All posts by nedhamson

Activist, writer, researcher, addicted to sharing information and facts.

Why Puerto Rico’s death toll from Hurricane Maria is so much higher than officials thought

By Alexis R. Santos-Lozada
The Conversation

“If you don’t get away from those areas, you are going to die.” That phrase concluded Puerto Rico Secretary of Public Safety Héctor Pesquera’s press conference before Hurricane Maria.

Three months after the storm, he is one of the fiercest protectors of the official death count. As of Dec. 29, the Department of Public Safety had certified 64 deaths due to Hurricane Maria.

However, estimates reported by CNN, The New York Times and others tell a very different story.

I was part of the team of demographers that developed the first independent estimates of excess deaths, with the objective of informing the public. Like the estimates published by those media outlets, our numbers contrasted significantly with the official figure. The most shocking results from our study suggest that deaths in September and October were 25 percent above the historical patterns – with about 1,085 added deaths following the hurricane.

Determining the number of excess deaths after a natural disaster is not only a mathematical exercise. Undercounting deaths reduces the attention to the crisis Puerto Ricans live day by day. It can also delay international recovery efforts and the approval of policies to help those who need it the most.

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Causes of death

Our study compared preliminary data from the Department of Public Safety with historical patterns for the same months in the past decade. In other words, we compared the number of deaths in September and October last year with data from the same period of time in 2010 to 2016. This is how we concluded that there were 1,085 extra deaths, in excess of historical ranges.

So why are more than 1,000 deaths missing from the official count? My colleagues and I suspect it may come down to how deaths are recorded by government officials.

In Puerto Rico, deaths are recorded using international classifications. This system doesn’t capture all of the circumstances surrounding a death that happens following a natural disaster. The death may have been accelerated by some conditions – like difficulty communicating during the emergency.

Deaths associated with a particular natural disaster can be classified as direct or indirect deaths. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, direct deaths are those “directly attributable to the forces of the disaster or by the direct consequences of these forces, such as structural collapse, flying debris or radiation exposure.”

Destroyed communication satellite in Humacao, Puerto Rico. Dan Vineberg, CC BY

“Indirect deaths” may be associated with any unsafe or unhealthy conditions before, during and after the natural disaster.

For example, Hurricane Maria destroyed Puerto Rico’s power grid. So, someone whose life depended on a dialysis machine would no longer be able to use one. In official certificates, their death would be classified as kidney-related and not attributed to the hurricane – even though the death was accelerated by lack of resources required by the patient to stay alive.

The same would happen to someone whose life depended on respiratory aid. Their death would be classified as pulmonary-related.

Or, say a person feels chest pain and suspects a heart attack. Their immediate reaction might be to call 911. A working communications structure may be able to get help in time and save a life. But in the days following Hurricane Maria, only 25 percent of the cellphone towers were working. Communication was virtually impossible.

Under the international system, a death resulting from these circumstances would be classified as a result of a cardiovascular conditions, and would not be attributed to the hurricane either.

Revising the death count

In light of the mounting evidence, Governor of Puerto Rico Ricardo Rosselló has ordered a review of the causes of death for those who died after Hurricane Maria.

The review is a step in the right direction. But will the official count change? Probably not. As of today, the government is requiring families to visit the Department of Public Safety and to report if a death was related to Hurricane Maria. But merely revising the causes of death is not enough to determine whether that death was indirectly related to Hurricane Maria. Those in charge of the death count review will need to interview families and ask them about the conditions surrounding the tragedy.

Following the impact of hurricanes Harvey, Irma and Maria, the CDC published guidelines that state and territorial governments should follow to determine if a death is related or not to a specific event. Following these guidelines could provide the government of Puerto Rico with a more realistic death count. It remains to be seen if the new count will follow this protocol.

A broken power grid in Humacao, Puerto Rico.Dan Vineberg, CC BY

An accurate death count could be used to inform policies, supplement requests for aid in the national and international context and inform local governments as they prepare for future natural disasters that may impact Puerto Rico, particularly extreme weather events now that climate change is expected to worsen. Hurricane Maria was the first storm to destroy the power grid in Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico is six months away from the next hurricane season and experts predict it will be an active one.

