Music Features

Interview: Medhane's Moment Has Finally Arrived

The alternative rapper is finally seeing his work pay off, just don't try to box him in

Medhane prides himself on being a Hip-Hop antithesis.

Full Circle, the rapper's enigmatic new EP, is produced entirely by him, and the project's dense 15 minutes offer little breathing room. As the polymath sips on a Chai latte in a crowded cafe in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, he explains to me that his stream of consciousness raps are purposefully devoid of certain contexts. "It's open to your perception. It's just art," he said. "You don't look at a painting and say, "Oh this painting is about this." Like a painter, Medhane's music ebbs and flows moment to moment and portrays an artist unabashedly present in the art he's creating. I asked if he would describe his music that way, like a painting. "Kinda, but like not really. It is, but it's not, it's just expression." When I asked him who Dan Freeman was, he told me that he was the protagonist of Spook Sat by the Door, a profound 1964 novel about a black CIA agent trying to overthrow the white establishment. When I asked him why he named Full Circle's opening track "DAN FREEMAN," he smiled. "I don't know, that's just what I thought it should be."

As a Brooklyn native, Medhane was raised on the sounds of Soca and Reggae, along with acts like Nas and Indie.Arie. But when he was 11, he admits, he was mostly into screamo. "I forget the name of this band but they had a song called "Daddy's Fallen Angel," he said with a laugh, "and I just thought that was the hardest sh*t ever." After getting in trouble at school, Medhane's father took him to D.C. for the weekend to experience President Obama's inauguration. While they were in town, they also went to see Notorious, a buzzing new biopic about the late Biggie Smalls. "I just went fully down the rabbit hole after that." He started making freestyle videos on his phone, and by his senior year in high school (he graduated when he was 16 after skipping a grade) he was incredibly committed to the genre. But his mom insisted he get a college education, so he reluctantly applied and was accepted into Carnegie Mellon's civil engineering program. As he dragged his heels academically, his music started to buzz, and he recalls flying to London to perform at a sold-out show with Lex Records, only to fly back and return, nameless, to his classes. "That sh*t f*cked me up."

Medhane - Affirmation #1 (Dir. LONEWOLF)

His free form art thrives on unpredictability, so as a result, Medhane can't stand when the press, myself included, tries to decipher it. His lyrical meandering is often boxed in with that of Earl Sweatshirt. The comparison is often intended as a compliment, but all of it just frustrates him. "They always try to be like, "This is about depression," or, "On this song [Medhane] recalls a three-day bender." He scoffed. "There was no 3-day bender that ever occurred in my life." He refers me to a lyric from "I WAS JUST IN THE MARA." "Still speaking in code, I know how them riddles go? That's kinda what that means."

Did you see things start to change after Pitchfork reviewed Ba Suba, Ak Jamm?

"Kinda, but not really. After that project, I went back to school and...I was just going through it. I stopped putting out music, I dropped "Sky," but I was just so stressed that I went ghost. No tweets, no music for like six or seven months."

What was that experience like? What did you do to take care of yourself?

"I ghosted a lot of my friends. I was just overwhelmed. I watched a lot of Blacklist, and that show sucks. I was watching bad TV, bro, when I should be making beats. I was on some self-doubt s*it. That's what I was doing."

When did all that start to change for you?

"I graduated and got back in touch with MIKE and Caleb [Giles] and just kinda started making tracks again. I also took a family trip to Kenya, and it restored me somehow. Just coolin' with my family really brought me back. When I got back from [that trip] it was go time."

Then you dropped Own Pace?

"Yeah, and that album did numbers. That was kinda me explaining what I had gone through during that time, and people really related to it."

So what's different now with Full Circle?

"It's totally self-produced, and it's just getting more in-depth. More in-depth with certain topics. I'm just exploring that time more and exploring what really happened.

Creatively, Full Circle is a lot denser than your previous work. What inspired you all to head in this alternative direction?

"I don't know, bro. I just try to mix everything I f*ck with. I feel like out of all the homies I'm the most versatile. I could play you five songs of mine that all sound different, that all slap, and I'm not switching my style on none of them. I listen to all types of sh*t.

What's next for you?

I'm tryna run it up this year. I'm 23, I gotta be on my Jordan s*it. I'm putting out three projects this year.

It seems like things are really changing for you.

