Southern Sudanese celebrate the results of the referendum on their secession. Photograph: Peter Martell/AFP/Getty Images
On Monday, I joined hundreds of people packed into the John Garang Memorial Centre, armed with small "South Sudan" flags. A big TV screen connected us to the Southern Sudan Referendum Commission in Khartoum.
Finally – the announcement that all of southern Sudan has been waiting to hear – the results of our vote on our future, whether or not to become a separate nation.
As I heard the news, my mind was ringing with the challenges ahead. Then my phone also started ringing, with friends from around southern Sudan telling me how they were celebrating.
People were happy but calm, as they had already known that the results were a landslide. Some groups went to hotels and bars to party, and danced until morning.
I am proud that we have been able to defy the doubters, with a calm vote – a clear show of everyone's heartfelt wish for peace.
Unified in our almost 100% vote for separation, among southerners the talk on the street is now a determination to pull together for the development of our new nation.
I hear more than 200,000 southerners have returned from the north, many coming back with the desire to develop our new nation. In Juba, where I live, many are stranded at the Nile River port, still awaiting assistance so they can reach their final destination.
The hopes and expectations of southerners for our new nation are enormous, and there are difficulties ahead. Our jobless youth hope for a new start in life, our parents hope for schools for their children – everyone is dreaming of a better tomorrow.
We are all citizens of our new nation now, and it is the responsibility of every citizen, including me as a young person, to bring about our success. We need to pick ourselves up from a sad position, as a country suffering, with terrible poverty statistics because of the war, and accelerate ahead so that we can compare ourselves more proudly against other nations. And I want to finish my education and be a part of it.
If we can manage our own resources, perhaps there is hope, finally, for development in the south.
But the reality is that not everyone will have a job, clean water, paved roads and good housing immediately, so I hope we can be patient while we work together to make the dream come true. They say Rome was not built in a day, and southern Sudan won't be either.
I know investment will be very important to the south's growth, and to tackle poverty. The international community should understand that the south is a new nation that will need a lot of support.
With six important months before the peace accord comes to an end, our politicians must get moving on solutions to the outstanding issues, such as citizenship, border demarcation and sharing oil revenues. But in the same way the vote took place on time, I'm cautiously optimistic that these too will be settled; even if, as usual, political posturing will play its part.
I think we've reached the stage where there can be no backsliding.
Politicians in the north and south must start to build good relations with neighbours, because we will need each other – in trade, in peaceful co-existence, and even in families whose parents have married across the divide.
The southern government must ready itself to become an independent nation. But success requires teamwork, and the southern governing party, the Sudan People's Liberation Movement, must ensure democratic and inclusive government that incorporates all the ethnic diversity of the south.
In the spirit of Monday's results, my hopes are still positive, because I hope our united optimism will lead us to achieve together the peace and justice we have been fighting for.
Fireworks lit the sky and packed cars drove around the South
Sudan capital with drivers honking and passengers waving their new
flag from the windows.
Standing next to the city's flashing countdown clock, which read "free at
last," 27-year-old university student Andrew Nuer said: "We have
struggled for so many years and this is our day - you cannot imagine how
good it feels."
South Sudan's independence comes exactly six months after a referendum that
saw southerners vote almost unanimously to split with their former civil war
enemies in the north.
For decades, until a peace agreement was signed in 2005, southern rebels
fought two wars with successive Khartoum governments for greater autonomy
and recognition, a conflict that left the south in ruins and millions of
people dead.
Among the revellers was South Sudan's information minister, Barnaba Marial
Benjamin, who told Reuters: "It is already the ninth so we are independent.
It is now."
North Sudan's Khartoum government was the first to recognise the new state,
hours before the formal split took place, a move that smoothed the way to
the division of what was, until Saturday, Africa's largest country.
The recognition did not dispel fears of future tensions.
Northern and southern leaders have still not agreed on a list of sensitive
issues, most importantly the exact line of the border and how they will
handle oil revenues, the lifeblood of both economies.
In Khartoum, just before the split, Sudanese
President Omar Hassan al-Bashir, who now leads just the north, said he would
attend the independence celebrations later in the day in Juba.
"I would like to stress ... our readiness to work with our southern brothers
and help them set up their state so that, God willing, this state will be
stable and develop," said President Bashir.