Finally, minimized figures could weaken efforts to provide relief to communities affected by the hurricane at the local and international level. Given that Puerto Rico does not hold political power in Congress, and that the only representative does not vote, it’s crucial to convey the reality to all elected officials, so that their votes align with the necessities of those who are still in Puerto Rico.

Alexis R. Santos-Lozada is assistant teaching professor in Sociology and Director of Applied Demography at Pennsylvania State University.

This article was originally published on The Conversation.

America’s UN ambassador dismisses proposed North-South Korea talks

If you will not be our puppet… forget you? rubbish rhetoric

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  • Nikki Haley distances US from Seoul’s plan to hold cross-border talks
  • Haley’s remarks in clear contrast to state department’s cautious stance

The US envoy to the United Nations, Nikki Haley, has distanced the Trump administration from proposed contacts between North and South Korea, saying it would not take any talks seriously if Pyongyang did not abandon its nuclear arsenal.

Haley’s dismissive assessment of planned high-level talks between Seoul and Pyongyang, was in clear contrast with the state department’s more cautious response – the latest example of Haley taking an independent line on foreign policy issues from the secretary of state, Rex Tillerson.

Continue reading…

RT, Sputnik and the new Russian war

News outlets funded directly or indirectly by the Kremlin have one objective and one objective only, admits repeatedly Margarita Simonovna Simonyan, the influential editor-in-chief of the Russian broadcaster RT and Rossiya Segodnya, the government-controlled agency which runs the Sputnik multimedia platform. Her work philosophy was made patently clear in a recent interview with the television program Pravo Znat in which she described her idea of the new world order as “alternative reality.”

Seguir leyendo.

How to switch to Vivaldi in under 5 minutes

Looking for a browser that will not only feel personal but will also make you efficient online? Say hello to Vivaldi.

Moving to a new browser can be quick, easy and fun. Especially if you’re moving from a boring default option to fast, flexible and feature-rich Vivaldi. Follow these simple steps to switch to Vivaldi in as little as five minutes.

1. Download and install Vivaldi

First things first, go to vivaldi.com and download Vivaldi. The Vivaldi browser runs on Windows, macOS and Linux. Vivaldi also has builds for Linux based ARM devices, including Raspberry Pi.

To get the installation process started, run the Vivaldi installer.

2. Make it yours

Follow the step-by-step instructions to get started.

  • Pick a Theme. First, you’ll be asked to choose one of the predefined themes. Light, Subtle and Redmond are relatively neutral, while other themes are darker and richer in colors.

Selecting a theme in Vivaldi

  • Position your tabs. Choose where you want your tab bar to be – top, left, right or bottom. Yes, you read this right, all these options are possible and the choice is yours.

Tab positioning in Vivaldi

  • Choose a Start Page background. The next step will ask you to choose one of the default backgrounds for your Start Page – the first page you will see when you open a new page or tab.

Selecting a background picture in Vivaldi

3. Import Bookmarks and Settings

Go to Menu > File and select “Import Bookmarks and Settings” from the drop-down menu. You will see a pop-up window with a list of browsers to import from, as well as a list of settings you can move from another browser to Vivaldi, such as Bookmarks, Passwords, History and so on. Select the items you want to move to Vivaldi and click “Start Import”.

Importing settings and bookmarks to Vivaldi

4. Set up your Start Page

Start Pages in Vivaldi are dashboards with easy access to your favorite websites, bookmarks and history. At the core of Vivaldi’s Start Page are Speed Dials – bookmarked links shown as thumbnails.

Vivaldi comes with a set of carefully selected bookmarks, which you will see on your Start Page when you first load the browser. You can edit these, as well as add your favorite websites as Speed Dials or Speed Dial Folders.

You can also personalize the look and feel of your Start Page by uploading a new background and customizing the Speed Dial thumbnails.

