csmonitor--2020-07-24--99 days, 4 lives, 1 pandemic: South Africa in lockdown

On the morning of July 3 , 2020 , South Africans woke up and began another day in lockdown – the 99th day , to be precise .
In the arid northwest , a forensic nurse woke her three boys , her heart aching that she couldn ’ t touch them .
A store owner leaned over his counter , wondering if today would be one of the increasingly rare good days – days when people chatted , bought novelties , and didn ’ t count their change .
The head of the country ’ s coronavirus task force lingered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ relieved there was no early-morning interview or Zoom call for a change .
And a single mother in Johannesburg rose to make breakfast for her daughter before heading to the only job she had left : a few hours of cleaning , for $ 10 a week .
Their days are all distinct in a country that is staggeringly diverse , and unequal .
But together , they paint a picture of what South Africa ’ s president has called “ the gravest crisis in the history of our democracy.
” And they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ felt in the past few months , from fear to fortitude .
These are their stories .
On the morning of Friday July 3rd , the 99th day of South Africa ’ s coronavirus lockdown , Bongani Mabuza rose before dawn to open the small corner store at the front of his property in the Johannesburg township of Katlehong .
The winter air was singed from controlled burns of the prairie that surrounded the city .
And in the inky darkness outside Mr. Mabuza ’ s gate , the street was quiet .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ to 7 a.m. were one of his busiest times .
His spaza – a local name for this type of store – served bread and Coke and hot sandwiches to a steady stream of customers in blue workmen ’ s overalls and security guard uniforms heading to jobs in the city .
Now , there weren ’ t many people who needed to be up that early .
Three months into the lockdown , so many South Africans had lost their jobs that there were more people unemployed than still formally working .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ charted the pandemic ’ s course by the purchases his customers made .
On the good days , they bought candy bars and energy drinks .
They paid in large bills and didn ’ t count the change .
On those days , customers cracked jokes , whispered gossip , and didn ’ t ask if he knew anyone who ’ d died of the coronavirus .
Editor ’ s note : As a public service , all our coronavirus coverage is free .
No paywall .
But there weren ’ t many @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the time , people came in with their eyes cast low , clutching the exact change they needed for a loaf of bread .
Or they used their last few Rand to buy vouchers for a popular cell phone gambling app .
That is , if they had any money left at all .
Mr. Mabuza had so many customers he ’ d given food to on credit that he ’ d mostly given up hoping they ’ d pay him back .
By the time dawn cracked over his little shop @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Africans had died .
Tens of thousands were sick .
Millions had lost their jobs .
As countries across Europe and Asia began a cautious return to normal life , South Africa ’ s case curve was bending in the other direction , vying with countries like the United States , Brazil , India , and Mexico on the table of the world ’ s worst outbreaks .
The pandemic ’ s global centers were shifting south , toward deeply unequal countries where it pulled apart the cracks in already battered public health @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Mr. Mabuza , life continued .
On the other side of town , a single mother rose to make breakfast for herself and her young daughter before heading out to a cleaning job .
One hundred miles to the north , a forensic nurse woke her three boys , her heart aching as she promised herself that she wouldn ’ t touch them again until this crisis was over .
In the coastal city of Durban , meanwhile , the head of the government ’ s coronavirus task force snuck a few extra @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the day of Zoom meetings to come .
And in Katlehong , Mr. Mabuza stepped behind the counter of the African Accent Spaza Shop : the business he had named in defiance of the white teachers who told him he spoke English well , except for his “ African accent.
” He leaned forward , watching the world outside his doors come slowly to life .
Dr. Salim Abdool Karim had always been an early riser , and also a night owl .
His ability to get through the day on four hours @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a med student and a young scientist .
It had been useful as a young father and as an AIDS researcher , and it was particularly helpful now , as he tried to figure out how South Africa would survive what the country ’ s president had called “ the gravest crisis in the history of our democracy.
” But on the morning of July 3 , the chair of South Africa ’ s Ministerial Advisory Committee on COVID19 – the man dubbed “ South Africa ’ s Dr. Fauci ” – had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ interview with a radio talk show host or morning news show .
So at 6 a.m. he decided to linger in bed a few extra minutes , covers pulled tight against the chilly Durban morning .
Like nearly everywhere in the world , the previous 98 days had been grueling .
In late March , with case numbers still in the triple digits , the country had begun one of the world ’ s strictest lockdowns , which forbade even outdoor exercise and the sale of tobacco and alcohol .
That bought time @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Families struggled to eat .
Women couldn ’ t escape their abusers .
Police and soldiers meted out violence on people who violated the lockdown rules .
Now , three months in , the lockdown had eased but there were new crises .
Journalists , ministers , even the president , grilled Dr. Karim about them on nearly a daily basis .
When would the days-long backlog of coronavirus tests be cleared ?
Was public transportation safe ?
When would the peak arrive ?
They all seemed to boil down to one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ again ?
It was a question Dr. Karim wanted an answer to as much as anyone .
South Africa ’ s lockdown had been only five days old when , on March 31 , he had first lost someone to the disease .
“ When I went to see her in the hospital , they wouldn ’ t let me in .
When I asked to speak to her , they said she couldn ’ t talk because of the ventilator .
And when she died , there wasn ’ t a funeral @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and colleague , the AIDS researcher Gita Ramjee .
“ That ’ s when I realized that this disease doesn ’ t only kill , it kills in a way that doesn ’ t allow people to say goodbye , or to grieve.
” That was the world he wanted back .
For Sindisiwe Nokulunga Maseko , the normal everyone was always asking Dr. Karim about had never been easy .
In the best of times , the 25-year-old single mother had pulled in around $ 300 USD a month from two cleaning @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
That was just barely enough to buy groceries and pay rent – as long as no one needed medicine or new clothes that month .
But when she woke up at 7:30 on July 3 , her old life felt enviable .
Now , her only steady work was a cleaning gig at a community center down the road , which paid $ 10 a week for three two-hour shifts .
It was better than nothing .
When the lockdown started , for Ms. Maseko , like the other million women in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that spelled an immediate end to her work .
And because her jobs had been informal – paid under the table , in cash – she wasn ’ t eligible for unemployment .
“ I was angry .
I saw that we are going to struggle because of this thing , ” she says .
This wasn ’ t the first time Ms. Maseko had lived on the edge .
Indeed , since she ’ d first arrived in Johannesburg in 2014 , as a 19-year-old with an infant daughter , she ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ steps ahead of calamity .
In those first years , she ’ d made her tiny budget work by squatting rent-free with her sister and her sister ’ s two young children in a room in an abandoned house on the eastern edge of the city .
It was the kind of sprawling old building that a hundred years ago might have been owned by one of the well-to-do white families who ’ d made their fortune in Johannesburg ’ s gold mining camps .
Now , a new generation of the city @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tapping an illegal electricity connection from the nearby city wires and drawing water from an outdoor tap .
Back then , Ms. Maseko did any job that came along – sweeping streets , installing electrical wiring , cleaning houses .
It didn ’ t really matter what she was doing , as long as her girls – now there were two – had something to eat and money for school uniforms .
“ I want them to become doctors , ” she said .
“ Or singers.
” Or anything else , really @ @ @ @ @ @ @ choice in the matter .
She never had .
In October 2018 , she and her daughters moved into a concrete room at the backyard of a nicer house .
It was small and dark , and they had to cross the yard to get to the bathroom or kitchen , but it was theirs .
For the first time in her life , she felt like she ’ d made something of herself .
That she and her girls were going to be ok. At 9:15 a.m. , as Ms. Maseko was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Cecilia Lamola-Larufi was trying to figure out how to manage her day ’ s first crisis .
In the offices of the medical charity Doctors Without Borders in the city of Rustenburg , she scrolled through her emails while her phone lit up again and again .
The day before , two of the clinics in the city where she helped oversee sexual and gender-based violence units had been forced to close temporarily after several members of their staffs tested positive for COVID-19 .
That worried Ms. Lamola-Larufi .
In Rustenburg , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ South Africa ’ s arid northwest , an estimated one in four women had been raped .
At their care centers , Ms. Lamola-Larufi ’ s nurses gathered the forensic evidence of those crimes , collecting fluids and documenting the crime scene mapped onto the woman ’ s body – purple bruises , black eyes , broken bones .
But by far their most important role was something less tangible .
For many of the women who walked through their doors , Ms. Lamola-Larufi knew , this might be the only moment in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ simply felt heard .
This could be the one and only time when no one was going to ask what they were wearing , or if they had been drinking the night it happened .
“ You never stop a woman who wants to talk to you from talking , ” she says .
“ You never tell them , ‘ Ok , I ’ ve heard enough.
’ ” Her team knew the statistics : Only around 8 % of rape cases reported to police ended in a conviction .
And nine @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sexual violence never reported it to police in the first place .
“ The system often fails them so it ’ s even more important that we do not , ” Ms. Lamola-Larufi told her teams .
The evidence they collected , she reminded them , “ gives [ these women ] a voice.
” But during the lockdown , that had been harder than ever .
Many were simply stuck at home with their abusers , unable to find a way out .
Others made it to the care center but struggled @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feet away , behind surgical masks , the nurses and social workers struggled to read the only part of the women ’ s faces they could see – their eyes .
