Hijo de Jesse y Williams Bartel, nació en Brooklyn el 6 de agosto de 1938. Bartel decidió que se dedicaría al cine a los 11 años y a los 13 trabajó durante un verano en UPA Animation Studio de New York. Él se especializó en Artes Dramáticas en la UCLA y posteriormente recibió una beca para estudiar cine en Roma, ahí produjo un corto que presentó en el Festival de Venecia en 1962. En 1972, Gene Corman, hermano de Roger, lo contrató para dirigir una película de terror de bajo presupuesto llamada Private Parts. Más tarde, Roger lo llamó para ser segundo asistente de dirección en Big Bad Mama y luego lo ayudó en la dirección de Deathsport en 1978. Bartel jamás pudo convencer a Roger Corman para que financiase http://Eating Raoul. Sus padres vendieron la casa familiar que tenían en Long Island y le dieron el dinero para financiar el proyecto. Paul tardó 22 días en filmarla, tiempo que diseminó mayormente en los fines de semana. Bartel la protagonizó junto a Mary Woronov, con la que estelarizó 17 películas, incluyendo Deathsport. Filmó como director once largometrajes con bajo presupuesto y de manera independiente. Gary Morris en la Enciclopedia GLBTQ dice que debido a su manifiesto carácter homosexual el circuito independiente fue el mejor lugar para difundir su trabajo.
El gobierno parece que no fracaso....que tiene que seguir con sus planes de trabajo y tecnologia....ah, el futbol, nuestra religion...Scaloni....
Has vuelto organillo (o..¿organito?), lloron y cansado....como antes.....
Tambien Paul Bartel era homo...., solo faltan John Wayne y Orson Welles-.....recien....el barco en el puerto....cada vez peor....no se como no puedo escribir sin mirar el teclado..., seguro que Oppenheimer sí podia....., las ocho de la mañana...el deseo de escribir en Afrikaans....y que Sudafrica vuelva a ser aquella Suidafrika donde mataron a Verwooerd.....name lack y aquella donde estaban vivos Terre-Blanche y.....
8.33am --- Miau-miau le maullo dos veces a Moni para despertarla.....recien...., un dia soleado y fresco dentro de esta casa ajena y a la que llegamos hace 10 años..., o sea..., hace 10 minutos.....Karel Kapek nos informa que la vida ws arbitraria, brutal....sin esa informacion oppenheimeriana no lo sabriamos.....
El barco bajo carga en Sumatra
leo sobre la guerra de las salamandras
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9.44 am
La definición de Krakatoa en el diccionario es una isla volcánica en Indonesia, en el estrecho de Sunda entre Java y Sumatra: parcialmente destruida por su erupción en 1883, la más grande en la historia registrada. Otras erupciones 44 años más tarde formaron una nueva isla, Anak Krakatau También llamada: Rakata.
------TAGEBUCH
19.40 AM ---- LUNES 15 NOVIEMBRE 2021. -- KSP
MO salio hace media hora ....con el labio superior.. que se le hincho...a la las.......con 44 billetes de 500 pesos para ir a la casa.....con mario y la mari---no me lo dijo pero quiere alquilarla...las dos casas...me hizo leer porque hinchaba el labio superior---a eso de las 12.00---- espero que yo mejore...tras ship mire acercado a la pantalla de TV y cuando me levante senti la pierna gerecha debil y dormida...temor de empeorar
anoche a las
mo quiso alquilar las dos dos casas porque si la otra la alquilaban otros...ya tenian tres para alquilar una cada y otro para la otra.....
vi un video de....eugene terra-blanche..por primera vez.....autoridad....voz grave......queria crear una republica para los blancos ya en 1970...el -------
Louis Theroux Meets The Boer Leader | BBC
periodista acaso judio ------
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Adolf Hitler arrasa en las elecciones de Namibia
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Su nombre le persigue: se llama Adolf Hitler Uunona, pero es lo único en lo que coincide el nuevo administrador de distrito de Ompundja (norte de Namibia) con el dictador nazi. El político del partido SWAPO obtuvo el 84,88% de los votos en las elecciones regionales del pasado día 25 de noviembre. Todo un éxito en comparación con los pobres resultados que la formación, heredera de un movimiento independentista contra Sudáfrica y miembro de la Internacional Socialista, cosechó en la mayor parte del país.
