Her childhood, she says, was "unfortunate and lonely". Her father left the family and moved to the US, while her mother took their youngest children to the south of Portugal, leaving Sara in the care of an old Portuguese woman. "But it was my fortune, too," she says, "because my life was more constant than my brothers' and sisters'. I had an older, churchgoing woman caring for me, giving me a structure that shaped me." Her family history seems to inform the mournful choruses of her ballad Guisa (Lament) - "Guisa di Mama, Guisa di Papa".

She was, she says, "a very serious child - going to church, looking after myself". She loved football, and she loved music. The great soul singer Donny Hathaway was a favourite, along with Tina Turner, Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin. Their songs led her to learn English. "I wanted to know every word they sang, because that music is all about the heart," she explains. Mostly she sang gospel, launching the first Portuguese gospel choir, with people from Portugal's African community - "That's when I fell in love with the idea of making a living out of music."

Her first steps in that direction came with victory in a Portuguese TV talent contest, the prize being a recording contract with BMG, which led to her being the Portuguese entry in the 1994 Eurovision Song Contest with the song Chamar a Música. That wasn't the route she wanted to follow, but, she concedes, it gave her a start.

She has talked before of Cape Verde being a "metisse culture", in which different traditions and languages are mixed together. That's the case with her music, too, which is rich with multilingual slang - Portuguese, Creole, Angolan. She reckons the slang helps her connect with younger people, but she also sees its linguistic significance. "I think anthropologists will study the slang because it speaks a lot about our social evolution and the identity of cities," she says.

But while Tavares might be singing to young people, are they listening? She thinks for a moment, then quotes a line from her song Poka Terra, itself borrowed from an Angolan reggae band in Lisbon: "An alligator that sleeps will be turned into an alligator bag on sale in some store."

But if Tavares believes she has to help inform young people, she's more ambivalent about being cast as any kind of spokeswoman for her sex. Though one of her songs, Muna Xeia (Full Moon) explores the sensibilities of women, she shies away from the suggestion that it might have a feminist message. "No-oo!" she says. "I do see the reason for the feminist revolution, but some girls don't want to be responsible, they just want to be Barbies. I look at singers who always want to be up in front, acting beautiful, but I don't know too many girls who are into staying at home for hours, like Joni Mitchell, working out their poetry or their instrument." So how do the young women who want to act beautiful view this dreadlocked singer, who clearly doesn't have a thought of emulating Jennifer Lopez? She says her peers are rejecting hair, getting it straightened like Beyoncé's. "My message is obviously about loving what you are. As for the way I dress, they're like, 'You're a bit freaky, but we like you anyway.'"

Later on she is sitting on the stage, under dim light, plucking rippling melodies from a small thumb piano. The audience includes many for whom her songs raise memories of their homeland or thoughts of their parents' birthplace. And the songs seem to come to her like prayers. "Just me and my guitar," she tells the audience. "God and my imagination."

Sue Steward, The Guardian, 30.11.07

http://music.guardian.co.uk/world/story/0,,2219205,00.html

Le Liban est bloqué depuis plusieurs mois. Que faire pour éviter un embrasement ?

C’est très difficile de trouver une issue à cette crise tant que l’Amérique a plein de projets diaboliques vis-à-vis de la région. Voyez ce qui se passe en Irak. Aujourd’hui, tous les ingrédients d’une guerre sont réunis au Liban. Il est d’ailleurs extravagant d’entendre les parties en présence appeler au dialogue, tout en posant des entraves psychologiques et politiques [...]. On assiste actuellement au retour en force des fractions et des querelles entre les différentes communautés religieuses.

Va-t-on vers un affrontement chiites contre sunnites au Liban ?

Jusqu’à présent, il n’y a pas de divergence entre les sunnites et les chiites libanais. Certes, nous représentons l’opposition chiite à un gouvernement qui compte des sunnites. Notre problème, c’est que l’Amérique joue un rôle diabolique. Après avoir semé la discorde entre les sunnites et les chiites irakiens, les Américains aimeraient faire de même dans notre pays.

Comment s’y prendraient-ils ?

L’animosité historique à l’encontre des chiites dans le monde musulman est réapparue avec ce qui se passe en Irak. En outre, les chiites sont considérés comme des «infidèles» par les grands savants religieux sunnites saoudiens. Ce sont les sunnites wahhabites qui ont créé ce problème. Ce sont eux les premiers qui ont commencé à tuer les chiites et à faire exploser les mosquées chiites, leurs commerces ainsi que leurs lieux d’habitation.

Les chiites ne sont-ils pas aussi responsables des violences en Irak ?

Oui, mais après coup. Les savants du chiisme ont refusé dans un premier temps que les chiites tuent des sunnites. Puis, après la destruction, en 2006 à Samara [en Irak, ndlr], des tombeaux des deux imams que vénèrent les chiites, certains ont pris les armes. Pour se venger. Maintenant, c’est la folie de la vengeance. Ce n’est pas une question de fatwa. C’est une question de défense. Les sunnites, qu’ils soient d’Al-Qaeda ou proches de Saddam Hussein, ont déclaré la guerre aux chiites.

Les chiites du Liban sont financés par l’Iran qui veut devenir une puissance nucléaire…

Le projet nucléaire de l’Iran a pour but d’assurer les ressources énergétiques du pays, le pétrole étant en voie de diminution. Le problème, c’est que l’Amérique et l’Europe ne veulent pas que l’Iran possède la connaissance nucléaire scientifique. Or toutes les forces politiques et religieuses de ce pays refusent le nucléaire militaire. D’ailleurs, l’Iran a mis ses usines et ses capacités atomiques sous la supervision de l’Agence atomique mondiale. Ce qui n’est pas le cas d’Israël qui n’a jamais signé de convention sur l’armement nucléaire et refuse de le faire. Pourtant, les Israéliens ont l’arme nucléaire même s’ils le nient. Pourquoi l’Amérique ne bombarde pas l’Etat hébreu ? Pourquoi ne le désarme-t-il pas ? Pourquoi ne le met-il pas au ban des nations ?

Dans votre prêche, vous avez critiqué les médias occidentaux. Pourquoi ?

La presse européenne est sous pression de l’Amérique. Lors du conflit au Liban entre Israël et le Hezbollah, il y a eu aussi une guerre mondiale contre notre mouvement. Les occidentaux soutiennent toujours nos ennemis. Cette injustice nous a beaucoup blessés. Nous pensions que l’Europe était différente de l’Amérique, qu’elle pouvait prendre ses distances vis-à-vis de la politique américaine. Mais nous constatons que le Vieux Continent est sous l’influence de Washington qui vise à mettre la main sur le monde arabo-musulman, sur ses richesses naturelles, ses marchés de consommation et sur ses bases politiques et culturelles. Tous les chefs d’Etat européens sont à la solde de Bush.

Propos recueillis par Patrick Vallélian et Sid Ahmed Mammouche, Libération, 30.11.07

http://www.liberation.fr/actualite/monde/294871.FR.php

In its place, Scotland's new first minister has hung a truly jaw-dropping alternative: a vast floor-to-ceiling painting that suggests a Caledonian take on Soviet socialist realism, featuring four people of various ages posed around a huge saltire, with a misty Glaswegian-looking skyline behind them (along with, for some reason, a small terrier and an eerily large crow). The work of the Scottish artist Gerard M Burns, it was apparently commissioned for the Scottish parliament in 1999, only for its representation of the national flag to be deemed "too big", whereupon it mysteriously found its way to Ayr racecourse. An ardent racing enthusiast, Salmond spotted the painting a few months ago, and arranged for it to be brought to Edinburgh. Today, he poses in front of it with his characteristic air of barrel-chested pride.