Had they been crying ?
Were they afraid ?
At a distance , sometimes , it was hard to tell .
At African Accent , the morning had been busy .
A rare good day , by Mr. Mabuza ’ s count .
In early June , with the economy cratering , South Africa ’ s government had slackened the rules of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and casinos reopened .
People in the suburbs began to call their housekeepers and gardeners again .
And so now , a month later , many Katlehong residents had been paid for the first time in a long time .
By noon , so many customers had come in with large bills that Mr. Mabuza was out of change .
Yet he felt deeply uneasy .
Few of the customers wore masks .
He himself rarely did either .
That was a hard thing to explain , he thought , unless you ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ world as another deadly disease made its rounds : HIV .
Then , as now , the disease was a humiliation .
So Mr. Mabuza had developed a theory about why almost no one in Katlehong wore a mask .
It made you part of this thing that had already destroyed so many lives in your community .
“ How else can you show you don ’ t have it except to be unmasked and unbothered ?
” he reasoned .
Anyway , in Katlehong , a settlement of small , tidy houses @ @ @ @ @ @ @ anyone who ’ d actually fallen ill .
The pandemic ’ s worst damage had come instead from hunger , and from the police .
In the early days of the lockdown , Mr. Mabuza had watched as cops and soldiers in sand-colored fatigues marched down the street , guns swinging .
“ That ’ s how the cat and mouse game started , ” he says .
When they found someone on the road , there was rarely a conversation about what rule they ’ d broken .
Instead , he saw @ @ @ @ @ @ @ listened as soldiers and barked humiliating orders : 50 push-ups .
Frog-hop to the end of the block .
“ Normally in the township when you call the police , they take hours to come , ” he says .
When his own store had been robbed a few years earlier , he ’ d found the perpetrators before the police had the chance .
So why now had they become so committed to doing their job ?
“ At a point , coronavirus stopped being the enemy , and instead it became @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ People were being brutalized into staying home , and government was saying it was for their own safety .
How do you make sense of that ?
Government knew we wouldn ’ t fear this unknown disease we ’ d never seen .
So instead they made us fear the police instead.
” Mr. Mabuza had seen violence like this before , in the dying years of apartheid , as political killings – and equally brutal police reaction – gripped Katlehong .
He was five years old the first time he saw @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on his way home from school , not far from where his shop now stood .
He knew what the people brought to preserve order were capable of .
And even now , most days , that seemed scarier than a virus .
In Durban , Dr. Karim ’ s day had turned , as it often did , into a parade of Zoom meetings .
He met with a group of clinicians working on a reliable rapid test .
Then came a Zoom call with a task force looking into virus transmission @ @ @ @ @ @ @ vans that carried most commuters to work .
They were desperately important to keep the country running .
And when that conversation was done , he had another about one of the most fraught questions globally – what to do about schools .
That problem , like every other he faced related to COVID-19 , stood at the intersection of public health and social justice : The kids most at risk from COVID-19 were also the most at risk of falling behind in their education .
That was how it almost always went @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or any of the other infectious diseases Dr. Karim had studied in his life , the coronavirus itself did not discriminate .
But the society it entered did .
He ’ d known that since he was a child , growing up in an Indian township wedged between a middle-class white suburb and a rundown African one on the edge of Durban .
And it was underscored when he arrived , in 1978 , at South Africa ’ s only medical school for “ non-white ” doctors .
“ As soon as you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the struggle against apartheid , ” Dr. Karim says .
“ We were out at 3 a.m. painting ‘ FREE MANDELA ’ on bridges before our lectures.
” When he graduated , Dr. Karim went into medical research .
And his studies solidified a basic truth of apartheid South Africa : to be Black and poor was , very often , a death sentence .
“ The experience of growing up under apartheid is inextricably linked to my choice to become a doctor , and all of the work I have done since @ @ @ @ @ @ @ justice .
Justice required good health .
And as the sun slunk low , Dr. Karim clicked “ leave meeting ” on his final Zoom call of the day , and prepared at last to head home .
“ Did you do your school work ?
” Ms. Maseko asked her older daughter as the sun collapsed behind the horizon , leaving Johannesburg in a chilly winter darkness .
It was two days before a full moon , and it hung low and heavy in the night sky .
Since the pandemic started @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sent weekly assignments for her to complete in her workbooks .
But Ms. Maseko couldn ’ t afford to buy her daughter those books .
So she ’ d asked another parent to send her photos of the pages by WhatsApp , and then she copied the text and images carefully into a notebook she ’ d bought at the grocery store .
Sometimes Ms. Maseko struggled to explain Londiwe ’ s assignments to her .
She ’ d left school in tenth grade , when her family couldn ’ t afford the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
It had been so long now since she ’ d done math problems or memorized English grammar rules .
Anyway , Londiwe was struggling to focus .
She missed her friends , she said .
And she was bored of being stuck at home .
Truth be told , Ms. Maseko was too .
Their concrete room felt like an igloo on winter nights , and in the main house , there was always so much noise – babies shrieking and oil frying and soap operas blaring from the small TV .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ watching Indian soap operas .
“ I didn ’ t finish school , so I like practicing my English , ” she says .
“ I like the dance .
I like to see another part of the world.
” Sometimes on nights like this , she imagined herself living in a house she used to clean , before the lockdown , which had so many rooms she couldn ’ t tidy them all in a single day .
A house where she could get some quiet .
In Rustenburg , Ms. Lamola-Larufi @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to work that morning , she had noticed a group of people loitering in a small park .
They were waiting for cars to stop and ask for help with a small job – ironing , painting .
When she looped back in the afternoon , many were still there , slumping dejected on the lawns and benches .
It wasn ’ t lost on her that she could have grown up to be one of those women .
And it wasn ’ t lost on her that she could have grown up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the doors of her centers every day .
A decade ago , her younger sister ’ s partner had stabbed her to death , leaving behind their daughters , ages 2 and 6 weeks .
“ I ’ m trying to stop other people ’ s stories from ending like hers , ” Ms. Lamola-Larufi says .
It gave her purpose to do this work , but it was also heavy , and she ’ d long ago learned that if she didn ’ t find ways to escape sometimes , it might @ @ @ @ @ @ @ started a tradition .
Every Saturday , she , her husband , and their three adolescent boys all picked a song .
And then the five of them pushed back a couch in their living room and danced .
“ And we really dance , ” she says .
“ Until our bodies are just lightness.
” On day 99 , as she arrived home , she had that to look forward to .
In the coming weeks , South Africa ’ s case numbers would double , climbing towards a half million @ @ @ @ @ @ @ most populous provinces would fall ill. At the country ’ s largest airport , two people would die in a shootout between police and criminals trying to steal a shipment of face masks .
But on July 3 , that was all still to come .
For now , Ms. Lamola-Larufi was thinking ahead , to the moment tomorrow morning when one of her three sons would hit shuffle on the family playlist , and for a moment , they would all lose track of where they were .
Editor ’ s note @ @ @ @ @ @ @ our coronavirus coverage is free .
No paywall .

The pandemic has exacerbated divides and deepened inequalities. No two individuals’ experiences are the same. But in South Africa, as anywhere, our experiences are bound by common threads: fatigue, love, uncertainty, resolve.
On the morning of July 3, 2020, South Africans woke up and began another day in lockdown – the 99th day, to be precise. In the arid northwest, a forensic nurse woke her three boys, her heart aching that she couldn’t touch them. A store owner leaned over his counter, wondering if today would be one of the increasingly rare good days – days when people chatted, bought novelties, and didn’t count their change. The head of the country’s coronavirus task force lingered in bed a few extra minutes, relieved there was no early-morning interview or Zoom call for a change. And a single mother in Johannesburg rose to make breakfast for her daughter before heading to the only job she had left: a few hours of cleaning, for $10 a week. Their days are all distinct in a country that is staggeringly diverse, and unequal. But together, they paint a picture of what South Africa’s president has called “the gravest crisis in the history of our democracy.” And they speak to experiences most of us have felt in the past few months, from fear to fortitude. These are their stories.
On the morning of Friday, July 3, the 99th day of South Africa’s coronavirus lockdown, Bongani Mabuza rose before dawn to open the small corner store at the front of his property in the Johannesburg township of Katlehong.
The winter air was singed from controlled burns of the prairie that surrounded the city. And in the inky darkness outside Mr. Mabuza’s gate, the street was quiet. Before COVID-19 hit South Africa, 5 to 7 a.m. were one of his busiest times. His spaza – a local name for this type of store – served bread and Coke and hot sandwiches to a steady stream of customers in blue workmen’s overalls and security guard uniforms heading to jobs in the city.
Now, there weren’t many people who needed to be up that early. Three months into the lockdown, so many South Africans had lost their jobs that there were more people unemployed than still formally working.
Why We Wrote This The pandemic has exacerbated divides and deepened inequalities. No two individuals’ experiences are the same. But in South Africa, as anywhere, our experiences are bound by common threads: fatigue, love, uncertainty, resolve.
For 99 days, Mr. Mabuza had charted the pandemic’s course by the purchases his customers made. On the good days, they bought candy bars and energy drinks. They paid in large bills and didn’t count the change. On those days, customers cracked jokes, whispered gossip, and didn’t ask if he knew anyone who’d died of the coronavirus.
