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TIME - Man of the Year
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CompactPublishing-TimeMagazine-TimeManOfTheYear-Win31MSDOS.iso
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1993-04-08
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FROM THE PUBLISHER, Page 4
Getting a story out of Africa is never easy, but this week's
cover package posed a special challenge for the veteran Africa
hands in TIME's Nairobi bureau -- operations central for our
correspondents in Somalia. Not only did the army of print and
video journalists descending on Mogadishu fill every available
hotel room and airplane seat, but they also emptied neighboring
capitals of supplies. While our resourceful office manager,
Grace Okeyo, scoured Nairobi for bottled water and U.S.
currency (a commodity in increasingly short supply), Nairobi
reporter Clive Mutiso pulled every string he knew to get TIME
space on planes denied to other journalists. When former Nairobi
bureau chief James Wilde flew in from Istanbul, Mutiso persuaded
a charter pilot bound for Mogadishu to add one more passenger,
even though there were no more seats on his airplane. In the
end, says Mutiso, Wilde was stowed "like a big parcel" behind
the pilot, and off they went.
Wilde, a seasoned war correspondent who has been dodging
bullets since the French Indochina war, landed in time to
witness the media circus that greeted the troops on the beach.
"The Marines showed admirable restraint," says Wilde. He tells
the story of one U.S. trooper, faced with a particularly
irritating photographer who refused to obey orders to lie down
and keep quiet, finally fingering the trigger of his M-16 and
asking his gunnery sergeant in a whisper, "Shall I blow him
away?" The answer was no. All journalists, even experienced ones
like Wilde, have been bedeviled by kat-chewing thugs, pesky
mosquitoes and static-stricken telephone lines. "Nearly every
correspondent has his story of being robbed at gunpoint, usually
by preteen kids," reports Wilde.
Acting Nairobi bureau chief Andrew Purvis, who inherited
Wilde's mongrel dogs, Whiskey and Pee Wee, along with his old
job, has been in Mogadishu long enough to watch the city go from
outright anarchy to "a place that almost feels safe." Bringing
peace to Somalia's interior, however, may take some doing. In
Baidoa, Purvis saw a young Somali no more than eight years old
waltz up to a relief worker who was carrying a bag of
cheese-flavored chips. "The kid had an AK-47 draped over his
shoulder, its muzzle almost dragging in the dust," says Purvis.
While Purvis watched, the pint-size gunman reached up and
snatched the bag of chips. A Somali man standing nearby yelled
at him, but the child, who was much better armed and knew it,
just stared and walked away.
Elizabeth P. Valk