AFRICOM: Securing African or U.S. Interests?

MAMFE, Cameroon—One Saturday morning in March 2021, 17-year-old Beatrice* and 19-year-old Patience* stepped out of a single-room apartment they shared to buy food near the Adagom refugee settlement in Nigeria’s southeastern Cross River State.

That’s when a young man they knew as “Mr. Patrick” approached them.

He asked the teenagers if they were interested in moving to the United States to work as caregivers for a monthly salary.

The two wasted no time in accepting the offer, which came with the condition that they would have to work in a bar in Cameroon, their home country, for at least a year to earn enough to make the journey.

“We immediately began to pack our bags and, after two days, we left for Cameroon,” Beatrice, now 19, said. “We were excited to hear that our stay in Cameroon was temporary and, after a year, we would be traveling to America.”

A little over three years ago, both women, who used to live close to each other, fled their homes in the southwestern Cameroonian town of Akwaya after soldiers stormed their compounds and began to burn houses as the war between English-speaking separatists and government forces in Cameroon’s Anglophone regions intensified. After spending days struggling through thick forests and grasslands, they arrived in Nigeria in November 2019, quickly seeking refuge in the Adagom refugee settlement, where about 5,000 Cameroonians now live. The site is on the outskirts of Ogoja town in Nigeria’s southeastern Cross River State.

For the two days this reporter spoke with the petite women, they were dressed in the same outfit: Blue jean trousers and faded t-shirts. They also appeared emaciated.

According to sources this reporter interviewed, trafficking of adults and children has become rampant as a war rages in Cameroon between the Francophone government and Anglophone forces.

‘We Just Had to Leave’

Both women fled Cameroon on their own, leaving behind relatives, some of whom later fled to Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps in Cameroon’s southwest and to other refugee settlements in southeastern Nigeria.

An Emergency Food Security Assessment that the United Nations conducted a year ago found more than 80 percent of Cameroonian households in refugee settlements and those in host communities are “severely or moderately food insecure.” Three in four refugees may be engaging in child labor and survival sex, according to the UN.

Beatrice and Patience, who spent three years at Adagom on a $2-per-day allowance they earned, jumped at the chance of paid jobs in Cameroon and an eventual trip to the United States.

“At Adagom, we only earned money during planting and harvesting seasons and, once these seasons are over, we go back to begging for survival,” Beatrice said. “When we heard there was something better waiting for us outside Nigeria, we just had to leave.”

Beatrice and Patience had no time to tell anyone they were going.

They arrived in the southwestern Cameroonian town of Mamfe alongside Mr. Patrick, who drove them in his red Volkswagen Passat car. That is when the women said they met a couple of other girls from the same refugee settlement in Nigeria at a bar where they quickly began to work as waiters. Later, they labored as cooks when a restaurant was added to the bar, which was run by three young men, including Mr. Patrick himself, according to the women.

“Behind the bar is a three-bedroom apartment, where everyone who worked there lived,” Patience said. “At some point it was only us (Beatrice and Patience), who remained as workers at the bar. The other two girls we met there were taken away from the apartment one morning.”

Less than a week after they arrived, each of the three men began to make advances at them, demanding sex and threatening to lie to Cameroonian authorities that the teenagers worked for the Ambazonia Defense Forces (ADF) one of the two biggest  armed English-speaking separatist groups.

“They said if we didn’t do what they asked us to do, they’d make our lives miserable,” Patience said. “We had to choose between doing what they wanted or having our lives turned upside down.”

Fearing that they could lose everything that was offered to them and even end up in jail, they gave in. Within weeks, the teenagers were pregnant. But after they gave birth to two boys in February, the traffickers took away their babies. They told the women that they needed to prepare for their trip to the United States and that U.S. authorities wouldn’t admit them if they went with children.

But the trip never happened. Instead, the bar closed in April and its owners fled with the babies.

“They sent us to the market one afternoon to buy baby toiletries and when we returned, we found that both the bar and our apartment had been locked,” Patience said. “The men had left with our children.”

Not having anywhere to stay, a Mamfe trader whom Beatrice and Patience often bought baby toiletries from took both of them into her home, where they remain for now.

‘No Mother Can Rest Until She Finds Her Child’

The women have solicited help from local activists and a Nigerian NGO to find their babies.

“We reported the incident to the police in Mamfe but haven’t heard anything positive from them since then,” Beatrice said. “We also informed [local] pastors and human rights activists, and they’ve been going ‘round the [southwest] area, asking people if they know anything about the men who took the children.”

A senior police officer, who was unauthorized to speak on the matter, told Toward Freedom human trafficking is growing in the city and traffickers are hard to track.

“They receive protection from armed groups,” the officer said. These groups control certain areas in the southwest. “[The police] isn’t equipped enough to engage these elements.”