Editor’s note: As a public service, all our coronavirus coverage is free. No paywall.
But there weren’t many good days anymore. Now, most of the time, people came in with their eyes cast low, clutching the exact change they needed for a loaf of bread. Or they used their last few Rand to buy vouchers for a popular cell phone gambling app. That is, if they had any money left at all. Mr. Mabuza had so many customers he’d given food to on credit that he’d mostly given up hoping they’d pay him back.
By the time dawn cracked over his little shop that morning, at least 2,952 South Africans had died. Tens of thousands were sick. Millions had lost their jobs. As countries across Europe and Asia began a cautious return to normal life, South Africa’s case curve was bending in the other direction, vying with countries like the United States, Brazil, India, and Mexico on the table of the world’s worst outbreaks. The pandemic’s global centers were shifting south, toward deeply unequal countries where it pulled apart the cracks in already battered public health systems.
And yet, all around Mr. Mabuza, life continued. On the other side of town, a single mother rose to make breakfast for herself and her young daughter before heading out to a cleaning job. One hundred miles to the north, a forensic nurse woke her three boys, her heart aching as she promised herself that she wouldn’t touch them again until this crisis was over. In the coastal city of Durban, meanwhile, the head of the government’s coronavirus task force snuck a few extra minutes in bed, bracing himself against the day of Zoom meetings to come.
And in Katlehong, Mr. Mabuza stepped behind the counter of the African Accent Spaza Shop: the business he had named in defiance of the white teachers who told him he spoke English well, except for his “African accent.” He leaned forward, watching the world outside his doors come slowly to life.
Morning
Dr. Salim Abdool Karim had always been an early riser, and also a night owl. His ability to get through the day on four hours of sleep had served him well as a med student and a young scientist. It had been useful as a young father and as an AIDS researcher, and it was particularly helpful now, as he tried to figure out how South Africa would survive what the country’s president had called “the gravest crisis in the history of our democracy.”
But on the morning of July 3, the chair of South Africa’s Ministerial Advisory Committee on COVID19 – the man dubbed “South Africa’s Dr. Fauci” – had a rare reprieve. No early morning interview with a radio talk show host or morning news show. So at 6 a.m. he decided to linger in bed a few extra minutes, covers pulled tight against the chilly Durban morning.
Like nearly everywhere in the world, the previous 98 days had been grueling. In late March, with case numbers still in the triple digits, the country had begun one of the world’s strictest lockdowns, which forbade even outdoor exercise and the sale of tobacco and alcohol.
Rajesh Jantilal/AFP/Getty Images View caption Hide caption Salim Abdool Karim, the chair of South Africa’s Ministerial Advisory Committee on COVID-19 and the man often dubbed “South Africa’s Dr. Fauci," has long been both a scientist and an activist. On April 14, 2018, he was one of the conveners of the 'March for Science' in the city of Durban.
That bought time, but it also created new catastrophes. Families struggled to eat. Women couldn’t escape their abusers. Police and soldiers meted out violence on people who violated the lockdown rules.
Now, three months in, the lockdown had eased but there were new crises. Journalists, ministers, even the president, grilled Dr. Karim about them on nearly a daily basis.
When would the days-long backlog of coronavirus tests be cleared? Was public transportation safe? When would the peak arrive?
They all seemed to boil down to one thing: When will life be normal again?
It was a question Dr. Karim wanted an answer to as much as anyone. South Africa’s lockdown had been only five days old when, on March 31, he had first lost someone to the disease.
“When I went to see her in the hospital, they wouldn’t let me in. When I asked to speak to her, they said she couldn’t talk because of the ventilator. And when she died, there wasn’t a funeral,” he says of his friend and colleague, the AIDS researcher Gita Ramjee. “That’s when I realized that this disease doesn’t only kill, it kills in a way that doesn’t allow people to say goodbye, or to grieve.”
That was the world he wanted back.
For Sindisiwe Nokulunga Maseko, the normal everyone was always asking Dr. Karim about had never been easy. In the best of times, the 25-year-old single mother had pulled in around $300 USD a month from two cleaning jobs and a small government assistance check. That was just barely enough to buy groceries and pay rent – as long as no one needed medicine or new clothes that month.
But when she woke up at 7:30 on July 3, her old life felt enviable. Now, her only steady work was a cleaning gig at a community center down the road, which paid $10 a week for three two-hour shifts.
It was better than nothing. When the lockdown started, for Ms. Maseko, like the other million women in South Africa who work as housekeepers, that spelled an immediate end to her work. And because her jobs had been informal – paid under the table, in cash – she wasn’t eligible for unemployment.
“I was angry. I saw that we are going to struggle because of this thing,” she says.
This wasn’t the first time Ms. Maseko had lived on the edge. Indeed, since she’d first arrived in Johannesburg in 2014, as a 19-year-old with an infant daughter, she’d never been more than a few steps ahead of calamity.
Ryan Lenora Brown/The Christian Science Monitor View caption Hide caption Sindisiwe Maseko cleans a community space in her neighborhood in eastern Johannesburg in early July. The job, which pays about $10 a week for three two-hour shifts, is her only steady work since South Africa's coronavirus lockdown began in late March.
In those first years, she’d made her tiny budget work by squatting rent-free with her sister and her sister’s two young children in a room in an abandoned house on the eastern edge of the city. It was the kind of sprawling old building that a hundred years ago might have been owned by one of the well-to-do white families who’d made their fortune in Johannesburg’s gold mining camps. Now, a new generation of the city’s fortune-seekers had crowded in, tapping an illegal electricity connection from the nearby city wires and drawing water from an outdoor tap.
Back then, Ms. Maseko did any job that came along – sweeping streets, installing electrical wiring, cleaning houses. It didn’t really matter what she was doing, as long as her girls – now there were two – had something to eat and money for school uniforms. “I want them to become doctors,” she said. “Or singers.” Or anything else, really, so long as they had a choice in the matter. She never had.
In October 2018, she and her daughters moved into a concrete room at the backyard of a nicer house. It was small and dark, and they had to cross the yard to get to the bathroom or kitchen, but it was theirs. For the first time in her life, she felt like she’d made something of herself. That she and her girls were going to be ok.
At 9:15 a.m., as Ms. Maseko was mopping the community center floor in Johannesburg, Cecilia Lamola-Larufi was trying to figure out how to manage her day’s first crisis.
In the offices of the medical charity Doctors Without Borders in the city of Rustenburg, she scrolled through her emails while her phone lit up again and again. The day before, two of the clinics in the city where she helped oversee sexual and gender-based violence units had been forced to close temporarily after several members of their staffs tested positive for COVID-19.
Courtesy of Siyathuthuka Media View caption Hide caption Cecilia Lamola-Larufi, who helps manage Doctors Without Borders' centers for victims of sexual assault and gender-based violence in Rustenburg, South Africa, organizes kits for collecting evidence at a clinic. Since the country's coronavirus lockdown began in late March, many victims have struggled to access their services.
That worried Ms. Lamola-Larufi. In Rustenburg, a city flanked by platinum mines in South Africa’s arid northwest, an estimated one in four women had been raped. At their care centers, Ms. Lamola-Larufi’s nurses gathered the forensic evidence of those crimes, collecting fluids and documenting the crime scene mapped onto the woman’s body – purple bruises, black eyes, broken bones. But by far their most important role was something less tangible.
For many of the women who walked through their doors, Ms. Lamola-Larufi knew, this might be the only moment in the aftermath of their assault that they simply felt heard. This could be the one and only time when no one was going to ask what they were wearing, or if they had been drinking the night it happened.
“You never stop a woman who wants to talk to you from talking,” she says. “You never tell them, ‘Ok, I’ve heard enough.’”
Her team knew the statistics: Only around 8% of rape cases reported to police ended in a conviction. And nine in 10 women in Rustenburg who experienced sexual violence never reported it to police in the first place.
“The system often fails them so it’s even more important that we do not,” Ms. Lamola-Larufi told her teams. The evidence they collected, she reminded them, “gives [these women] a voice.”
But during the lockdown, that had been harder than ever. Many were simply stuck at home with their abusers, unable to find a way out. Others made it to the care center but struggled to explain what had happened. Six feet away, behind surgical masks, the nurses and social workers struggled to read the only part of the women’s faces they could see – their eyes. Had they been crying? Were they afraid?
At a distance, sometimes, it was hard to tell.
Afternoon
At African Accent, the morning had been busy. A rare good day, by Mr. Mabuza’s count. In early June, with the economy cratering, South Africa’s government had slackened the rules of its lockdown. Restaurants, hairdressers, and casinos reopened. People in the suburbs began to call their housekeepers and gardeners again. And so now, a month later, many Katlehong residents had been paid for the first time in a long time. By noon, so many customers had come in with large bills that Mr. Mabuza was out of change.
Yet he felt deeply uneasy. Few of the customers wore masks. He himself rarely did either. That was a hard thing to explain, he thought, unless you’d been in this part of the world as another deadly disease made its rounds: HIV.