To upload a new background, go to Settings > Start Page > Custom.

Choosing custom Start Page background for Vivaldi

To change a Speed Dial thumbnail, right-click on the existing one and choose “Select Custom Thumbnail” from the drop-down menu.

Adding a custom thumbnail in Vivaldi

5. Add Web Panels

You can easily add any website you like to Vivaldi’s Web Panels and access it without the need to constantly switch between tabs.

Web Panels are part of Vivaldi’s Side Panel, which opens to the side of your browser and gives you quick access to bookmarks, downloads, a “tree-style” access to tabs, notes and browsing history.

To add a Web Panel, click on the ‘+’ icon in your Side Panel. Vivaldi will automatically fill in the URL of the website you have currently open, however, you can always type in whichever URL you like.

Screenshot of adding a Web Panel to Vivaldi

Here are some of the popular examples of using Web Panels:

  • News websites
  • Social media (you’d be surprised how convenient it is to quickly check your Twitter feed or post to Instagram from your desktop!)
  • Messenger apps
  • Video and audio streaming services

6. Explore the user interface and features

Vivaldi offers more features than any other modern browser. To get the most out of your new browser, keep exploring!

Some of the highlight features include:

7. Set Vivaldi as your default browser

If you’re happy with your new setup and want to make Vivaldi your default browser, go to Settings > Startup and select the “Default Browser” option. Browse like never before!

Dozens of snake eggs found in Australian school sandpit

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Wildlife rescuers retrieve 43 eggs thought to be from of one of the world’s most poisonous snakes, the eastern brown

Students at a school on the New South Wales mid-north coast have learned a valuable lesson: sandpits make great snake nests.

Wildlife rescuers were shocked when a call to remove about a dozen eggs from a sandpit at a school near the coastal town of Laurieton, 350km north of Sydney, became rather more dramatic.

Continue reading…

This Week in Egypt- Week 52-Last Week of 2017

Nervana

Top Headlines

  • Gunman kills 9 in Egypt church attack claimed by ISIS
  • Egypt hangs 15 militants convicted of 2013 Sinai attacks 
  • Egypt security forces kill three suspected militants, arrest 10 others
  • British woman accused of bringing 300 painkiller tablets into Egypt jailed for three years 

 Main Headlines

 Monday

Tuesday

  • Egypt has hanged 15 militants who were convicted of carrying out attacks on security forces in the Sinai Peninsula in 2013
  • A British woman has been convicted of smuggling 300 painkiller tablets into Egypt and jailed for three years
  • Egyptian military provides security alongside police during Christmas celebrations
  • Egypt’s Shoukry proposes World Bank as third party on Ethiopian dam technical studies
  • Presidential hopeful Khaled Ali calls for new electoral…

View original post 966 more words

Waiting for her cry: The day that changed my life forever

­­The scariest moment in my life came about one minute after the event that changed it.

February 13, 2017, 3:55 p.m.

It’s a regular Monday afternoon. I am on my way to pick up my older kid, Emma, from school. She is nine years old.

The Monday a week earlier I lost my temper with one of her teachers. She was always keeping the kids in class — 15, sometimes 20 minutes after the final bell. Parents would wait outside impatiently, wasting time on their smartphones. Some, like me, had probably made arrangements to leave work early so they could pick up their kids on time.

It was disrespectful. So I gave her an earful.

This Monday I am ready for a fight if she does it again… Well, I don’t know what, but I am ready. This is about time. My time. My minutes. My seconds.

It didn’t matter, though. Emma is already waiting outside in the hallway. A bit early, actually. Before 4 p.m. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“How was school, perach (flower)?”

“OK.”

She gets her laconism from her father, obviously.

“Yalla, let’s go home,” I say. She gets into the back, right seat of the car and we head off.

* * *

“Tell me more about those moments. The moments before,” my shrink asks me.

“They’re just moments. They’re regular. A dad picks his daughter up from school. Routine and normal. Naive.”

“Why naive?”

