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Last February, as the sound of automatic weapons erupted in the early hours before dawn, Amina Museni hurriedly packed a bag while her husband, Joseph, shook their three children awake. They were joining a group of neighbors fleeing their hamlet as the front line between the Congolese army and rebels of the March 23 Movement, or M23, crept closer. For days afterward, they walked across the hilly landscape of Masisi, in eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, before reaching one of the camps that have sprung up around Goma, the capital of North Kivu province. There, they pitched their tent, a young family of five among more than a million people displaced by the resurgence of a conflict that has ravaged Congo for nearly three decades.

When Foreign Policy visited the camp last July, Museni sat amid an undulating sea of white tarpaulins stretched over eucalyptus sticks. “When I was little, I lived in a tent with my parents,” Museni said, her youngest child, Nestor, cradled into her neck. “Now my children have to endure the same. It feels like a curse.”

Why Congo has been in a perennial state of upheaval since the mid-1990s has been the subject of much debate, but no other narrative has cut through as much as that of so-called conflict minerals. In the 2000s, the link between markets’ demand for minerals and the war in Congo helped bring attention to the conflict in an unprecedented way. Western organizations such as the Enough Project and Global Witness mobilized around the seductive proposition that the solution to one of the world’s deadliest conflicts was within the grasp of consumers and policymakers, triggering a series of laws and regulations beginning with, in the United States in 2010, Section 1502 of the Dodd-Frank Act. The logic behind the legislation was simple. “Armed groups finance themselves through the exploitation of cassiterite, gold, coltan,” Fidel Bafilemba, a Congolese researcher who used to work for the Enough Project, told me at the time. “By stopping the export of these conflict minerals, we dry up their resources and lessen the violence.”

Section 1502 required companies to conduct due diligence checks on their supply chain to disclose their use of minerals originating from Congo and neighboring countries and to determine whether those minerals may have benefited armed groups. The legislation didn’t outright ban the sourcing of minerals from mines contributing to conflict financing but instead intended “this transparency and its attendant reputational risk” to pressure companies to stop buying them voluntarily, according to Toby Whitney, one of the authors of Section 1502.

What followed is an important lesson for a world rushing to secure critical minerals for the energy transition. Western advocacy led to policies focused on derisking supply chains and virtue signaling to consumers, rather than improving artisanal miners’ living conditions or addressing the conflict’s root causes. That narrative continues today: An Apple store in Berlin was vandalized last week by Fridays for Future activists accusing the tech giant of sourcing so-called conflict minerals from Congo.

ITSCI, the region’s leading private traceability scheme, is facing criticism about the validity of its work—and that it has not improved the lives of artisanal miners in the region. ITSCI stresses its limited mandate and that it is working as intended. But in a cruel twist, the cost of the due diligence program has been shouldered by Congolese miners themselves, effectively asking the world’s poorest workers to pay for the right to sell their own resources to Western companies.

This week, industry leaders and activists gathering at the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) in Paris for the annual Forum on Responsible Mineral Supply Chains will need to reassess their approach. “We welcomed Dodd-Frank,” said Alexis Muhima, a Congolese researcher, during a meeting in a cramped office in Goma. “But what it did is outsource complex issues to the private sector, and we’ve been paying for it ever since.”

“The Americans didn’t think this through.”

There was a time in the 1970s when the quarries of Nyabibwe, a mining town in South Kivu province, were run with enough capital to employ 500 workers and to invest in semi-industrial machinery. Every month, the French company in charge shipped 20 metric tons of cassiterite ore—a component of tin—back to Europe for cans, wires, and solder. Safari Kulimuchi was a worker at the mines, starting at age 17, who quickly rose through the ranks to become a manager. “It was an exciting time. … Things seemed to be working out,” Kulimuchi recalled to Foreign Policy over dinner in Nyabibwe. But, he said, “it didn’t last.”

In the years that followed, Kulimuchi witnessed the economic unraveling of Congo (then Zaire), rotten under decades of rule by dictator Mobutu Sese Seko, who presided over the country from 1965 to 1997. Amid a global economic downturn in the mid-1980s, the French company departed, abandoning its workers to fend for themselves. “Overnight, we had no wages, no tools, no structure,” Kulimuchi said. “We used to have a stone crusher. Now we had to crush rocks with a hammer.”