Having won one more seat than the Labour party in May's Scottish elections, formed a minority administration and thereby ended Labour's once-unshakeable Scottish dominance, Salmond's Scottish National party - which swiftly ditched the term "executive" and are now in charge of the Scottish government - have now been in power for 199 days. Among a flurry of actions, they have already announced the end of prescription charges and Scotland's equivalent of student loans, and the scrapping of the sale of council houses. Yet more ambitiously, the SNP has pledged opposition to the siting in the Clyde estuary of new British nuclear weapons, and set their sights on turning Scotland into a "Celtic lion" economy by slashing business taxes.

Their opponents claim that, relative to the bountiful treats promised in their manifesto, this superficially impressive run actually represents a disappointing mixture of broken promises and impossible dreams, but thus far, such barbs have had apparently little effect. The new government's approval ratings - at the last count, around 60% of Scots thought they were doing a good job - suggest an extended honeymoon, and a good chance of further electoral success in four years' time. Here, it seems, is yet another aspect of Gordon Brown's ongoing nightmare, made all the more painful by the fact that it is being enacted on his home turf.

As well as the stuff of bread-and-butter politics, the SNP are also pushing a packed cultural agenda. When they took power, the opening of the Scottish parliament was marked by two gala performances of Black Watch, Gregory Burke's play about the experience of the famous Scottish regiment in Iraq. Today is St Andrew's Day, which marks the start of a new "Winter Festival": two months, stretching all the way to Burns' Night on January 25, intended to provide what Salmond calls a "chance to enjoy the multicultural Scotland we have become". Aiming at decisively taking back control of TV and radio from Westminster, the new government has created a new Scottish Broadcasting Commission, as well as a freshly launched arts body called Creative Scotland. Moreover, even if it was Labour which did much of the groundwork, it was under the SNP's watch that Glasgow secured the 2014 Commonwealth Games.

Put all that together and you end up with one of those rare moments when party politics chimes with the wider world, and gives rise to a clearly defined moment. Even if the SNP snared only 33% of the vote and the number of Scots in favour of full independence recently seems to have fallen to around a quarter, something is definitely up: simply put, it is another chapter in the revival of Scottish identity that decisively took root in the 1980s, and was accelerated by the arrival, in 1999, of devolution.

Consider some numbers. Thirty years ago, 65% of people in Scotland identified themselves as "Scottish", but by 2005, the figure was 76%. In England, 41% of people currently claim to be "very proud of being British", whereas the Scottish number is a mere 23%. Even if most Scots remain sceptical about breaking away from the UK, around 55% now agree that their parliament should have much greater powers.

Mention such statistics to Salmond, and out it all comes: the demise of the British empire, the way that the great loosening of deference in the 1960s bolstered the Scots' confidence, and the fact that globalisation seems to have eaten away at bigger nations, but boosted small ones. He also mentions the effects on Scotland's self-image wrought by Margaret Thatcher ("She really politicised the cause of a Scottish parliament - après Margaret, it was, 'If we had a parliament, we wouldn't have the poll tax'") and Tony Blair, who "managed to illustrate why it's probably a good idea to decide whether your troops should go off to war - because if you don't, some other idiot will".

When we get to the here and now, Salmond talks about a new range of posters that will soon go up all over the country, aimed at crystallising the new Scotland via a series of images - most notably, that of a young Asian Scot wrapped in a Scottish flag, taken at a demonstration that followed the abortive terrorist attack on Glasgow airport in June. Taken in tandem with some of the first minister's more poetic pronouncements, it prompts a comparison that he will loathe - Blair in the halcyon days of Cool Britannia, the UK being portrayed as a multicultural "young country", and that long-forgotten project known as "the rebranding of Britain". Nonetheless, there are similarities, aren't there?

He looks shocked. "As far as promotional campaigns are concerned, I think Cool Britannia was the pits," he says.

So why is his approach different?

"Because it's based on something real. We're not saying, 'Here is an image we created for Scotland.' What we're trying to do is take aspects of the country and make sure that a wider audience sees and understands things that are genuinely authentic. Cool Britannia was nothing like that. As soon as I think of Cool Britannia, I think of the dome. With nothing in it."

Thirty or forty years ago, a good deal of the SNP's public image was bound up with the preservation of Scots Gaelic and an association with the Presbyterian church that found them bumping up against west Scotland's often bitter sectarianism. These days, Salmond makes a point of trying to keep Catholic opinion onside - last year, for example, he loudly advocated the repeal of the Act of Settlement, whereby Catholics cannot ascend to the British throne - and has established such a bond with Scotland's Pakistani community that, according to one Glasgow University study, its members are more than twice as likely to vote SNP as the average Scot. This is one crucial part of Salmond's biggest achievement: pulling his party away from being what one SNP-watcher recalls as a force who "liked their malt whisky, were very romantic, but weren't fit to govern", and turning it into a successful contender for power.

"The relationship I've tried to develop with English people, north and south of the border; the relationship I've developed with the Scottish Asian community; the relationship I've developed with the Scottish Catholic community - with any group in society which previously had cause to feel under pressure, I've tried to reach out to them, to say, 'Look, this project is your project as well as my project,'" Salmond says. "That was a conscious decision - to project the cause of independence in that inclusive way, as a civic, democratic, liberating movement that everybody can buy into."

By way of proof, I spend the next half-hour talking to 22-year-old Humza Yousaf, who spends his working days as an assistant to Bashir Ahmad, Scotland's first Asian MSP. Introduced to the SNP by his Pakistan-born father - who was "always of the opinion that independence for any country is good" - Yousaf is also the national convener of an SNP offshoot called Young Asian Scots for Independence. When I ask him about Scotland's supposed new mood, he cracks a wide smile.

"Well, you must have heard Alex talking about this wave of optimism sweeping the nation. There's been a real buzz since May - and because of things like football results and the Commonwealth Games, we feel like we're on a real high. People are more optimistic."

And what of independence?

"Oh, it'll definitely happen in my lifetime. And I don't think I'll be too old when it comes, either."

Elsewhere in the Scottish parliament building, Wendy Alexander is making the best of her first spell as the newly appointed leader of the Scottish Labour party. Thus far, she has not had the easiest time of it. This week, echoing Labour's travails at Westminster, she has been embroiled in a brouhaha about an allegedly illegal political donation from a tax exile resident in the Channel Islands. A fortnight ago, her press adviser enlivened the Scottish Politician of the Year awards by loudly insulting Salmond in the crudest Anglo-Saxon and voicing such nuanced judgments as "I fucking hate the middle classes". Labour insiders described 29-year-old Matthew Marr as "a stupid wee boy", and in the midst of what must have been an unpleasant hangover, he handed in his resignation the next day.

Alexander, 44, is the sister of Douglas Alexander, the UK's international develop- ment secretary and leading Brownite - but whereas his political style is measured and cautious, she is an altogether more effervescent presence: an engaging, fast-talking operator. If Labour are now in need of a more inspirational voice than they managed under the drab leadership of McConnell - who famously said that his government should aim at "doing less, better" - you can see why she was considered a reasonable bet.

Alexander claims that Salmond's hopes of drastically cutting business taxes - which, she points out, could only be achieved via independence - amount to "Reaganomics". The SNP, as she sees it, have already broken their pledges on funding extra police, matching Labour's school-building programme and cutting primary school class sizes. Moreover, she says, their success in May was partly built on a painful paradox: if the SNP managed to tap into a mood of rising Scottish confidence, the defeated Labour administration had a lot to do with it.

"If you take the last 26 quarters of economic growth, we have matched or exceeded England in half of them," she says. "That's not a statistic you'll ever hear from the SNP, but the reason that the nation feels more self-confident has a lot to do with the fact that the incredibly painful period of economic transition in the 80s and 90s under the Conservatives has been left behind."

None the less, there is a clear sense that the SNP's victory has radically altered the terms of Scottish politics. Labour campaigned against the SNP by issuing apocalyptic warnings about the dire consequences of independence and thus allowed Salmond to talk about the triumph of hope over fear. Perhaps most tellingly, whereas Labour used to talk about "Scottish answers for Scottish problems", its new leader now offers "Scottish answers for Scottish aspirations".