Heather Mason View caption Hide caption Bongani Mabuza and his wife, Sibongile Motlhasedi, stand behind the counter at their African Accents Spaza Shop in Katlehong Township. Since the start of the coronavirus lockdown, many of their customers have not been able to afford their usual purchases.
Then, as now, the disease was a humiliation. So Mr. Mabuza had developed a theory about why almost no one in Katlehong wore a mask. It made you part of this thing that had already destroyed so many lives in your community. “How else can you show you don’t have it except to be unmasked and unbothered?” he reasoned.
Anyway, in Katlehong, a settlement of small, tidy houses and tin shacks, few people knew anyone who’d actually fallen ill. The pandemic’s worst damage had come instead from hunger, and from the police.
In the early days of the lockdown, Mr. Mabuza had watched as cops and soldiers in sand-colored fatigues marched down the street, guns swinging. “That’s how the cat and mouse game started,” he says. When they found someone on the road, there was rarely a conversation about what rule they’d broken. Instead, he saw people slammed against the ground. He listened as soldiers barked humiliating orders: 50 push-ups. Frog-hop to the end of the block.
“Normally in the township when you call the police, they take hours to come,” he says. When his own store had been robbed a few years earlier, he’d found the perpetrators before the police had the chance. So why now had they become so committed to doing their job?
“At a point, coronavirus stopped being the enemy, and instead it became the police,” he says. “People were being brutalized into staying home, and government was saying it was for their own safety. How do you make sense of that? Government knew we wouldn’t fear this unknown disease we’d never seen. So instead they made us fear the police instead.”
Mr. Mabuza had seen violence like this before, in the dying years of apartheid, as political killings – and equally brutal police reaction – gripped Katlehong. He was five years old the first time he saw a dead body lying in the road on his way home from school, not far from where his shop now stood.
He knew what the people brought to preserve order were capable of. And even now, most days, that seemed scarier than a virus.
In Durban, Dr. Karim’s day had turned, as it often did, into a parade of Zoom meetings. He met with a group of clinicians working on a reliable rapid test. Then came a Zoom call with a task force looking into virus transmission on minibuses – the cramped, rickety vans that carried most commuters to work. They were desperately important to keep the country running. And when that conversation was done, he had another about one of the most fraught questions globally – what to do about schools.
That problem, like every other he faced related to COVID-19, stood at the intersection of public health and social justice: The kids most at risk from COVID-19 were also the most at risk of falling behind in their education.
That was how it almost always went with epidemics. Like AIDS or measles or any of the other infectious diseases Dr. Karim had studied in his life, the coronavirus itself did not discriminate. But the society it entered did.
He’d known that since he was a child, growing up in an Indian township wedged between a middle-class white suburb and a rundown African one on the edge of Durban. And it was underscored when he arrived, in 1978, at South Africa’s only medical school for “non-white” doctors.
“As soon as you got there, you got roped into the struggle against apartheid,” Dr. Karim says. “We were out at 3 a.m. painting ‘FREE MANDELA’ on bridges before our lectures.”
When he graduated, Dr. Karim went into medical research. And his studies solidified a basic truth of apartheid South Africa: to be Black and poor was, very often, a death sentence.
“The experience of growing up under apartheid is inextricably linked to my choice to become a doctor, and all of the work I have done since,” he says.
Health was justice. Justice required good health. And as the sun slunk low, Dr. Karim clicked “leave meeting” on his final Zoom call of the day, and prepared at last to head home.
Evening
“Did you do your school work?” Ms. Maseko asked her older daughter as the sun collapsed behind the horizon, leaving Johannesburg in a chilly winter darkness. It was two days before a full moon, and it hung low and heavy in the night sky.
Since the pandemic started, 7-year-old Londiwe’s teachers had sent weekly assignments for her to complete in her workbooks. But Ms. Maseko couldn’t afford to buy her daughter those books. So she’d asked another parent to send her photos of the pages by WhatsApp, and then she copied the text and images carefully into a notebook she’d bought at the grocery store.
Ryan Lenora Brown/The Christian Science Monitor View caption Hide caption Sindisiwe Maseko, a single mother in Johannesburg, cannot afford to buy her daughter's school workbooks, so she hand-copies the pages into a notebook she bought at the grocery store.
EDUCATION & ATTITUDE CREATE OPPORTUNITY, its cover read in bold letters.
Sometimes Ms. Maseko struggled to explain Londiwe’s assignments to her. She’d left school in tenth grade, when her family couldn’t afford the $20 to buy a new uniform. It had been so long now since she’d done math problems or memorized English grammar rules.
Anyway, Londiwe was struggling to focus. She missed her friends, she said. And she was bored of being stuck at home. Truth be told, Ms. Maseko was too.
Their concrete room felt like an igloo on winter nights, and in the main house, there was always so much noise – babies shrieking and oil frying and soap operas blaring from the small TV. Ms. Maseko preferred to be alone, watching Indian soap operas. “I didn’t finish school, so I like practicing my English,” she says. “I like the dance. I like to see another part of the world.”
Sometimes on nights like this, she imagined herself living in a house she used to clean, before the lockdown, which had so many rooms she couldn’t tidy them all in a single day. A house where she could get some quiet.
In Rustenburg, Ms. Lamola-Larufi arrived home spent. On her walk to work that morning, she had noticed a group of people loitering in a small park. They were waiting for cars to stop and ask for help with a small job – ironing, painting. When she looped back in the afternoon, many were still there, slumping dejected on the lawns and benches.
It wasn’t lost on her that she could have grown up to be one of those women. And it wasn’t lost on her that she could have grown up to be one of those walking through the doors of her centers every day.
A decade ago, her younger sister’s partner had stabbed her to death, leaving behind their daughters, ages 2 and 6 weeks.
“I’m trying to stop other people’s stories from ending like hers,” Ms. Lamola-Larufi says.
It gave her purpose to do this work, but it was also heavy, and she’d long ago learned that if she didn’t find ways to escape sometimes, it might crush her.
So her family had started a tradition. Every Saturday, she, her husband, and their three adolescent boys all picked a song. And then the five of them pushed back a couch in their living room and danced. “And we really dance,” she says. “Until our bodies are just lightness.”
On day 99, as she arrived home, she had that to look forward to.
In the coming weeks, South Africa’s case numbers would double, climbing towards a half million. The leaders of two of the most populous provinces would fall ill. At the country’s largest airport, two people would die in a shootout between police and criminals trying to steal a shipment of face masks.
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But on July 3, that was all still to come. For now, Ms. Lamola-Larufi was thinking ahead, to the moment tomorrow morning when one of her three sons would hit shuffle on the family playlist, and for a moment, they would all lose track of where they were.
Editor’s note: As a public service, all our coronavirus coverage is free. No paywall.


csmonitor--2020-07-24--A Kenyan woman's solar panel supports a community in lockdown

When Lucyline Wanja Silas installed a 12-volt solar power unit at her home to help her children study at night , little did she know it would become essential to her and her neighbors in Gakunga village , central Kenya , during the coronavirus pandemic .
Ms. Wanja , a farm worker , said she had not made any money since the country 's lockdown started in March , but the solar photovoltaic ( PV ) unit she purchased in January means she no longer needs to buy kerosene for lamplight .
And she can also help others in her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ because of faults on power lines around the country due to heavy rains since March or because they could not pay their bills after losing their jobs during the pandemic .
`` My neighbors who are experiencing blackouts now come to me so that I can charge their phones for them for a fee , '' she said , adding that they pay 20 to 50 Kenyan shillings ( $ 0.19-0.46 ) .
`` There is no money out there .
I do not know what I could be using to buy kerosene @ @ @ @ @ @ @ unit . ''
With extreme weather and the economic impact of COVID-19 plunging many Kenyans into darkness , alternative energy sources are increasingly important – even for families connected to the grid , said Pamela Mukami Njeru , a community health volunteer in the central Mt .
Kenya region .
One in 4 Kenyans – mostly in rural areas – do not have access to electricity .
Those who do face high costs and frequent blackouts due to an unreliable supply .
As cases of the novel coronavirus continue to climb in Kenya @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be a matter of life and death , said Ms. Njeru , whose work involves taking patients with urgent health problems to and from hospital .
`` Without a power source , families facing an emergency are not able to keep their mobile phones charged to call us .
This is how having a solar unit which can supply power all day and night can save lives , '' she told the Thomson Reuters Foundation .
In early May , Kenya suffered a nationwide blackout that lasted about six hours , and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lost electricity for about 10 hours .
Bernard Ngugi , managing director of the Kenya Power and Lighting Company , told reporters in June that the blackouts were the result of work being done by the company to replace damaged power lines or to upgrade the network to connect new customers .
Ms. Wanja had hoped to be one of them .
She applied for an electricity connection in 2016 , but local officials said her application was turned down because she lived too far from the main road .
Worried the kerosene @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a fire or the toxic fumes would harm her children 's health , she decided to put some of her savings into buying a solar system .
Now she has power through the blackouts , she saves the dollar a week she used to spend on kerosene , and her children can study safely , she said .
`` Sometimes I would even take the tin lamp to use in the kitchen , leaving my children in darkness .
But now I do not have to because there is solar lighting in my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ If more Kenyans switched to solar , the move could also help curb climate change , according to a 2018 report by Stockholm Environment Institute Africa researchers .