"It seems like it. I don't know. There's always that skepticism that comes with life when good s*it starts to happen to you. But everybody just keeps telling me like just keep going, which is kinda what I'm doing. We not falling off no time soon, ever."


Follow Medhane on Twitter, Instagram and Bandcamp


"buffering juju" By dumama + kechou Is Required Deep Listening

The duo's stunning debut album explores post-Truth and Reconciliation South Africa through dizzyingly transportive folk-electronic-hip-hop.

Tseliso Monaheng

"There was a time when listeners treated the mere existence of recorded sound as a miracle. A wonder, a kind of time travel," writes Randall Roberts in the Los Angeles Times.

If that time did exist, it's long gone. Today, many of us listen to albums as background noise, while doing a million other things.

But now that many of us are stuck inside because of COVID-19, we have the opportunity to listen to albums as they was meant to be heard, allowing every note, rhythm, and harmony to resonate as it was designed to. Now is the time to listen to music with no distraction, no phone, no subway screams in the background. Roberts calls this process "deep listening," and notes that "the point is to listen with your ears in the same the way you read with your eyes, to absorb the flavor as you would (yet another) velveteen swig of Cabernet."

If an album ever called for deep listening, it's dumama + kechou's buffering juju, out Friday, March 20 on Mushroom Hour Half Hour. The eight-song album clocks in at only 37 minutes, but it's the kind of music that exists on multiple dimensions and requires one's full attention.

Ayanda Duma

buffering juju is sonically and narratively complex, which makes sense based on the context it was born in. Its creators dumama (Gugulethu Duma) and kechou (Kerim Melik Becker) met in Cape Town, South Africa during a time of intense student protests for free education, which in turn were contextualized by South Africa's striated history and present inequality. The two artists met while studying at the South African College of Music in Cape Town. Both were in the midst of spiritual breakthroughs of their own, and they wanted to explore music's healing powers together.

The product was a multi-dimensional album, part soundscape, part meditation, threaded with hip-hop elements and played on a multitude of instruments. Sonically, you hear metallic string plucking and hypnotic drum loops with synthesizers and abundant vocal harmonies. Narratively, the album tells a surreal story of a woman leaving prison, with each song a different chapter. The woman "is a shapeshifter—a mother, a child, an owl, a honeyguide bird. the sky and mountains unearth the tensions, memories and reflections buried in a generation's subconscious," the artists explained.

Ayanda Duma

On her journey down a seemingly endless road, the womxn meets a man who is the source of her pain, and the two embark on an interdimensional journey, traveling through dreams and listening to stories of women's suffering. At last, the womxn encounters an oracle and rediscovers her innate wisdom, and the man rediscovers his bond to community and his innocence. He then finds that she was his mother all along.

In the last song, "mother time," the womxn tells her son a story about a mother who has given birth to countless evil men who curse the world, but also she reminds him that her power is infinitely regenerative and healing. "She has given birth to many, many men of shallow sentiment who curse the world upon entrance," the artists wrote in their explanation of the song. "Here, she sits in the unknown, knowingly trusting the mysteries of the void. Here, she finds peace in knowing that the infinite and regenerative nature of her soft power will ripple through the multiverse and into the beyond."

"mother time" ties English lyrics and a traditional South African song together into an oceanic eight-minute slow burn. It's about the way trauma can spiral through generations and the way things reemerge decades or lifetimes after they seem to have ended. "She burns and she yearns to be heard nine lifetimes later," dumama sings, reminding us that the dead and the past return—often more visibly when places are haunted by trauma, which can distort memory.

"The vastness of Mother Time transcends time and space, and a lot of people have said it leaves them feeling warm, open or vulnerable," Dumama said. "The colour orange has come up a lot too, which is surprising, cause I always felt it as blue. It was a team favorite from early on in the process. Dion (our producer) worked on it, and completed pretty soon after we recorded it. The lyrics guide the meaning, but also leave it up to the listener to relate and create the thread into their lives." As for what the song is about: "Together, I guess we're contemplating our Mothers, Mother Nature, Unconditional Love, limitlessness, Time, Order/Disorder, and Bodies and Souls."

buffering juju views time as a ghostly yet compassionate mother, who is constantly cycling through birth and death, carrying stories from the distant past into the future. The whole album is a conversation between the past and the future; It fuses Xhosa folk and jazz with hip hop and electronic soundscaping, while telling a story that puts South Africa's past in context with current protests and futuristic visions. "It has an organic, natural, cyber and modern kind of energy—all rooted in African aesthetics of sound and storytelling," says kechou, a sound artist who specializes in live loops.