Uunona, de 54 años, está acostumbrado a que le hagan bromas por su nombre. "Que me llame así no significa que ahora quiera someter a Oshana [la región donde se encuentra su distrito]", ha comentado en tono jocoso al diario alemán Bild.
"Mi padre me puso ese nombre y probablemente no entendía lo que representaba Adolf Hitler", ha apuntado. De niño, no reparaba en el significado. "Al crecer ya me di cuenta de que era un hombre que quería someter al mundo entero y yo no tengo nada que ver con nada de eso".
Namibia fue colonia alemana desde 1884, en la época del canciller Otto von Bismark, hasta la ocupación surafricana durante la primera guerra mundial. Los nombres alemanes, como Adolf, son habituales entre la población, aunque los germanohablantes son una pequeña minoría. "Adolf" lo llama, a secas, su mujer, y aunque intenta disimular el segundo nombre con "H.", "Hitler" figura en todos los documentos oficiales y el político considera que ya es "demasiado tarde" para cambiarlo.
En la antigua colonia alemana abundan los nombres de calles en lengua alemana y topónimos como Lüderitz, Mariental o Helmeringhausen, recoge Bild. El Imperio Alemán asesinó a miles de personas en las revueltas de grupos nama, herero y san, entre 1904 y 1908. La actual República Federal de Alemania ha ofrecido 10 millones de euros como reparación, pero el Gobierno namibio la ha rechazado por considerarla insuficiente, apunta BBC.
Ficha de Adolf Hitler Uunona, del partido Swapo.COMISIÓN ELECTORAL DE NAMIBIA/GETTY
Con todo, el político namibio no es el primero que, en pleno siglo XXI, concurre a las elecciones. En 2013 en las elecciones del distrito de Meghalaya, en el noreste de la India, se presentó otro llamado Adolf Lu Hitler R Marak, que había sido ministro durante un corto periodo. "Estoy al tanto de que en un momento de la historia Adolf Hitler fue la persona más odiada del mundo por el genocidio de los judíos, pero mi padre añadió 'Lu' en mitad [del nombre], y por eso soy diferente", apuntó al diario The Guardian
Heritage site for Eugène Terre'Blanche? | News24
Whitewashing anger: What the Terre’Blanche verdict means
Eugène Ney Terre'Blanche fue un político y terrateniente afrikáner fundador del Movimiento de Resistencia Afrikáner durante la época del apartheid en Sudáfrica. Durante la década de los 90 se erigió como destacado defensor del régimen del apartheid y abanderado de la extrema derecha blanca sudafricana. Wikipedia
Afrikaans Weerstandsbeweging leader Eugene Terre’Blanche liked to tell me that he would die facing the enemy. He had in mind red communists, pink liberals and black terrorists. Colour was always a big thing for a man whose French Huguenot surname translated into “White Earth”. When the campaign to save the White Rhino got underway, he said simply: “To hell with the rhino – save the white man!”
The end was not as he imagined. The Leader, as he liked to be known, South Africa’s Führer of the Veld, founder of the far-right, AWB – or ARM as it becomes in English – was bludgeoned to death in his spartan bedroom, on his farm, near his home-town of Ventersdorp, on Easter weekend, 2010.
I first met Terre’Blanche in the 1980s, when he was written off as a freak, and I watched audiences at his rallies grow into hundreds and then thousands. He had what a certain class of dictatorial men I had seen close-up – Emperor Bokassa, Franjo Tujman , Robert Mugabe – all had in common: intense narcissism, menacing daintiness, a thing about hats and epaulettes, and a need for some kind of artistry beyond mere power.
For a while, in the late 80s, as the old apartheid state was cracking up, Terre’Blanche terrified its leaders because he reminded them of who they were and what they had always preached and were now putting behind them: the religion of race. The idea that God was a white man, probably of Dutch extraction, who condemned racial mixing, revolution and raffles. The old regime hated this preacher of racial rigour who accused them of betrayal and did all it could to destroy him. Terre’Blanche was a fundamentalist in an era of fudge.
Terre’Blanche had been, until recently, a spent force. After a jail term for beating up a black petrol-station attendant, he had fallen from the public gaze. But then he was always doing that: whether falling down drunk; falling in love with the wrong woman; or falling off his horse, at one of those quixotic Boer parades he so relished. Ironically, what put him back in the saddle in recent times has been his campaign to highlight the murders of many hundreds of white farmers up and down the land which Terre’Blanche called systematic genocide.