She reckons that the SNP will founder when it finally starts pushing for independence, and thereby leaves most of the public behind - a split, she says, that will see the Scots return to the party that embodies their "communitarian" values. "What gets me up in the morning is, 'How do we make Scottish society more cohesive?'" she tells me. "What gets Alex Salmond up in the morning is, 'How do I get Scotland one step closer to independence?' In that sense it will become a battle between the people's priorities and Alex Salmond's priorities. And they're not the same."

The next day, having made the 50-minute train journey from Edinburgh to Glasgow, I make my way to Cranhill, an enclave of the west-coast city's East End that sits at the blunt end of a lot of what Alexander is talking about. A clump of new terraced houses, and modernised tenement blocks and high-rise towers, its social statistics speak volumes about a side of Scotland that can easily make the notion of a new national mood seem crassly misplaced. More than 50% of Cranhill's children live in workless households, and it is apparently not uncommon to meet families in which three generations have little or no experience of paid employment. Forty per cent of local people claim income support; 70% do not own a car. The area's numbers for heart disease are 94% above the Scottish average; figures for drug-related deaths widen the gap to 158%. The average house sells for just under £23,000.

I have arranged to spend a couple of hours at the Cranhill Community Project. It lays on English classes for the asylum seekers who are now an established part of the local social mix, and in the absence of a local outlet for decent fruit and veg, sells fresh produce on Mondays and Tuesdays. In the project's cafe, I meet 61-year-old Jean Dillon and Malcolm Robertson, a 41-year-old sometime painter and director who has lived on benefits for the past seven years, and listen to them pick through Cranhill's array of problems: not just the aforementioned examples of health inequality and unemployment, but the kind of difficulties that should surely be matter of political urgency.

Bus services, they say, are so poor that local families are in the habit of taking taxis to the nearest supermarket. There is no GP surgery, dentist or pharmacy. Any mention of events in Edinburgh catalysing a new spirit of Scottish self-confidence gets short shrift - so too, somewhat surprisingly, does the idea that post-devolution politics has made much difference to local life. No matter that Labour's early moves on housing resulted in Cranhill being modernised and redeveloped, or that the area now has two new primary schools; as these two see it, this outward facelift masks an ongoing decline.

"We've got new housing, and new schools," says Dillon. "But we've got no bus service, we've not got any variety of shops, we've no health service. And come on, you know: times are moving on. We really need these things. We're lacking in facilities, but we have to fight for everything. Edinburgh seems a long way away from here."

"If you go back to the 70s and 80s, this was a community," says Robertson. "See the way it is now? It's an estate."

When it comes to the view from the Scottish parliament, extreme social exclusion is not the SNP's strongest political suit. The SNP's lack of a solid base in places such as Cranhill means that urban Scotland's serial problems have yet to make their way into the party's political foreground - a point underlined when I ask Salmond about areas such as this. There was ambitious talk about "early intervention" and reducing school class sizes, but a good deal of his answer seemed of a piece with the fashionable Westminster idea that ingrained poverty can somehow be solved via an injection of "opportunity". "People have to believe that they can do anything," he says. "Anything. You have to reinforce belief, and a confidence that people can do whatever they want. It's about the distribution of resources, but it's about the distribution of ideas as well."

When I read out his words, Dillon affects a blank look and remains silent. Robertson emits a smirk. "He sounds like a Sagittarius," he says.

If an afternoon spent in Cranhill makes any conversation about Scotland's supposed mood of confidence and renewal look borderline decadent, a day in and around Glasgow's city centre manages to restore such themes to centre-stage, thanks to conversations with two of the city's culturati, and shop windows that say a great deal about where the more affluent aspects of Scotland have arrived.

In an upscale cafe down the road, I meet Elaine C Smith, the comedian, actor, columnist in the Scottish Sunday Mail, and celebrity politico. She left the Labour party at the time of the miners' strike, embraced the cause of independence, and actively campaigned for the SNP at this year's elections and has just been appointed to the new Scottish Broadcasting Commission. Some people will still know her best as Mary Doll, the wife of the legendary Rab C Nesbitt, Gregor Fisher's equally comic and heart-wrenching portrait of a man caught in Scotland's long post-industrial decline. It was perhaps some token of Scotland's old insecurity, she tells me, that when word got back to Glasgow of the show's popularity south of the border, things suddenly changed. "The Scots loved it until they realised the English were laughing at it too," she recalls. "Now, I don't think they'd care as much.

"There's a thing about Scotland - we were always stuck in a permanent adolescence, constantly blaming the parents for what was going wrong," she says. "It was so easy: 'Och, blame everything on the English', which is an argument I've never had any truck with. There was something the songwriter Dick Gaughan said: 'Until we stop looking at ourselves through the eyes of another nation, we will never properly grow up.'

"Devolution started the moving out," she says, "possibly to a bedsit, maybe student accommodation. The SNP winning feels like we've maybe saved up a deposit to buy a flat. It doesn't feel like we're fully grown-up - but there's a feeling of relief. Of movement. That anal-retention has gone. And things aren't stuck. Alex Salmond doesn't have to answer to anyone except the people of Scotland. There's a great freedom in that."

Two hours later, I am sitting in a plush corporate meeting room with Stuart Cosgrove, Channel 4's director of nations and regions, and the co-host of the weekly football-related phone-in Off the Ball, BBC Scotland's most listened-to radio show. As evidenced by its love of national in-jokes and - on the programme I catch, anyway - Cosgrove's periodic shouts of "Hoots mon!", at least part of its stock-in trade is an endlessly irreverent take on the cliched stuff of Scottish nationhood. Though he winces when he says it, Cosgrove says that Off the Ball is bound up with "that postmodern thing of trying to mix up different cultural reference points", "celebrating specificity", and catering to an audience partly split between people who buy into its emphasis on kitsch, and others - like the expats who listen online - who are "in awe of all those references to the world they imagine they've left behind".

If Cosgrove has plenty to say about the more frivolous aspects of Scottish identity, his contributions to the debate about the country's self-image have often been altogether more serious - as in 2005, when he delivered a controversial lecture about the reliance of too much Scottish culture on a "socially, culturally, and emotionally deprived, failed industrial backdrop". At the time, he was accused of attacking the country itself, but he stands by his central point: that Scotland will only have reached any kind of national maturity when its drama, in particular, moves beyond two well-worn archetypes: a disproportionate fixation with Glasgow, and a related obsession with the kind of decline and dysfunctionality enshrined by the likes of Shallow Grave, Trainspotting and Ken Loach's My Name is Joe.

Were I to mention my time in Cranhill, I rather get the impression that he would think I was part of the problem. "Of all the dramas that are set in Scotland, the vast majority are set in this city," he says. "But look at the rest of Scotland. Inverness is our fastest-growing city. I cannot think of a single drama that's ever been set in Inverness in my life, ever. Our most educated city is St Andrews. I cannot think of a drama that's ever been set in St Andrews." The razor-gang-and-drugs stereotype, he says, is "just boring, cliched rubbish. I'm not interested. Scotland currently doesn't have the range and diversity of dramatic images it deserves. We can't blame England for that. And I think we're about three or four years away from achieving it."

When I mention the argument over independence, Cosgrove affects a happy kind of indifference, once again suggesting something that my time in Scotland has brought up time and again. When it comes to the country's current collective mindset, focusing on frenetic debates about secession from the union, shrill voices in the Edinburgh parliament and the endless tussling between the SNP and Labour perhaps misses a crucial point: that if independence is at least partly a state of mind, a large number of Scots have got there already.

"A lot of that debate feels so arcane," he says. "The truth of the matter is, apart from some key institutions, maybe it's already happened. That's the thing: Scotland already is independent, isn't it?"