In a way, the album's story is also about loops: birth to death, suffering to regeneration, the cycle that happens over and over on micro and macro scales.

The concept of "deep time" refers to the geologic time scale. Like deep listening, understanding deep time is a way of appreciating something much greater, something way beyond our ordinary perception. And just like deep listening can help us travel to other times and places—say, a studio across the world—considering deep time can help us understand how connected we are to other places and cycles.

The concept of deep time has shifted over the years as it has become clearer that humans' damaging effects on the earth will long outlast our existence. "Deep time is not an abstract, distant prospect, but a spectral presence in the everyday," write David Farrier and Aeon. "The irony of the Anthropocene is that we are conjuring ourselves as ghosts that will haunt the very deep future."

In order to understand deep time, geologists sometimes cultivate a sense of the deep present, a "peculiar detachment in which it is possible for the effects of once-in-a-thousand-year events to be seen in today's landscape and for the prospect of rare and long-forgotten events to occur today." buffering juju—particularly the song "mother time"—seems to take a deep present worldview, understanding how interconnected the present moment is to other times. It's intended to be "a conduit to a past we were not necessarily present for, and a future where threatened indigenous technologies thrive in an increasingly digitised world," as the artists said.

But in the same way trauma can be passed on, so can healing—sometimes through dreams, sometimes through music. Today, the album's emphasis on healing has taken on a unique resonance. "We hope that buffering juju's effect is that of contemplation and healing during these times," said the artists. "There is clearly an imbalance that needs our attention, and we hope that these meditations on this womxn leaving prison can support us as we transcend the limitations of what we've been taught. May we leave the prison of our minds and seek a clearer connection with source."

Duduetsang Lamola

"We hope that buffering juju can hold space as a dance partner to move with, moving through internal blocks as we lean into a resistance against all that no longer serves a collective humanity," they added. "We hope that in this temporary time of self-isolation, we cultivate and connect with the juju we need to transform the toxicity, together. We hope it can bring peace to people as they are spending more time with their own thoughts. We hope it can put pains and fears into perspective considering the narratives of the album. We hope that justice is prioritized, and self-compassion is fulfilled."

buffering juju

Music Features

M.I.A. and MBE: When Rap's Bad Girl Joins the Order of the British Empire

The controversial British rapper rose to fame in the shadows of the Sri Lankan Civil War. Does this accolade go against what she stands for?

This week, Maya Arulpragasam—the British rapper best known as M.I.A.—received her MBE (Most Excellent Order of the British Empire) from Prince William.

The MBE is awarded to Brits who have made major contributions to the arts, welfare organizations, and public service; previous recipients include Adele, Jackie Chan, and Ringo Starr. Though it's a coveted accolade, M.I.A. feels like a slightly ironic choice for the award.

The ribbon given to M.I.A. was sewn by her mother, Kala Pragasam, a refugee from Sri Lanka who began working for the Queen in 1986. At the time, jobs like making those ribbons was one of the few positions women who didn't speak English could hold (M.I.A. described it as the "classiest minimum wage job ever").

Despite the familial ties, M.I.A. accepting an MBE seems to conflict with her outspoken stances on world politics. After the end of the Sri Lankan Civil War in 2009, she criticized the BBC for downplaying the number of casualties. Her infamous 2010 video for "Born Free" graphically depicted a genocide of red-haired people, inspired by the real-life extrajudicial killing of Tamil males by the Sri Lankan Army. In 2012, she got into a Twitter argument with TV news personality Anderson Cooper after his blog inaccurately suggested she supported terrorism; the blog was hardly the first instance she was accused of being pro-terrorism, and it certainly wasn't the last. Throughout her career, she's had numerous spats with a number news outlets.

M.I.A. - Born Free

Although the British Empire is now extinct, the Order of the British Empire has been criticized for the connections their name implies. In 1969, as part of his peace protests, John Lennon famously returned his MBE (30 years later, M.I.A. cited Lennon and suggested Obama should've done the same with his Nobel Peace Prize). In the 20th century, the British Empire was responsible for countless deaths due to famine, concentration camps, massacres, and more. Direct ties between that cruelty and the modern day Most Excellent Order of the British Empire are difficult to parse, but arguably, there's still a relation between them.