Charged with his murder was one of his workers, an illegal Zimbabwean immigrant, Chris Mahlangu. Also charged was Patrick Ndlovo, a 15-year-old boy, who slept in squalid quarters in the barn. Terre’Blanche had not paid their Easter wages and they were angry about that. Instead, he had bought them lots of booze, and then went to bed alone in his farmhouse. A few hours later, man and boy forced a window with a heavy iron bar, and using the bar and a panga, they hacked and bludgeoned their sleeping boss to death.
Next, Mahlangu and Ndlovo ransacked the farmhouse but found nothing worth stealing except a mobile phone. This wasn’t surprising because Terre’Blanche struggled to make ends meet. His attackers took his truck but it broke down and they fled on foot. However, the dead man’s phone kept ringing and this so disturbed Mahlungu that he tore out the sim card and chewed it to bits. At a nearby farmhouse, the pair told workers they had killed Terre’Blanche. “I’m your boss now,” Mahlungu told them, though the boast lacked conviction, because the fugitives then borrowed a phone, called the police and begged to be picked up before the “white Boers” of Ventersdorp learned of Terre’Blanche’s death, and came after them.
Ventersdorp, north-west of Johannesburg, is set in a flatland of red soil streaked with blond vistas of endless maize fields. It has always been an Afrikaner farming town, a Boer redoubt, with streets broad enough to turn an ox-wagon. An uneasy, testy dorp where big men, black and white, stare straight past each other, and the steeples of three Dutch Reformed churches, once the temples of the white Nationalist party at prayer, stab the skyline.
On the first day of what would turn into a marathon trial lasting for much of the past year, a platoon of Terre’Blanche stormtroopers gathered outside the courthouse on Voortrekker Street. A loudspeaker mounted on their car roof blasted out traditional Afrikaner tunes, and they greeted a black prosecuting official who happened to walk by with a derisory chorus of an old song calledBobbejaan Klim die Berg(Baboon Climbs the Mountain). One of the posters took sardonic aim at the recent refusal of the South African government, under pressure from the Chinese, to allow the Dalai Lama to visit the country. “Dear Dalai,” it read: “Don’t bother about a visa. Just fly to Zim and walk right in.” A reference to the many Zimbabweans who enter South Africa illegally, among them, Chris Mahlangu.
The AWB men at Terre’Blanche rallies, then and now, were always more sad sacks than SS. They never managed the nipped waist, the swaggering precision, the catwalk preening that real Nazis showed off. They never understood that real fascism is high fashion. You dress to kill – you mean what you wear. Even their party flag, three black sevens toe to toe in a white circle, against a blood-red background, was swastika kitsch.
“Nuremberg designed at Woolworths,” was the way I put it to Terre’Blanche. He took it as a compliment. “At least you know what Nuremberg stood for.”
Later, he told me he wasn’t a Nazi, he was simply “a patriot, and a Boer”. But by then he had come to see that embracing Hitler was not good public relations, and he had grown convinced that his real enemies were the elite among his fellow Afrikaners, who had betrayed the Boervolkby selling out to a black government. And messy dressers though his troops may have been, they were competent enough when it came to the bombs they set and the people they killed.
Hitler was, of course, the very template Terre’Blanche understudied, and he brought real talent to the role. He was the most electrifying speaker I’ve heard in South Africa. The rich, round voice mixing insults and exhortations, in speeches that were a melange of poems, psalms, threats and shameless sentimentality, delivered with superb timing, leading, always, to the vow to defend to the death “the Boer nation”. He mastered the trick of turning his obsessions into operatic events. An early drama he wrote was a school setwork. He liked Shakespeare, and Macbeth especially – the bloody defiance of the Thane of Cawdor appealed to him. He wrote poetry all his life and, though marred by doses of self-pity, it was not too bad.
Terre’Blanche was known in South Africa as “ET”, and the extraterrestrial tang of those initials pleased him. But what was alarming about Terre’Blanche was precisely not that he seemed a creature from outer space. On the contrary, ET was very close to home; he was appalling embarrassing because he was so familiar. He was altogether “one of us”. A few years back, after the election of Mandela, the South African Broadcasting Corporation (SABC) polled the country on the greatest 100 South Africans, and ET came in at 25th, right behind the legendary liberal leader Helen Suzman. The SABC, still as much a government glove-puppet in the new South Africa, as it was in the apartheid years, did what came naturally and banned the news.