Replacing smoky fuels such as kerosene , wood , and charcoal with solar energy could help reduce emissions in Kenya by 1.8 megatonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent by 2030 , it said .
In 2015 , less than 1 % of Kenya 's electricity came from solar – with most generated from fossil fuels , hydropower , and geothermal energy – but the country has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more than 7 % by 2030 , the report added .
The researchers linked the slow uptake of solar energy to high investment costs in recent years , noting that upfront costs involved in generating one kilowatt of energy from solar were more than three times as much as those for hydropower .
`` We have the solutions and we have the technologies .
But the important thing is up-scaling these so that renewable energy generation can become cheaper in Africa , '' said Mbeo Ogeya , one of the report 's authors @ @ @ @ @ @ @ renewable energy at Kenya 's Ministry of Energy and Petroleum , said the costs of solar energy are falling .
A report published in June by the International Renewable Energy Agency noted that the cost of utility-scale PV solar power dropped by more than 80 % between 2010 and last year .
`` We are encouraging renewable energy technologies and [ their ] dissemination , but also combining mini-grids with solar PV systems , '' said Mr. Nzioka , adding that the government had removed import duty on solar products .
Harriet Lamb @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , has called for investors , governments , and philanthropic groups to create a $ 35-million fund to support community-based clean-energy businesses during the COVID-19 outbreak , as customers struggle to pay .
`` Off-grid solar offers a lifeline for around 470 million people , keeping lights on and equipment working in health facilities , small businesses , and households , '' she said in a statement earlier this month .
`` But some clean energy businesses are vulnerable to collapse without support to see them through the pandemic . ''
Ms. Wanja @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her solar unit work out at 55 Kenyan shillings a day .
Yet , while the government is now easing the coronavirus lockdown , she still has no work – so even that small but essential cost is proving too much .
`` Much of my income comes from doing menial jobs , but now there are none because of COVID-19 .
I can not afford to pay the daily fee .
We need help , '' she said .
This story was reported by the Thomson Reuters Foundation .
Editor ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage .
It ’ s free .

When Lucyline Wanja Silas installed a 12-volt solar power unit at her home to help her children study at night, little did she know it would become essential to her and her neighbors in Gakunga village, central Kenya, during the coronavirus pandemic.
Ms. Wanja, a farm worker, said she had not made any money since the country's lockdown started in March, but the solar photovoltaic (PV) unit she purchased in January means she no longer needs to buy kerosene for lamplight.
And she can also help others in her area who are without electricity, either because of faults on power lines around the country due to heavy rains since March or because they could not pay their bills after losing their jobs during the pandemic.
"My neighbors who are experiencing blackouts now come to me so that I can charge their phones for them for a fee," she said, adding that they pay 20 to 50 Kenyan shillings ($0.19-0.46).
"There is no money out there. I do not know what I could be using to buy kerosene if I had not installed this solar unit."
With extreme weather and the economic impact of COVID-19 plunging many Kenyans into darkness, alternative energy sources are increasingly important – even for families connected to the grid, said Pamela Mukami Njeru, a community health volunteer in the central Mt. Kenya region.
One in 4 Kenyans – mostly in rural areas – do not have access to electricity. Those who do face high costs and frequent blackouts due to an unreliable supply.
As cases of the novel coronavirus continue to climb in Kenya, the lack of reliable power can be a matter of life and death, said Ms. Njeru, whose work involves taking patients with urgent health problems to and from hospital.
"Without a power source, families facing an emergency are not able to keep their mobile phones charged to call us. This is how having a solar unit which can supply power all day and night can save lives," she told the Thomson Reuters Foundation.
In early May, Kenya suffered a nationwide blackout that lasted about six hours, and the following month, more than 20 counties lost electricity for about 10 hours.
Bernard Ngugi, managing director of the Kenya Power and Lighting Company, told reporters in June that the blackouts were the result of work being done by the company to replace damaged power lines or to upgrade the network to connect new customers.
Slow path to solar
Ms. Wanja had hoped to be one of them. She applied for an electricity connection in 2016, but local officials said her application was turned down because she lived too far from the main road.
Worried the kerosene lamps she used for lighting could cause a fire or the toxic fumes would harm her children's health, she decided to put some of her savings into buying a solar system.
Now she has power through the blackouts, she saves the dollar a week she used to spend on kerosene, and her children can study safely, she said.
"Sometimes I would even take the tin lamp to use in the kitchen, leaving my children in darkness. But now I do not have to because there is solar lighting in my kitchen," Ms. Wanja said.
If more Kenyans switched to solar, the move could also help curb climate change, according to a 2018 report by Stockholm Environment Institute Africa researchers.
Replacing smoky fuels such as kerosene, wood, and charcoal with solar energy could help reduce emissions in Kenya by 1.8 megatonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent by 2030, it said.
In 2015, less than 1% of Kenya's electricity came from solar – with most generated from fossil fuels, hydropower, and geothermal energy – but the country has the potential to push that up to more than 7% by 2030, the report added.
The researchers linked the slow uptake of solar energy to high investment costs in recent years, noting that upfront costs involved in generating one kilowatt of energy from solar were more than three times as much as those for hydropower.
"We have the solutions and we have the technologies. But the important thing is up-scaling these so that renewable energy generation can become cheaper in Africa," said Mbeo Ogeya, one of the report's authors.
Accessibility is increasing
Stephen Nzioka, deputy director of renewable energy at Kenya's Ministry of Energy and Petroleum, said the costs of solar energy are falling.
A report published in June by the International Renewable Energy Agency noted that the cost of utility-scale PV solar power dropped by more than 80% between 2010 and last year.
"We are encouraging renewable energy technologies and [their] dissemination, but also combining mini-grids with solar PV systems," said Mr. Nzioka, adding that the government had removed import duty on solar products.
Harriet Lamb, CEO of British climate charity Ashden, has called for investors, governments, and philanthropic groups to create a $35-million fund to support community-based clean-energy businesses during the COVID-19 outbreak, as customers struggle to pay.
"Off-grid solar offers a lifeline for around 470 million people, keeping lights on and equipment working in health facilities, small businesses, and households," she said in a statement earlier this month.
"But some clean energy businesses are vulnerable to collapse without support to see them through the pandemic."
Ms. Wanja said the weekly payments she makes on her solar unit work out at 55 Kenyan shillings a day.
Yet, while the government is now easing the coronavirus lockdown, she still has no work – so even that small but essential cost is proving too much.
"Much of my income comes from doing menial jobs, but now there are none because of COVID-19. I cannot afford to pay the daily fee. We need help," she said.
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empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
This story was reported by the Thomson Reuters Foundation.
Editor’s note: As a public service, the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage. It’s free.


csmonitor--2020-07-24--Congresswomen assail sexism, demand 'dignity and respect'

Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez ’ s outrage over a Republican lawmaker ’ s verbal assault broadened into an extraordinary moment on the House floor Thursday as she and other Democrats assailed a sexist culture of “ accepting violence and violent language against women ” whose adherents include President Donald Trump .
A day after rejecting an offer of contrition from Rep. Ted Yoho , R-Fla. , for his language during this week ’ s Capitol steps confrontation , Ms. Ocasio-Cortez and more than a dozen colleagues cast the incident as all-too-common behavior by men , including Mr. Trump and other Republicans @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one incident .
It is cultural , ” said Ms. Ocasio-Cortez , D-N.Y. , calling it a culture “ of accepting a violence and violent language against women , an entire structure of power that supports that.
” The remarkable outpouring , with female lawmakers saying they ’ d routinely encountered such treatment , came in an election year in which polls show women leaning decisively against Mr. Trump , who has a history of mocking women .
“ I personally have experienced a lifetime of insults , racism , and sexism , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ And believe me , this did not stop after being elected to public office.
” Mr. Trump was captured in a 2005 tape boasting about physically abusing women , and his disparagement of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi has included calling her “ crazy.
” In an apparent reference to that tape , which drew attention during the 2016 presidential campaign , Ms. Ocasio-Cortez said men accost women “ with a sense of impunity ” every day , including when “ individuals who hold the highest office in this land admit , admit @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that last year , Mr. Trump said she and three colleagues on the “ squad ” of progressive Democratic women of color should “ go back ” to their home countries – even though all but one were born in the United States and all are American citizens .
The lawmakers joining Ms. Ocasio-Cortez represented a wide range of the chamber ’ s Democrats , underscoring their unity over an issue that is at once core to the party and capable of energizing its voters .
On the establishment side was No .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a moderate 20-term veteran .
His appearance , along with supportive words at a separate news conference by Ms. Pelosi were a noteworthy contrast to occasional clashes Ms. Ocasio-Cortez has had with party leaders .
Ms. Ocasio-Cortez is a freshman who has made her mark as one of Congress ’ most insistent and outspoken progressives .
Those speaking up included the three other “ squad ” members – Reps. Ilhan Omar of Minnesota , Ayanna Pressley of Massachusetts , and Rashida Tlaib of Michigan .
No Republicans spoke on the House floor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in which the lawmaker said “ no one was accosted , bullied , or attacked ” during what he called a brief policy discussion .