Even the record label M.I.A. founded, N.E.E.T., pulls its name from an acronym often used to describe impoverished people in Britain—"Not in Education, Employment, or Training"—a symbolic nod to her destitute, refugee roots. Just a month ago, she tweeted what seemed to be her own analysis of how England functions: "I will think only rich pretty people deserve to live...This is England now. F--k u you peasents. [sic]" Doesn't accepting an MBE clash with her opposition to class disparity? Does participating in these antiquated (and arguably arbitrary) traditions strip M.I.A. of her ruthless edge?


Cover-ups, Tax Fraud, and the Church of Scientology: Leah Remini Spotlights Danny Masterson's Accusers

Four women have filed a lawsuit against actor and Scientologist Danny Masterson, the Church of Scientology, and its creepy, enigmatic leader, David Miscavige.

We're familiar with the Catholic Church's abusive priests, child-abusing Jehovah's Witnesses in the UK, and fundamentalist Mormon sects condoning child brides.

Now, it seems that the closest likeness the Church of Scientology has to a legitimate religious organization is a shameful history of sexual abuse. This week, Leah Remini's controversial, Emmy-winning A&E series Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath ended with a two-hour finale featuring four women's stories of sexual assault by actor and Scientologist Danny Masterson (That 70's Show)—and how the Church of Scientology systematically covered it up.

Two weeks before the finale aired, Huffington Post contributor Yashar Ali broke the news that the organization was accused of "stalking, intimidation, and conspiracy stemming from rape allegations." Four women have filed lawsuits against Masterson, the Church of Scientology, and its enigmatic leader, David Miscavige. In 2017, Remini and co-host Mike Rinder (a former high-ranking official within the church), reportedly agreed to postpone the special as to not interfere with the LAPD's investigation. However, after nearly two years, Ali criticized that the investigation "inexplicably stalled" despite "overwhelming evidence."

As such, Remini's interviews with two of the accusers were a call to action. Filmed in front of a live studio audience, the special included Marie Bobette Ríales, who dated Masterson in 2002 and alleges that Masterson repeatedly drugged her and sexually assaulted her while she was unconscious. A second woman, Crissie Bixler, appeared in a pre-filmed interview from 2017 recounting her abusive relationship with the actor in the '90s. She described him as "controlling and violent." She detailed a 2001 incident in which she blacked out during dinner with Masterson. "Last thing I remember is getting up from the restaurant to go home. Complete blackout," Bixler said. "The next day when I woke up the back of my head hurt, and I thought I'd fallen. I thought I was poisoned. I didn't know where I was. He was downstairs sitting at his desk... I went downstairs and asked what happened. He just kind of chuckled. I said, 'I'm in a lot of pain.' I was ripped. I was injured. He started laughing. He said, 'Oh, I had sex with you last night.' I said, 'Was I unconscious?' He said, 'Yeah.'"

The two remaining plaintiffs in the lawsuit prefer to remain anonymous. As for Ríales, she says she was inspired to come forward after hearing about the backlash against Bixler's allegations after she reported the abuse to the Church of Scientology. "I knew a lot of things were wrong in our relationship," Ríales said. "Never once did it occur to me that he was doing this to other girls."

The common thread throughout the women's stories of abuse is the Church's invalidation of the alleged victims. Bixler says she reported the incident to an ethics officer within the organization but was told, "It's not rape if you've been in a consensual relationship."

Furthermore, stories of sexual abuse have shadowed the organization for years. The finale of Scientology and the Aftermath also featured former scientologists who allege they were abused as children and forced to interact with their abuser for years afterwards. One man recounted having to "audit" (scientology's form of rudimentary talk therapy) a grown man who confessed to molesting a 5-month-old child—he was barely a teenager at the time. "When I was 13 I had to audit an older man," Joey Chiat said. "Here's a 13-year-old kid asking a 50-year old man, 'What fingers did you use?'...Very specific questions that we were trained to ask him." These accusers highlight Scientology's internal policies that discourage members from reporting abuse to law enforcement.