In court, the two accused claimed that Terre’Blanche had maltreated them, and there was talk of assault and sodomy. The police had done an inadequate job in gathering evidence, in safe-guarding the rights of the teenager, and in securing the site of the crime. But over it all hung an air of embarrassment. A lot of people wanted not to know who did what to whom; they wanted it over.
And when at last judgment was finally handed down, it came as a relief. There were one or two clashes outside the courthouse, some black people danced and sang and held up placards declaring: “Chris Mahlungu for president!” The AWB men smoked and scowled and the riot police were there in force. The judge dismissed the talk of assault and sexual abuse as fantasy, and found Mahlungu guilty of the murder of Terre’Blanche and Patrick Ndlovo, now 18, guilty in a lesser charge of house-breaking. Suddenly, it was over and it altered nothing and everyone went home with their sense of injustice as raw as ever.
It is said that Terre’Blanche has no heirs but I’m not sure about that. He constantly vowed he would die for thevolk. This is one of those coded games the power-hungry have always played in South Africa and it rarely fools anyone. Pious protestations to the contrary, what drives politics in this country is fear and anger, and what counts in the end is firepower. When people speak of dying for their beliefs, they mean, all too often, that they will kill for them.
It is a sentiment that has even been set to music. Julius Malema, the ANC youth movement leader until he was suspended recently, has made a song of the struggle years, Kill the Boer, into his theme tune and though a court has condemned it as “hate speech”, it continues to be sung. Hatred is not something that can be suspended by court rulings. There is very real anger in the country and it has not been addressed.
Malema understands this, as Eugene Terre’Blanche once did, and whose alter ego, in the bitterly comic war of mirrors, he seems increasingly to have become. Eugene morphs into Julius; brothers under the skin: angry demagogues with a vivid store of racial abuse and withering scorn for those who rule the land. Terre’Blanche charged that brother Afrikaners were selling out, to not just international communism, but to capitalists, Jews and liberals who were plotting to destroy his people. Malema and his supporters burn the ANC flag and insult South African president Jacob Zuma for betraying the revolution and selling out to white capitalists, those “thieves” who have stolen the country and the continent. The state should take the farms away from white landowners, and nationalise the gold fields, the banks and the courts.
After the trial ended, I took a walk down Voortrekker Road, where the courthouse stands, and kept walking. Ventersdorp no longer stops where the black township begins. It is all one now. But 18 years after Mandela was elected, it is a wreck. Tembu runs a machine shop in his backyard, and when he remembers ET, he laughs and shakes his head, as if it was some fond memory of a mad but interesting neighbour. There is surprisingly little rancour felt for Mr White Earth. But there is alarm and fury about the corruption in the town council, about the sewage that runs into the streams, the lack of houses, jobs, dignity. The council is solidly ANC but for many black people in Ventersdorp, things are no better than they were in the old apartheid days.
I walked back into town, past the Xing Wei 5 and 10-cent clothes store, and a string of Chinese shops, the owners silent, industrious, ever-present. A boom-box bazaar was belting out township rap from speakers the size of fridges, and frequent funeral parlours testify to the grim harvest of the Aids pandemic.
But, Gallop concludes, “pursuing legal consequences against Jammeh is likely to prove very difficult, if not impossible.” Why? Because, she notes, “Equatorial Guinea is not a signatory to the Rome Statute” that created the International Criminal Court, leaving Jammeh’s fate in the hands of fellow despot Teodoro Obiang, with whom he has recently beenpartying it up.
Jammeh’s victims, with whom I work, are not trying to send him to the ICC, however. They want to see him prosecuted back home in Gambia or in one of the nearby countries whose citizens he also victimized. And Equatorial Guinea happens to be a party to the UN Convention against Torture, which requires that states “extradite or prosecute “ alleged torturers found on their territory. This is the clause that underpinned the 1998 arrest of former Chilean dictatorAugusto Pinochetin the United Kingdom, and the trial andconviction in Senegalof former Chadian dictatorHissène Habré.
