We started our coverage with the Tunisia revolution and have expanded to cover the revolt in Syria. Come along on our reporting trips covering the Arab revolutions via our blog. We promise to update you often.

Jabeen (Jan. 2, 2012)

Hi everyone,

Sorry it has been so long for an update. A kind member of our community recently wrote and wondered about the long silence and it gave me the exact push I needed to write and update you again.

Where do I begin?

It has been an insane year. Since Aida and my initial trip to Tunisia in February, which you all made possible, we at ARA have grown and changed in some remarkable yet insane ways. We have jumped from a few stories a month to more than 50, and for clients that now include many American outlets as well as British and German ones. We went from coverage that was mainly focused on parts of Europe to now most of Europe, the Middle East, North Africa, Sub-Saharan Africa, Japan and Central Asia. And we are being asked for Latin America!!!

Needless to say, managing that exploding growth has been very challenging and I think I had two days off this entire year from my now 16-hour days.

Still, it has been a wild ride, extremely rewarding and I am proud of what our reporters and I have built and the stories we have managed to get out there. And I would also say that I have never been happier or more satisfied as a journalist. So I will do my best to update you on the past six months as to why.

Turkey-Syria

Since our early coverage of Tunisia and later Libya last spring, as you might remember, we sent two reporters (Sumi and Nurhan) to the Turkish border to cover the situation regarding the Syrian refugees there in June.

Besides writing blogs, which were posted on this site, we also wrote (and are continuing to write) stories on the continually escalating situation there.

I am posting the links to the stories below on our story about the refugee camps and also the wedding that Sumi and Nurhan stumbled upon at the border.

We still have a few we wrote but didn't manage to sell but are currently updating to resell as the situation has changed and we don't want to lose our work or the amazing interviews Sumi and Nurhan did.

Spreading the word: Syria's digital revolution

Syrians discover new 'power of their voice'

Syrian terror campaign forces refugees across northern border

Syrian refugees continue to stream into Turkey

Syrian refugees test ties with Turkey

The wedding day - Coming apart and coming together on the Turkish-Syrian border

A routine, care and gratitude: Inside the Boynuyogun camp at the Turkish-Syrian border

'We have to help them' - Syrian refugees a flashpoint for national discussion in Turkey

Turkey a beacon amid Arab world's uncertainty

Arab Revolutions team

At the same time, we created a dedicated Arab Revolutions team. While it has been slow-going, mainly because of our regular work that keeps us alive as reporters and also the eurocrisis coverage which has taken over a lot of this core teams' lives (Sumi, Ruby, Louise, Siobhan, me) the past few months, we have managed to build, grow and do some stories.

We concentrated on Syria and reported on the economic situation there with the help of our colleague, whom we can't name. This was very difficult and time consuming, both for our colleague, who had to be extremely carefully in his interviewing not get caught, as well as us who had to piece his reporting together from another language plus Arabic.

In the end, USA Today ran it but abbreviated -- they freaked on the lack of names in the story (they have the strictest anonymous source policy of any American newspaper and even so, did bend it for our story). Still, we can't name people because of the threat to their safety so much of our original reporting and the compelling voices got cut out. The original and the printed version are posted below.

Damascus feels effects of crippled economy

Original uncut version:

Damascus feels effects of crippled economy

We still have a pending Syria story, about how the civil war will likely NOT be fought on sectarian lines. We also have a story that includes an interview with the slain Kurdish-Syrian opposition leader Mashaal Tammo just weeks before he was murdered by the government's thugs. We are hoping to get those printed in the next few weeks along with one about the threat to medical personnel, and the pressure on them to give up activists and protestors. We are also preparing a profile on the activists keeping the revolution alive.

Egypt

Along with Syria, we have been doing regular Egypt coverage thanks to our reporters, Mike and Sarah, especially on the elections. That included going beyond the elections to the situation of the Copts there as well as the revolution-fatigue experienced by many in the country.

Egypt's Christians Prepare for New Political Climate

Islamists maintain lead in Egypt

Rights groups: No true democracy yet in Egypt

Islamists gain backers seeking help, not oppression

Egypt's elections go smoothly amid protests

Protesters want voting delayed after recent military attacks

In Egypt, measuring gap between activists, 'silent majority'

Cairo crowds force faster transition of power on eve of vote

Libya

Regarding Libya, while coverage trailed for some months everywhere as the war wore on, Patrick and I contributed to the stories regarding Gadhafi's fall plus Portia regularly filed in the days leading up to that day as well as after. In the new year, Mike will be going back and doing some follow up reporting on Libya's transition and how that is going. I hope to be better about regularly posting our articles and updates, especially as we are getting a new website that should automate some of these functions (yes, I actually manually post everything with HMTL - it is very time consuming and sucks but our friend Hauke generously donated his time and talent to designing and building us a new site with a CMS).

Women frustrated by lack of representation in Libya

Libya celebrates, worries about future after Gadhafi

Libya at a standstill until Sirte falls

Gadhafi loyalists empty entire cities in fear of rebels

Residents of Gadhafi's hometown are caught in the middle

Hundreds of Africans held in Libya on mercenary charges

Doctor's song of freedom inspires Libyans

Many Libyans miss trappings of security under Gadhafi

Yemen

We had one big piece about Yemen which got printed in English and German. It's by Jennifer who used to live in Yemen and ran the Yemen Observer during that time (she wrote a book about her experiences, "Woman Who Fell From the Sky" last year). It's a wonderful piece and really took a lot to execute.

Yemen: Descending Into Despair

Morocco

Aida continued (and is continuing) to write about Morocco and the situation there in the months after we returned from Tunisia.

France Is Sending North African Graduates Home

Arab Art as an Early Indicator of Revolution

Morocco's Democratic Changes Fail to Appease All

Morocco's Mawazine festival stirs controversy

Constitutional reforms spark debate in Morocco

Violence Appears to Stall Reforms in Morocco

She also wrote a blog post for ARA about her decision to stay freelance: The ARA Blog: Freelance vs. staff: A no-brainer. She wrote about how going to Tunisia in February changed everything for her.

And then there is Tunisia, which started it all...

I wasn't able to go back for the elections because the costs were too prohibitive (prices for flights tripled). So I worked with a local talent, Akram, and we managed to get three stories out together as well as updates by Portia and Siobhan

Some fear for freedoms in post-revolution Tunisia

Islamist party seeks coalition in Tunisia

Tunisia votes after first Arab Spring

Elections demonstrate the big step that Tunisia has taken

Taking care of Libyan refugees strains generosity of Tunisians

Even so, there were issues. Some editors couldn't see why it was important to cover it. We also almost got our advancer knocked off the sked (story schedule) because of Gadhafi's death just days before the election. But I really pushed and managed to save it.

I was in Tunisia again in December for a working holiday. I spoke to dozens of people and was just moved by how much pride people still have in what they did. Of course there are issues but so many people, ordinary people across the country, told me they know things are bad economically but they also expressed patience: "We need to wait, these things (transitions) take time," went the common refrain.

It seems so different from Egypt, based on what my colleagues there tell me. It is still unfinished in Egypt but there also seems to be a bitterness, a revolution-fatigue. It is understandable when you consider what is going on there. But it was also refreshing to see how Tunisians continue to take pride in what they did and what they are still doing.

For example, one morning we were greeted at the breakfast table at our hotel by Anis, whom we spoke to everyday. Every day, he greeted us with "how are you this morning," and a big smile. On one day in December, that changed: "We have a new president," he beamed, forgetting protocol. At a store later that day, we were told by a shop keeper who just couldn't contain himself immediately upon entering, "We have a new president."

It is enchanting and the enthusiasm is infective.

We (Andy and I) were driving in the mountains in the south, listening to the radio talk show. They were playing "I had a dream" by ABBA in between interviewing a songwriter/singer. After the song was over, the host, fired up and lost her interview persona: "We had a dream, we had a dream that we would get rid of that dictator Ben Ali. Our dream came true..." We were astounded. She just kept going. It was hilarious, and moving.

People across the country can't stop talking about it, a year after it happened. Every conversation I had, no matter how casual had some reference to the revolution peppered in it. Tunisians I met brought up "dignity" over and over, and how they won it, or rather wrested it, back. Even a new stamp honors Mohammad Bouazizi, the young produce vendor who set himself on fire Dec. 17, 2010, has printed under his face: "La revolution de la dignite."

The stamp is for letters that go around the world.

And politics are all the rage. While I was there, they appointed a new government, that will be in charge of writing the new constitution and sheparding the country into new elections next year. A friend of mine, who until recently was completely apolitical, is now a regional leader of a party and full of zeal over creating a party structure, offices and bringing people on board - his entire family recruits friends, family, neighbors. He proudly produced for me the party's newly printed manifesto.

And while there is concern over the Islamists, the general sense I had was that people accept that they were the democratically elected party that received the most votes (and the underlying reasons why) and were proud of that. There was also a sense that if the party doesn't perform, they'll get kicked out by the voters and no small amount of pride in that either.

One interesting thing was the ongoing debate over what should be the national holiday: Dec. 17 or Jan. 14. No one could give me an answer. As of Dec. 17, they still hadn't decided. Regardless, Sidi Bouzid, the hometown of Mohammad Bouazizi threw a grand memorial ceremony on Dec. 17 honoring their native son, now a hero across the entire Arab world.

Still, the situation is still very dire. Hundreds of hotels across the country are closed and those people employed there out of work. Tourism is still lagging. I did see some tourists returning but the problem is bigger than Germans and French (the mainstay of the mass tourism industry) staying away: Tourists that want to come are finding it difficult as well. Charters are down to one a week from Berlin and other ways to fly to the country are expensive now.

I met a small group of Americans (that in itself was startling) in the Sahara and they told me how their tour got cancelled last February and how they hunted and hunted to find another one. They couldn't even book for 2012. Finally, they found a local operator and managed to get on a tour but it was quite an effort.

I found that insane, that people want to go to Tunisia and Tunisians need them to come and yet big operators and airlines are making it so difficult. Even so, my German hairdresser told me in November that he was planning to go to Tunisia for a short break (for the first time). "We need to support them, have solidarity with them," he said.

