled his head with great tales
about his work and travels throughout the dark continent in the
1920s, while his maternal grandmother, who lived in South
Africa, filled his mailbox with wooden spears, shields, even
plastic Zulu dolls. When Purvis turned 21, he started out on a
year of thumbing across Africa, riding mostly on transport
trucks and camping out alone or staying with Peace Corps
volunteers. "Back then I made a point of avoiding trouble
spots," says Purvis, now 34, who began his tour in Africa for
TIME last summer. "These days, I seem to find trouble
everywhere."
Case in point: Monrovia, Liberia, where Purvis arrived a
month ago on a chartered flight just after rebels started
shelling the airport runway to impede Nigerian troops. He spent a
scary night holed up in a dilapidated beachfront hotel, he says,
"listening to artillery fire mingled with the sound of crashing
waves as I filed a story on a laptop computer." On his way out
the next day, three Liberian "security" officials detained
Purvis in a small room at the airport and shook him down for a
$60 bribe. It was pay or stay. "They each got $20, which was big
money to them," he says.
An inveterate hitchhiker, the Canadian-born Purvis had
trekked his way across North America five times by the age of
20. He studied science at Middlebury College and journalism at
Columbia University and, before joining TIME in 1989, enjoyed
stints at both a daily newspaper and a physician's journal. But
even his medical background couldn't prepare Purvis for the
human suffering and starvation he has witnessed in Somalia.
"After my first visit, in August, I didn't feel like eating for
days," he recalls. "I had never seen someone die before, and
there I watched several die. One boy wept over his last
brother's body right in the middle of a busy feeding center,
and nobody stopped to notice." Well, almost nobody.
Elizabeth P. Valk