The Habré case, on which I also worked, is illustrative of what can happen here. Habré, accused of thousands of political killings and systematic torture, was overthrown in 1990 and fled to Senegal.Inspired by Pinochet’s arrest, his victims filed a case in Senegal and got him arrested there in 2000. Then Abdoulaye Wade was elected president of Senegal, had the case dismissed, and vowed that Habré would “never” be prosecuted in Senegal. The victims, led by a torture survivor,Souleymane Guengueng, did not give up however, and campaigned relentlessly. Finally, in 2012, the International Court of Justiceruledthat Senegal had violated its duty to “extradite or prosecute, “ and ordered it to bring Habré to justice “without further delay.” By then, the newly elected president of Senegal, Macky Sall, had announced that he would move forward with the trial.
Determined victims and their West African and international allies also ran a successful “Campaign Against Impunity” to help persuade Nigeria in 2006 to hand over former Liberian presidentCharles Taylorto the Special Court for Sierra Leone after giving him safe haven for three years. The UN-backed court convicted Taylor in 2012 of working together with rebel groups to commit atrocities during that country’s civil war.
Jammeh’s victims are similarly motivated. “We will do whatever it takes in the pursuit of justice, no matter how long it takes,”saysFatoumatta Sandeng, spokesperson for the “Jammeh2Justice” campaign. She is the daughter of opposition leader Solo Sandeng, whose murder in April 2016 galvanized opposition to Jammeh’s rule.
Nana-Jo N’dow, whose father, Saul Ndow, a dissident businessman forcibly disappeared from Senegal and presumed to have been brought to Gambia and killed, says “we want answers and we want justice and we shall not give up until those responsible are held accountable.”Toufah Jallow, the woman who this monthdescribed her rape by Jammeh, is fighting to see Jammeh in a room again: “a courtroom this time.”
Gambian President Adama Barrowhas saidthat he will await the report of the country’s truth commission before pursuing Jammeh’s possible extradition from Equatorial Guinea. It’s going to take a lot of heavy political lifting, but Gambia will probably not be the only country applying pressure. Ghana isweighingreopening its investigation into the July 2005 massacre in Gambia of approximately 56 migrants, including 44 Ghanaians as well as Nigerians, Togolese, Senegalese and Ivoirians. Its move followed aMay 2018 reportby Human Rights Watch and TRIAL that revealed that the migrants were murdered by the “Junglers,” a death squad reporting to Jammeh.
Senegal, whose troops helped persuade Jammeh to leave after he refused to accept his December 2016 election defeat, and was fed up with Jammeh’s support for Casamance rebels, presumably would be happy to see Jammeh behind bars and prevented frommaking mischief.
It is too early to say what will happen. But, as the Habré case showed, victims with tenacity and perseverance can actually create the political conditions to bring their dictator to court, even when the first answer is “never.”
Reed Brody is Counsel for Human Rights Watch, where he assists atrocity victims who are fighting for justice.
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In an article for The Conversation, republished by the Mail & Guardian, Sophie Gallop (“Despite mounting abuse claims, here’s why Jammeh is unlikely to face justice soon”) lists atrocities attributed to the former dictator of Gambia, Yahya Jammeh, who now lives in exile in Equatorial Guinea. Her litany includes political killings, torture, and most recently, after a Human Rights Watch and TRIAL International investigation I led, rape and sexual abuse.
But, Gallop concludes, “pursuing legal consequences against Jammeh is likely to prove very difficult, if not impossible.” Why? Because, she notes, “Equatorial Guinea is not a signatory to the Rome Statute” that created the International Criminal Court, leaving Jammeh’s fate in the hands of fellow despot Teodoro Obiang, with whom he has recently been partying it up.
Jammeh’s victims, with whom I work, are not trying to send him to the ICC, however. They want to see him prosecuted back home in Gambia or in one of the nearby countries whose citizens he also victimized. And Equatorial Guinea happens to be a party to the UN Convention against Torture, which requires that states “extradite or prosecute “ alleged torturers found on their territory. This is the clause that underpinned the 1998 arrest of former Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet in the United Kingdom, and the trial and conviction in Senegal of former Chadian dictator Hissène Habré.
The Habré case, on which I also worked, is illustrative of what can happen here. Habré, accused of thousands of political killings and systematic torture, was overthrown in 1990 and fled to Senegal. Inspired by Pinochet’s arrest, his victims filed a case in Senegal and got him arrested there in 2000. Then Abdoulaye Wade was elected president of Senegal, had the case dismissed, and vowed that Habré would “never” be prosecuted in Senegal. The victims, led by a torture survivor, Souleymane Guengueng , did not give up however, and campaigned relentlessly. Finally, in 2012, the International Court of Justice ruled that Senegal had violated its duty to “extradite or prosecute, “ and ordered it to bring Habré to justice “without further delay.” By then, the newly elected president of Senegal, Macky Sall, had announced that he would move forward with the trial.