Another issue is Libyans, both refugees and rich Libyans who left during the revolution. According to Tunisians, thousands of Libyans are still being hosted by Tunisians in their homes, a real strain financially. At the same time, rich Libyans are buying up property on the coast and prices are exploding. One other element is crime: According to 911 operators and locals I spoke to, Libyans are causing violent crime to go up, in particular rapes and also in-fighting between pro- and anti-regime Libyans.

Still, one thing that stuck with me was how people told me that in spite of all the country has to grapple with, that now, after the revolution, they could and would build a new Tunisia and that they would "do it together." That was something new, they said.

In 2012, I hope to do more stories on Tunisia. I have quite a few story ideas, besides the obvious year anniversary. I hope to find the time soon. One urgent one I would like to write is a travel story. I don't usually write travel but I think it's urgent that someone help would-be travelers navigate the difficulties in getting there, getting a tour and also just discover how wonderful a place it is.

And next year, we hope to do more coverage on Syria and also on Bahrain - we are looking for a local reporter there.

Thank you all again for all your support - it was that backing that led us to cover Tunisia's revolution and transiton but also all the Arab revolutions. These are some of the most inspiring stories I have ever been involved with in my career. And I can tell you that reporters on our team have jumped at covering them, irrespective of whether they earn anything and at great cost to themselves, because they have bee so inspired.

Happy New Year!

Jabeen

Further stories and columns

Rapid Change as Arab Spring Slows into Winter

ARABICA - Kristen's regular column on what is being talked in the Arab world:

Dec. 28

Syria: Rebels step up attacks against isolated Assad

Syrians abroad accuse envoys of intimidation

Observers predict Syria is headed for civil war

Original uncut version: Syria on Verge of Civil War

By Jabeen Bhatti and Sarah Lynch

Cairo - As the situation in Syria gets bloodier and Syrian leader Bashar al Assad becomes increasingly isolated internationally, some Syrians say the country is on the verge of a civil war being instigated by the regime.

"[The regime] is trying to push [the opposition] more and more into having a sectarian war - they are trying to push a civil war," said Hozan Ibrahim, an activist with the Local Coordination Committee of Syria based in Germany. "They couldn't stop the demonstrations so they are doing what they can to put themselves and the people on the same level of violence so they can be condemned [also]."

Analysts say civil war is a real possibility. They believe Syria has reached a turning point, with both sides digging in.

"I think we've now reached the stage where we are getting a militarization of the uprising," said Salman Shaikh, director of the Brookings Doha Center, a think tank in Qatar. "I think shutting down the violence will become progressively more difficult and I don't see it ending any time soon. I believe this regime will fight to the end."

On Thursday, rebels attacked the offices of Assad's ruling party near the Turkish border, activists said. That followed unusual and brazen attacks on Wednesday on Syrian intelligence bases and checkpoints just outside Damascus - where rebel activity has been very limited during the eight-month uprising - as well as a deadly raid on a checkpoint near Hama in which eight Syrian soldiers were killed. That raid was led by the so-called Free Syrian Army, made up of army defectors, who have attacked the military in recent months. Although the group issued a statement, the attacks could not be independently confirmed.

And as the violence inside Syria escalate, outside pressure is also increasing, say analysts, especially as the death toll mounts: More than 3,500 Syrians have been killed since the uprising began eight months ago, according to the United Nations.

On Wednesday, the 22-member Arab League confirmed their suspension of Syria over the regime's crackdown of protestors and for violating a peace plan agreed to on Nov. 2. That plan included a halt to the violent crackdown, withdrawing military from cities and freeing activists in jail. The League has threatened to impose economic sanctions and has given Syria three days to comply with the plan which includes sending outside monitors to the country. Syrian officials boycotted the meeting and were furious over the decision.

The Arab League is fed up though, say analysts. That is likely to lead to a more coordinated effort internationally.

"I think we will see more of an international effort - more Arab, regional and Western efforts, in terms of Europe and the United States...and that will take us to the UN Security Council," said Shaikh. "There has been a certain reluctance for the United States to take a lead on this which is why the Arab decision is so crucial."

He was referring to UN sanctions that so far Russia and China have opposed - the two nations vetoed a UN resolution against Syria in October. But the firm position of the Arab League makes it more likely they will back off their veto, say observers.

"The fact that the Arab League is using strong language means the door is open for a UN Security Council resolution," said Ziad Abdel Tawab, deputy director of the Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies. "I think they are just waiting for the three-day ultimatum that was given on the matter."

Activists say the Arab League move is a positive development.

"The UN and NATO won't take a stronger position without the Arab League taking one themselves," said Anas El-Khani, an activist based in London with British Solidarity for Syria, a group that organizes regular protests. "It is all about pressure. Turkey has threatened to cut power and Jordan's king has said he would step down if he were Assad. It is all being chipped away."

he Arab League's action combined with escalating militarization of the uprising is the most serious challenge yet to Assad who took over from his father 11 years ago. The Assad family, belonging to the minority Alawi sect, has ruled Syria for four decades. And it has done so by presenting itself as an alternative to Sunni domination and sectarian violence - Syria's 22 million people are made of up a Sunni majority, and Kurdish, Christian and Alawi minorities.

Activists say that the increasing international isolation of Assad has led to the increased violence.

"It is unbelievable how violent it has been [since the Arab League became involved]," said Ibrahim. "[That is when] the killings started escalating, the violence and the sieges of cities and towns. People can't accept the regime anymore and are looking for some way to protect themselves now. Soldiers who have defected from the army are trying to protect themselves and the people."

Analysts say the situation internally is very unclear at the moment. They believe the Assad regime is not going to back down easily and also, holds more support among the general population than in uprisings in Tunisia, Egypt or even Yemen.

One problem, though, has been the lack of a viable choice. The opposition remains fractured and some worry it doesn't present a credible alternative to the regime. Still, analysts say they have made great strides since earlier this year.

"The opposition is learning the game," said Fawaz Gerges, director of the Middle East Center at the London School of Economics. "They are becoming more skilled, more professional, and making inroads in Europe and the Arab world. Even though they are deeply divided, the Syrian National Council is emerging as a power to be reckoned with."

Bhatti and Louise Osborne reported from Berlin.

Sumi (June 27)

We had a pretty ambitious schedule for our last day in Hatay: Get up at 8 a.m., head back to the Bonyuyogun refugee camp by 9 and spend another hour or so with our friend there, the camp director Mustafa. Then we needed to take the three-hour bus ride from Antakya to Adana, catch a 5 p.m. flight to Istanbul and then switch to another plane and head back home to Berlin. Well, it was a good plan but, like most good plans, it didn't work out.

I was up all night writing the first online story for Deutsche Welle and was barely able to see straight by the time 8 a.m. rolled around. Then our driver and friend Emrah called to say he didn't have access to his boss' car - just a motorcycle. By that time it was already 9 a.m., and we'd have to take our bags with us...and somehow the idea of a man and two girls with backpacks, purses and notebooks all fitting on one motorcycle didn't seem that realistic. To top it off, we talked to another friend who told us we were wrong: The bus ride to Adana would take five hours, not three. So that was the end of our plan of doing a bit more reporting on our last morning.

Instead, we booked it to a taxi stand and got to the bus stop in record time - only to find out that a coach bus takes only two hours to get to Adana. Just our luck. We climbed in anyways and passed out almost immediately. It's been a long few days, and sleep-deprived doesn't even come close to how we were feeling. By the time we got to Adana and made our way to the airport, we were not only exhausted but beginning to feel the pressure of all the writing that was looming ahead of us when we would get back to Berlin.

That's the tough part about these whirlwind reporting trips: You spend so much time gathering information and chasing leads and interviewing that you barely get any time to write. So that means you get back home exhausted AND have to start writing as fast as you can, before your stories get stale. That's the last thing Nurhan and I wanted to do, but there was no other way.

I can't tell you how much junk food Nurhan and I have eaten over the last five days, but it's definitely not a healthy amount. Still, somehow the only thing we wanted when we got to the Istanbul airport was more junk. We seated ourselves in front of a shop selling ice cream, pudding and chocolate and spent our last few lira enjoying a lot more sugar than we needed. Nurhan used the five-hour layover to write while I pored over my notes. The very kind waitress in the borek cafe where we were using the wifi network took pity on us right away. "You guys look tired," she said sympathetically. That was putting it nicely. We were exhausted, dirty, cranky and dehydrated. Nurhan even had leftover mud on her big toe from walking around at the wedding in Aslanyazi the day before (I have a picture with proof but I don't think Nurhan would appreciate me posting it).

The waitress pulled together two plush chairs so we could sit next to each other as we searched for silly youtube videos, to no avail. Finally we discovered a treasure trove: "Law and Order" episodes on the computer's hard drive (we borrowed a notebook from our editor so we wouldn't have to lug around or own). There was something so comforting about waiting our last few hours in Turkey with a good episode of "Law and Order" - no talking, no analyzing, no thinking.

By the time we got back to Berlin, it was 1 a.m. and we were both numb and brain dead. We were too tired to even reflect on the amazing things we had seen and experienced the past week, or the incredible people we met and friends we made. Still, both of us are so grateful to everyone in Hatay who took time to talk to us, show us around, feed us, help us - especially the many brave refugees who risked their lives and survived so much pain and suffering but still shared their experiences with us. We only hope our writing will do their stories justice...

June 26 (Nurhan)

After a third night of only a few hours of sleep, Sumi and I joined our couchsurfer host, Sinan, and his family at a Sunday brunch at his restaurant. So far, we have always let the day unfold naturally which has led us to interesting people and places. Meeting Sinan's family was no exception - a big very welcoming Antakyan family that is also very well connected in the region.

We had originally planned to go out into town and interview residents of Hatay. Sumi will be reporting on how the residents of this town close to the Syrian border are reacting to the Syrian refugees. At the brunch, we met a member of parliament from the Hatay region. He gave us insight into how the Turkish parties were split on how they believe Turkey is handling the situation. I interviewed him while enjoying my slice of kunefe, a specialty of the region made of phyllo dough, melted cheese and honey.

As we were leaving, we got invited to Sinan's cousin's wedding. It is wedding season here now and as we drive through the roads of the city, we constantly see cars adorned in flowers and decorations. We felt like part of the Hatay community, declining the invitation because we were already invited to another wedding. Witnessing the Syrian bride crossing the border to reunite with her Turkish husband yesterday, attending their wedding today was at the top of our agenda. So we once again set off for Yayladagi, the town where the bride and groom were at different salons getting ready for their big night.