“Because I’m totally unaware of the evil that will occur. I have no control over what will happen.”

“You think this happened because of evil? Evil people?”

“Yes. Evil and greedy people.”

“And you have no control?”

“Of course not. Look at what happened.” 

* * *

4 p.m.

We drive south from the northern edge of Bat Yam on the border of Jaffa, down the boardwalk to the newer neighborhoods of the city. There’s construction all over the place, some of it menacingly blocks the sea view.

As I pass by the skeleton of a new hotel that seems to add a new floor each week, I listen to the daily rant of radio talk show host Anat Davidov. It’s an economics program on 103FM, and today she’s talking about the impending strike of crane operators in Israel — they are demanding more money and better safety protocols at building sites. Nothing will come out of it, I remember saying to myself in my usual cynical tone. The weak shall remain weak. I look at another building site on my right. This one is going to be apartments. It’s called “Home & Sea.”

4:06 p.m.

I turn left at the light, and then left again into the parking lot. It’s a big lot that serves three massive residential towers, each with about 100 apartments. I search for a spot, slowly. Today, in retrospect and with a newly found respect for time, my time, my hours, my minutes, my seconds, I remember that feeling, that I was looking very slowly for a spot. I finally see one, right in front of our building. But it’s a bit too tight. I like it when I can open the doors without worrying about scratching another car. The search continues.

4:07 p.m.

I find a spot not too far away and start to pull in. I finish parking, and as I reach for the key to turn off the ignition, I see some sort of shadow. I think it’s from the rear view mirror, or one of the windows to my right. It makes me turn my head in that direction, and as I do the loudest sound I have ever heard pierces my ears. The car starts to shake and jumps in the air.

And then, the crushing begins.

I hear metal crushing and glass breaking. The right side of the car is slowly coming toward me. The windshield in front of me has become a million different pieces and it’s coming my way. It feels like it will touch my nose any moment.

I can’t move. I’m frozen in my seat. But I’m screaming. Sounds that I never knew were inside me are now booming out of my throat. I’m roaring in fear. The crushing seems to go on forever. I feel like this is it. This could really be it. Whatever it is, this might be the end.

When it finally stops I start screaming her name. “Emma! Emma!! EMMA!!!!”

No answer.

I turn my head right to look at the back seat. But it’s so dark now. There is no light. There is no car. The roof has totally collapsed.

I try to unfasten my seatbelt. It’s not working.

“EMMA!!!!”

Still no answer. Why won’t she say anything? I try to open the door. Nothing. I’m panicking — shaking like crazy.

For some reason I decide to try the lever that reclines the seat. As it goes back, I try the seatbelt again. This time it opens.

“Emma!!!!”

Still no answer.

* * *

“What are you thinking then?”

“That I’ve lost her. She’s gone.”

“How long did you feel like that?”

“Forever. I think it was a minute, but it lasted forever.”

“Where are you now on our stress level, from 1 to 10, here, while you’re recalling it to me?”

“Eight.”

“Eight. What are you feeling right now? Physically.”

“My heart is pounding. Feels like there’s a weight on my chest. It’s hard to breathe,” I say as I feel my knuckles turn white from grabbing the armrests.

* * *

I try to open the door again. It’s stuck. I bang on it with my shoulder a few times with all the weight and strength I can muster, and finally it opens. I rush out.

There are huge amounts of dust and debris. So much metal. It feels like a war zone. I turn around to look at the car. It takes me a second for my brain to comprehend what my eyes are transmitting to it: there’s a massive crane on the car. The crane from way across the street, from “Home & Sea.” It fell mostly on the right side of the car, where Emma was sitting. There’s no way I can get to her side.

“Emma!!! EMMA!!”

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* * *

“You see the crane on the car. You don’t hear Emma. Where are you now on our stress level?”

“Nine,” I barely manage to whisper.

“OK. You’re doing very well, Ami. Can you go on?”

I wipe the tears on my face. The lump in my throat is too big to say “yes,” so I just nod.