Determined victims and their West African and international allies also ran a successful “Campaign Against Impunity” to help persuade Nigeria in 2006 to hand over former Liberian president Charles Taylor to the Special Court for Sierra Leone after giving him safe haven for three years. The UN-backed court convicted Taylor in 2012 of working together with rebel groups to commit atrocities during that country’s civil war.
Jammeh’s victims are similarly motivated. “We will do whatever it takes in the pursuit of justice, no matter how long it takes,” says Fatoumatta Sandeng, spokesperson for the “Jammeh2Justice” campaign. She is the daughter of opposition leader Solo Sandeng, whose murder in April 2016 galvanized opposition to Jammeh’s rule.
Nana-Jo N’dow, whose father, Saul Ndow, a dissident businessman forcibly disappeared from Senegal and presumed to have been brought to Gambia and killed, says “we want answers and we want justice and we shall not give up until those responsible are held accountable.” Toufah Jallow, the woman who this month described her rape by Jammeh, is fighting to see Jammeh in a room again: “a courtroom this time.”
Gambian President Adama Barrow has said that he will await the report of the country’s truth commission before pursuing Jammeh’s possible extradition from Equatorial Guinea. It’s going to take a lot of heavy political lifting, but Gambia will probably not be the only country applying pressure. Ghana is weighing reopening its investigation into the July 2005 massacre in Gambia of approximately 56 migrants, including 44 Ghanaians as well as Nigerians, Togolese, Senegalese and Ivoirians. Its move followed a May 2018 report by Human Rights Watch and TRIAL that revealed that the migrants were murdered by the “Junglers,” a death squad reporting to Jammeh.
Senegal, whose troops helped persuade Jammeh to leave after he refused to accept his December 2016 election defeat, and was fed up with Jammeh’s support for Casamance rebels, presumably would be happy to see Jammeh behind bars and prevented from making mischief.
It is too early to say what will happen. But, as the Habré case showed, victims with tenacity and perseverance can actually create the political conditions to bring their dictator to court, even when the first answer is “never.”
Reed Brody is Counsel for Human Rights Watch, where he assists atrocity victims who are fighting for justice.
Gambia’s defeated leader Yahya Jammeh announced early Saturday he has decided to relinquish power, after hours of last-ditch talks with regional leaders and the threat by an ECOWAS military force to make him leave.
“I believe it is not necessary that a single drop of blood be shed,” Jammeh said in a brief statement on state television. He promised that “all the issues we currently face will be resolved peacefully.”
He did not give details on any deal that was struck, and it was not immediately clear when Adama Barrow, who beat Jammeh in last month’s election, would return from neighbouring Senegal to take power.
But the speech signalled an end to the political crisis that has seen the tiny West African nation caught between two men claiming to be in charge. Late Friday, Barrow declared that “the rule of fear” in Gambia had ended.
Shortly before Jammeh’s address, Mauritanian President Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz told reporters that a deal had been reached and that Jammeh would leave the country. He and Guinean President Alpha Conde had handled the talks.
A State House official close to the situation said Jammeh would leave within three days, possibly on Saturday with Conde, who was spending the night in Gambia’s capital, Banjul. The official spoke on condition of anonymity because he was not permitted to speak about the situation to press.
The famously mercurial Jammeh at first shocked Gambians by conceding his election loss to Barrow, but with the possibility of prosecution hanging over him for human rights abuses alleged during his 22 years in power, he decided to change his mind. Barrow was inaugurated Thursday at Gambia’s embassy in Senegal because of concerns for his safety.
The defeated Gambian leader, who first seized power in a 1994 coup, has been holed up this week in his official residence in Banjul, increasingly isolated as his security forces abandoned him and he dissolved his Cabinet.
A military force, including tanks, had rolled into Gambia without facing any resistance, said Marcel Alain de Souza, chairman of the West African regional bloc, ECOWAS. At least 20 military vehicles were seen Friday at the border town of Karang.
The force included troops from Senegal, Ghana, Nigeria, Togo and Mali, and they moved in after Barrow’s inauguration and a unanimous vote by the U.N. Security Council to support the regional efforts.
Fearing violence, about 45,000 people have fled Gambia for Senegal, according to the UN refugee agency.
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