As we were waiting for Garib, the groom's best friend who had filled my German colleague Yasemin and I in on the couple's romance yesterday, we ran into a Turkish NTV TV crew heading to the Boynuyogun refugee camp where apparently a wedding was also taking place among the tents.

Like I said, it is wedding season in Turkey, regardless of whether you are inside or outside of the camps. I entered the barber shop right off the main square of Yayladagi to interview the groom Rasim and he greeted me wearing a mud mask. He was nervous and all smiles. He told me he can't believe he is finally marrying "her." Yasemin, meanwhile, was interviewing the bride a few doors down the street.

The intensity of Turkish wedding season was palpable immediately when we entered the salon. The hair dresser had already done three brides' hair today. As I sat watching the bride and about 10 other ladies in this small, tight place which smelled of hair spray and multiple perfumes, I couldn't help having conflicting feelings.

Yesterday, we had spoken with four young Syrian men whose wives and children were hiding in the Belengoez mountains and who told us about the tragedies happening in their town of Bdama. I remembered watching the video footage on their cell phones of a man shot by soldiers who later died. Now I was surrounded by joyful if frantic women getting their hair straightened or curled, getting make up applied and a beautiful bride donning her dress.

It seemed surreal.

After accompanying the bride and groom to get their pictures taken in a photo studio, we decided to stop back by the Yayladagi camp to see if we could talk to anyone before heading over to the wedding in the tiny town of Aslanyavi. While Yasemin was talking to the guards, telling them that she would like to have a look around and couldn't understand why they have a problem with this, a young Syrian girl came up to the fence, smiled at me and stretched out her hand.

As I held her hand, she said "bisquit." I ran back to our car and grabbed the bag of fresh cookies that Yasemin had bought hours before for breakfast. At the fence, a few other children had gathered. When I gave one to a girl, she passed it on to another boy behind her and they made sure to share it among them. They thanked me and as another guard was telling them to step away from the fence, the girl who had first asked me for a cookie stretched out her hand through the fence again. I thought she wanted to shake my hand again but then noticed that she was holding a one lira coin. She wanted me to have it. I told her, 'no thank you' and that it was a present in Turkish but I don't think she understood. I think she wanted me to know that she wasn't a beggar. I was touched.

We went further down the road to the last house before the border to ask the residents about the refugees and the camps. They said at nights, they hear loud voices from the camps protesting against Assad but that mostly it is quiet.

As the sun set, we made our way to the wedding where we ran into the car with the bride and groom along the road we dubbed "sunset drive," a beautiful dirt road in the mountains. All together, we were now four cars heading to the wedding and became part of the entourage of beeping horns. Andy, the German photographer, was driving and taking pictures while also beeping his horn.

As we entered the town via even narrower dirt roads full of cattle and boys riding donkeys, bass drummers and a man blowing into the zurna (a wind instrument) greeted the couple along with the entire town. Music began and soon enough, everyone joined hands to begin the first of a series of Halays - the popular dance in Turkey where people join pinkies and take rhythmic steps together to the sounds of zurnas and davuls (bass drums). It was quite a festive wedding which we later learned is actually quite typical for village nuptials.

A fight broke out, gun shots were fired into the air, presents were announced and we also gave a monetary gift to the newly married couple. After, Sumi and I retreated to the car to do some transcribing from the interviews the day before. We couldn't move anyway as our car was trapped among other cars. The two of us worked away - Sumi typing away as I translated into English from a tape recorder pressed into one ear to listen to what Murad from Guevecci was telling us the day before about the Syrians crossing the borders over the mountains.

Around midnight, we finally made our way back 'home.' Overwhelmed and tired, nothing new since we got here, we opted to head back to our room. Even so, once I get back to the apartment, I find it so hard to unwind and relax. It might have something to do with the Turkish mocca. But more likely, it is about the sheer amount of impressions I have taken in, which I haven't had time to reflect on properly, before we are back on the ground taking in even more.

June 25 (Sumi)

Sometimes when you're running around interviewing and traveling and chasing stories, what you really need is a day off to organize your reporting and start writing. So that's we did. And even if it was only half a day, it really felt good to sit down and recap what we've done the past two days - not just because we got to go through all our amazing experiences again but also because it was just nice to, well, sit down.

Around 2 p.m., we left the apartment with our two colleagues and headed for Guevecci, where we were yesterday. This time was different because everything felt a lot more familiar. Guevecci is so small that the journalists now outnumber the residents - and by quite a bit, too. There are only a few streets and houses, and we saw a lot of the same faces. Just as we thought we'd spend some time talking to the other journalists, we heard someone calling our names. It was Muhamed (whose name we're changing for his protection), the man who so kindly drove us to Guevecci yesterday and invited us into his home to talk about the refugee situation. So there we were again, back on his couch drinking Turkish mokkas. This time we met four young Syrian men from Lakyize who had just fled across the border that morning. They asked not to be named at all, but one of them is a sort of amateur videographer/photographer and he showed us everything he'd filmed in Syria.

I watch a lot of news, of course, but somehow seeing these pictures of the dead and hearing the stories of rape and mutilation up close and personal was almost too much to handle. The four told us were heading back to get their wives and children the next day, despite the risks involved.

Of course, Nurhan and I get quite a bit of attention here because we don't necessarily look like everyone else who comes to Hatay province: Nurhan has Uzbek-Turkish roots and my parents are from Sri Lanka. I can't tell you how many times I had to convince every Syrian in the room that I can't sing a Bollywood song for them. I somehow got out of it by promising to sing an Indian pop song for them the next day knowing full well we had plans to go somewhere else. Maybe it was a cop out but I really can't sing.

The second part of the day was probably the wonderful experience we have had yet: We drove right to the Turkish-Syrian border next to the Yayaldagi camp and somehow stumbled into a wedding party. There were drummers and musicians, women dancing and shouting, people getting out of their cars to clap and chant - pretty much pandemonium. They were waiting for the Syrian bride to arrive from across the border. She was marrying a Turkish man and the whole wedding party was there to greet her. Watching her arrive and witnessing the celebrations that came after was an incredible experience. Despite the terror, and the pain and sorrow on both sides of the border, these families were able to forget it all for a night and let loose at these pre-wedding festivities. First the bride had to go through a lot of rituals and dancing and then do the traditional henna ceremony. The family invited us along and we couldn't say no. Nurhan will have a lot more on the couple's story (which is pretty incredible) soon.

The days just keep getting longer here - even so, I don't mind much. But now I've gotta go - I have a Bollywood performance to prepare for tomorrow because it looks like we'll see our friends from Guevecci again after all.

June 24 (Nurhan)

Our first full day in southeastern Turkey and we are already tired, both of us craving more sleep as we lay stretched out on our comfy beds in this nice hotel not knowing what kind of lodgings await us when we couch surf tonight. My annoying snooze alarm goes off again and at 7 a.m., I drag myself into the shower -- at least that was five hours of sleep, better than the three the night before.

Our prepaid mobile number was already almost out of its 30 Turkish lira (15 euro) credit in only half a day. While Sumi browsed through the news for the most recent updates, I went to buy more credit and stumbled upon our first lucky find of the day - a smoothie stand. I am a fruit-juice junkie. On my way back, sipping on my health shake, I noticed how pretty the old town of Antakya is. Narrow, curvy roads and three-story villa-like homes reminded me of bohemian Cihangir, my favorite district in Istanbul. I took in the atmosphere for a minute and then picked up pace to get back to our room, check out and see what we could accomplish today.

We checked out of our nice hotel, sad that we couldn't afford to stay the entire duration. It wasn't so expensive but it is higher than we two freelancers can pay. The receptionist joked that if we gave her English lessons, she would give us a discount. We decided to try our luck of getting a formal letter of introduction that would allow us to interviewing officials -- this was recommended to us by the soldiers at the Boynuyogun refugee camp the day before.

When we arrived at the city administration building in Antakya, we met a Ministry of Foreign Affairs coordinator for the Hatay region, Emrah Manav, talked with us about the current refugee situation. He couldn't get us official documents to enter the camp but he was able to tell us that there are currently 11,739 refugees in the Hatay province and 1,578 of them arrived in the last 24 hours alone. We asked if that was solely because the Syrian army had encircled Khirbet al-Jouz. He smiled and said "I can't tell you the reasons for the exodus. You can put together the pieces of the puzzle from what I'm saying."

Emrah, our driver from yesterday, picked us up and put us on the minibus to Yayladagi, a town where two refugee camps shelter 5,000 Syrians. Right then, Sumi got a call from Deutsche Welle asking her to do a few spots. While Emrah and I waited for her in the car which at 10 a.m. already felt like a steamy Hamam (Turkish bath), Sumi stood under the blazing sun.

Emrah was definitely also a lucky find: He sending us text messages throughout the day worrying about us up in the mountains and the border region.

Right before getting off the bus which dropped us off at the camp, we met Samir who is Syrian but lives in Antakya where he deals in the lentil and wheat trade between southeastern Turkey and Oman. He has been living there 3 to 4 years and came to Yayladagi because his brother is in the camp. He gave his brother's name and soldiers told him to come back a few hours later, that they would arrange for his brother to come to the fence. He was not allowed entrance.

Sumi got her Deutsche Welle call right that moment to do another spot. So I left her at the camp entrance and ran after Samir, who looked at me funny wondering why a young woman would leave her friend behind and chase after him. He spoke very little Turkish and kept looking back as we walked on, pointing to where the camp is and asking me "friend?" I accompanied Samir back into the town center. Along the way, he told me that his brother fled Jisr al-Shighour a week ago with his wife and children. He said that according to his brother, the Syrian military were barbarians. He went into a little grocery store and I waited outside. He appeared with a cold bottle of water, handed it to me and said goodbye before disappearing back into the shop. Young women don't trail after Arab middle-aged men so he must have thought I was really strange.