Analysts have long feared a return to civil war if disputes are not resolved.
After the stroke of midnight the Republic of Sudan lost around three quarters
of its oil reserves, which are sited in the south, and faced the future with
insurgencies in its Darfur and Southern Kordofan regions.
Southern officials said the birth of the new nation would take place at
midnight from July 8 to 9, followed by a formal independence ceremony later
on Saturday.
According to the official programme, a formal Proclamation of the Independence
of South Sudan will be read out by southern parliament speaker James Wani
Igga at 11:45 a.m. (0845 GMT). Minutes later Sudan's national flag will be
lowered and the new flag of South Sudan will be raised.
"At midnight, bells will be rung across the new country, and drums will be
sounded, to mark the historic transition from southern Sudan to the Republic
of South Sudan," a statement from the southern government said.
Ban Ki-moon, the UN secretary general, said in Juba on Friday he was confident
South Sudan would soon join the global body.
Earlier in Khartoum, Mr Ban urged the northern government to allow UN
peacekeepers to stay beyond the end of their mandate to monitor the
situation in Southern Kordofan, the north's biggest remaining oil producing
state, and other hotspots.
The mandate of UNMIS, which has deployed 10,000 peacekeepers in Sudan and was
set up to monitor the ceasefire, expires on Saturday.
The UN Security Council voted on Friday to establish a new mission in South
Sudan called UNMISS, with up to 7,000 U.N. peacekeepers and an additional
900 civilian police.
Saif al-Islam Gaddafi, the dictator's heir apparent, used a meeting with
Libyans displaced by fighting to declare the regime had blunted the five
month bombing campaign.
"No one should think that after all the sacrifices we have made, and the
martyrdom of our sons, brothers and friends, we will stop fighting. Forget
it," Saif declared. "Regardless of whether Nato leaves or not, the
fighting will continue until all of Libya is liberated. Let me say to you
that the battle will not stop. Every one of you: return to your homes and
farms and villages and jobs with peace of mind. We will not stop."
The broadcast was one of a series of signals from the Gaddafi family inner
circle exhibiting its confidence in its stronghold.
Major Gen Abubaker Yunus, the defence minister, also appeared on television to
appeal to defecting officers to rejoin the army to "liberate"
Benghazi.
He spoke after divisions emerged in the rebel movement following the murder of
the highest ranking defector Gen Abdel-Fattah Younes, the opposition
military chief and former Gaddafi right hand man.
On Tuesday night members of the cabinet were to appear in a government tent in
Tripoli's Green Square for an Iftar banquet to break the Ramadan fast. It
was the nearest to a public appearance important regime figures had
undertaken in weeks.
The first broadcast by the Libyan leader's LSE-educated son in a month was in
a TV studio to a hand-picked selection of loyalists. After months in the
bunker he had shed his Western sheen, appearing bearded and in uniform.
The broadcast was recorded just two days after Nato attempted to bomb the
Jamahiriya state television out of existence. After a bombing run on Friday
hit three transmitters in Tripoli, a Nato spokesman said TV was integral to
the "systematic oppression" of civilians.
Yet the station has continued to record.
Gaddafi officials see resilience in almost every facet of daily life. The
leadership has continued to function despite the Nato bombing campaign,
defections and the loss of significant parts of the country. On Tuesday it
counterattacked a rebel onslaught on Zliten, a stronghold overrun by
Misurata fighters this week. Seven Misurata rebels were reported killed.
Injured rebels evacuated to Misurata hospital said many casualties had been
suffered after they were caught offguard by the "all-out"
counterattack by Gaddafi forces, using tanks and heavy weapons along the
entire defensive line they had established in the town.
The regime has also been capable of taking new precautions in response to the
blows inflicted by bombing on Tripoli.
Corrugated iron has been erected in the gaps in the concrete blast walls of
the Bab al-Azizia compound bombed by Nato as a demonstration the
dictatorship could no longer hide behind its fortifications.
Tripoli has rustled up extra cash to stock markets for the holy month of
Ramadan.
Petrol queues are notably shorter than three months ago. Market stalls are
well stocked with fruit and vegetables.