* * *

I decide to try and get to her from my side of the car but I need to climb over some massive pieces of metal. When I’m over them, there’s still one piece of metal between me and the car, so I reach over it to try and get to the door handle.

And here it is. This is the scariest moment of my life. My hand reaching out, fingers stretched, not knowing what I will see when I open the door.

But I open it.

She’s there, alive. Lying across the back seat. She looks at me in the most frightened gaze that I fear will haunt me to my grave, and says “Aba?”

“Emma!!!! It’s OK. It’s OK. Come, come, put your arms out!”

I can’t get any closer, so I lean as far as I can over the bars. She reaches out toward me, and I manage to put my hands under her armpits. But since I’m so far from the car it’s hard to pull her out. I take a deep breath and yell as I use everything I have to pull her over the bars.

“You’re OK! You’re OK, Emma!” I hug her as tight as I can. “Can you stand? Emma, can you stand up?” She’s not answering me. She’s not with me. I try to put her on her legs, but she doesn’t seem to want to stand. I pick her back up. We need to get out of there. That’s all I know. Before something else falls.

* * *

“Hey, have a seat. How are you feeling today?”

“Good. I was with some friends yesterday, and I told them that there might actually be one good thing that came out of all this. They were quite moved by it, to be honest.”

“Really? Tell me.”

“You know how some men are jealous of a mother’s bond with their children? Well, maybe jealous isn’t the right word. I don’t know. Anyway, there’s such a special bond that mothers have. You know, with the baby growing inside them, and then the birth itself. There’s that physical, biological thing that men aren’t as lucky to have. I think that I, and maybe other men, we yearn for a bond like that with our kids sometimes.”

“OK.”

“And I was thinking about those moments, or minutes, I don’t know how long it lasted, that I couldn’t hear Emma. That I needed to get to her. Those moments when I pulled her out with every bit of strength I had. There was something primal about it. It’s like I was on auto-pilot. There was no ‘me.’ There was only ‘Emma.’ Like, this biological pull, this blood bond. This bear-cub kind of animal instinct thing. It was one of the most real and powerful emotions I ever felt. I don’t know, but I kinda feel lucky to have felt that.”

“I’m very happy you told me that. In fact, I’m quite moved by it, as well. It’s really an intense feeling you had.”

“Just don’t start crying, OK? You’re the shrink.”

* * *

There’s some more debris I need to climb over with her. Suddenly she feels heavier than I remember. I start running away with her. As we get farther from the car, I look down at Emma and notice there’s blood on her shirt. As my gaze lowers, I see that the blood is coming from me. I’m dripping all over her.

I raise my hand to my head, and when I bring it back in front of my eyes it’s all covered in blood. I suddenly understand that I don’t know how bad I’ve been hurt. I feel faint, like I might collapse soon. I push to get further a few more steps, and decide to lie down so that I don’t fall while holding Emma.

As I lay on the pavement holding Emma I begin to yell for help. In a few moments someone comes and holds me down.

“You’re OK! You’re OK,” he says to me.

“My daughter! Is she OK?!”

“She’s OK, she’s OK! Lay down. Lay down!” he says as he keeps pushing me down while I try to check on Emma. Another neighbor is holding her.

“Oh my God, is that your car!?” he asks me.

“Yes, the Mazda.”

“I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it! God loves you. Do you hear me!? God loves you!” he yells at the car, or at me. I’m not sure.

* * *

“Does God love me? Does he hate me?”

“Do you believe in God?”

“To be honest, I’m agnostic. But I can’t help but feel someone or something is trying to tell me something.”

“Why?”

“It can’t all be a coincidence. There’s too much that happened for it to be coincidence.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Like I’m going crazy. Like I need answers. Now.”

“Answers to explain the coincidences.”

“Well, like I said. I don’t think they’re coincidences.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, minutes before I was hit by a crane a woman on the radio was talking about the crane operators strike. As she spoke about it, I actually drove right under the specific crane that was about to fall on me. The crane fell exactly on my car, exactly on Emma. People who see the car don’t believe anyone should have survived. But the weirdest thing is what happened to the other car.”