After Sumi caught up with me and I did my spot for Deutsche Welle in German, we walked through the town of Yayladagi, where we made a pit stop for some ice cream. Chewy ice cream! We got to talking with the young guys who work in the ice cream shop and they told us that some of the refugees from the camp have been allowed to go into town and have ended up in their shop. They couldn't converse with each other because they don't speak any Arabic - they're actually of Turkmen background. There are a lot of Turkmens in Yayladagi, according to the main ice cream salesman.

It was around 2:00 p.m. and Friday (afternoon) prayer time in Yayladagi, so our plans to drive further onto Guevecci, a town right along the Syrian border, looked like they might fall through. But at the last minute, we asked around and were able to find a Guevecci resident that was heading home. And it was just our luck: he was also Syrian.

We somehow crammed ourselves into the front seats of a small pickup truck along with our new friend, Murat, and his younger brother who was along for the ride. We sped along narrow, dirty roads, skidding from one bend to another and holding on for dear life. The view was spectacular, and conversation was easy with Murat and his brother. When we arrived in Guevecci, we walked along a narrow alley and up a set of stairs to a roof where a large group of journalists were standing, this time from Turkey and elsewhere. There was a row of cameramen with their lenses trained on the watchtower and refugee settlement right across the border. It was hard to see much except for a patchy row of blue tents but we were told we were looking at Syrians who had fled their towns but didn't want to enter Turkey.

We followed Murat and his brother into his house, where we were greeted by his wife and children. We also met a Syrian refugee, Mohamed Hamadi, a relative of Murat who had fled from Bdama, the town stormed by Syrian forces a few weeks ago. Murat's wife then came out with Turkish mocca, which she placed in front of each of us. Over the years, I have been trying to keep my coffee intake at a minimum only enjoying a latte macchiato now and then but it would have been rude to refuse the mocca. Within minutes I felt the jolt, my desire for a nap immediately vanished.

I listened to Mohamed tell his story which sent new jolts through me. Mohamed, a 32-year-old lawyer fled his town of Bdama with his wife and four kids and he recounted how the Syrian military opened fire and randomly shot at people. Old, young, male, female. "We don't care if (the new leader) is Muslim, Christian, black, white -- we don't care. We just want a democratic leader," he said.

Afterward, we realized that we had no way of getting back to Yayladagi or Antakya. Thankfully, a German journalist friend of mine who I realized was also in Hatay, said that she and the photographer she was traveling with would pick us up on their way back to Antakya --.where coincidentally they would be couch surfing at the same place. As we waited for them, Sumi and I enjoyed plums from a tree and watched the Guevecci village children play an interesting version of what seemed like dodge ball which involved piling stones on top of each other each time someone got hit with the ball.

Yasemin and Andy picked us up and on the way filled us in about our host, the owner of the local Hatay paper and he also owns one of the nicer restaurants in the city, which we were driving to now. Our ride back was just in time to enjoy an amazing sunset -- the first of several we would have as we somehow managed to be on the mountain road around 8ish each evening. As I sat looking out, I realized that although beautiful, my emotions were starting to numb. I think exhaustion, listening to sad stories seeing beautiful scenery and meeting extremely kind people - I was having a hard time dealing with the extremes. The beautiful sunset was causing a mixture of slight joy and melancholy.

Entering into our couch surfer hosts' restaurant, the loud live music was a little much for all of us but the four of us were very hungry. Sinan, our host, a sweet comical looking man in his late 30s, insisted we join him at his table and introduced us to Arturo who would be the fifth couch surfer! A few spoonfuls and I noticed the tiredness kicking back in. It was also emotionally draining that only a few hours ago, we were in this tiny remote village a few kilometers from the border listening to Mohamed talk about his town, Bdama, and how his wife and four kids are now in Yayladagi; now here we were in this chic and modern restaurant listening to two guitar players singing Turkish rock ballads.

A bit later, after piling into a small elevator at Sinan's apartment building with our stuff, we managed to get stuck and the doors wouldn't open thanks to my big backpack which was in the way. When we finally got through Sinan's door, we were immediately greeted by a mutt.

There we stood in the hallway, five couch surfers and a dog named Google.

Though tired, we all went up to Sinan's beautiful terrace to recap the day, exchange stories and do a little bit of writing and transcribing. I vaguely remember it being 4 a.m. when my head finally touched the pillow.

June 23 (Sumi)

Nothing about this trip so far has been expected, not even that it took place at all.

We (the ARA team) decided last weekend (June 19) after reporting a story about the situation of the Syrian refugees at the border and inside Turkey via phone that we needed to go and see for ourselves what was going on. There is really only so much you can do by phone.

Could we afford it, we wondered, reminiscent of our Tunisia situation when we raised money via Kickstarter. How would this work? Who would go? Could this work out?

We spent Monday reaching out to contacts, brainstorming for which outlets we could do articles and how we could pay for the trip. In the end, we decided that as long as the losses weren't too bad, we would bite the bullet.

By Monday, it was almost decided: I would go and hopefully, Nurhan with her grounding in the Turkish culture and language, would decide in favor as well. By Tuesday, she decided yes and the anticipation was building as well as the nervousness. We were flying to airports I had never heard of, traveling to a region neither of us had ever been. We didn't know if we could get any good reporting done, hearing from human rights officials, aid workers and other journalists that no one gets access to these camps. And also, that the border had become too dangerous now to cross to speak to people on the other side.

And by Wednesday evening (actually Thursday morning), we were on a plane.

After a few hours on a bus, we arrived in the town of Antakya early Thursday evening and were supposed to meet with a Red Crescent official at the Boynuyogun refugee camp. There were no journalists left even though we knew there had been a press conference earlier that day. We also knew they didn't get much access to the camp or the refugees living inside.

We walked along the fence to the entrance, trying to get a feel for the camp. That's not exactly easy because there's a large steel fence in place covered in white tarp. Still, two smiling Syrian boys seated at the top of a wall on their side of the fence smiled and waved at us: "Hello! How are you?" they asked in English. We answered but it was clear they only knew how to ask the question, not answer back in the language.

We made our way to the main gate and, after talking to soldiers and administrators, somehow ended up speaking with the camp director Mustafa. He opened the gate for us and invited us into the Red Crescent main administration camp for a long discussion and some Turkish tea. It turns out Mustafa was a school teacher whose world turned upside down when Red Crescent asked him to take over as director of the Boynuyogun camp. Now, he works from 7 am to 2 am everyday. But it was clear he felt the job was worth it. He told us he and his colleagues felt the pain and sorrow of the Syrians fleeing their homeland and wanted to help.

His biggest problem was the image the media had painted of the Red Crescent and Turkey - they portray the refugees as living in dismal conditions and that the Red Crescent has been hiding something. Part of that comes from the fact that the Red Crescent has allowed no access to the camps but nonetheless, Mustafa is very wary of the media.

Still, after a long talk, he agreed to walk with us around the camp. We couldn't believe we were getting that kind of access - we were just happy to be there. So we started down the first among dozens and dozens of rows of neat white tents, all bearing the signature Red Crescent logo. The first thing that struck us was the smiling faces: Everyone welcomed us warmly, exchanging "Salaam Alekum" and calling out to us. The tents were surprisingly neat and tidy, despite the fact that entire families share one.

Mustafa beckoned us to meet a young woman who he said spoke English, a young school teacher who had fled Syria with her family. Rinna, too, greeted us with a big smile and grasped our hands, saying "Hello! Nice to meet you!" Soon she was joined by another friend (a young woman named Risha) who also spoke some English. They told us how they had fled the small border town of Jisr al-Shighour when the army attack had began (the Syrian military took over the town on June 12). Rinna explained that her two brothers had been shot and killed during the raid. She smiled and said "Hamdullah" (Praise be to God), telling us she was grateful to have made it out alive.

We thanked them and moved on down the next row of tents. It was pretty amazing to see what had been built for the refugees in such a short period of time: we saw two playgrounds (nice ones), a volleyball net, a prayer tent for men and women, a TV tent for men and women (where crowds of Syrians were watching the latest news from their homeland), makeshift barber shops, a projection screen for the nightly movie and a new tent going up to host recreational courses like sewing.

Of course, it is still a refugee camp and the Syrians inside are suffering - wondering whether their relatives and friends are alive, how long they will be in the camps and if they will ever get to go home again.

Journalists sometimes fall into the trap of going into a story with a preconceived idea of what they'll see and report - and I fell into that trap, too. So it was a surreal experience to be in this camp and see these Syrian families somehow putting together their lives again in this camp, all laughing, chatting, playing and relaxing. The way they smiled at us and took our hands (both men and women) and welcomed us into their lives for this brief was a humbling experience.

That was our first day. A lot of sheer dumb luck, and completely unexpected.

TUNISIA BLOG

May 12 (Jabeen)

Hi everyone, Sorry it has been so long. Things have been a little too crazy but anyway, I wanted to post another story, AIda's piece in the Washington Times: Ousting a ruler easier than reforming, Tunisians learn http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2011/apr/5/ousting-a-ruler-easier-than-reforming-tunisians-le/

Also, once I can figure out how to get around the paywall, I will post my piece on Tunisia in Columbia Journalism Review this month. While Tunisia stories (and Libya) from us might be slowing down a bit, I wanted to let you know I am probably going to do a few pre-election pieces and that we haven't forgotten Tunisia or its revolution.

I also want to say thanks again and it is on my to-do list to get those rewards to you and to publicly thank you on our site (which is in transition). In the meantime, we (ARA) continue to do stories and are upgrading our social media and website. Today, we were on the front page of the Washington Times with my story about Europe and the integration of immigrants/minorities: http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2011/may/11/tide-of-muslims-change-eus-old-order/?page=all#pagebreak

Check out our new sites and please 'like' our Facebook page to get updates on our stories. Website: www.ara-network.com
Latest stories: http://ara-network.com/latest-stories.htm
Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Associated-Reporters-Abroad-ARA/173509929371494
Twitter: @ARA_Network

New blog coming soon!

March 27 (Jabeen)

Hi everyone,

Aida did a few nice stories about Tunisia and Morocco and I would like to post the links (yes, we are still working on the stories -- my next one is due out shortly in Columbia Journalism Review and one more by Aida will be published this week in the Washington Times).

It has been a couple of extremely busy weeks and I am still struggling to find time for the magazine piece I want to do with all the great material I still have from reporting in Tunisia.