So much has flowed across to neighbouring Tunisia, shopkeepers are complaining
that it is difficult to stock up. "Everything has gone through the roof
because of the Libyan orders," said Jamal al-Jouma, a Tunisian
shopowner near the border. "I can't buy bottled water and the local
fruit farmers are filling lorries for Libya."
But western officials insist that the regime cannot sustain its grip under the
pressure of the bombing campaign. Col Gaddafi has sent so many uniformed
troops to front line fighting that militias are now keeping order in Tripoli
suburbs.
Behind the scenes there are indications that the inner circle is ready to
depose Gaddafi by force. "The regime is not internally strong, it knows
the end is coming closer and it will be bloody," a Whitehall official
said.
However Sergei Vershinin, head of the Russian foreign ministry's Middle East
section, declared that the conflict between the two sides was a dead end and
that only politics or diplomacy would bring about an end to the fighting.
Meanwhile the regime has published an international invitation to recruit a
public relations adviser to overcome the "unjustified" attacks
that embroiled it in a fight for survival.
Growing olives in India. Photograph: Nishika Patel
Rajasthan, India's popular tourist state, is famous for its sprawling palaces, historic forts, vast tracts of desert and celebrity weddings. Olives may be added to the list. The state is trying to grow the fruit on a large scale in India for the first time, in its deserts and semi-arid areas, and there are signs of success.
Not only would olive cultivation introduce struggling farmers in the state's ailing and neglected agricultural sector to a lucrative cash crop and boost the local economy. It would also satisfy the growing domestic demand for healthy olive oil in the country, which has one of the highest rates of heart disease in the world.
The $3m pilot project, testing olive cultivation across seven agro-climatic regions, is in its third year and on track to deliver olives this year and next. About 112,000, saplings were brought from Israel three years ago and planted across 182 hectares. "Four farms in the north of the state, in the desert areas, have shown positive signs of flowering and olives will follow shortly. A semi-commercial yield is expected this year. We are certain it will be a success," says Surinder Singh Shekhawat, head of the project under Rajasthan Olive Cultivation Ltd, a three-way collaboration between the state government, an Israeli firm and an Indian firm.
It may come as a surprise that olives are being grown in the harsh climatic conditions of the state where temperatures swing from extreme highs to lows, especially when the olive's native home is the mild Mediterranean. But Rajasthan's cold spells are key to cultivation. "The olive requires a certain chilling temperature, which we have in the state. Everything else can be managed with technology," says Shekhawat. In addition, the olive is able to withstand scorching temperatures and has a low water requirement, which is crucial in this water-scarce state.
The state has taken its cue from Israel, which experiences a similar climate to Rajasthan and has been successful in producing olives in desert areas with the help of technology. As part of the joint venture, the Israeli firm Indolive Ltd is providing Rajasthan with the latest sensor and drip irrigation technology, which measures exactly how much water, nutrients and fertilisers the plants need for a healthy, high yield, avoiding water wastage.
Once the pilot is a success, cultivation will be taken to hundreds of farmers in the initial stage. The technology would be replicated locally and handed to the farmer at a subsidised rate, along with training in crucial plant management.
The challenge will be how to modernise the traditional farming community and encourage small farmers to come together to farm and manage olives on larger, more efficient plots. Experts say Indian agriculture is in poor shape due to low standards and practices, and has suffered from cost-saving shortcuts. But olives need great care, so management – and the state's role – will have to be robust.
Exploring crop diversification and efficient, modern farming techniques are part of the state's plans to breathe life into the state's agriculture. The adverse climate conditions and water scarcity means very few commercial crops grow in the state, while common crops such as wheat, mustard and maize consume large amounts of water and don't bring big financial returns.
About 30km from the state capital, Jaipur, at Bassi, 40 hectares of wasteland has been cleared to grow peppers, strawberries, pomegranates, tomatoes and cucumbers under fasttrack modern farming techniques. A high technology centre with modern nurseries and cooling chambers is planned for the area.
With other northern states in India closely watching the pilot, Shekhawat believes they will quickly start replicating it once there's concrete success, which means India could compete with the Mediterranean in the future, producing olives at a lower cost. Olive picking and pruning is a labour-intensive task and India's labour costs are low. On top of that, the state has huge swaths of underutilised land, unlike European countries. He hopes to expand to 5,000 hectares in the next few years, with 2,500kg of oil being produced per hectare and 15 tonnes of fruits.