Of course, the organization has denied the allegations for years. When The Daily Beast reached out for a comment, a spokesperson replied, "The Church adamantly denies that it ever ignores any allegations of criminal behavior, especially at the expense of alleged victims. What is being stated is utterly untrue. This has nothing to do with religion. This story is being manipulated to push a bigoted agenda." A lawyer for the Church of Scientology was more accusatory of Leah Remini, telling EW that the recent lawsuit is "baseless" and a "dishonest and hallucinatory publicity stunt." The statement continued to call Remini's show "full of lies, distortions, and exhortations generating hate and bigotry" and that any further allegations she makes are "absolutely untrue, part of her paranoia, and unworthy of further comment."

Masterson has also denied all allegations, telling USA Today, "I'm not going to fight my ex-girlfriend in the media like she's been baiting me to do for more than two years. I will beat her in court — and look forward to it because the public will finally be able learn the truth and see how I've been railroaded by this woman."

'Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath' (Season 3 Trailer) | Premieres on November 27 | A&E

After leaving Scientology in 2013, Leah Remini has been fiercely outspoken against the abuses, manipulations, and toxicity of the "church." The three-season arc of Scientology and the Aftermath has been a call to action: Strip the organization of its tax exempt status. It's clear that revoking Scientology's religious exemption is the first step to curbing its menacing hold over people's faith, finances, and psyches. A petition for the IRS Commissioner to investigate the organization has nearly 20,000 signatures. It lists 11 reasons why Scientology disqualifies for the exception, including, "Scientology's internal cover-ups of child sexual abuse and rape as described by the victims of the sexual abuse and rape."

As for former members, Remini has used her show to reinforce the message: "It's not about me. It's about the people who are willing to speak out, good people who are willing to file lawsuits or speak to us on camera or speak to the Tampa Bay Times or go on CNN. Many people have left who did blog posts and YouTube videos way before me. These are the heroes."


Olakira Is Set to Take Over Afropop

The singer talks new EP and where he sees the genre going.

Ayo Adepoju

Abe Ebenezer has become one of Nigeria's most promising talents.

Known by his moniker Olakira, the singer's debut tracks, "Hey Lover" and "Flirty Signal," exploded in the world of Afropop and caused a surprising stir in Africa's expansive Afropop landscape earlier this year. Both singles garnered over 3 million plays on YouTube, Spotify, and Soundcloud, and Olakira still cannot believe his debut tracks took off that quickly. When asked if he knew these songs were hits, he said: "Not at all. The label advised that I think of the two singles as an introduction. They were optimistic, but said that I shouldn't be under any illusion that [they'd do well.]"

But the tracks' success seem almost inevitable in retrospect. Olakina is a talented ghostwriter and producer, who previously co-produced Dotman's "Akube" and "My Woman," among other hits. Popdust talked with Olakina about his recent success, his debut EP, and what the world can expect next.

What does the title of the EP, Wakanda Jollof, represent?

Wakanda is a unifying word, recognized worldwide as a good symbol for Africa, while Jollof is Africa's favorite spicy rice dish, so I'm basically serving up a spicy dish from the continent to the rest of the world.

Where do you see the Afrobeats genre heading, and how do you think you'll help it grow?

I think Afrobeats now is what Reggae and dancehall [were] in the 90s but with a potential to be even bigger. I feel my job will be to bridge the gap even further between mainstream Pop and Afrobeats.

How did you get into music? Was your family into music?

I got into music through the local church. It's where I learned to play most of my instruments, as well. My parents were very active in the church, and I helped out in the band and choir early on, and I could not get these melodies out of my head. The whole experience led me to produce music, and I soon got signed by my current label as a producer to support Dotman. I wasn't just a producer, but a back up singer and writer. I was shy and didn't like the limelight or to be at the forefront. Over time, the label gave me the confidence to [make a career of my own.]

Who else inspired you growing up?

Everyone from Fela to all the R&B greats like Lionel Richie, Whitney Houston, Marvin Gaye .

When "Hey Lover" and "Flirty Signal" took off, what were you feeling? Were you expecting the singles to blow up as much as they did?

Not at all. I was surprised at how well it did, and it definitely gave me more steam to power my engine.

How did the EP come about?

The EP came about simply as a result of the feedback we got from "Hey Lover." The fans that heard it were searching for earlier work I had, but there was none, unfortunately. So we decided to give them a body of work. [The EP] is also for the doubters that were saying ["Hey Lover"] was a fluke or that I'm a one-hit-wonder.