“Your other car? It was also damaged?”

“Yes. But it was parked in a totally different area.”

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“Where?”

“In the underground parking lot. Part of the crane crashed through the cement and penetrated into the underground lot. It’s a massive lot, with hundreds of cars. There were only two cars that were damaged in the underground — one of them was our second car.”

“….”

“Yeah, that’s the reaction I get from most people. The radio, the crane, both family cars — out of the hundreds above and below — totally destroyed, one of them with me and my daughter inside it. It’s almost like a script for a very bad movie. So, I guess you see why it’s not going to be easy for me to just sit here and say it was all chance.”

“And how does the evil fit into this?”

“I don’t know yet. But it does. It’s there. I’m still working on that.”

* * *

“Go get my wife! She’s upstairs!”

She was upstairs, indeed, and was already on her way down. Karen heard the crane operator screaming as he fell 70 meters to the ground. Then, the huge bang made her look out the window, where she saw me trying to get Emma out of the car. I can’t imagine that picture ever leaving her memory.

“Ami!!! Are you OK?!” Karen looks at me in shock. My bloodied face must have scared her to death.

“Yes, yes! Go to Emma! Stay with Emma!”

Emma still hasn’t spoken, or made any sound whatsoever. “Is she OK? Karen, is Emma OK??”

“She’s OK, Ami. She’s OK. Lay down.”

And then it happens. Emma snaps out of her daze and suddenly realizes something is very wrong. She begins to cry, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever heard from my daughter. It’s a howl, a wailing that I will never forget.

It is the most piercing, painful sound I have ever heard.

* * *

“Why do I start crying so hard every time I reach this part?”

“Well, it’s the bond, for one. Parents who are involved in traumatic incidents with their children tend to react in similar ways as you are now. I think there’s also some sort of release you feel, too.”

“How so?”

“Well, remember what you told me Karen thought about those moments?”

“Yes. That we were waiting for a sound, a reaction from Emma. She said it’s almost like when a baby is born, waiting for the baby to cry.”

“Exactly. Her cry meant something similar for you.”

“Yes. She was alive. Reborn.”

* * *

The ambulance comes and puts Emma and me on wooden boards, and braces around our necks. They put us inside. Karen sits in front, a paramedic sits between us in the back.

“You’re going to be fine, Emma. Don’t worry, Aba and Mommy are right here,” I say as the ambulance speeds along the highway to the hospital. I’m trying unsuccessfully to keep my cool through the tears.

“Shhh, you have to calm down, sir,” the paramedic says.

“I know. I know. Give me your hand, Emma.”

She reaches across and we hold our hands tight, our eyes gazing at the swerving ambulance’s ceiling.

“We’ll be alright, sweetie,” and the tears just don’t stop. 

* * *

“Whatever you decide is good. I’m here if you need or want to come back.”

“That’s good to know. Really.”

“And don’t forget to do the things that can help. Like the mindfulness we practiced. And if writing helps, then go ahead — write.”

* * *

This will be my final post on +972 Magazine.

I’m not leaving the site because of any ideological differences or any other grievances. Quite the contrary. It’s difficult to explain why I would leave the media outlet for which I am most proud of working; the one I helped establish; the one that never paid me a dime; the one full of the brightest people I’ve ever met; the one that gave me friends for life. The one that is making a difference.

Writing here on +972 has helped me for years. It helped me find my voice. It helped my career. And most importantly, it helped me take part in the fight for justice in this land.

So I guess it’s fitting that as a farewell gift, +972 is helping me one last time — this time helping me deal with my PTSD.

I chose not to write about the occupation in my last post. Or the other political struggle I’ve recently joined: to lower the number of deaths on construction sites in Israel. I guess what I needed right now was to share those life changing moments with you.

So, thanks to the readers who endured my rants, comic strips, videos, and occasional serious opeds. And thanks to all the former and current folks at +972. I love you very, very much.

Ami