John Harris, The Guardian, 30.11.07

http://politics.guardian.co.uk/scotland/story/0,,2219636,00.html

Las entradas se pusieron a la venta a las 10 horas y se agotaron a las 17.50 horas, confirmando el excelente momento de popularidad que atraviesa en España la figura del 'Boss'.

El precio de las entradas para el concierto era de 71, 67 y 57 euros para las entradas de asiento reservado y 57 euros también para las entradas de pista.

A petición expresa de los representantes del artista, sólo se vendieron un máximo de seis entradas por persona.

Las entradas se podían adquirir únicamente a través de las tiendas FNAC y de los puntos de venta de la red Tick Tack Ticket seleccionados para el evento, que se pueden consultar en su página web. Las entradas también se podían comprar a través de esta página web y en el teléfono 902 150 025.

Bruce Springsteen The E Street Band ofrecerán en 2008 la segunda parte de su 'Magic Tour'. La gira empezará de nuevo en Estados Unidos y a partir de mayo realizará un tour por diversas ciudades europeas, entre ellas Barcelona.

Los miembros de la E Street Band son los teclistas Roy Bittan y Danny Federici, el saxofonista Clarence Simmons, los guitarristas Nils Lofgren y Steven van Zandt, el bajista Garry Tallent, el batería Max Weinberg y la vocalista Patti Scialfa, esposa del 'Boss'.

La Vanguardia, 29.11.07

http://www.lavanguardia.es/lv24h/20071129/53414478631.html

What follows is just a sample of the new offerings, chosen to represent several of New Orleans’s most interesting neighborhoods and to showcase some of what’s new across the music, food and culture scenes.

Musicians’ Village

Upper Ninth Ward

www.nolamusiciansvillage.com

Even on the tours of still-empty neighborhoods and gutted homes, moments of hope are finally emerging. “People’s eyes just light up,” noted our guide, Alan Raphael, near the end of a Hurricane Katrina tour for Gray Line. He was talking about the Musicians’ Village, a colorfully painted new neighborhood of Habitat for Humanity-built homes.

The village was the brainchild of Branford Marsalis and Harry Connick Jr., both born in Louisiana. It will give displaced musicians an opportunity to live and perform in a new kind of community within a community, and will eventually be anchored by the Ellis Marsalis Center for Music, named for the patriarch of the Marsalis family of master musicians.

“It really is a beacon of hope for a lot of people around here,” Mr. Raphael said, ending his tour with a glimpse of a future New Orleans that remains true to a culture and character unlike that of any other city in the world.

528 Music Club

528 Fulton Street,

(504) 533-6117

Of the several new music venues that have appeared since Katrina, 528 Music Club, tucked into a restored building on the Fulton Street entertainment promenade in the Warehouse District, is perhaps the most elegant.

Open since last fall, 528’s subdued, softly lighted interior provides an intimate setting for a roster of Louisiana favorites like the jazz singers John Boutté and Ingrid Lucia, Bruce Daigrepont’s Cajun Band and the blues of Luther Kent. There is no cover charge.

Hors d’oeuvres are available at Riche (504-533-6117), Todd English’s adjoining restaurant in the same building. A crab salad is $12, as is an accompanying martini.

Grand Isle Restaurant

575 Convention Center Boulevard,

(504) 520-8530

www.grandislerestaurant.com

“My first job after washing dishes was picking turtle meat,” recalled Joel Dondis of his first lessons in the culinary arts in his hometown, Lake Charles, La.

He eventually made his way to New Orleans, where his newest restaurant, Grand Isle, opened in June and is named for one of the state’s leading fishing communities.

On the menu from the turtle-meat-picking days is turtle stew, with meat roasted on the bones for maximum flavor. An oyster dish is tinged with tasso, the spicy cured pork popular as a flavoring across south Louisiana.

The duck debris po’ boy tops crusty French bread with roasted duck in a rich brown sauce filled with crispy brown meat scraped from the pot — known locally as debris. Po’ boy prices are under $10, with entrees starting at $15.

The décor is understated, with walls covered in black-and-white photos by Fonville Winan, who spent decades documenting coastal Louisiana life.

Williams Research Center

410 Chartres Street,

(504) 523-4662

www.hnoc.org

There are few cities with a history as colorful as New Orleans’s, a fact illustrated when the city’s primary repository of historical documents broke ground for a new facility.

A careful excavation of the site by the New Orleans Historic Collection uncovered layer upon layer of history, including one section that contained a concentration of liquor bottles and rouge pots.

Further research suggested that a hotel that burned on the site in 1822 could have been the House of the Rising Sun, the brothel of folk-song fame.

While few records are intact from that enterprise, the new building is a painstaking reproduction of a hotel that was built on the site in the late 19th century.

The Williams Research Center of the Historic New Orleans Collection is not only an invaluable resource for those interested in serious research about New Orleans, but the expanded space, facing Conti Street, boasts a first-floor gallery with exhibitions that offer even casual visitors insights into the history and culture of Louisiana.

The current exhibition, “Birds of a Feather: Wildfowl Carving in Southeast Louisiana,” explores the evolution of hand-carved decoys from utilitarian hunters’ gear to art form.

Sucré

3025 Magazine Street,

(504) 520-8311 www.shopsucre.com

If you crave something sweet but are ready to move beyond beignets, head to Sucré, which opened in April as a purveyor of a new incarnation of New Orleans confections, including gelato flavored with Steen’s cane syrup or with nectar crème, a flavoring similar to cream soda that’s a favorite on the shaved-ice treats that help New Orleanians make it through the summer.

Les trois Américains, également détenus par les guérilleros, qui apparaissent sur la vidéo, semblent en meilleure santé.

L'armée colombienne a récupéré ces documents après avoir capturé, jeudi, trois guérilleros des milices urbaines de Bogota. Des photos des otages ont également été découvertes par la police, a précisé M. Restrepo, précisant qu'il était difficile de dater certaines d'entre elles. L'armée, a-t-il dit, détient aussi des preuves de vie de policiers, d'hommes politiques et de militaires colombiens détenus par les FARC.

"UNE IMAGE TRISTE, MAIS ELLE EST VIVANTE"

Pour la famille de l'otage franco-colombienne, cette preuve de vie est un soulagement. "Nous sommes très, très, très émus de voir ces images de ma soeur", a déclaré Astrid Betancourt, interrogée sur LCI."C'est une image triste de ma soeur, mais elle est vivante", a-t-elle expliqué. "Elle est assise devant une petite table, elle paraît assez menue, avec les cheveux très, très longs, elle regarde vers le bas, triste".

Astrid Betancourt a salué l'action du président vénézuélien Hugo Chavez, chargé d'une médiation dans ce dossier, avant que celle-ci ne lui soit retirée par le président colombien Alvaro Uribe. Les images "datent apparemment des derniers jours du mois d'octobre, dit-elle, ce qui prouve bien que les FARC étaient en train de réunir ces preuves et de les acheminer pour les donner au président Chavez". Pour Astrid Betancourt, ces images sont la preuve "que la médiation de la sénatrice Piedad Cordoba et du président Chavez a été efficace".

Le fils d'Ingrid Betancourt, Lorenzo, a, en outre, fait état, vendredi matin à l'AFP, d'une lettre écrite par sa mère et accompagnant cette vidéo.

Pour l'Elysée, cette preuve de vie est une "grande nouvelle". Le Quai d'Orsay va examiner "avec attention" les images saisies par le gouvernement colombien, a déclaré le ministre des affaires étrangères, Bernard Kouchner. Le chef de la diplomatie française souligne dans son communiqué que"les autorités françaises restent totalement mobilisées" en vue d'une"solution humanitaire permettant la libération de tous les otages".