Also, we haven't forgotten that we owe you some rewards. We will start working on that this coming weekend.

Here are two of the recently published stories:
Morocco: http://www.businessweek.com/news/2011-03-24/moroccans-protest-monarch-s-2-billion-fund-as-democracy-barrier.html

Tunisia: http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/news/regions/africa/110325/tunisia-tourism-economy

And one of mine that I filed to USA Today (on Libya) that only parts of got used for various reasons so I will post it here in its entirety because the analysts were interesting: http://ara-network.com/Libya-story-3-20-2011.htm

March 18 (Aida)

I wrote a story this week about the crisis that Tunisia is facing at its border by giving refuge to hundred of thousands of people fleeing Libya. I was truly amazed to find out how positively Tunisians were reacting to the deluge of refugees flooding their country despite their own economic problems resulting from the revolution. There are dozens of facebook groups run by Tunisians asking for all kinds of donations and they are organizing clothing and food drives. Medical students formed a group to take turns going to the refugee camp to provide medical care.

At first, immigrant workers were coming into Libya but now Libyans who fear that Qaddafi will crush the opposition are also going to Tunisia and they have nowhere to return to. The international community is going to have to find a solution for them as they cannot stay at the Tunisian border forever.

http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/news/regions/middle-east/110317/tunisia-refugees-libya?page=full

March 11 (Jabeen)

Well, the fundraising part of this project is over. And we made it, something I find incredible as I had my doubts from the start. We want to thank all of you for your support, comments, messages of encouragement and most of all, for being interested and engaged with us as we tried to cover the Tunisian transition.

The transition is far from over and we aren't done either. So we will continue to post as we write more stories on it as we have come to really enjoy this community of ours. In the meantime, by complete coincidence, my first two stories went online today, one for USA Today and one for a monthly, the Atlantic Times.

They didn't always work out like I wanted (monthly magazines are a drag because situations so fluid such as that in Tunisia become obsolete by the time they go to print) and daily newspapers cut and insert in a way that offends my sense of rhythm and style.

Regardless, I am satisfied. Thank you again - sharing this experience with you was an unexpected but magical element of our project.

http://www.the-atlantic-times.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=328:the-lessons-of-jasmine&catid=25:politics&Itemid=2 http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-03-11-tunisia11_ST_N.htm

March 10 (Jabeen)

Well, I wrote the story for Columbia Journalism Review (600 words) and one for USA Today (900 words). I have never been so frustrated in my career. Both were written at double the word length - I essentially spent more time cutting than I did writing them. I am a big believer in being short and sweet - I see plenty of articles that go on too long. But this insane, to try to tell rich and interesting stories with a lot of complexity and context with these kinds of words lengths.

And they say they want color and context. But you can't do much of that in those word limits.

You never know when you are completely out of bounds on this. But I felt vindicated when my colleague reviewed it for mistakes and said, "Well, it made me want to know more."

I'll post them as soon as they are online. Maybe I'll even post the original uncut versions -. What I do know is I have to find a publication that will take a Tunisia story at 3,000 words. At this point, I am not willing to compromise on that anymore -- I have too much compelling material and the story, quickly changing, is also complex and needs context.

And the craziest thing was one story that I wanted to do, I nixed it relatively early because it didn't pan out when I asked the questions of Tunisians. Then I get this US defense/military expert on the phone yesterday, and poof, the story is back on. And I think he really knew what he was talking about - one of those intimidatingly smart people. Still, sometimes it is hard to know what to believe.

March 7 (Aida)

My first article about Tunisia in Global Post: http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/news/regions/middle-east/110305/tunisia-press-freedom-newspapers?page=full

We got the pleasure to meet with Rim Saoudi, a lovely young reporter who told us many fascinating stories about the press before and after Ben Ali. Freedom of the press is a topic I feel strongly about, working in Morocco where I have to constantly pay attention to how I word things or what I allow myself to write in order to not get in trouble. I hope you enjoy it.

March 4 (Jabeen)

It has been the craziest three weeks of my career. I thought covering Sept. 11 was insane but this tops that. I write on Libya every day. I have almost finished my second story on Tunisia while continuing to report it. I am also writing on data privacy law. I am trying to edit ARA reporters' work (my network of reporters) and coordinate with a dozen reporters on all of this. In between, I am trying to sell various stories by our reporters to the Germans, the Danes, American and on it goes. It is nuts.

But I am having fun.

This blog post has no real point. Let it be a venting platform this time (Aida says that is okay - she is a lot younger than me so I take her word on it). But I will make this a positive venting.

First of all, I miss Tunisia. It was incredibly exhilarating to be there and it was too bad that it became a blur toward the end because of too many interviews and also because of what happened in Libya. But what was incredible about it was the feeling in the air of freedom - something so normal for us - something so new for them, they can't still believe it. So in spite of all the work they have to do, the problems they have, in rebuilding their society, their country, in reconciling their differences, this optimistic, euphoric atmosphere that everyone was contributing to was incredible to experience - intoxicating for them, and intoxicating for me to be around.

I spent time with the Western boogeyman, a man from an Islamist party that spent 17 years in jail. I was thinking about it - how long would I spend in jail for my beliefs? I wanted to spend more time with him. I found him thoughtful and expressive and I really wanted to know, not from what he said, but from his core, how he bore it all. I hope that I do get another chance to go back and spend time with him, his colleagues. I think it is too simplistic, how we talk about Islamist parties in the West. I might not agree with his ideas but I respect his right to have them. I also did not find a fanatic here, just a human being that suffered for his beliefs.

I have been home now for a week and my Tunisian friends, sources, contacts keep calling. I find it charming - but isn't really new for me. When I was there in December and went on a road trip, leaving the hotel I stayed at for days, my hosts (the staff) called me more than my mother usually does. But that is Tunisia. You are going to get mothered there. This is a place that is loving, caring, proud, moving forward, savoring the feeling of liberty and dignity, something we have taken for granted forever.

Across the border...

And then there is Libya. I know that you as our supporters didn't sign up for Libya. But I feel it is connected - and so do the Tunisians and Libyans. Tunisians (and Egyptians) have been singled out for brutal treatment by Gadhafi loyalists while trying to escape home because they are blamed for the revolution. Libya's neighbors, which for years thought of Libyans as just really strange are moved by their plight (and Tunisians in particular feel responsible) and are rushing to help. Egyptians too are sending blood donations, food, money, everything.

I am moved by that, as I wrote before: People who have nothing and are now struggling are rushing to help their neighbors, their 'brothers' in the revolution. They did it, now they have to help others follow. It is a singular phenomenon - I don't remember this during the revolutions of Eastern Europe.

The thing I keep coming back to is at what point do people stop caring about their own lives. I talk to people there (via an interpreter) or hear (from my reporters) what is happening: It is very scary. Gadhafi is hunting these people. If he isn't distracted by trying to retake rebel-held towns, he could unleash his full force on people who tried to demonstrate or dissent. That is what worries me. Already, I hear from doctors who say that his people go into hospitals and remove the wounded. People are too terrified to talk openly anymore, or even answer their phone. Reporting what is really going on their has become much harder in the past week. I think people are getting worn down.

Still, there are some that are brave beyond all imagination. I wonder about that impulse. But I have come to understand it. I keep hearing sentiments from Libyans that would live up to the motto of New Hampshire (no, not Texas): "Live free or die." Aida mentioned the graffiti we saw in Sidi Bouzid: "We win or we die." That sentiment arrived and stuck. We met a man in Tunisia who told us that he spoke to a woman who lost one of her sons in the revolution. "I have three others," she responded. That shocked me. But I am starting to understand it. We in the West are so comfortable, it takes a while. We are so spoiled. Spend some time listening to these stories and you get it. I do now.

And then there is Kickstarter...

Kickstarter has been fascinating experiment and taught me much. I admit, I wouldn't do it again, at least, not on time-sensitive project - setting it up took away from reporting prep and sometimes was too much of a distraction. We aren't probably going to make our goal. We actually never thought we would get this far anyway. I don't care though. I have gotten so much out of this that it doesn't really matter.

What I found moving was the support. I am old-school, what they call "legacy media" and I have been that as a newspaper reporter for more than a decade. I am used to writing my stories and occasionally getting feedback from my readers, mostly verbal or in letters. Blogs horrify me as does writing in first person. This was really the first time that I ever did anything that involved readers in a more direct way, or even expressing what I think in print so openly.

But people have engaged us, read our updates, written us about them, posted us on blogs, commented on things we have written. Readers have told us they feel privileged to be getting the inside look, felt like we were 'their reporters' and even told us that they got a thrill every time they got an update in their in box. I found that really thrilling in a way I couldn't have imagined before. I have never, as reporter, been so directly engaged with readers before. Sure our friends and family donated. But so did people we don't know. Actually a lot of people. All of that inspired me to write the updates and enjoy doing so. It made me feel responsible to a community of readers in a way that even a newspaper never made me feel.

It has felt like a community. And that is why, although I am ready to just pass out, I write these entries. I feel (a no-no word in journalism that I am using a lot these days ) that I am writing to people who care about what we are doing, are interested in these issues and value to them to the point of not only donating money, but bothering to register on Amazon and go through the procedure of donating (that would be my stopping point). That it is really humbling.

What is also nice is that I can bypass the constraints of my profession - a lot of stuff gets cut out because of space or because an editor has no time or just doesn't understand or simply because it doesn't fit in the style of the article or the medium. No color in one paper, no analysis in another. No space or time to tell the full complexities in yet another. The worst thing, when I can't write something because I can't attribute it even though I know it to be true.

I am used to it. But sometimes, it would be nice to be able to provide readers with more. I don't always think editors sitting in Washington always get the context. And I know they think readers don't care, especially when they hire consultants to tell them so. But I also know differently. So I (and Aida) thank you for bothering to register, bothering to donate even $1, bothering to read our updates and especially for making us feel like we weren't alone in our obsession to revisit Tunisia and all it has to offer as a primer for shaking off a dictator and teaching all of us a little bit about what it means to be free, and what happens after you shake off a dictator.

I leave you tonight with a raw almost unedited transcript of an interview that Aida did this week with an Egyptian doctor that went to Benghazi, Libya to help. You might read it later incorporated in an article. But in the meantime, I was moved when I read it and decided we should post it here: In the spirit of bypassing editors and reaching you directly. Thank you so much for all your support! We were really moved by it.