Nyabibwe was far from an exception. Across the country, as investment dried up and the state abdicated its responsibilities, people resorted to making ends meet any way they could. An informal economy based on débrouillardise, or resourcefulness, sprouted in the ruins of Mobutu’s derelict regime. That informal economy is estimated to account for more than 80 percent of Congolese economic activity today. Nyabibwe grew into a town as people came from far and wide to work in the mines. They replaced the industrial machinery with picks and shovels, a low-capital, labor-intensive extraction called artisanal mining, as opposed to industrial mining. “Artisanal mining is the heart of our economy. It’s the reason Nyabibwe became this big center,” Kulimuchi said. The World Bank estimated in 2008 that up to 16 percent of the Congolese population depended on the sector. “For us, it’s a lifeline,” Kulimuchi added.

Mobutu was finally ousted in 1997 by a coalition helmed by the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), a rebel army led by Paul Kagame. Kagame had just seized power in Rwanda in the aftermath of the genocide there and was intent on chasing after Hutus responsible for the massacres, many of whom had crossed into Zaire. What became the First Congo War brought Laurent-Désiré Kabila, a Congolese rebel, to power.

Kabila’s allies in the RPF quickly turned into foes when they refused to relinquish control over an area where instability threatened their security and interests. The Second Congo War began in 1998 with the creation of the RCD, a Tutsi-led, Rwandan-backed armed group that quickly gained control of a large swath of eastern Congo. The rebels began shipping cargo loads of coltan and cassiterite ores out of mines such as Nyabibwe’s into Rwanda just as the price of coltan, a key component of capacitors used in mobile phones and most electronic devices, soared with the demand for electronic goods at the turn of the century. A 2001 United Nations report estimated that Rwanda made at least $250 million during a temporary spike in prices in late 1999 and 2000. A popular formulation in Western campaigns at the time linked the violence in Congo to “blood phones.”

Many experts have criticized the advocacy of the 2000s for sometimes going so far as to suggest that conflict minerals were the root cause of the violence, painting armed actors as merely bloodthirsty, greedy militias—instead of considering real, historical grievances. The Enough Project campaigns, leaning hard on celebrities such as Robin Wright and Ryan Gosling to spread the group’s message, obfuscated the nuances of the conflict and the vital place of artisanal mining in the local economy. “The ‘conflict minerals’ label was problematic,” said Sophia Pickles, a former Global Witness campaigner and U.N. investigator. “This isn’t just about Congo—it’s a global issue.”

The campaigns succeeded in putting the issue on U.S. legislators’ agenda, but Section 1502 of the Dodd-Frank Act was both too specific—singling out the so-called 3T minerals (tin for cassiterite, tantalum for coltan, and tungsten) in eastern Congo—and extremely vague on execution. It deferred the drafting of rules to the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC), leaving companies with no clear guidelines to report on their supply chain.

The law created a panicked scramble in the industry, said William Millman, a former technical director at Kyocera AVX, a leading manufacturer of electronic components and major coltan buyer. “Everybody was ignorant about the specifics. We just relied on our smelters.” Unlike an oil company directly operating its wells or a sneaker company outsourcing production to a sweatshop in Asia, electronics companies have virtually no way of knowing where the minerals in their products come from upstream of the smelters or refiners that have turned them into smooth metal—unless the smelters themselves know. “I visited all my suppliers to gather information. They knew very little because it was all largely bought on the spot market with international brokers,” Millman said. As a result of Section 1502, companies liable to fall under the SEC rule demanded that their suppliers simply stop buying from eastern Congo.

The result? A de facto embargo dropped like a bomb on the mining communities of North and South Kivu, just as the region was emerging from its latest cycle of violence. Nyabibwe had navigated two major wars mostly unscathed, but when I visited in June 2012, the town was in the midst of an existential crisis. Businesses dependent on the cash flow generated by the mines were closing down one by one, unable to sell stockpiles of rubber boots and shovels, blacksmithing services, or simply food. Tellingly, the local nightclub had shut its doors. More concerning were thousands of families’ insufficient funds to access health care, forcing women to give birth at home. One study found that the boycott increased the probability of infant mortality in affected mining communities by at least 143 percent.

Kulimuchi, who was then 54, was still managing a small team of undeterred miners. “The Americans didn’t think this through,” he said. His team had three metric tons of ore stored in a warehouse in Bukavu, South Kivu’s capital, waiting to be bought and shipped. “School is about to start again. Where are we going to find the money to send our children?”

Though U.S. lawmakers had struck out on their own with Section 1502, industrywide talks to create guidelines for the responsible sourcing of minerals in high-risk areas globally were already underway at the OECD. The OECD guidelines, adopted later in 2010, ended up becoming the foundation for the SEC rules, released in 2012. “The choke point in the supply chain is the smelters—everything has to go through them, and there aren’t many smelters in the world,” Millman said. “The OECD came up with a standardized protocol to audit and certify the smelters on an annual basis to know that they have control and knowledge of their supply chain.”