Mr. Yoho , one of Congress ’ most conservative lawmakers , said Ms. Ocasio-Cortez doesn ’ t have the “ right to inflate , talk about my family , or give an account that did not happen for political gain .
The fact still remains , I am not going to apologize for something I didn ’ t say.
” In a separate appearance , House Minority Leader @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Yoho , who will retire in January .
“ When someone apologizes they should be forgiven , ” Mr. McCarthy said .
He added later , “ I just think in a new world , in a new age , we now determine whether we accept when someone says ‘ I ’ m sorry ’ if it ’ s a good enough apology.
” But Bread for the World , a nonpartisan Christian group that combats hunger , suggested it was reconsidering Mr. Yoho ’ s continued membership on its board .
Asked @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his recent behavior “ does not reflect the values of respect and compassion that Jesus calls on us to exhibit.
” They said they have asked to speak to him “ before we determine any further action.
” “ It ’ s a manifestation of attitude in our society really .
I can tell you that firsthand , they ’ ve called me names for at least 20 years of leadership , 18 years of leadership , ” Ms. Pelosi said of Republicans .
Ms. Pelosi , who has five children , recounted @ @ @ @ @ @ @ women ’ s reproductive health , GOP lawmakers “ said , on the floor of the House , Nancy Pelosi think she knows more about having babies than the Pope.
” In an encounter Monday witnessed by a reporter from The Hill , Mr. Yoho berated Ms. Ocasio-Cortez on the House steps for saying that some of the increased crime during the coronavirus pandemic could be traced to rising unemployment and poverty .
Ms. Ocasio-Cortez described it on the House floor Thursday .
She said Mr. Yoho put his finger in her face @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and dangerous .
She also told the House that in front of reporters he called her a derogatory slur .
That matched The Hill ’ s version of what Mr. Yoho had said .
Ms. Ocasio-Cortez said Mr. Yoho ’ s references to his wife and daughters as he explained his actions during brief remarks Wednesday actually underscored the problem .
“ Having a daughter does not make a man decent .
Having a wife does not make a decent man .
Treating people with dignity and respect makes a decent man , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a decent man apologizes “ not to save face , not to win a vote .
He apologizes , and genuinely , to repair and acknowledge the harm done , so that we can all move on.
” Her voice trembled slightly as she said that her father , “ thankfully , ” was no longer alive to see Mr. Yoho ’ s treatment of her .
But she said her mother saw it , “ And I am here because I have to show my parents that I am their daughter , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to accept abuse from men.
” Other Democrats recalled their own experiences , taunted House Republicans ’ overwhelmingly white male membership , and warned that the numbers of women lawmakers will only grow .
Eighty-eight House Democrats and 13 Republicans are women .
“ We ’ re not going away , ” said Rep. Pramila Jayapal , D-Wash. “ There is going to be more power in the hands of women across this country.
” This story was reported by The Associated Press .
AP reporter Elana Schor contributed from New York .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ public service , the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage .
It ’ s free .

Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s outrage over a Republican lawmaker’s verbal assault broadened into an extraordinary moment on the House floor Thursday as she and other Democrats assailed a sexist culture of “accepting violence and violent language against women” whose adherents include President Donald Trump.
A day after rejecting an offer of contrition from Rep. Ted Yoho, R-Fla., for his language during this week’s Capitol steps confrontation, Ms. Ocasio-Cortez and more than a dozen colleagues cast the incident as all-too-common behavior by men, including Mr. Trump and other Republicans.
“This issue is not about one incident. It is cultural,” said Ms. Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y., calling it a culture “of accepting a violence and violent language against women, an entire structure of power that supports that.”
The remarkable outpouring, with female lawmakers saying they’d routinely encountered such treatment, came in an election year in which polls show women leaning decisively against Mr. Trump, who has a history of mocking women.
“I personally have experienced a lifetime of insults, racism, and sexism,” said Rep. Barbara Lee, D-Calif. “And believe me, this did not stop after being elected to public office.”
Mr. Trump was captured in a 2005 tape boasting about physically abusing women, and his disparagement of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi has included calling her “crazy.” In an apparent reference to that tape, which drew attention during the 2016 presidential campaign, Ms. Ocasio-Cortez said men accost women “with a sense of impunity” every day, including when “individuals who hold the highest office in this land admit, admit to hurting women.”
She also recalled that last year, Mr. Trump said she and three colleagues on the “squad” of progressive Democratic women of color should “go back” to their home countries – even though all but one were born in the United States and all are American citizens.
The lawmakers joining Ms. Ocasio-Cortez represented a wide range of the chamber’s Democrats, underscoring their unity over an issue that is at once core to the party and capable of energizing its voters.
On the establishment side was No. 2 House leader Steny Hoyer of Maryland, a moderate 20-term veteran. His appearance, along with supportive words at a separate news conference by Ms. Pelosi were a noteworthy contrast to occasional clashes Ms. Ocasio-Cortez has had with party leaders.
Ms. Ocasio-Cortez is a freshman who has made her mark as one of Congress’ most insistent and outspoken progressives. Those speaking up included the three other “squad” members – Reps. Ilhan Omar of Minnesota, Ayanna Pressley of Massachusetts, and Rashida Tlaib of Michigan.
No Republicans spoke on the House floor. A Yoho spokesman emailed a statement in which the lawmaker said “no one was accosted, bullied, or attacked” during what he called a brief policy discussion.
Mr. Yoho, one of Congress’ most conservative lawmakers, said Ms. Ocasio-Cortez doesn’t have the “right to inflate, talk about my family, or give an account that did not happen for political gain. The fact still remains, I am not going to apologize for something I didn’t say.”
In a separate appearance, House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy, R-Calif., defended Mr. Yoho, who will retire in January.
“When someone apologizes they should be forgiven,” Mr. McCarthy said. He added later, “I just think in a new world, in a new age, we now determine whether we accept when someone says ‘I’m sorry’ if it’s a good enough apology.”
But Bread for the World, a nonpartisan Christian group that combats hunger, suggested it was reconsidering Mr. Yoho’s continued membership on its board. Asked about his status, the organization said his recent behavior “does not reflect the values of respect and compassion that Jesus calls on us to exhibit.” They said they have asked to speak to him “before we determine any further action.”
Ms. Pelosi herself weighed in a separate news conference.
“It’s a manifestation of attitude in our society really. I can tell you that firsthand, they’ve called me names for at least 20 years of leadership, 18 years of leadership,” Ms. Pelosi said of Republicans.
Ms. Pelosi, who has five children, recounted that during a debate years ago on women’s reproductive health, GOP lawmakers “said, on the floor of the House, Nancy Pelosi think she knows more about having babies than the Pope.”
In an encounter Monday witnessed by a reporter from The Hill, Mr. Yoho berated Ms. Ocasio-Cortez on the House steps for saying that some of the increased crime during the coronavirus pandemic could be traced to rising unemployment and poverty.
Ms. Ocasio-Cortez described it on the House floor Thursday. She said Mr. Yoho put his finger in her face and called her disgusting, crazy, and dangerous.
She also told the House that in front of reporters he called her a derogatory slur. That matched The Hill’s version of what Mr. Yoho had said.
Ms. Ocasio-Cortez said Mr. Yoho’s references to his wife and daughters as he explained his actions during brief remarks Wednesday actually underscored the problem.
“Having a daughter does not make a man decent. Having a wife does not make a decent man. Treating people with dignity and respect makes a decent man,” she said. She added that a decent man apologizes “not to save face, not to win a vote. He apologizes, and genuinely, to repair and acknowledge the harm done, so that we can all move on.”
Her voice trembled slightly as she said that her father, “thankfully,” was no longer alive to see Mr. Yoho’s treatment of her. But she said her mother saw it, “And I am here because I have to show my parents that I am their daughter, and that they did not raise me to accept abuse from men.”
Other Democrats recalled their own experiences, taunted House Republicans’ overwhelmingly white male membership, and warned that the numbers of women lawmakers will only grow. Eighty-eight House Democrats and 13 Republicans are women.
“We’re not going away,” said Rep. Pramila Jayapal, D-Wash. “There is going to be more power in the hands of women across this country.”
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empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
This story was reported by The Associated Press. AP reporter Elana Schor contributed from New York.
Editor’s note: As a public service, the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage. It’s free.


csmonitor--2020-07-24--Studios postpone 2020 blockbusters. Time to innovate?

A long time ago in a pre-COVID universe far , far away , blockbusters opened around the globe simultaneously or nearly so .
In 1975 , “ Jaws ” set the blueprint .
Concentrate marketing .
Open wide .
Pack them in .
Since then , Hollywood has turned opening weekends into an all-out assault .
Staggered rollouts still happen , of course , but the biggest films are dropped like carpet bombs .
Anything less risks losing the attention of moviegoers .
Global debuts north of $ 300 million became commonplace .
Last year , “ Avengers : Endgame @ @ @ @ @ @ @ billion in a couple days .
Hollywood has now gone more than four months without a major theatrical release .
While some films have found new streaming homes , the biggest upcoming ones – “ Tenet , ” “ Mulan , ” “ A Quiet Place Part II ” – remain idled like jumbo jets on the tarmac .
The leading movie theater chains are still shuttered .