Transcript:

I am Dr. Hamza Mousa, 29 years old, an Egyptian doctor, living and working in Mansoura, Egypt. I came to Libya with the first medical aid convoy to support the Libyan people. I didn't plan to come here but that is what happened. I came to Libya for the first time on Feb 22 and returned on Feb 23 and back since Feb 25. I waited at the border for 30 hours first as they wouldn't let the convoy in.

The convoy is made up of 4 organizations: one is just people collecting money; Arabic doctors union; Doctors Syndicate from Alexandria and from Cairo

I am staying in Benghazi right now, working on huge media archiving about what happened and what is happening, and evaluating the medical statistics for Benghazi and the surrounding areas, what they need, and trying to figure out if there is any incoming wounded, or any anticipated medical crisis.

I am meeting doctors from many hospitals, collecting testimonies as well as checking with the medical convoys that are here. There are no definitive numbers or accurate statistics about victims, medical supplies: what came and to which cities. So I'm working on that now by myself� I came as a doctor but my work has turned into providing anything that is a priority need.

The most essential work I am doing at the moment is at the Internet station, on the top floor of the Higher Court house of the north of Benghazi where I update the situation daily on the internet in reports, post photos and videos, documenting what happened here. Well, it is safe in there, even though the mercenaries that were captured are locked up just few feet from the office I am in. They are in good health, guarded, and they are given what they need (most of them are Sub-Saharan Africans, the oldest ones are maybe 25, most of them are kids, 15, 17 years old - I take care of them as well, making sure they are fed, clothed, healthy).

I feel I need to check on them because I feel bad for the young boys. Also, some of them are definitely not mercenaries. They were captured by mistake or just happened to be in Libya as workers, not guilty of anything.

I am not scared at all. The people in Benghazi are treating us well and provide us rides, cars to get us where we need to.

People are not in real danger from gangs, or Gaddafi units since Feb. 22, but they are expecting air strike attacks on the building I am in, where the revolutionaries are housed, as well as some other facilities such as Benana Airport and where the army units are, those which joined the revolution against Gadhafi.

The first day I arrived, I decided to gather videos and photos to get them to Egypt to upload them on YouTube, Facebook, flickr as I mentioned.

I recorded videos of dead bodies inside the hospital of burn victims. I could not eat for hours. I have seen victims in critical situations, most of them in a terrible state with a bad prognosis. I have also seen victims hurt by bazookas and RPS. There are many cases like this. It is awful to see only the upper half of a human body in the morgue. The people are telling very shocking stories about the weapons like the use of anti-tanks and anti-air-crafts guns (against people), but what shocked me most is when I met with officers who refused to shoot protesters, they were locked up and some of them were tied up for days without food or water. They got these officers out after gaining control of the town of Alkateeba, they were in very bad shape. People are telling a story about someone who was in prison since the 1980s. He has never seen a cell phone before.

Well as a doctor, I am worried about any medical crisis because many patients are not getting proper medical attention like people with diabetes, malignant hypertension, renal failure and those with oncology treatments.

People think they already won, at least at their own cities, because they are finally free to say what they want, what they believe. Most of them don't know when or how this will end. They have no media expertise or political experience, its confusing for many. But they agree all they don't want Gadhafi or any foreign intervention.

Libya coverage and features

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-03-03-libya-rebels_N.htm

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-03-03-libya-unrest_N.htm

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-03-02-tunisia-refugees_N.htm

And even more Libya

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-03-02-tunisia-refugees_N.

htm http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-03-01-Gadhafi-Libya_N.htm

March 1 (Jabeen)

It has been an intense ride the past few days. I haven't been to Libya but I feel like I know it intimately. We have been struggling to cover it (Thamer in Tunisia, Mike in Benghazi, now Nidal and I here in Berlin along with my classmate Alfred from France who I am incredibly grateful to for providing updates from Tripoli that he isn't even allowed to be paid for) and of course Aida.

Everyday, we file. Everyday, we call people in Libya and find out what they are going through, what is happening in their town and ask them for more people so we can ask them what they are going through and what is happening in their towns. It is the only way, really, to find out what is going on, as reporters are restricted and the people on the ground being 'disappeared' when they talk to us. Phones don't work. Sometimes, internet doesn't either. It is gotten to the point where the Gadhafi forces are looking for people in hospitals that speak to reporters, monitor people's phone numbers to see if they get calls from people that aren't on their usual list of phone numbers and listen to their calls.

As a reporter, I don't make a habit of expressing my own opinion. But Gadhafi and his people need to go. And we need to help them make them go. Now. What is happening there is inspiring and horrifying - inspiring because a cowed population is fighting back and holding on and horrifying because of what Gadhafi forces are doing to those that get caught.

We have interviewed people whose family members and friends have been 'disappeared' because they spoke to the media. We have talked to those who have been tortured. People wounded in hospitals are being taken away by security forces - we have spoken to doctors that are in an outraged state, full of disbelief. People are terrified to pick up the phone now. We have broken with our policy of not using anonymous sources and letting people stay anonymous. We are also letting their family and friends in 'safe areas' taken by rebels tell us what they say. If we don't, they might get killed for our reporting rules.

This is only the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.

I did something I have never done before - intervened. I am getting doctors' phone numbers for a human rights group I won't name because they need help assessing casualty numbers and can't contact doctors in certain Gadhafi-held areas. I also reached out to hackers because I want to know what they are doing and planning to do - honestly, I am hoping they do more, and will help in anyway I can. It feels weird as a 'neutral journalist' to do this but I don't care. These people really need help and I have heard too much.

The past few days I have done, with my colleagues, the best I can to figure out what is going on in Libya and report it. I joked with an editor that I won't really eat or sleep well until Gadhafi is gone, but actually, it wasn't a joke. I don't have to do this coverage as I have another job and I have to write Tunisia stories (I am almost finished with the second one). I could pass on this. But this has become really important to me. You can't listen to these people's stories, the ones that also don't make it into the paper because of space, and not care.

So I try to do five jobs. I wake up tired every day. But I feel somewhat satisfied. This really matters and I am happy to try to help by getting the word out just a little bit more. If there is something I am really frustrated about, it is that why were we (in the West) so slow to react? We speak such a nice spiel about democracy and human rights and human dignity. Well, when people try to fight to get it, shouldn't we support that? It is really that simple.

At the end of the day, I do logically understand why the West didn't want to openly push Ben Ali or Mubarak to leave. Or why there was hesitation about Gadhafi. But I am coming to hate 'Realpolitik' and the rationalization of our interests. I am pretty sure this is the first time I have ever written something like this (but what the hell, this is a blog and Aida told me I could write what I want without obsessive self-editing): We have an obligation, a duty, to support Tunisia, Egypt and now Libya. To me, this has become unequivocal: We help or we drop our rhetoric about freedom and democracy.

They need our help and we should give it to them: Moral, financial, even military. I was moved by the Tunisians from down-and-out Sidi Bouzid (where that young man set himself on fire) sending supplies to the border because they feel responsible for starting this whole thing - they are actually. Tunisians are really struggling right now and are stretched even more by taking in thousands of people fleeing Libya. There are trying to create a new country and can't handle this. But they are anyway, with generosity and grace.

Meanwhile, the US government has given nothing to Tunisia. I checked. I was wondering why it took so long for USAID and the State Department to respond to my request for numbers - these agencies are super efficient usually. I think they didn't want to answer the request, and here I am speculating, out of shame. The US Embassy in Tunis has given 50,000 dollars. The Europeans have set aside money already, a few hundred million euros over the next few years plus a lot more in other types of aid - I suppose that is some compensation for saying nothing during most of the revolution. But Tunisians lost up to 8 billion dollars (20 percent of their GDP) because of their revolution, they estimate. That isn't easy to fix.

More personally, I am happy because I wrote my first Tunisia story today, finally, and a part of the second and will write a third on Saturday. Then comes the tricky part: I have so much amazing material and have to find the right magazine for it. I just am not willing to compromise about space on this anymore: You can't easily tell interesting and complicated stories in 900 words. But I will try.

Feb. 25

I wish Gadhafi would just step down now -- I can't seem to get to the Tunisia stories. Seriously, after writing these Libya stories for a week, I am even more nervous than I was about what Gadhafi will do to the protestors. Anyway, I guess we all are.

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-02-28-libya-gadhafi_N.htm

And more Libya

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-02-27-libya-zawiya_N.htm

I wasn't happy our quotes/color and other interesting stuff got cut out. Still, having the top story on the front page of a paper with a circulation of over a million was somewhat compensation :) Today, I finally get to start to write my first Tunisia story from this trip. Looking forward to it!

Feb. 24 (Jabeen)

I am leaving today and I am at war with myself. Every single instinct is telling me to stay: the journalist in me is saying, "Go east" and the practical voice (and the one that wants to write my Tunisian stories also) is demanding, "Go home."

The practical "me" won.

I suppose it was inevitable. I am not sure I would have survived another day. I look like a crazed person, living on too little sleep, almost no food and just the high of stimulating interviews and deadlines (and nicotine). I can report stories and write in this state but I am pretty certain I am no fun to be around.

Anyway, the trip was a blur. I was either Skyping at the airport or writing on the plane. I got home late evening, kissed my man and went back to work until we filed our story. But I have to say it is easier here: food and drink are around (because of Andy), and logistics issues aren't a problem. As I result, I filed earlier than deadline. And again, Thamer did a great job.

En route to Berlin, I was approached by a North American man who was more crazed than I, in Paris: He hadn't slept in three days. He is a fixer for hire for oil companies in crazy places (like Chad, Libya, Angola), one of those shady jobs you make a lot of money doing (that is my term, he had a much more sanitized description). He had the craziest story, pretty incoherent, one of sneaking across borders, stealing trucks, racing across deserts, being jailed. But he told me that Gadhafi has hired 30,000 mercenaries from Syria, the Balkans and even Israel at twice the going rate of 1,500 dollars a day. I don't have confirmation of that so I can't put that in my filed stories. But I believed him.