According to Millman, a handful of downstream companies seemed genuinely interested in doing things right and getting involved at the mine level. In 2011, together with Motorola and the Washington-based NGO Resolve, what was then AVX launched Solutions for Hope, a pilot project in Congo’s Katanga (now Tanganyika) province, where there was no conflict. They created a closed-pipe supply chain, sourcing from artisanal mines through a company that sold directly to a Chinese smelter and then onward to AVX, which manufactured components for Motorola and Hewlett-Packard.

Solutions for Hope also decided to hire the services of ITSCI. Its “bag and tag” traceability scheme set up by the International Tin Association (ITA) promised to trace minerals from the mine and guarantee their origin to buyers through a paper trail associated with sealed tags affixed on bags. According to Millman, Solutions for Hope was successful largely because its integrated supply chain bypassed traders and brought end-user companies closer to the miners. Replicating it would take time and effort. But, Millman said, “what other companies who had sat back saw was that, suddenly, with ITSCI there was a way for their CEOs and CFOs to sign off on their SEC statements. … And so everyone piled in, and it became the easy option.” ITSCI’s first project in eastern Congo was implemented in October 2012 in Nyabibwe.

“Do you think these people stopped working?”

Ten years on from when we first met, Kulimuchi came down from the mountainside where he had been working with his son on a sunny day last July, his broad smile still intact. The mining site hadn’t changed much either. Around us, men wearing flip-flops were using the same basic tools to split the earth open, with no protective equipment.

Initially, Kulimuchi recalled, the artisanal miners had been relieved when a large delegation showed up to officially launch the traceability scheme. “It meant we could finally start selling again. All my financial worries would be a thing of the past,” Kulimuchi said he thought at the time.

Instead, an elaborate public-private bureaucracy emerged, driven in part by regional governments intent on bringing the artisanal mining sector under control but quickly superimposed by foreign private sector initiatives like ITSCI, responding to market demand for paperwork required by end-user companies to file their reports to the SEC.

“We started selling again, but it’s a cacophony. There is a ton of admin, taxes after taxes, and prices have gone down. We have been weakened by all this,” Kulimuchi said.

As the de facto embargo on eastern Congo’s minerals lifted, by 2012 thousands of small sites across the region found themselves effectively outlawed by a new mine site validation process. To be able to sell, Congolese mining sites must now be inspected by a delegation of government representatives, NGOs, and U.N. agencies. At sites given the go-ahead from that audit, the Congolese artisanal mining agency carries out its own checks while also tagging and recording the minerals in logbooks for ITSCI. There are other records kept by the provincial government’s Mining Division and a regional body. Many sites are still waiting for an audit. For those that don’t conform, the consequences are devastating: “You are destroying the livelihood of hundreds or thousands of people,” said Maxie Muwonge, who was a program manager for the International Organization for Migration between 2013 and 2018 when it was tasked with coordinating the validation process. “This excludes entire communities. What are they meant to do? Do you think these people stopped working?”

In fact, even under the de facto embargo, the minerals trade never really stopped. It just went further underground. Rwanda’s export statistics, which experts say don’t match its reserves, suggest that smuggling to neighboring countries spiked during the period. While the volume of trafficked minerals has fallen with the reopening of the legal market in eastern Congo, smuggling is still an issue, not least because of the market distortion caused by heavy regulation and taxation in Congo of small businesses. “Many collapsed because they couldn’t meet the requirements, and the investment in the sector decreased. It broke down artisanal miners even further,” Muwonge said.

Joyeux Mumpenzi followed in his mother’s footsteps when he decided to become a négociant, an intermediary who buys minerals from the creuseurs, or diggers, and transports them to export companies in large cities—a reflection of the highly organized division of labor in the artisanal sector. “To begin with, we have no say regarding the going price—the London Metal Exchange sets it, and it fluctuates constantly,” he said. “Then there are all the taxes, and finally, the export company retains a penalty on my payment for ITSCI.”

Today, 99 percent of ITSCI’s revenue comes from the levies it collects from upstream actors based on the volumes of minerals tagged and exported, ITSCI program manager Mickaël Daudin said in an interview. The organization says artisanal miners are not supposed to pay for the scheme. But the cost, or at least a percentage of it, is passed down the supply chain to the négociants and ultimately to the miners. “I have no choice” in doing so, Mumpenzi said. “I end up earning little more than they do, and I take huge financial risks.” The 33-year-old trader says he earns about $300 a month, while an artisanal miner’s household makes $200 on average.