Le Monde, 30.11.07

http://www.lemonde.fr/web/article/0,1-0@2-3222,36-984240@51-941502,0.html

Cuando faltan apenas 10 días para que concluya el plazo para pactar el futuro estatuto de esta provincia de Serbia de mayoría albanesa, bajo protectorado internacional desde la guerra de 1999, Jeremic señala que Belgrado ha ofrecido el 95% de las competencias posibles a los kosovares. "Ofrecemos a la parte albanesa", manifiesta el ministro en una entrevista concedida a este diario, "una autonomía superior a la que tienen el País Vasco y Cataluña, en España, o los Estados federales en Alemania. A excepción de la política exterior y la Defensa, todo lo demás sería gestionado por las autoridades kosovares. Incluso en el aspecto diplomático, estamos dispuestos a que Kosovo tenga asiento en algunos organismos internacionales, aunque no en la ONU, claro está. Serbia no puede aceptar la independencia de Kosovo porque eso significaría una segregación étnica en un país soberano. Como se puede comprender, nosotros hemos de salvar la integridad territorial de Serbia".

Jeremic acusa a la parte albanesa de maximalismo al insistir en el 100% de sus reivindicaciones, es decir, en la independencia y apela a la comunidad internacional, a Estados Unidos y a la Unión Europea principalmente, a que consideren que la soberanía de Kosovo supondría un peligroso precedente de ruptura del Derecho Internacional. "Espero que la UE", comenta el ministro serbio, "funcione por consenso y tenga en cuenta las consecuencias de la independencia de Kosovo para Europa. En este sentido, creo que España entiende los peligros de ese secesionismo étnico que amenaza la soberanía de un país y confío mucho en el liderazgo del Gobierno español en este tema".

Si a pesar de todos los esfuerzos diplomáticos, los albanokosovares declaran la independencia unilateral, ¿qué medidas tomará el Gobierno serbio el día después? "Salvo utilizar la fuerza y desplegar el Ejército", explica Jeremic, "Serbia usará todos los medios a su alcance, políticos, económicos y diplomáticos, para impedir esa secesión. No creo que el mundo piense que nos vamos a quedar de brazos cruzados y vamos a tolerar una decisión ilegítima. En cualquier caso, para que esa independencia tenga un reconocimiento internacional, debe contar con el visto bueno del Consejo de Seguridad de la ONU. Sin embargo, antes de que llegue ese momento haremos lo posible para que no ocurra porque Serbia es un país europeo y democrático".

Miguel Ángel Villena, El Pais, 30.11.07

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/internacional/Ofrecemos/Kosovo/mayor/autonomia/Pais/Vasco/elpepuint/20071130elpepiint_5/Tes

But now, in the post-Annapolis let’s-make-peace-in-the-Middle-East world, the kitchen door may have cracked slightly open to allow Syria back in the house.

Bush administration officials, who usually have not been able to mention the word “Syria” without immediately following it up with “state sponsor of terrorism,” have started to sound conciliatory. Israel says it is willing to consider peace talks with Syria over the Golan Heights. And Arab neighbors went to the mat last week to persuade the United States to do everything it could to get Syria to attend the Annapolis peace conference.

What has changed?

“The event in Annapolis was designed to send one unmistakable message: that Arab-Israeli peace is open for business,” said Aaron David Miller, a public policy scholar at the Woodrow Wilson Center in Washington. “The pull here is the allure of the second track.”

The Sunni Arab states want to woo Syria, with its Sunni Muslim majority, from its alliance with largely Shiite Iran. For the Israelis, one potential benefit would be to play the Palestinians off against the Syrians while trying to negotiate peace with both.

And the United States? “Look, a handful in the Arab League were saying they could not attend the conference unless Syria was put on the agenda,” a senior Bush administration official said. “So we put Syria on the agenda. What did it cost us? Nothing.”

However, American and Israeli officials said the time was not yet ripe for real peace talks with Syria. Prime Minister Ehud Olmert of Israel will have enough to do trying to get skeptics to agree to give up settlements in the West Bank and to share Jerusalem with the Palestinians, compromises Israel will have to make if the peace track with the Palestinians has any chance of working.

Trying to get the 12,000 to 15,000 Israeli settlers out of the Golan Heights, in addition, would make an already hard job close to impossible, Israeli officials said, and make it far less likely for Israel to start separate talks with Syria soon. Mr. Olmert echoed that with reporters before he flew home Wednesday night. “Conditions are not yet at the point” for talks with Syria, he said. “There’s enough that we will have to do that will be heartbreaking.”

Over the past few months, the American relationship with Syria has been alternating between cold and lukewarm.

Officially, the United States considers Syria a state sponsor of terrorism, and the administration has struggled to isolate it as a strategy to have it change its policies. The United States withdrew its ambassador to Syria, Margaret Scobey, in 2005 after the assassination of Lebanon’s former prime minister, Rafik Hariri. Syria, which had troops in Lebanon at the time, has been implicated in the assassination, but has denied any involvement.

This April, the White House sharply criticized the speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, for visiting Damascus and meeting with President Bashar al-Assad, calling the trip “bad behavior,” in the words of Vice President Dick Cheney.

But one month later, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice met with Foreign Minister Walid al-Moallem of Syria in Sharm el Sheik, Egypt, in the first high-level diplomatic contact between Washington and Damascus in two years. Both sides described the 30-minute meeting as cordial, and Ms. Rice asked Mr. Moallem for Syria’s help to contain the flow of foreign fighters traveling through Damascus to Iraq.

Just a few months later, on Sept. 6, Israeli jets bombed a site in Syria. About three weeks after that, the United States announced it would invite Syria to the Annapolis conference.

When Syrian officials dallied about whether to show up, demanding that the Golan Heights issue be put on the agenda, Arab officials asked Ms. Rice to modify the agenda to something the Syrians could accept. Ms. Rice was on the phone more than 30 times between Nov. 21 and Nov. 25, administration officials said, talking to officials in the Middle East. She had more than 50 phone calls with C. David Welch, the assistant secretary of state for Near East affairs.

In the end, the United States agreed to formally put the Israel-Syria issue on the conference agenda. And Damascus sent its deputy foreign minister, Faisal al-Mekdad, to the conference. He told a closed session that Israel should pull out of the Golan Heights.

Sean D. McCormack, the State Department spokesman, sounded downright benign in describing Syria’s role at the conference. “It was positive that they decided to come to Annapolis, and taken as a whole, their comments were constructive,” he said.

Bush officials said Syria had gotten better about actively trying to stop the flow of foreign fighters through Damascus to Iraq, a key American demand.

Stephen J. Hadley, the national security adviser, said the ball was in Syria’s court.

“I think for Syria, there is a fundamental choice,” Mr. Hadley said during remarks on Wednesday night at a forum at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies.

“Are they going to make a strategic decision, give up their support for terror, let Lebanon alone, support a new Iraqi government, rather than obstruct it and undermine it, and make a decision for peace?” he asked. “If they do, I think there are opportunities for them in the Golan Heights.

“The door is open to them.”

Helene Cooper, The New York Times, 30.11.07

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/30/world/middleeast/30diplo.html?ref=middleeast

Mais puisqu'il est aimé, Jean-Louis Aubert est respecté. D'autant qu'il se présente seul en scène, avec ses guitares et une drôle de machine à pieds qui peut faire tourner les sons en boucle. Intitulée Un tour sur moi-même, la tournée fleuve et solitaire a débuté en septembre à L'Européen, à Paris - une petite salle - et se poursuivra jusqu'en mai, en passant par le Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, à Paris, le 25 avril, l'une des rares dates où il reste encore des places à vendre.

Aubert, en scène, c'est une singulière règle de trois : bon guitariste, mauvais chanteur, beau parleur. Ce que résume un spectateur debout avec la salle : "Ça n'a jamais été un Caruso." Ni un John Lennon dont il chante un précipité d'Instant Karma. Mais cette tournée bloc-notes est astucieuse, elle passe bien. Il ose, il a de l'aisance et du culot, et surtout un répertoire. Les effets sonores obtenus grâce aux machines qui lui permettent de jouer du piano ou des percussions quand les accords de guitare repassent à l'envi, les étirements vers le rock ethnique ou la chanson abrupte, sont autant de variables agréables.