Sometimes you meet people you just want to discount because they seem like raving lunatics. But I have been a reporter for long time and I never just outright dismiss people - there is usually a kernel of truth. And this guy just had too many specific details among his ravings, a logical reason for knowing things, and multiple healed bones and bullet scars. It was pretty obvious, too, he was telling me things (with a lot of guided prompting from me) even though he didn't want to. Besides, in an odd way, he was charming and a bit of a renegade. I like that.

He basically said we (the press) don't know a tenth of the story and there isn't anyway we could. He also said he would introduce me into this world and tell me his story. I hope he does. I have a feeling it is dynamite. But maybe when he has slept, he will become sane and change his mind about talking to me - he said if I used his name, he would killed.

Well, I am home. I learned a tremendous amount, have had a more inspiring and stimulating experience than even I expected. Tunisia is a fascinating place and one I am going to write about for a long time to come. It isn't over, that I came to realize. It is only the beginning. Year Zero, as they call it, something challenging and inspiring, an ongoing story to tell.

More personally, I came back to myself a little through this experience: As much as I busy myself with editing instead of reporting, I realized again I like being around people, watching the action, hearing stories, and, in turn, being outraged, moved, surprised, captured, inspired and charmed. I always forgot how much sheer fun it is to be a reporter. It can be agonizing hours in front of a computer when you are inspired by a story and trying to find the words to convey that. It requires a lot of personal sacrifice (like food and sleep) when you do it away from home. But it can be an exhilarating and an expanding experience, too, like it was in Tunisia. I won't let myself forget that again.

Feb. 24 (More Libya coverage)

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-02-24-libya-revolt_N.htm

Feb. 23 (Jabeen)

After spending most of Tuesday giving myself a primer on Tunisian politics and meeting some incredibly insightful and thoughtful people, Wednesday was about the craziest reporting day I have had in a long time. It was pretty much back-to-back interviews for 11 hours on Tunisia while simultaneously trying to report on Libya. My translator, Thamer, was a good sport about it all, too even though we didn't eat a single morsel until late in the night.

I spoke with a prominent man in one of the Tunisian Islamist parties, Ennahdha, who had been jailed for 17 years because of his beliefs. I saw the protests in front of the government offices that are now also turning into anti-Gadhafi demonstrations using signs recycled from their own revolution: "Gadhafi degage" (get out) and "Halt au massacre" (Stop the massacre). I could have spent all day talking to the journalist that leads the journalists' union. And I got a real kick out of this mad-genius political science professor who was, I think, the wackiest academic I have ever interviewed. And it went on and on.

It occurred to me that I am pretty confused about the situation in Tunisia politically. But then so is everyone here, including those in the know. But what is incredibly fascinating is the step-by-step process of rebuilding every aspect of the political landscape. For example, regarding politics, political parties are multiplying faster than cockroaches. Already, there are more than 50 (no one is quite sure how many there are). Those that existed before Jan. 14 are expanding their outreach to voters at a dizzying rate such as popular PDP: they went from a handful of offices to over 200 around the country in a month.

Still, even the basic things have to be decided, and decided how to be decided. For example, no one is sure what system Tunisia will end up with: parliamentary, presidential or a mixture of the two. And no one knows how that is going to be decided yet either, by the interim government, the new one that is theoretically supposed to follow when the mandate expires next month, a new commission or something not even thought of yet: It is up in the air. Can you imagine that?

And beyond struggling to cope with reporting as much as I can about Tunisia, I am getting bombarded with Libya. Thamer got me some quotes on Tuesday night by calling people he knows and his brother's contacts (his brother lived in Libya for a while). But filing them was a bit of a trick as he ran out of minutes on his phone and his computer died. I panicked and freaked out. In the end, we got the stuff in, way past deadline, after I finally reached him and made him dictate the quotes to me and wrote them up in a fog: It was 2 a.m. and I wanted to pass out.

The next day was better. I left him in my hotel lobby with my computer (I wasn't taking chaces with his anymore) and he set about making calls and getting quotes and information. I wasn't really expecting much but we had to file for USA Today and we just had to get something.

Thamer doesn't have any experience at all. I plucked him from a call center (his job) because when I met him, he spoke great English and also, I just liked him right away. He is one of those Tunisian graduates we hear about these days, the ones with degrees and talent that remain underemployed or unemployed. Incidentally, he is from Sidi Bouzid (where the vendor set himself on fire).

Anyway, he got a few hours of Journalism 101 with me in between appointments but that still isn't much. When I returned from my appointment two hours later, I took a look at what he wrote up. I was astonished. First of all, it was a lot more than I expected. And then, it was great stuff! So I added in my reported, edited the entire thing and off it went.

I think what surprised me was that even though the English was rough (I expected that), the style and the content were great - from someone who isn't really trained to know what to look for, or how to write it up. I think I found a natural.

As for him, I think he was surprised by the experience, too. The next day when I called, he was extremely excited, and told me he was thinking of resigning his job if they wouldn't let him have time off to go to the border to report more.

I would say, someone else got bit by the bug.

Feb. 23 (Jabeen)

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2011-02-23-libya-unrest_N.htm

My Tunisian translator/fixer got his first byline ever (with me)! In the US' biggest newspaper no less.

Feb. 22 (Aida)

I am back in Morocco but my mind is still definitely in Tunisia. I had a very exciting past days and my trip overall was an incredible adventure. Not only have I gotten the chance to see the reality of the revolution but I also learned a lot about a people and a country that I have come to find extremely fascinating.

During my last days there, I visited the resort town of Hammamet located a dozen or so miles east of Tunis. I wanted to see the houses owned by the Ben Ali and Trabelsi families there - that are now closed and will probably be appropriated by the government. But I also got a chance to see a place deserted by tourists and evaluate the impact of the revolution on the lives of many people whose livelihoods depend on tourism. One more face of Tunisia after visiting the desolate cities in the center of the country.

I think the lesson we should learn from Tunisia is to never underestimate what daily humiliation, a lack of civil rights can do to a population. The revolution ignited in Tunisia and spread to the entire Arab world and now other African countries are following suit. Many are skeptical about what is next for Tunisia. I think that even if the country is going through chaos, it is all worth it. And I am very optimistic about the future of this country that finally liberated itself from a dictator who was depriving them from their basic rights and allowed corruption and theft to become the driving force of the country. A man told me, "Now I can look at the West in the eyes and be proud of who I am."

I think that is exactly what is felt by the entire nation. I am hoping to go back for the elections. And we will post our stories soon!

Feb. 21 (Jabeen)

Things are spiraling out of control. I have to make a decision whether to go back south to the border with Libya or even Libya as things are exploding there. I have had back-to-back interviews in Tunis the past few days, some of which have been incredibly interesting and very inspiring. I finally have three firm commitments for stories and endless more ideas.

I arrived in Jerba, the island of Ulysses, on Friday night. It felt like coming home. It is now the second time I am welcomed as the prodigal daughter. But then, I feel like that: the hotel staff even bought me dinner. I brought them presents (I know that isn't normal but I wanted to).

Still, as different as Jerba is from the rest of Tunisia, things aren't completely normal there either: I had to drive 90 minutes longer to use the causeway because the ferry is shut at night now: they want to control who is coming onto the island.

Saturday was an excise in tourist-hunting. I went looking for tourists to interview. I found four. I know there are more but still, not many. And people here, just as in all the other tourist resorts are hurting: It isn't just the hotel staff out of work. Electricians and construction workers, store owners and restaurant staff, everyone is effected by the lack of tourists. Yes, it is low season. But normally, things start picking up by February. Still, I was told, after visiting a few hotels, bookings are starting to come in.

And interestingly, during the revolution, some tourists wouldn't leave. They wanted to be in the middle of revolution. This one tourist told me how they disavowed the advice of the hotel staff and decided to brave a road trip into the south. The locals protected them, they said.

I also met with a man who is trying to help those struggling on Jerba, a few of those trying to survive and one man whose children made it to Italy. My contact, Mohammad, knew a few of those killed trying to go to Italy (they originated from Jerba). One trying to get to Italy was a philosophy professor. He would rather risk a 50 percent chance of making it to Italy than commit suicide like Mohammad Bourzizi, my contact said.

I also hung out with the young, trendy and apparently beloved police chief: He told me that he wouldn't immigrate to Italy (too much disorder). He would choose Germany. I found myself wondering why a police chief would want to be a refugee.

Sunday, I drove back to Tunis. It was long. But I had company in the form of my Jerban friend (who wouldn't let me go alone). Sometimes, you are just killed with kindness.

The past two days I have been interviewing like crazy. Aida's flight got randomly cancelled so she ended up staying Monday. I don't think she minded too much. We visited a newsroom and met a very interesting editor in chief who was replaced after a Ben Ali family member bought the paper (and put in a tennis court and soccer field for his recreation). The editor is back and the paper is reporting real news again. The owner is in jail.

We also met a military academy professor. He was really interesting in that he is a civilian but works closely with soldiers. He talked about the history of the military here and it made sense, why they wouldn't fire on protesters. Unlike the militaries in many countries such as Turkey, Pakistan or Burma, they were, from the beginning, kept out of politics. It was a decision by the first Tunisian leader after independence, Bourghiba, to make sure they stayed a professional army. And as this professor said, the riches are lacking in Tunisia unlike Egypt: There is nothing they want.

I am signing off now. I am sad the road trip is over. But I am really enjoying these interviews. I am not enjoying not eating or sleeping but I am used to it now. Aida joked that she will never eat bread again (we live off sandwiches we bring to our room or eat in between interviews). But then, Tunisians call their revolution, the "Bread, water and freedom" revolt. So you could say we live off bread in honor of what they did.

Feb. 18 (Jabeen)

As fond as I am growing of Tunis (it is starting to feel like home even if I haven't had time to see much of it), I am always happy to hit the road. I like driving on small back roads through small towns and the countryside. I particularly like it in Tunisia.

We left Tunis and headed to Sidi Bouzid as Aida mentioned. When our appointment with the cousin of Mohammad Bouazizi (the man who set himself on fire and sparked the revolution) fell through because of a nutty misunderstanding, I didn't sweat it: This is Tunisia and things work on an informal basis.

Sure enough, we approached three men sitting next to the monument that has turned into a shrine for those killed here in this town. Those three men turned into 30 very quickly. I wasn't surprised. Because if I have learned one thing about this country, it is that it is a nation of talkers. And revolution-fever has infected everyone: No one can stop talking about it.