Recent coronavirus spikes have forced release dates to shuffle and theater chains to postpone reopening until August .
Now , movie houses say that despite @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s time for new movies .
Four months of near zero revenue has brought the $ 50 billion annual business to its knees .
While the beleaguered restaurant industry still has takeout and airlines continue to operate with masked flyers , the vast majority of U.S. movie theaters haven ’ t punched a single ticket since March .
Some have turned to selling popcorn curbside .
“ The problem is , we need their movies , ” says John Fithian , president and chief executive of National Association of Theater Owners .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , they can ’ t wait until 100 % of markets are allowed open because that ’ s not going to happen until there ’ s a vaccine widely available in the world.
” “ The old distribution models of big blockbusters , ” adds Mr. Fithian , “ need to be rethought.
” That may mean returning to a more old-fashioned release pattern , opening films overseas first and , in the United States , opening at different times in different areas .
When Warner Bros. earlier this week announced it was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s “ Tenet ” because of the rise in cases , Warner Bros. Pictures Group chairman Toby Emmerich said the studio is “ not treating ‘ Tenet ’ like a traditional global day-and-date release.
” Right now , the biggest movies are getting further away , not closer .
AMC , the world ’ s largest circuit , on Thursday delayed its reopening from the end of July to mid-to-late August .
After “ Tenet ” earlier this week postponed indefinitely , Disney ’ s “ Mulan ” followed suit Thursday .
Disney @ @ @ @ @ @ @ films in the “ Avatar ” and “ Star Wars ” franchises , back by a year .
“ A Quiet Place Part II ” also joined the exodus Thursday , uprooting from Sept. 4 to April 23 next year .
The coronavirus crisis has ushered in new chapter in the often symbiotic , occasionally quarrelsome relationship between distributors and exhibitors .
Splitting ticket sale revenue approximately in half , their fortunes have often been closely linked .
The largest studios – the Walt Disney Co. , Warner Bros. , Universal – all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , along with television operations .
So they have options .
The on-demand release of “ Trolls ” caused a rift between Universal and AMC .
But the two halves of theatrical moviegoing have worked largely in concert through the pandemic thus far .
It ’ s in their own self-interest .
Studios have been loath to sacrifice billions in box office for their priciest and most popular releases .
On Thursday , John Stankey , chief executive of Warner Bros. parent company AT & T said direct release to HBO Max could @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but not the $ 200 million “ Tenet.
” With distancing protocols and other measures , cinemas have reopened in parts of Europe , the Middle East , and South Korea , where last weekend Yeon Sang-ho ’ s “ Train to Busan ” action sequel “ Peninsula ” debuted with $ 13.2 million .
Theaters in China , the world ’ s second largest movie market , this week reopened with theaters limited to 30 % capacity .
North America , usually the main event of a blockbuster release , may have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the world .
Despite the virus surge in much of the U.S. , exhibitors believe they can operate relatively safely by adhering to health officials , decreasing theater capacity , and cleaning in between showings .
After initially flip-flopping , AMC will require patrons to wear masks .
Some moviegoers , naturally , don ’ t anticipate going , regardless of what comes out .
Jeffrey Shaman , an epidemiologist at Columbia University , isn ’ t planning to go to the movies this year .
“ It seems prudent to think that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ transmission takes place , ” says Mr. Shaman .
“ You could think : well , it ’ s a movie theater .
If you space people out , it ’ s a big room , tall ceilings .
If they get the ventilation cranked up , it ’ s actually not the most concentrated environment .
It ’ s not liked a packed bar with a low ceiling .
It ’ s probably not as dangerous as that scenario .
But is it more dangerous than sitting home and watching Netflix ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ But imperfect may be all cinemas and studios have for now .
Mr. Fithian believes 75 % of U.S. theaters could be open within days if they had new movies .
( Those currently open are mainly playing older films . )
Theaters are closed in California and have yet to reopen in New York despite the state ’ s relative success in combating the virus .
That removes the two top cities in ticket sales , Los Angeles and New York .
“ The longer this goes , there will be bankruptcy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people who go out of business , ” says Mr. Fithian who ’ s currently lobbying for greater Congressional support for theaters .
“ But if there are no new movies until that ’ s a vaccine , that ’ s a dire situation for a lot of companies.
” AMC recently raised $ 300 million in debt relief to help itself remain solvent .
Throughout the industry , some 150,000 workers remain furloughed .
Jonathan Kuntz , a film historian and professor at the University of California , Los Angeles , says @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a world that no longer exists.
” But as much as the familiar kind of worldwide launch is now impossible , the downside of improvising might not be as bad as it seems – provided piracy isn ’ t widespread .
There will be scant competition .
“ Tenet ” can take up most screens .
Its opening can be spread out through the week .
Advertising will be cheaper .
Audiences will have little to distract them .
“ They ’ re going to have to be very inventive and very nimble @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this movie and maybe set a pattern for this kind of COVID theatrical universe we ’ re moving into , ” says Mr. Kuntz .
“ If they don ’ t do something , if they just keeping holding the films back , the theaters are going to die .
Then everything ’ s going to just be streaming and we ’ ll have lost something a lot of people – not just Christopher Nolan – treasure.
” This story was reported by The Associated Press .
Editor ’ s note : As @ @ @ @ @ @ @ removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage .
It ’ s free .

A long time ago in a pre-COVID universe far, far away, blockbusters opened around the globe simultaneously or nearly so. In 1975, “Jaws” set the blueprint. Concentrate marketing. Open wide. Pack them in.
Since then, Hollywood has turned opening weekends into an all-out assault. Staggered rollouts still happen, of course, but the biggest films are dropped like carpet bombs. Anything less risks losing the attention of moviegoers. Global debuts north of $300 million became commonplace. Last year, “Avengers: Endgame” made well north of $1 billion in a couple days.
Hollywood has now gone more than four months without a major theatrical release. While some films have found new streaming homes, the biggest upcoming ones – “Tenet,” “Mulan,” “A Quiet Place Part II” – remain idled like jumbo jets on the tarmac. The leading movie theater chains are still shuttered. Recent coronavirus spikes have forced release dates to shuffle and theater chains to postpone reopening until August.
Now, movie houses say that despite far from ideal circumstances, it’s time for new movies. Four months of near zero revenue has brought the $50 billion annual business to its knees. While the beleaguered restaurant industry still has takeout and airlines continue to operate with masked flyers, the vast majority of U.S. movie theaters haven’t punched a single ticket since March. Some have turned to selling popcorn curbside.
“The problem is, we need their movies,” says John Fithian, president and chief executive of National Association of Theater Owners. “Distributors who want to play movies theatrically, they can’t wait until 100% of markets are allowed open because that’s not going to happen until there’s a vaccine widely available in the world.”
“The old distribution models of big blockbusters,” adds Mr. Fithian, “need to be rethought.”
That may mean returning to a more old-fashioned release pattern, opening films overseas first and, in the United States, opening at different times in different areas. When Warner Bros. earlier this week announced it was delaying the release of Christopher Nolan’s “Tenet” because of the rise in cases, Warner Bros. Pictures Group chairman Toby Emmerich said the studio is “not treating ‘Tenet’ like a traditional global day-and-date release.”
Right now, the biggest movies are getting further away, not closer. AMC, the world’s largest circuit, on Thursday delayed its reopening from the end of July to mid-to-late August. After “Tenet” earlier this week postponed indefinitely, Disney’s “Mulan” followed suit Thursday. Disney also pushed back numerous releases, including films in the “Avatar” and “Star Wars” franchises, back by a year.
“A Quiet Place Part II” also joined the exodus Thursday, uprooting from Sept. 4 to April 23 next year.
The coronavirus crisis has ushered in new chapter in the often symbiotic, occasionally quarrelsome relationship between distributors and exhibitors. Splitting ticket sale revenue approximately in half, their fortunes have often been closely linked.
The largest studios – the Walt Disney Co., Warner Bros., Universal – all have streaming services of their own now, along with television operations. So they have options. The on-demand release of “Trolls” caused a rift between Universal and AMC. But the two halves of theatrical moviegoing have worked largely in concert through the pandemic thus far.
It’s in their own self-interest. Studios have been loath to sacrifice billions in box office for their priciest and most popular releases. On Thursday, John Stankey, chief executive of Warner Bros. parent company AT&T said direct release to HBO Max could be option for some Warner Bros. movies but not the $200 million “Tenet.”
With distancing protocols and other measures, cinemas have reopened in parts of Europe, the Middle East, and South Korea, where last weekend Yeon Sang-ho’s “Train to Busan” action sequel “Peninsula” debuted with $13.2 million. Theaters in China, the world’s second largest movie market, this week reopened with theaters limited to 30% capacity.
North America, usually the main event of a blockbuster release, may have to learn to follow the rest of the world.
Despite the virus surge in much of the U.S., exhibitors believe they can operate relatively safely by adhering to health officials, decreasing theater capacity, and cleaning in between showings. After initially flip-flopping, AMC will require patrons to wear masks.
Some moviegoers, naturally, don’t anticipate going, regardless of what comes out. Jeffrey Shaman, an epidemiologist at Columbia University, isn’t planning to go to the movies this year.