ITSCI, which operates in both Congo and Rwanda, applies differentiated levies to businesses in the two countries. Daudin said that’s because “the cost of implementation … remains much higher” in Congo than in Rwanda but declined to disclose the levies’ rates; a Congolese government official called it a “conflict tax.” The rate discrepancy effectively encourages trafficking to Rwanda for Congolese mining operators keen to increase their margins.

A report published in 2022 by Global Witness cited “[s]ome industry sources” alleging that ITSCI was in fact set up to facilitate the laundering of Congolese minerals smuggled into Rwanda. Foreign Policy hasn’t been able to confirm the claim, but the tagging system that ITSCI created does offer the perfect cover for smuggling, in Rwanda or Congo. The integrity of the scheme relies entirely on the integrity of the people implementing it; the tags themselves offer no guarantee. In a statement released in response to the report, ITSCI wrote that it “strongly rejects all Global Witness’ stated or implied allegations of wrongdoing, facilitating deliberate misuse of ITSCI systems or illegal activity.” If ITSCI had aimed to maximize smuggling into Rwanda as alleged, a spokesperson wrote to Foreign Policy in an email, “ITSCI would not have launched in Katanga in 2011 nor in any other adjoining locations at other times. During 15 years of implementation, ITSCI has continued to expand the programme in [Congo], now supporting more than 1,500 sites across 8 Provinces.”

The Global Witness report also documented how the system can be breached without ITSCI’s cooperation. For starters, the tagging is not performed by ITSCI but by Congolese government agents who earn less than the miners themselves and sometimes go for months without pay at all. From bribing agents to trading in tags, the number of ways to circumvent the system is almost limitless—as Mumpenzi demonstrated to Foreign Policy. The négociant stood up from the sofa in his living room and walked to a corner where sturdy white plastic bags had been stacked. “See the tags? The bags were sealed by an agent before I picked them up yesterday,” he said. “The mineral sand now has to be washed, so when I’ll bring the bags to the washing station, the tags will be removed. When minerals are washed, the weight goes down, so this is a perfect time to smuggle in minerals before a new tag goes on. As long as the bag weighs less than it did initially, no one will say anything.”

ITSCI doesn’t rebuke such allegations categorically. The organization says it was aware of many of the incidents documented by Global Witness and had already addressed them. “The program isn’t perfect. There are issues, and there always will be,” Daudin told Foreign Policy. “But from my point of view, it wasn’t better before.”

Kulimuchi and other artisanal miners might beg to differ. Rather than improving their living conditions, the “increasing regulation of the artisanal mining sector and responsible sourcing efforts, have rather had a negative overall effect on the socio-economic position of artisanal miners,” analysts at the International Peace Information Service (IPIS), a leading minerals research institute, wrote in 2019. Guillaume de Brier, a researcher at IPIS, told me that “working in an ITSCI or a non-ITSCI site doesn’t change anything. Conditions are dismal in both cases. There’s no difference in terms of child labor, and miners don’t earn more.”

When asked by Foreign Policy about this criticism, an ITSCI spokesperson stressed the organization’s limited mandate as a traceability and due diligence not-for-profit initiative. “It does not function as a certification mechanism,” the spokesperson wrote, and the organization’s focus “does not extend to working conditions.”

However, evidence suggests that responsible sourcing efforts have failed to shift conflict dynamics. A 2022 report by the U.S. Government Accountability Office (GAO), part of its mandate to evaluate the impact of Section 1502, was titled “Conflict Minerals: Overall Peace and Security in Eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo Has Not Improved Since 2014.” Violence has instead risen, remaining “relatively constant from 2014 through 2016 but steadily [increasing] from 2017 through 2021,” GAO wrote.

Arguably, some measure of progress has been achieved at the 3T mining sites targeted by Dodd-Frank, where the presence of armed groups has decreased. But while ITSCI claims to have played a role, de Brier says the scheme merely implanted in sites where the situation was already better. Overall, this demilitarization has largely been the result of Congolese policies and the evolution of conflict dynamics themselves: The defeat of the M23 rebellion in 2013 (the armed group changed names multiple times as it successively integrated into and rebelled against the national army) led to the dismantling of one of the country’s most predatory mafia networks. Today, for instance, Bisie, once an iconic mining site under the control of Bosco “The Terminator” Ntaganda, is operated by the Canadian company Alphamin. (Ntaganda is serving a 30-year prison sentence in Belgium following his conviction by the International Criminal Court for war crimes and crimes against humanity.)

Now though, with the resurgence of the M23 rebellion since November 2021—which has displaced Museni, her family, and more than 2.5 million others—even that small measure of progress is under threat.

“This is how the armed groups are paid.”