There is potential to export table olives and high-grade flavouring olive oil for which Indians have not yet developed a palate. But most olives could be channelled for domestic consumption. Lower-grade, pomace cooking oil is increasingly being used in the country's kitchens as heart-related diseases soar.
With two years of the project left, the focus will turn to overcoming the challenges of rolling out olive production on a mass scale. If this goes to plan, India could be the new home of the olive.
An hospital worker locks the coffins of three international aid workers killed in Afghanistan. Photograph: Shah Marai/AFP/Getty Images
Around the world, more aid workers are being killed, kidnapped or attacked than ever before.
In April, seven UN staff were murdered in northern Afghanistan when their compound was stormed by an angry crowd. The attack was part of the widespread anger sparked by American pastor Terry Jones's burning of the Koran.
And just last week an American aid worker, Flavia Wagner, who was abducted and held for three months in Darfur in 2010, filed a lawsuit against the NGO that sent her there on the grounds that they had insufficient contingency plans to deal with the threat of kidnap.
The experience of Wagner and the tragic deaths in Afghanistan are part of a much wider pattern: aid, it seems, has become a dangerous business. This was the verdict of aid expert Mark Duffield in a public lecture at Queen Mary, University of London, last week.
Lethal attacks on aid workers have grown from around 30 a year in the mid 1990s to over 150 in 2008. They have grown primarily because in countries from Sudan to Pakistan, Chad and Papua New Guinea, aid and humanitarian organisations are seen as ever more complicit with state militaries and a western liberal intervention agenda.
In response, the western aid industry has been digging itself into ever more fortified bunkers and compounds. In an approximation of the Green Zone strategy that the US military deploys in Baghdad, it is refusing to accept that there are times when it is offering the wrong solutions in the wrong way and at the wrong time.
Duffield, the author of Development, Security and Unending War, has over 30 years experience in the field, and captures the trend in a neat example. When, in the 1990s, a Taliban provincial governor threw a coffee pot at the head of the UN mission in Afghanistan, the result was an almost immediate withdrawal of the entire mission for several months – even though the coffee pot failed to find its target. By contrast, when Linda Norgrove was killed last year (albeit unintentionally, by a grenade thrown by the US military team sent in to rescue her), the result was a raft of public pronouncements redoubling commitments to "stay the course".
It is this almost Victorian steeling of resolve – or what in security industry jargon is known as "resilience" – that he argues is driving the "bunkerisation" of the aid industry. It is one of the most substantial and least recognised changes taking place in the aid world in recent years.
Of course, you don't see the fortified buildings with double-skin walls, security guards and barbed-wire topped perimeter fences in any of the glossy brochures put out by aid organisations. They want their donors to see how much of their money is going to local communities. But rest assured, the compounds are there: a vast network spreading across the globe. Refusing to budge. Unable to do much good either. Is this the future of aid?
The UK Department for International Development (DfID) certainly acknowledges, in a recent review of its humanitarian aid, that its ability to help is being hampered by "the rising security threat faced by humanitarian workers … and the increasing difficulties they face in accessing affected populations".
But the two problems are not unrelated. And Duffield believes that, above all, it is the current "integrated mission" focus of the UN that has done for the once assumed neutrality of western aid. It piles aid and political goals into the same interventionary pot so as to shape development more directly around the foreign policy interests of donor nations.
Hence, in part, such retaliations as the bombing of the UN headquarters in Baghdad in 2003, precipitating yet another round of defensive digging in, and greater demand for dedicated security officers, safety and protection by the aid industry.
Of course, someone like Flavia Wagner would likely argue that all aid organisations should be much more security-focused. But the ongoing securitisation of development is also having negative consequences for aid and development practice. One of these is the current shift in aid policy from the doctrine of "when to leave" to the more resilience-based doctrine of "how to stay" (or "stand and deliver" as Duffield aptly puts it). With such a mindset, it is not hard to see why many recipient countries find western aid looking more and more like the colonial exploitation it was intended to make amends for.
It is not hard to see why it is becoming ever more difficult for aid-workers to do what they got into the industry to do. How can they, Duffield challenges us to consider, in a world where they are taught in countless security training courses: "If you see an accident, don't stop, think carjack!"