“It seems prudent to think that indoors is where the lion share of transmission takes place,” says Mr. Shaman. “You could think: well, it’s a movie theater. If you space people out, it’s a big room, tall ceilings. If they get the ventilation cranked up, it’s actually not the most concentrated environment. It’s not liked a packed bar with a low ceiling. It’s probably not as dangerous as that scenario. But is it more dangerous than sitting home and watching Netflix? Yes, of course it is.”
But imperfect may be all cinemas and studios have for now. Mr. Fithian believes 75% of U.S. theaters could be open within days if they had new movies. (Those currently open are mainly playing older films.) Theaters are closed in California and have yet to reopen in New York despite the state’s relative success in combating the virus. That removes the two top cities in ticket sales, Los Angeles and New York.
“The longer this goes, there will be bankruptcy filings and reorganizations and there will be people who go out of business,” says Mr. Fithian who’s currently lobbying for greater Congressional support for theaters. “But if there are no new movies until that’s a vaccine, that’s a dire situation for a lot of companies.”
AMC recently raised $300 million in debt relief to help itself remain solvent. Throughout the industry, some 150,000 workers remain furloughed.
Jonathan Kuntz, a film historian and professor at the University of California, Los Angeles, says “Tenet” “was made for a world that no longer exists.”
But as much as the familiar kind of worldwide launch is now impossible, the downside of improvising might not be as bad as it seems – provided piracy isn’t widespread. There will be scant competition. “Tenet” can take up most screens. Its opening can be spread out through the week. Advertising will be cheaper. Audiences will have little to distract them.
“They’re going to have to be very inventive and very nimble to squeeze what they can out of this movie and maybe set a pattern for this kind of COVID theatrical universe we’re moving into,” says Mr. Kuntz. “If they don’t do something, if they just keeping holding the films back, the theaters are going to die. Then everything’s going to just be streaming and we’ll have lost something a lot of people – not just Christopher Nolan – treasure.”
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This story was reported by The Associated Press.
Editor’s note: As a public service, the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage. It’s free.


csmonitor--2020-07-24--What the end of Obama housing rule means for American suburbs

The Trump administration said Thursday that it is revoking an Obama-era housing regulation designed to eliminate racial disparities in the suburbs , a move that fair housing advocates have decried as an election year stunt designed to manipulate the fears of white voters .
In a tweet addressed to `` The Suburban Housewives of America , '' President Donald Trump made his intended audience clear .
`` Biden will destroy your neighborhood and your American Dream , '' he said .
`` I will preserve it , and make it even better ! ''
Mr. Trump has repeatedly characterized the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an existential threat to the suburban way of life that will bring about more crime and lower home prices .
In a statement , Department of Housing and Urban Development Secretary Ben Carson said the regulation known as AFFH , was `` unworkable and ultimately a waste of time for localities to comply with . ''
It will be replaced by a new rule that reduces the burden on local jurisdictions to prove that they are actively taking steps to address historical patterns of racial segregation in order to qualify for HUD financing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what is best to meet your local community 's unique needs , '' Mr. Carson said .
Fair housing advocates said the new regulations water down the previous requirements to the point of meaninglessness .
`` What 's surprising is they 're going this far and essentially rendering the rule null and void .
This is as far as this administration could have possibly gone , '' said Kristen Clarke , president of the Lawyers ' Committee for Civil Rights Under Law .
`` It feels like a real gutting of the rule @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of housing policy and special projects for the National Fair Housing Alliance , said that HUD has removed almost any oversight or burden of proof for jurisdictions to show they are addressing racial disparities .
`` They 're not even going to check .
It 's completely hands off .
It 's completely the honor system , '' she said .
`` And for jurisdictions that really want to figure this out , it 's almost totally useless . ''
Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi called the move , `` a betrayal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ equality and opportunity for all . ''
Ms. Pelosi , a California Democrat , said in a statement : `` It is a shameful abdication of our government 's responsibility to end discriminatory housing practices and to lift up our nation 's most vulnerable communities .
The Administration must reverse this outrageous decision and uphold the law . ''
The topic has become a potential hot-button issue in an election year as Mr. Trump , using language that housing advocates describe as openly racist , has repeatedly said the rule would force the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
`` Your home will go down in value and crime rates will rapidly rise , '' Mr. Trump said last week .
`` People have worked all their lives to get into a community , and now they 're going to watch it go to hell .
Not going to happen , not while I 'm here . ''
HUD had already floated the idea of changing the rule earlier this year , but ultimately decided to cancel it entirely .
Fair housing advocates says the latest HUD move attempts to skip @ @ @ @ @ @ @ process where stakeholders are invited to weigh in on a proposed rule change .
The 2015 rule established a 92-question survey and grading tool requiring local jurisdictions to assess their own racial and economic disparities and present detailed plans on how to address them .
Mr. Carson said the jurisdictions were `` forced to comply with complicated regulations that require hundreds of pages of reporting . ''
The issue has been a long-standing issue for Mr. Carson , and fair housing advocates say the program never truly got off the ground because Mr. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ office .
Mr. Trump has used the AFFH rule as a means of contrasting himself with Joe Biden , his Democratic challenger and Barack Obama 's vice president .
Mr. Biden has said he would implement the Obama administration 's housing rule .
Biden campaign spokesman Andrew Bates said , `` Donald Trump is yet again attempting to distract from his catastrophic , failed response to the pandemic by trying to divide our nation .
Turning Americans against each other with total lies is unacceptable for a commander-in-chief at any time , but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in a moment of worsening crisis . ''
This story was reported by The Associated Press .
Editor ’ s note : As a public service , the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage .
It ’ s free .

The Trump administration said Thursday that it is revoking an Obama-era housing regulation designed to eliminate racial disparities in the suburbs, a move that fair housing advocates have decried as an election year stunt designed to manipulate the fears of white voters.
In a tweet addressed to "The Suburban Housewives of America," President Donald Trump made his intended audience clear. "Biden will destroy your neighborhood and your American Dream," he said. "I will preserve it, and make it even better!"
Mr. Trump has repeatedly characterized the 2015 Affirmatively Furthering Fair Housing regulation as an existential threat to the suburban way of life that will bring about more crime and lower home prices.
In a statement, Department of Housing and Urban Development Secretary Ben Carson said the regulation known as AFFH, was "unworkable and ultimately a waste of time for localities to comply with."
It will be replaced by a new rule that reduces the burden on local jurisdictions to prove that they are actively taking steps to address historical patterns of racial segregation in order to qualify for HUD financing.
"Washington has no business dictating what is best to meet your local community's unique needs," Mr. Carson said.
Fair housing advocates said the new regulations water down the previous requirements to the point of meaninglessness.
"What's surprising is they're going this far and essentially rendering the rule null and void. This is as far as this administration could have possibly gone," said Kristen Clarke, president of the Lawyers' Committee for Civil Rights Under Law. "It feels like a real gutting of the rule."
Debby Goldberg, vice president of housing policy and special projects for the National Fair Housing Alliance, said that HUD has removed almost any oversight or burden of proof for jurisdictions to show they are addressing racial disparities.
"They're not even going to check. It's completely hands off. It's completely the honor system," she said. "And for jurisdictions that really want to figure this out, it's almost totally useless."
Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi called the move, "a betrayal of our nation's founding values of equality and opportunity for all."
Ms. Pelosi, a California Democrat, said in a statement: "It is a shameful abdication of our government's responsibility to end discriminatory housing practices and to lift up our nation's most vulnerable communities. The Administration must reverse this outrageous decision and uphold the law."
The topic has become a potential hot-button issue in an election year as Mr. Trump, using language that housing advocates describe as openly racist, has repeatedly said the rule would force the construction of low-income housing in the suburbs.
"Your home will go down in value and crime rates will rapidly rise," Mr. Trump said last week. "People have worked all their lives to get into a community, and now they're going to watch it go to hell. Not going to happen, not while I'm here."
HUD had already floated the idea of changing the rule earlier this year, but ultimately decided to cancel it entirely. Fair housing advocates says the latest HUD move attempts to skip over the traditional months-long notice and comment process where stakeholders are invited to weigh in on a proposed rule change.
The 2015 rule established a 92-question survey and grading tool requiring local jurisdictions to assess their own racial and economic disparities and present detailed plans on how to address them. Mr. Carson said the jurisdictions were "forced to comply with complicated regulations that require hundreds of pages of reporting."
The issue has been a long-standing issue for Mr. Carson, and fair housing advocates say the program never truly got off the ground because Mr. Carson suspended its implementation shortly after taking office.
Mr. Trump has used the AFFH rule as a means of contrasting himself with Joe Biden, his Democratic challenger and Barack Obama's vice president. Mr. Biden has said he would implement the Obama administration's housing rule.
Biden campaign spokesman Andrew Bates said, "Donald Trump is yet again attempting to distract from his catastrophic, failed response to the pandemic by trying to divide our nation. Turning Americans against each other with total lies is unacceptable for a commander-in-chief at any time, but it's especially heinous to do so in a moment of worsening crisis."
Get stories that
empower and uplift daily. By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy Already a subscriber? Log in to hide ads.
This story was reported by The Associated Press.
Editor’s note: As a public service, the Monitor has removed the paywall for all our coronavirus coverage. It’s free.