Et puis Aubert raconte, très bien : les tournées à Berlin avec Iggy Pop, les petits frenchiens en vadrouille, Olive, le pote de toujours, l'invention de Téléphone à Ibiza...

Véronique Mortaigne, Le Monde, 30.11.07

http://www.lemonde.fr/web/article/0,1-0@2-3246,36-983956@51-983629,0.html

Mr. Kasparov said his coalition, Other Russia, would continue its protests against the Kremlin in order to spotlight what he described as a government that has grown increasingly repressive.

“We’ve entered a very dangerous period because we don’t know where this is going to stop,” he said at an impromptu news conference outside his home in Moscow shortly after being freed. The failure of the government to abide by its own laws and Constitution, he said, “could result in a catastrophe for the whole country.”

Mr. Kasparov was arrested last Saturday when he and other members of his coalition tried to deliver a letter to federal election officials contending that the parliamentary election this Sunday is biased toward Mr. Putin’s party, United Russia.

Mr. Kasparov said he had not been treated badly behind bars, but complained that he had been denied access to a lawyer and that a court would not hear evidence in his defense.

President Bush and other Western leaders had expressed alarm about Mr. Kasparov’s arrest, but the Kremlin dismissed their concerns, saying that Mr. Kasparov had violated the law by holding an unauthorized march and thus had faced appropriate punishment.

Mr. Kasparov’s release came as Mr. Putin made a direct, televised appeal to the nation to support United Russia, which is expected to win an overwhelming victory on Sunday. The president has used the government’s full authority to assist the party and hobble the opposition, and his speech was widely covered by the national television networks, which are under the Kremlin’s control.

“Please, do not think that everything is predetermined and the pace of development we have attained, the direction of our movement toward success will be maintained automatically by itself,” Mr. Putin said. “This is a dangerous illusion.”

Mr. Putin once again raised the specter of the difficult years after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, saying that the opposition would return the country to a time of “humiliation, dependency and disintegration.”

Meanwhile, in a Moscow court today, another adversary of Mr. Putin, the Russian oligarch Boris Berezovsky, was convicted in absentia of embezzling millions of dollars from the national airline, Aeroflot.

Mr. Berezovsky, a onetime Putin ally who is now one of his most vocal critics, received a sentence of six years in prison. He lives in Britain, and did not contest the charges, saying that they were trumped up by the Kremlin. British authorities would not extradite him.

Clifford J. Levy and Michael Schwirtz, The New York Times, 30.11.07

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/30/world/europe/30russia.html?_r=1&ref=world&oref=slogin

Invité du Centre de politique européenne (European Policy Centre), M. Hammarberg a exprimé sa déception face aux défaillances de l'Union européenne dans le domaine des droits de l'homme. Ces manquements, dit-il, nuisent à son image à l'extérieur. "Lorsque nous montrons du doigt les problèmes qui se posent dans les autres régions du monde, notre crédibilité dépend bien évidemment de la manière dont les droits de l'homme sont respectés à l'intérieur de nos frontières", explique-t-il, en soulignant que " "la politique du deux poids deux mesures" est perçue à juste titre comme une forme d'hypocrisie".

La liste des violations, passives ou actives, dressée par M. Hammarberg est éloquente. Le commissaire s'étonne d'abord du "demi-silence" de l'Union européenne sur les graves atteintes aux droits de l'homme commises par les Etats-Unis dans leur "guerre contre le terrorisme". "Les détentions illégales qui se poursuivent pendant des années, les disparitions forcées et les actes de torture sont tout simplement inacceptables", affirme M. Hammarberg, qui se dit "profondément déçu" par l'attitude des gouvernements européens.

Ceux-ci ne se contentent pas de réagir faiblement, selon le commissaire, aux abus états-uniens. Ils ne sont pas eux-mêmes exempts de reproches. Ils tolèrent le racisme et la xénophobie dont se rendent coupables dans de nombreux pays des groupes extrémistes. Ils ne respectent pas les droits des immigrés clandestins. Ils ne luttent pas assez énergiquement contre les discriminations dont sont victimes les Roms. Ils se mobilisent trop rarement contre l'homophobie. Ils manquent de volonté pour combattre l'inégalité entre les hommes et les femmes, ainsi que les violences domestiques. Ils imposent aux prisonniers des conditions de détention souvent indignes d'Etats civilisés.

M. Hammarberg regrette aussi que l'Europe ferme quelquefois les yeux sur les atteintes aux libertés dans des pays comme la Chine. "Nous ne devrions pas avoir peur, dit-il, de dénoncer haut et fort, lorsque c'est nécessaire, la situation des droits de l'homme dans les pays qui ne font pas partie de l'Europe." On comprend que les gouvernements européens acceptent mal les leçons du diplomate suédois. Mais l'Europe ne restera fidèle à elle-même que si elle consent à écouter celui qui veut être "une voix de la conscience".

Thomas Ferenczi, Le Monde, 30.11.07

http://www.lemonde.fr/web/article/0,1-0@2-3232,36-983875,0.html

El empresario santacruceño conduce una camioneta todoterreno blanca a bordo de la cual moviliza a una decena de hombres, amigos unos y empleados otros, que acuden a los lugares donde sospechan que los indígenas de Morales tratan de romper la huelga. En las manos hay garrotes, bajo algunos cinturones se adivinan pistolas y en sus bocas las palabras moderadas han desaparecido.

"Las fuerzas se están tensando y habrá que ver lo que sucede. Creo que ese momento está más cerca de lo que parece". Álvaro García-Linera, vicepresidente de Bolivia, advierte desde hace días en público que el clima de confrontación al que se está llegando en el país andino puede tener consecuencias impredecibles. Los dos bandos enfrentados -los que apoyan el proyecto indigenista de Evo Morales por un lado y los que defienden un Estado liberal, por el otro- día a día suben la apuesta de amenazas y gestos hostiles dando alas a los sectores más radicales que hablan de confrontación civil. En la práctica, los dos bandos miden con cautela sus fuerzas en una situación de empantanamiento de lucha por el poder, que según el propio Linera se viene dando desde los años noventa y que califica como un "empate catastrófico".

La escena del hombre de la camioneta se produjo durante la huelga general del pasado miércoles y los indígenas finalmente no aparecieron. La huelga fue un éxito pero eso no calmó los ánimos y así mientras las autoridades de Santa Cruz y otras provincias opuestas al proyecto de Morales llamaron a la desobediencia civil y convocaron una huelga de hambre indefinida desde el próximo lunes, sectores de las juventudes cruceñas pedían la compra de armas y redoblaban sus llamamientos a "defender la patria".

Estos sectores están muy próximos a la Falange Socialista Boliviana, un histórico movimiento ultraderechista nacido en los años treinta, que ha mostrado armas en público durante algunas manifestaciones disparando al aire.

Pero en el bando indigenista los ánimos no están más calmados. Con gritos de "¡guerra civil!, ¡guerra civil!", una multitud acogió en El Alto la semana pasada las palabras del dirigente sindical Edgar Patana. "Ha empezado la batalla decisiva, la última que estaba esperando el pueblo, para poder hacerse escuchar".

Desde el Gobierno boliviano se tacha sin rodeos de "fascista" al movimiento opositor y ayer un líder indígena amenazaba con tomar las tierras de Santa Cruz "inmediatamente" si la Asamblea Constituyente fracasa. El autor de la amenaza es Ruperto Quispe, jefe de los Ponchos Rojos, una organización ancestral de la cultura aymara convertida en una de las fuerzas de choque del presidente Evo Morales y que asegura tener 100.000 miembros en sus filas.

El pasado fin de semana, los Ponchos Rojos movilizaron a 5.000 hombres camino de Sucre cuando llegaron noticias de que la ciudad se había rebelado contra la decisión de aprobar la polémica Constitución impuesta por Morales. La intervención del presidente evitó que la columna indígena pasara de los arrabales de la ciudad convirtiendo una situación límite en un baño de sangre que hasta ahora las partes enfrentadas han tratado de esquivar.