Can we expect you in the states anytime soon?

Most definitely. My prayer is that the new EP spreads and fans over there familiarize themselves with my music before my visit. It's true [that] a lot of work needs to be done before my arrival on US soil.

Follow Olakira on Twitter, and Instagram.


Beyoncé and Jay-Z Fans Mugged After Global Citizen Festival

Lack of security and a "total collapse" of plans sent attendees from Beyoncé to being robbed.

Global Citizen

Reports of mugging at gunpoint and lapses in security at the 2018 Global Citizen Festival in Johannesburg underscore the very issues of scarcity and social instability that Global Citizens wants to address.

More than 75,000 people attended Sunday's concert, with millions of viewers in over 180 countries watching the broadcasted performances. The event, held at the FNB Stadium outside the township of Soweto, was headlined by major draws such as Beyoncé, Jay-Z, Usher, Pharrell, and Ed Sheeran, with attendees including Oprah Winfrey, Dave Chappelle, and Tyler Perry. Soweta-born Trevor Noah hosted the evening, commending the crowd's enthusiasm, the nobility of the cause, and the impressive size of donations.

Today Show

The festival, themed as "Mandela 100," raised $7.2 billion over the weekend, spotlighting South Africa in a celebration of what would have been Nelson Mandela's 100th birthday. Pledges far surpassed the goal of $1 billion, with sizable commitments from the likes of World Bank, Cisco, Vodacom, and the government of South Africa. The funds are to be dedicated to Global Citizen Projects' goal of eliminating extreme poverty by 2030. According to the organization's website, "Global Citizens learn about the systemic causes of extreme poverty, take action on those issues, and earn rewards for their actions — as part of a global community committed to lasting change." Among the "rewards" mentioned are free tickets to attend the annual festival, which accounted for most of the thousands in attendance.

Yet reported flaws in the festival's security and notable absences of South African politicians at such a politically-charged (and highly publicized) fundraiser highlight crucial pitfalls to addressing poverty with crowd-drawing celebrities and big money companies.

On Wednesday Police Minister Bheki Cele acknowledged that 50 case reports were filed and 15 arrests were made after "unforeseen circumstances" resulted in a lack of police after the festival. A "total collapse" of traffic management scattered festival-goers across the streets of Johannesburg in search of Ubers and taxis. Dozens of people who flocked to a garage near the stadium reported being mugged at gun- and knife-point. Many shared their fear and outrage on Twitter.

One user posted in real time as their group was ostensibly waiting for a ride at the garage and fearing for their safety. The user referred to "tsotsis," roughly South African slang for "thugs," mugging and taunting the attendees.

With 58 heads of state attending the event, the police reportedly congregated close to the stadium but left the area immediately after the concert ended, which is against standard protocol. While Johannesburg is not as notorious for crime as it was during the shameful era of apartheid, law and order are still struggling to find ground in a country where 14 million South Africans live in extreme poverty, surviving on less than $1.25 a day. As of September 2018, nearly one-third of South Africans are unemployed, with low economic growth having economists concerned for the country's future.

At one point in the evening, Trevor Noah commented, "Today, we demand that our world leaders do more, and we must do it now. Because if we fail to act, all the signs indicate that extreme poverty will not be solved by 2030 and, in many places, it will get worse."

CCTV footage of disturbances at Sasol garage, JohannesburgThe South African

Throughout the night, spokespeople for corporations graced the stage to announce their donations. President of South Africa Cyril Ramaphosa addressed the crowd, "Today, by your mere presence here, you have declared that poverty is a stain on the conscience of humanity, and we must all work together to end poverty." However, critics have noted that no other representatives of the South African government were in attendance to reaffirm commitments to reform the country's internal instability.

Nonetheless, by the end of the festival, major conglomerates and allied African governments pledged billions of dollars to reform South Africa's education system, fund land reform and women-owned businesses, and combat gender-based violence and HIV rates. But as the South African newspaper Daily Maverick points out:

"Even if all the money goes to the causes for which it is intended…it is still a stark indictment of South African governance that the fulfilling of its citizens' most basic needs should be effectively outsourced to foreign governments and transnational mega-corporations—the latter not known for condition-free benevolence—24 years after democracy."

Meg Hanson is a Brooklyn-based writer, teacher and jaywalker. Find Meg at her website and on Twitter @megsoyung.

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