In Nigeria’s Cross River State, from where Beatrice and Patience were trafficked, authorities explained policing in Adagom is difficult because of its distance from the state’s capital, Calabar, about 304 kilometers (188 miles) south of Adagom.

“Things can only change if funding improves,” said Godwin Eyake, who heads the Cross River State command of Nigeria’s National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP).

A local NGO is helping Beatrice and Patience find their sons by visiting orphanages and writing advertisements.

“It’s hard when you are not sure where the babies were taken to,” said Salome Gambo, a researcher at human-rights group Caprecon Development and Peace Initiative. “We are doing what we are doing just in case it happened that the children were trafficked to Nigeria.”

Gambo admitted recovering the children will be difficult.

However, for the mothers of the babies, there’ll be no stop in their search.

“We will not rest until we find our children,” Patience said. “No mother can rest until she finds her child.”

*Names have been changed

Philip Obaji, Jr., is a journalist based in Nigeria. He won the Future Awards Africa Prize in Education in 2014, and the Future Awards Africa Prize for Young Person of the Year in 2015. Follow him on Twitter at @PhilipObaji.

Editor’s Note: Aside from federal terrorism charges against animal-rights and environmental activists, African descendants are active in the Stop Cop City movement. In 2017, the FBI created the “Black Identity Extremism” domestic terrorism category for African-descended activists in the United States. Light editing helped conform the following Unicorn Riot article to TF’s style.

ATLANTA, United States—On Dec. 14, Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT) teams and other armed police officers from eight different federal, state, county, and city police agencies conducted a raid on those camping out in the Atlanta forest in hopes of preventing the construction of an 85-acre police training facility that opponents have dubbed “Cop City.”

During the raid, police shot tear gas and plastic bullets, and forced people out of the forest at gunpoint. Police in Bobcats and other heavy equipment destroyed treehouses, a communal kitchen, and other infrastructure built by those dedicated to the defense of the forest.

By the end of the two-day operation, a total of 12 people were arrested, according to police. At least six of those have been charged with a host of felonies, including state-level domestic terrorism charges, according to the Atlanta Solidarity Fund.

On Tuesday, Dec. 27, all six arrestees charged with domestic terrorism were granted bail totaling $51,000, with amounts per defendant ranging from $6,000 to $13,500. The six were also ordered to report to “pretrial services” within 48 hours, to refrain from contact with their co-defendants, and to refrain from “contact with Defend Atlanta Forest on social media.”

The Atlanta Solidarity Fund, an Atlanta-based bail fund, posted on social media their intention to bail the six out as soon as possible.

“The ‘domestic terrorism’ charges these protesters are facing are utterly baseless,” the group wrote on Twitter following the hearing. “Legal experts, including the ACLU, have warned prosecutors that there is no basis for such a case. We have been assembling a legal team to defend them every step of the way through the legal process.”

At a hearing on Dec. 15, Magistrate Judge Claire Jason denied bond to five of the arrestees charged with felonies.

“Each of you have been charged with domestic terrorism,” Jason said, appearing to read from a document on her screen. “Generally, the information that I have on the affidavit of warrant… You did participate in actions of DTAF (Defend the Atlanta Forest) a group that’s been classified by the United States Department of Homeland Security as a domestic violent extremist group.”

Those involved in the movement to defend the forest deny that the group, “Defend the Atlanta Forest,” even exists. Writing on Twitter Friday, Dec. 16, from the handle, @DefendATLForest, those running the platform explained, “’Defend the Atlanta Forest’” is the name of a movement and it is also the username of a submission-based social media platform. It is not a group. We do not organize any actions and we don’t know the people who do.”

The U.S. Department of Homeland security did not respond to questions from Unicorn Riot regarding the alleged domestic violent extremist group classification. However, arrest warrants and affidavits obtained by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution indicate that those arrested are being charged with domestic terrorism simply due to their affiliation with the “group.” The documents state that the Department of Homeland Security classifies “Defend the Atlanta Forest” as “Domestic Violent Extremists.”

Some affidavits say the offense is “16-10-24 Domestic Terrorism.” However, as of 2021, that Georgia state law does not include any references to domestic terrorism—it only pertains to “obstructing or hindering law enforcement.” Another affidavit says the offense is “16-4-10 Domestic Terrorism,” although this appears to be a mistake by prosecutors and the judge, as that section is currently repealed according to Justia.com. However, there is a domestic terrorism statute on the books in Georgia.

Cop City Opponents Aim to Stop Construction

The encampments and tree sits within the 380-acre expanse of forest have been constructed, destroyed by police, and reconstructed several times throughout the year. Those living in the trees and supporting them from afar are trying to prevent the razing of the forest and the construction of the Atlanta Police Foundation’s Public Safety Training Center, currently scheduled to open in late 2023.