Los Ponchos Rojos -el rojo es un color sagrado en la tradición aymara- aparecieron escoltando a Morales en enero de 2005 cuando el día anterior a jurar como presidente de Bolivia protagonizó un ritual indígena en las ruinas de Tiwanaku por el cual quedaba investido del poder espiritual de sus antepasados.

Formados sólo por hombres mayores de 50 años, los Ponchos Rojos poseen una fuerte influencia sobre la juventud indígena, un hecho que no pasó inadvertido para el Gobierno, que en agosto de 2006 autorizó un desfile conjunto de las Fuerzas Armadas y los Ponchos Rojos, parada que se ha repetido este año.

Evo Morales ya los había convocado en enero pasado "a defender la unidad del país", y aunque los Ponchos Rojos hasta ahora exhiben viejos fusiles máuser de los años cincuenta, el mensaje es claro: se trata de una fuerza muy numerosa, leal al presidente y dispuesta a tomar las armas. Y en la escalada verbal no han faltado gestos de crueldad como cuando los Ponchos Rojos degollaron la semana pasada en una reunión pública a dos cachorros de perro a los que colgaron junto a carteles que rezaban "Comité Cívico de Santa Cruz (...) Representan a los perros que quieren acabar con la Constituyente", declaró el maestro de ceremonias entre los aplausos de los asistentes.

[A última hora de ayer, el presidente Evo Morales pidió a la Asamblea Constituyente que convoque "a todos los partidos" para terminar de aprobar la nueva Carta Magna, después de que los embajadores de la Unión Europea le solicitaran en una reunión que respete la legalidad y los principios democráticos, informa Efe].

Jorge Marirrodriga, El Pais, 30.11.07

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/internacional/Bolivia/asoma/violencia/division/elpepuint/20071130elpepiint_2/Tes

The results can be heard on the four albums that have made her a star since she moved to Paris in 1999. That voice is a supple instrument of throaty sensuality and multi-layered longing, a vehicle for cultural nostalgia and personal loss. The music is just as distinctive.

Her last studio album, Honeysuckle (2005), switched smoothly between Algerian chaabi, flamenco guitar, and sub-Saharan African and Indian styles. As a girl, Massi obsessively taped flamenco from Spanish radio, and used the Morricone scores from Clint Eastwood Westerns as a pathway to US country and folk. Living on the cusp of North Africa and Europe, she felt closer to AC/DC than the chaabi of her Maghreb roots.

This open mind marked her as an outsider in Algiers' garden suburbs. "It's crazy," she sighs. "Because everyone was listening to Algerian music, chaabi or rai or modern boy-bands or rock. And when I'd listen to Aretha Franklin, or Kenny Rogers, everybody would say, 'What's happening with her? She's mad.' I was listening all the time to AC/DC, too. I was very hungry when I was young. I wanted to scream, and because of this I was listening to hard rock, because it helped me live what I couldn't say. I didn't feel good with my society or my family. I was really introverted and detached from all that, I refused it. So I built my universe with music."

Massi felt stifled by her place as an Algerian girl, too. "In an Arabic country, it's so hard. I refused that mentality. I wasn't searching for freedom to go to a dance; I was searching to be respected like a human. But I understood later that you can be a man or a woman. We all have the same problems."

Atakor backed Massi for her Algerian debut, Souad (1997). But its success, and her forthright views, made her dangerously visible in a civil war between fundamentalist Muslims and a repressive government. "It's bizarre, and very strong. A civil war is very special. It's only just finished, after 12 years. And people are still choking."

Massi attracted death threats with her new-found fame. When she was invited to Paris in 1999, she didn't return home for four years. "I stopped singing in Algeria, and said goodbye to the music, because I had so many troubles," she says. "France was my last try, and I was surprised at my acceptance. But I wasn't free there – no. Freedom isn't so absolute."

In her first months of exile, the repressed tension of her life in Algeria cracked open, then deep nostalgia for everything she'd lost set in. It suffuses her albums, sung with a peculiarly accepting sadness. "We have no choice," she laughs, of her Algerian blues. "When you have nostalgia for your family, your country, your friends, you are sad. But you can live with this."

Does Massi feel like she has no home now? "No. For me, my house is on stage. When I'm not on stage, I feel lost. It's horrible. Because I've had a daughter for two years, and she travels with me. I feel guilty, because it's no life for a baby. And afterwards, you're alone at home. Each time I stop work, I'm sick. Depressed. I understand now why a lot of artists commit suicide. It's very hard to pass from the stage and a lot of people and la-la-la. Afterwards, it's very strange to feel alone. My daughter gives me lots of courage to do this work. She helps me to continue to live."

Massi remains outspoken and socially engaged, discussing democracy with the Algerian diaspora, sometimes in the middle of her gigs. This attitude went down predictably badly in the US recently, when a sharp retort to a customs officer asking if she wanted "to kill our President" earned her 24 hours in jail. "Every time I go to get a visa, they treat me like an animal," she says. "My husband doesn't speak English. And they speak between themselves like he's not human. I ask them, 'Why don't you respect him?' But I know not all Americans are like that."

At 35, Massi is still the rebel who felt her society closing in on her when she was 16. But she is more accepting of where she came from now, even if she can never really return. "I've come back to Arabic culture, African culture," she says. "Because living in Europe, I miss it. I've even tried to sing chaabi, the Maghrebian music of the very old poets who speak about love and nostalgia. Now I'm older, I know it's not culture or history that's the cause of my problems."

Massi's life of conflict and isolation has led to music of such unifying ease, she deserves a little peace of her own.

Nick Asted, The Independent, 30.11.07

http://arts.independent.co.uk/music/features/article3208027.ece

nous a quittés et, c’est vrai, le paysage littéraire n’est plus tout à fait le même, du moins pour ses amis et les lecteurs de ses chroniques. “Paris n’est plus tout à fait pareil” m’écrit le photographe Gérard Rondeau, l’un de ses très proches, à qui j’ai demandé de m’envoyer “le” portrait de Frank, parmi les centaines d’images qu’il a prises de lui, qui fixe le mieux sa trace et son esprit. Voilà, une image dans la conversation, comme il les aimait tant, c’est à dire autour d’une table, celle-ci appartenant à un bistro de la rue du Dragon. D’ailleurs, il est mort à table, autant dire sur scène. Cette main, c’est tout à fait lui : un personnage au regard de comploteur qui se masquait par souci de discrétion. Du genre à tituber exprès en entrant dans un bar pour ne pas se faire remarquer. Une marque de tact vis à vis des autres. Ce ton nous manque, la patte Frank, mélange d’érudition littéraire, d’élégance, de finesse, d’humour, de désinvolture, de délicatesse, d’intelligence, d’orgueil, de paresse, et d’amour de la littérature vécue avec légèreté dans la profondeur. De la critique d’humeur à son meilleur. Outre son souvenir, il nous reste ses livres. Le dernier 5, rue des Italiens (720 pages, 24,50 euros, Grasset) est le recueil de ses chroniques hebdomadaires publiées dans Le Monde entre 1985 et 1989. Il y est question d’Heidegger, de Benjamin Constant, de Sagan, de Rimbaud, de Jacques Laurent, de Cyril Connolly, de Julien Gracq, de Proust et de temps à autre d’un écrivain qui passe ou du menu du jour inscrit sur l’ardoise. Il ne faut pas les lire à la file mais butiner et s’y perdre, ce qui n’est pas difficile puisque l’éditeur n’a pas jugé utile de nous offrir un index des noms et des titres. On n’est pas en Amérique.