Forget the fact that Mohammad Bouzizis's face and name are plastered everywhere: on posters on walls, on graffiti lining barricades and gates, even on cars: I saw one professional stenciling on a windshield that read in Arabic: "God is great, and so is Mohammad Bouazizi. My Tunisian friend even joked that every baby born this year will be named after him. (There are already babies apparently being named Facebook in Egypt).

Well, as the saying goes, one small ripple can cause a tidal wave. Looking at the situation in Egypt, Libya, Jordan, Bahrain, Algeria, Yemen, Morocco and even tiny hapless Djibouti, I guess that is true. This small place became the little country that could and by doing so, inspired others.

I asked Mohammad Bouzizi's mother what she wanted to say to those remembering her son: "Keep the revolution," she answered without hesitating. I suppose in that way, she keeps her grief at bay a little: Her son's death means something, she said. It really does. To millions of people. Around the world.

Her son's self-immolation led to people opening their arms to bullets because they didn't care anymore. After being here a week, I understand why: The buzzword is dignity. People had enough, not of paying bribes or watching others (ie The Family) take and take and take, but being humiliated. You can't educate population and then keep them small forever.

People have breaking points and we got an earful about that: Not graduating because you oppose the government; having your apartment taken away from you because you won't join the party and the apparatus pressures your landlord; not being given a voting card when you ask for one; being beaten up in court for trying to protest a decision, or arrested for writing what you want. And paying, and paying and paying, bribe after bribe, for everything from being born to dying.

You ask anyone and they have story - and a lot of fury. Mothers and grandmothers who were worried about their offsprings' lives ended up supporting the revolution: They don't want their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to live this way.

When I was here in December, I didn't know. People told me a little about Ben Ali and how terrible he was in a vague way. And they spoke sometimes about the situation for the young, the lack of opportunities. Now, those very same people apologize to me for not telling me anything and don't stop now. We were cowed, they say.

Everywhere on the streets, you hear a flurry of Arabic and make out "Ben Ali" and "Leila" (his wife). No one wants to talk about anything else. Driving in my car, it was hard to find music: My driving companion, Lassad, said, "Yes, our radio is full of talk now, discussion, what you couldn't find before."

There is a price for their liberty and Tunisians are paying it now: people out of work, protests in the capital, civic systems ground to a halt and a lot of uncertainty about the future. Most blame the security problems and crime on the former supporters of the president who they say are trying to cause trouble. As I was driving from one trouble spot, Kasserine to another, Gafsa, I got a taste: Some people decided to block the main highway with cars, mopeds, boulders and tires set on fire. A group of men surrounded the barricade. After asking a few men about it, I was told, "Ben Ali people."

It didn't seem violent but I mostly stayed in my car because after speaking with a few people, it seemed like a good idea not to be too conspicuous. I guess I was anyway. About 45 minutes into it, a man came over and told me the military was on their way. Then a group of men came over and motioned to me to drive forward, argued with one of the men at the barricade until he moved big stones and his moped. "Sorry," they said as they directed me through. Then they closed it off again.

I am still reeling from the fact that they apologized to me.

Feb. 17 (Aida)

The past few days have made for an extremely interesting journey. We left Tunis to head to Sidi Bouzid located in the center of the country - the town where the protests started. I thought the place had a very strange feel. I can't exactly say why I felt that way but I could completely understand why its population exploded - it seemed so desolate. On its main avenue, by the governmental offices, there is a memorial for the "martyrs" of the revolution, including a photo of Mohamed Bouazizi, the street vendor who set himself on fire in December - and started the revolution. All over town, there was revolutionary graffiti. The one that stayed with me was, "We win or we die."

We got the chance to talk to many young people who participated in the demonstrations and got the honor of going to Bouazizi's home and meeting his mother - a very strong and humbling woman. I think it was the most intense moment of the trip so far. It was really amazing to meet with this woman whose son means so much now to contemporary history.

After spending the night in a gigantic hotel deserted by tourists in Sbeitla, we headed to Kasserine, another town where violent protests happened. We met a really interesting man and his father - both lawyers. The latter, who has studied in the 1970's in Iraq, is part of a political party that was secret during the Ben Ali years and that is also affiliated with Saddam Hussein's party. In his office, he has a huge poster of Saddam and dozens of small ones of him - it was a pretty interesting scene.

Tomorrow, I am planning to go to the resort town Hammamet, the scene of much violence during the revolution, to check out what's going on there these days. If there is anything you want to ask us about or learn more about, please let us know!

Feb. 16 (Jabeen)

It is hard to be pulled in so many directions. I don't I have ever been on a story where I constantly think, there is just so much to know. Every time we meet anyone, I immediately want to spend another day with them. Today, for example, we met a man who has been in the government, the private sector, has conducted policy research and is now involved in reconciliation planning. He is also related to Ben Ali. What he had to say about the revolution, doing business in Tunisia, stories about The Family and his own endeavors is the stuff of books (you will read about it in our articles).

And every person leads to another we want to spend time with.

Meanwhile, on the streets, protests continue. It is becoming so commonplace for us, too, and we hardly take notice anymore (until the locals do and put barriers up in front of their cafes). People also approach constantly, to chat, practice English, have a coffee. It's wonderful. Tunisians really make it easy.

We met a journalist yesterday that was full of fire and passion. What she told us about working at a newspaper year (for five years) and how it changed was inspiring. "We flipped overnight," she said. "Now can provide real information. And we are learning how to be critical."

If I have learned anything in the past two days, it is how the system of old infiltrated everything, and everything ordinary. Students don't graduate if they don't support the regime. People don't get jobs if they aren't connected to the right people. Men can't marry the women they love because they can't earn enough. And bribes, bribes, bribes - for everything from a birth certificate to a drivers license to a death certificate.

One of the most moving things I heard today was from a woman who is half-Tunisian, half-Egyptian. "When Ben Ali fell, I felt this half of myself was free," she said, gesturing to the left side of her body. "Then Egypt happened. All of me is free."

Feb. 15 (Aida)

Landing in Tunis Tuesday morning, I was immediately engulfed in post-revolution euphoria: "Allah Akabar (God is great)," a man started yelling. "I am finally returning to my home after 20 years."

I was charmed right away by Tunis and Tunisians. The city of Tunis is lovely, the colonial architecture reminds me of Buenos Aires. Unlike in Casablanca, where I live, these old buildings are well-kept, renovated, and clean. And even though sanitation workers are on strike, walking around town, we saw young volunteers cleaning the streets.

At first, aside from the military trucks and tanks stationed across the street from our hotel, I couldn't really sense that the population had recently undergone so much unrest and so many important changes. But quickly, that impression changed: people are still constantly demonstrating. We found ourselves in the middle of crowds of demonstrators protesting anything and everything: the new government, unemployment, taxes, salaries, the lack of tourists, the EU, and so on.

One Tunisian man told me: "Now people are allowed to talk and everyone is getting out what they have been scared to say for more than 20 years."

Last night, as we were walking to find a restaurant, we saw groups of men shouting and running toward each other. We rushed away because it was clear this was becoming violent. We were told that Ben Ali's supporters and others left out of the interim government are still trying to sow chaos in order to regain control of the country. If that is true, it is working - but only a little bit.

Feb. 14 (Jabeen)

I am in Tunis now. It is an inviting city with lovely architecture and a lively spirit - that is obvious immediately. On the surface, everything seems normal: cafes are packed; people are shopping in crowded stories, chatting, smiling, going about their business. It isn't so obvious at first, what happened here a month ago.

Still, there are tanks on the median of the main strip, and soldiers are everywhere. About 100 young people sang and danced celebrating the month anniversary of their revolution, some draped in flags. Others are striking in front of the five-star Africa Hotel holding signs protesting a lack of work because the hotel is closed due to a lack of tourists (the owner apparently was a crony of the deposed president and has been picked up by police for questioning). Stores close earlier than they were supposed to - I was told that was out of safety and so staff could make it home as public transportation is still disrupted. It was practically deserted in downtown Tunis by 10 p.m. when I decided to venture out for a late sandwich (the man at reception was adamant that I don't go far). I saw why by scattered fights in the street resembling after-hours brawls. By midnight, it was positively eerie: There are no cars on the main strip at all, just a wide lonely boulevard with a few soldiers milling around. That's life under a curfew, a post-revolution reality.

Apparently the police are on strike (I will check this out further tomorrow). They are concerned that they will get hurt by people still resentful of their role trying to put down the demonstrations last month. What I was told was that they want to don the uniforms of the military (beloved here for not clamping down on protestors) so they won't be singled out. But average Tunisians want them back now: "We need them," one Tunis resident told me. "No matter what they did. Someone has to police the city against thieves and others taking advantage of the situation."

I think the encapsulating moment was when a Tunis man described the current situation to me: "Liberty and democracy - we are learning about them now," he said. "It will take time. But we will."

And then there was The Taste: an odd pizza with tuna, olives and thyme, rounded out by harissa (the spicy red pepper paste on everything). You can't say no when they ask you in that hopeful manner whether you want it (harissa). They want you to say yes. Because then, you can taste Tunisia.

Feb. 13 (Jabeen)

It's been a crazy week, getting the Kickstarter profile together, getting the word out about it, trying to report our current stories and work on our Tunisian coverage simultaneously while getting outlets to pick the articles up. Packing was an afterthought, as was a hotel reservation. No matter - I leave for Tunis tomorrow morning from Berlin. Aida joins me on Tuesday morning from Morocco. Somehow, it will all work out.

In the meantime, we want to thank you for your support. When the first pledge came, we couldn't believe it. Every time we get notified of a new one, we get a thrill: We feel that while the money is crucial, the moral support actually matters more. It is thrilling to know that you are behind us in what we are trying to do.

To update you, we have a few firm commitments for our stories between us (we'll keep you informed), a few maybes and a lot of Nos for various reasons. Our list of story ideas grows daily as we continue to reach out to our contacts, setting up appointments.

We are nervous, we are excited.

It was a real high watching Egyptians celebrate on Friday. No matter what difficulties lie ahead, that was their moment.

Now to go back to where the spark ignited...