The facility carries a price tag of $90 million for its initial phase. In September 2021, Atlanta’s city council approved a proposal to construct the facility within a huge swath of forested land in unincorporated DeKalb County, southeast of Atlanta, some of which is owned by the city of Atlanta.

​​Other sections of the forest are also in danger of destruction. Last year, film company executive Ryan Milsap, former owner of Blackhall Studios (recently rebranded Shadowbox Studios), was given forty acres of forested land called Intrenchment Creek Park just west of the planned police facility in a controversial land swap. Opponents of Milsap responded to an escalation he made on July 30 by setting a work truck on fire.

Milsap has stated publicly that he plans to raze the forest to build 1.2 million square feet of sound stage, which would make it the largest film studio in the state.

“I want to be clear, the people that the police are attacking with plastic bullets with chemical weapons, as recently as yesterday, these people were not involved in threatening anybody,” said Marlon Kautz of the Atlanta Solidarity Fund at a press conference on Wednesday. “They were not involved in endangering anybody. They were sitting passively in trees trying to express a political position. And for sitting in trees, trying to conduct a non-violent protest, they were attacked by police, arguably tortured with chemical weapons.”

On Tuesday night, in the midst of the raid, activists called for a protest at the Dekalb County Jail where those who had already been arrested were held. They beat drums, shouted, and chanted so that those held behind the jail’s walls could hear them. In response, detainees in the jail banged on windows, waved, and even lit a fire.

This is not the first time people have been arrested and charged with crimes for protesting against the project, but it is the first time authorities have charged protestors with domestic terrorism. The first arrests associated with the movement came in September 2021 when activists were protesting outside the homes of several City Council members in the midst of the council’s vote to approve the Cop City project. The protests were held at City Council members’ homes because the meeting took place remotely.

A Trend Continues: Leftist Activists Get Pinned with Terrorism Charges

There is a longstanding precedent for terrorism charges being used against animal rights and environmental activists. According to a 2019 study by The Intercept, of the 70 federal prosecutions of animal and environmental activists they identified, the government sought terrorism enhancements in 20. Overall, the use of terrorism charges has risen dramatically in recent years, peaking in 2020. The rate of federal terrorism prosecutions has increased 388 percent since 2017.

Watch our mini documentary – Defending the Atlanta Forest: Behind the Movement to Stop Cop City

Although the FBI is involved in the repression of the movement to save the forest, those arrested Tuesday face state-level terrorism charges, brought by the Georgia Bureau of Investigation (GBI).

However, activists associated with the campaign to save the forest have raised doubts over whether these charges will actually stick.

“The GBI knows that these charges will not hold up in court, and they are not intended to: The point is to raise the stakes of protesting,” said a spokesperson for the Defend the Atlanta Forest campaign in a press release. “Their goal is to create a chilling effect across the city, scaring off anyone concerned about police militarization and the climate crisis from taking action.”

Despite the rhetoric currently being wielded by the GBI and other law enforcement agencies, which seek to portray the movement to defend the forest as a militant fringe group, the Cop City project remains wildly unpopular among a broad segment of Atlantans, including those who will be forced to live closest to it. Even a local preschool has gotten involved in the fight to save the forest.

Activists say police are escalating the level of violence and repression they are using against the movement as its success and popularity grows. Kautz, of the Atlanta Solidarity Fund, told reporters Wednesday:

“When the Stop Cop City movement began, police tried to use intimidation to dissuade activists. And when that didn’t work, they began making baseless arrests, which the Atlanta Solidarity Fund has documented and is providing legal support to defend people in those cases.”

Kautz continued:

“When the baseless arrests failed to discourage people from speaking out about the problems that they saw with Cop City, we got to where we are now, with the police using open brutality to try to suppress them. “Are we going to end up in a situation where the police are murdering protesters in order to advance, not public safety, but their particular political agenda? Are we going to end up in a situation where the police are murdering protesters in order to advance, not public safety, but their particular political agenda? No, they’re going to be learning urban warfare tactics to harass our communities, to surveil us, to prevent us from doing things like gathering here today and letting the public know what’s going on.”

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published by New Frame.

Zachariah Mokhothu, 49, was excited when he got his first job in mining. He is the eldest son and was the only breadwinner. He never imagined that working underground would change his life. As he gets into the car to head home to Kutlwanong township outside Odendaalsrus in the Free State, pieces of his wheelchair keep falling off.

“Is there anyone who used to work in mining who has a scrap of a wheelchair like this?” he asks casually as he sits in the car.

According to Statistics South Africa, the mining industry generated Rand 527.5 billion ($36 billion USD) in sales in 2019, with 16 commodities ranked in the top 10 internationally. South Africa is currently ranked fifth in the world for mining’s contribution to GDP and in the top three globally in terms of production.