L’ouvrage est agrémenté d’une préface à triple détente des écrivains-journalistes Jean-Paul Kauffmann (qui n’est pas rancunier car celui qu’il appelle “l’ébouriffant Frank” avait annoncé sa libération, avec trois ans d’avance sur l’horaire), Eric Neuhoff et Claudine Vernier-Palliez, qui fut sa femme. Les chroniques, c’est ce qu’a fait de mieux ce romancier raté qui mit toute une vie à ne pas écrire son grand roman sur Vichy. Plusieurs volumes qui constituent son histoire personnelle de la littérature avec l’air de ne pas y toucher. Un vrai mémorial de la vie littéraire, mais écrit par un vrai lecteur. Rare.

Pierre Assouline, La république des livres, 30.11.07

http://passouline.blog.lemonde.fr/

El frenesí ante la llegada de Lula era incesante ayer en la que está considerada una de las favelas más violentas de Río de Janeiro, prácticamente en manos del narcotráfico, junto con su vecina Pavão Pavãozinho.

El control se ha reforzado al máximo. Por una parte, las fuerzas del orden, sobre todo el Ejército, encargado de la seguridad del presidente brasileño, recorrieron cada rincón de la favela para evitar sorpresas. El tráfico ha sido interrumpido en la única calle por la que transitan los coches. Los habitantes sólo pueden llegar hasta sus casas a pie. El objetivo es dejar la principal vía libre por si surge una emergencia. Sólo Lula entrará en coche, el resto de su comitiva irá en miniautobuses considerados más seguros.

En un principio se barajó la posibilidad de que Lula llegase a la favela en helicóptero, pero fue desaconsejado por las fuerzas de policía, ya que los narcos están dotados de armas capaces de abatir helicópteros o por lo menos de alcanzarlos con sus disparos, como ya le ha ocurrido en otras ocasiones a la policía.

Proyectos de desarrollo

A la ceremonia, en la que Lula presentará sus proyectos urbanísticos para las favelas, entre ellos la construcción de un teleférico que una las dos barriadas vecinas, podrán asistir sólo 800 personas, de las cuales 600 son habitantes de las favelas, previo paso por un filtro de seguridad.

La emoción de los residentes era ayer evidente. Los que viven en Cantagalo son mayoritariamente partidarios de Lula, a quien consideran el “padre de los pobres”.

Según cuentan los vecinos, “aquí todos quieren verle y, si es posible, tocarle”.

Daici Maria Alves, jubilada de 68 años, que vive en la favela desde los 10, afirma que Lula será bien recibido, pero que espera que “las obras prometidas no se queden en el papel, porque serían un gran regalo navideño para todos nosotros".

La favela lucirá más verde tras plantarse 1.600 árboles de pau-brasil, talismán que dio nombre al país y que está en peligro de extinción a pesar de haber sido el más común cuando llegaron los portugueses.

El frenesí ante la llegada de Lula era incesante ayer en la que está considerada una de las favelas más violentas de Río de Janeiro, prácticamente en manos del narcotráfico, junto con su vecina Pavão Pavãozinho.

El control se ha reforzado al máximo. Por una parte, las fuerzas del orden, sobre todo el Ejército, encargado de la seguridad del presidente brasileño, recorrieron cada rincón de la favela para evitar sorpresas. El tráfico ha sido interrumpido en la única calle por la que transitan los coches. Los habitantes sólo pueden llegar hasta sus casas a pie. El objetivo es dejar la principal vía libre por si surge una emergencia. Sólo Lula entrará en coche, el resto de su comitiva irá en miniautobuses considerados más seguros.

En un principio se barajó la posibilidad de que Lula llegase a la favela en helicóptero, pero fue desaconsejado por las fuerzas de policía, ya que los narcos están dotados de armas capaces de abatir helicópteros o por lo menos de alcanzarlos con sus disparos, como ya le ha ocurrido en otras ocasiones a la policía.

Proyectos de desarrollo

A la ceremonia, en la que Lula presentará sus proyectos urbanísticos para las favelas, entre ellos la construcción de un teleférico que una las dos barriadas vecinas, podrán asistir sólo 800 personas, de las cuales 600 son habitantes de las favelas, previo paso por un filtro de seguridad.

La emoción de los residentes era ayer evidente. Los que viven en Cantagalo son mayoritariamente partidarios de Lula, a quien consideran el “padre de los pobres”.

Según cuentan los vecinos, “aquí todos quieren verle y, si es posible, tocarle”.

Daici Maria Alves, jubilada de 68 años, que vive en la favela desde los 10, afirma que Lula será bien recibido, pero que espera que “las obras prometidas no se queden en el papel, porque serían un gran regalo navideño para todos nosotros".

Juan Arias, El Pais, 30.11.07

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/internacional/favelas/visten/gala/elpepuint/20071130elpepuint_1/Tes

Bahia's African heritage on parade

Few places better represent the influence of Africa on Brazilian culture than the streets of Salvador in the state of Bahia.

And throughout November, when the community celebrates Black Consciousness, both the spirit of Africa and the traditional exuberance of Brazil have been on display.

The vast majority of people in Bahia are Brazilians of African descent, the legacy of a time when more than 40% of slaves brought to the New World were taken to Brazil.

Brazil abolished slavery in 1888, the last country in the Americas to do so.

The African influence is everywhere - in music, the dance, food and religion - sometimes preserved in a way that is no longer even true in Africa.

It includes Capoeira, a martial art passed down directly from slaves, and Candomble, an African-inspired religion.

That cultural heritage is now drawing African-American visitors from the US to Brazil.

'Familiar but different'

Among those watching the parade for Black Consciousness day in Salvador was Ky Adderley from Philadelphia.

These US tourists say they found Brazil fascinating

His girlfriend Natasha Jane agreed: "Just in the place we are staying there is African art all over, and just travelling from place to place you see the culture everywhere, in the art, in the people, in the sound, in the food," she said.

Groups working in Brazil to promote understanding say Brazil offers African-Americans a unique opportunity.

Paul Johnson, executive director of Partners of America, says such cultural issues are discussed more openly in Brazil than in the US.

The black American population have a lot to teach us Domingos Leonelli Brazilian tourism official

"I think that is done to a lesser extent in the United States. There is more talk about samba and where it has come from, about Capoeira and where it has come from, about the food, the songs, about how much the national popular culture has adopted African-Brazilian culture."

Simone Manigo-Truell Dos Santos of Levantamos, which promotes Afro-Brazilian-American co-operation, says Brazil blends the idea of being an American whose origins are from Africa.

"People are still able to hold on to their African heritage, their African ties, unlike what we experience in the United States.

Tourist officials in Bahia are now targeting the African-American market, and they hope it will help Brazil as well as the visitors.

"The black north American population, and American society have developed much more financially than our black population here," Bahia Tourism Secretary Domingos Leonelli said. "In this way they have a lot to teach us. A black middle class has developed in the United States, a black business class, and a black political power, and that is still a long way off in Brazil."

Limited opportunities

Brazil was once held up by academics as a "racial democracy" but in recent years there has been a more heated debate in the country about the issue of race, equality and discrimination.

The use of quotas as a means to address lack of access by black students to universities has proved particularly controversial.

BRAZIL'S SLAVERY LEGACY 40% of slaves in New World were sent to Brazil Brazil was last country in Americas to abolish slavery, in 1888 Black Brazilians still lag behind whites on most indicators

Most economic indicators show that black Brazilians are the poorest section of society, and the sprawling favelas or shanty towns that are found all around Salvador are just one indication of this.

As well as having the poorest jobs and housing, they also fare badly in terms of health and access to education, while black faces are rarely seen in the corridors of power in either business or politics.

A recent study showed that black residents of the state of Sao Paulo earn 44% less than their white counterparts, and that unemployment among backs is 18.1% compared with 13.2% for whites.

However the current government does at least have some black ministers, and a ministry to promote racial integration.

Brazilians of African descent have a cultural heritage that has much to offer to visitors from around the world, but as a community they still face many challenges in the years ahead, if they are to improve their position within their own society.

Gary Duffy, BBC News, 29.11.07

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7115411.stm