While the industry continues to thrive, there are plenty of men like Mokhothu who pay for its success. During his 15-year career in mining, he got injured and contracted tuberculosis (TB) before his paralysis.

Mokhothu says he was pushing a wheelbarrow at work when he realised that his left arm had gone numb and he couldn’t move it. He went to the site manager and asked for his medical aid documents so he could go to the doctor. He was told his documents were missing and that he possibly didn’t sign for medical aid. “It is impossible that I didn’t sign for my medical aid when I know that anything can happen underground. Mining is dangerous,” he says.

Mokhothu’s relationship with his employer, Redpath Mining, deteriorated from the moment he walked to the hospital after being denied a company car to take him. He was alone there and a few days after a stroke had caused the numbness in his arm, the rest of his body followed.

Trickery and Denial

His mother Regina Mokhothu says it was difficult when he couldn’t move at all. “We got no support from the mine, not even a check-up. Luckily Zacharia still had medical aid from his former employer, so he went to a couple of physiotherapy sessions before it expired.

“My heart breaks when I see his situation and how the mine has treated him. He was the only breadwinner when he was working. The family didn’t want for anything. I’ve become too old to work. I used to be a domestic worker in the city.”

A Redpath mining representative said Mokhothu wasn’t injured on duty and that he wasn’t an employee yet when he had the stroke. “If he was injured on duty, the process would be to complete forms, send them to [insurance company] Rand Mutual, observe how severe the situation is and pay accordingly. Rand Mutual makes that decision.”

Mokhothu says he was tricked into signing a voluntary termination agreement and that he has a document to this effect. He also has a letter from Rand Mutual notifying him about his payments towards medical aid.

Mining Fatalities

More than 11,000 mineworkers died in South Africa between 1984 and 2005, according to the Department of Mineral Resources and Energy. The death toll from mining accidents was about 270 in 2003 and the department, Minerals Council South Africa and other industry stakeholders reached an agreement to reduce mining fatalities by 20 percent a year. There was an improvement from 2010 onwards, but fatalities have increased again in recent years.

Those who survive mining accidents, such as Thabani Tsokodibane, 56, tell of the lack of care and blatant disregard they experience at the hands of managers and employers when they are injured or fall ill. Tsokodibane had been working in the mining industry for more than a decade when he contracted TB at Harmony Gold’s Bambanani mine in Welkom in 2010.

He went to the clinic and was told he had drug-resistant TB. “I took my medicine every day. I was at the clinic daily for almost a year. At work, nobody said much to me or called to check. I thought everything was still in order. But when I went back to work, they said, ‘We have put somebody else in your shift, go home.’”

Disappointed and worried about providing for his wife and seven children, he applied for a job at another mine. But the human resources (HR) department told him in the final stages of the process that the mine could not employ him because his health tests had shown he was not fit to work underground. The TB had affected his lungs, leaving him with chronic breathing problems.

“My body has never been the same. I can build and do plumbing, which I used to do for extra income, but now I work slower because I just get weak,” says Tsokodibane. He says it is more difficult to breathe and he comes down with flu-like symptoms, including coughing every five minutes, that sometimes last for weeks. “I go to the clinic, get cough mixture and that’s all.”

‘Some Sort of Justice’

Mokhothu and Tsokodibane hope to receive compensation from their respective former employers through the Tshiamiso Trust. They are hopeful that, after a long wait, they will get some sort of justice for the effects of mining on their bodies and would like more than monetary compensation.

Mokhothu says he is most frustrated with how his employer treated him. “I was tricked. After years, I got a letter from [medical insurance company] Discovery about the payments that were deducted from my salary, which means they hid my medical aid from me. I think it’s because they wanted to deny that I had the stroke at work. Mines are very good at denying responsibility. Even with TB, you will be asked if you have proof that you got it from work.

“I have a diploma in secretarial services from Standford college. I thought I could do admin at the mine and the HR person came and said he can give me light duty, I should just sign. But when I read the document, it was a voluntary termination agreement. I refused to sign and was very angry that they tried to trick me like that.”

Mokhothu wants to run his own business one day. He lives with his mother, apart from his wife and children who live in another township, because the roads in Kutlwanong are easier to navigate in a wheelchair; it doesn’t get stuck in the mud. He takes taxies to the hospital, to collect his grant or to submit documents at the Tshiamiso Trust offices and it is hard.

“I never wanted to be a miner. I wasn’t finding a job with my diploma and the opportunity came up. I regret being part of this industry where people see you get hurt in the line of duty, on their premises, and refuse to take responsibility. It’s as if I put myself in this wheelchair.”

Harmony Gold spokesperson Moeketsi Maloeli said: “All employees have a choice on whether to take medical aid or not. If they happen to fall sick without medical aid, there are health hubs with state-of-the-art equipment, some are even better than government hospitals. A miner can go there until they get well.”