Belgian colonial administration profoundly altered the Congolese relationship with the land, introducing private ownership and displacing people for commercial exploitation. Since independence, who has the right to own land—and by extension its resources—has remained an unresolved existential question. “The main resource driving conflict isn’t coltan,” said Onesphore Sematumba, an analyst at the International Crisis Group. “It is the land. It’s material ownership, of course, but also who has a legitimate right to be here.”

In the borderlands of eastern Congo, these questions have been exacerbated by intertwined histories with neighboring countries. Hutus and Tutsis, who arrived from Rwanda in successive waves throughout the 20th century—first brought by Belgian colonialists to work on plantations in the territories of Rutshuru and Masisi—have struggled to find acceptance and secure land rights. Rwanda, meanwhile, a small, densely populated country with little resources of its own, largely depends on economic ties and access to Congo’s resources. These two dynamics have helped create the vicious circle of the last three decades. Backed by Rwanda, the RCD rebellion and its successors claiming to fight for Tutsis’ rights have helped entrench tensions along ethnic lines while facilitating land grab by a small elite.

“Indigenous communities in Masisi were dispossessed of their land during the war,” said Janvier Murairi, a Congolese researcher. “Today’s farm and mine owners are people who had links to the RCD. Everything from Mushaki to Masisi town belongs to hardly more than 10 people.”

One such owner was Edouard Mwangachuchu, an aspiring Tutsi politician and a member of the RCD’s political branch, who was awarded a concession covering seven mines in Rubaya by the rebel administration in 2001. Two years later, the Sun City Agreement, a peace deal negotiated between rebel factions with little regard for social justice or community grievances, endorsed Mwangachuchu’s ownership over the mining sites as a prize of war for the RCD, granting his company, MHI (now SMB), control over what have become the most productive sites at Congo’s largest coltan mine. Today, Rubaya accounts for about 15 percent of global coltan production.

Rubaya is emblematic of the way ITSCI, and more broadly due diligence as it is practiced today, treats “conflictual issues, such as concessions and land ownership, … as a black box,” Christoph N. Vogel writes in his 2022 book, Conflict Minerals Inc., turning a blind eye to political issues around social justice and equity, even as those are drivers of the violence it means to help prevent.

In Rubaya, Mwangachuchu’s plan to turn the quarries into an industrial mine spurred a backlash from local communities. “The artisanal miners didn’t accept that this family [the Mwangachuchus] who had come into the possession of the mines through the conflict could take away their livelihood,” Murairi said. The government mediated a deal: The miners were allowed to continue mining SMB sites but had to sell exclusively to the company.

ITSCI began operating in Rubaya in 2014, tagging minerals from both SMB and peripheral sites belonging to a state-owned mining company, SAKIMA. But the situation unraveled as the scheme was embroiled in a tit-for-tat commercial war in the years that followed.

Suspecting that ITSCI’s tags were being used to launder the sale of its minerals to a rival trading company, SMB eventually turned to ITSCI’s main competitor in the tag-and-bag business, Better Mining. The move should have represented a major financial blow to ITSCI, the loss of roughly half its revenues for Congo. Instead, as production at the SAKIMA sites kept growing while SMB’s dwindled, ITSCI’s business was preserved. According to an internal U.N. report provided to Foreign Policy, “Only about seventeen percent of the production that officially originates from the SAKIMA concession has in fact been mined there.” The report noted that “[s]uch discrepancy between official data and reality is only conceivable if a structured mechanism of fraud is established.”

Daudin, the ITSCI program manager, responded that ITSCI is “confident about its data.” He argued that the production increase was due to the higher level of investment going to SAKIMA sites when local miners turned away from SMB.

The M23’s resurgence dealt the last blow to Mwangachuchu, who was arrested in March 2023 and charged with treason after weapons were allegedly found on the grounds of his company’s facilities in Rubaya. According to the prosecutor, Mwangachuchu intended to support the M23 rebellion. The government has since revoked SMB’s mining permits. Few people in North Kivu will feel sorry for Mwangachuchu, “but one of the protagonists was pushed out in favor of the other, and that never works,” said Achile Kitsa, a former private secretary to the provincial mines minister.

The Congolese army took full control of Rubaya last spring, leaving the former SMB concession at the mercy of local armed groups it used as proxies on the front line against the M23. “This is how the armed groups are paid,” said a Congolese researcher who spoke on condition of anonymity. ITSCI resumed its operations in June, tagging minerals from the SAKIMA perimeter up until November, when the road was cut off by the fighting, according to Daudin. “We relaunched our activities after evaluating each site with the government services,” he said in July. “There are no nonstate armed groups in our sites.”

In a December report, the U.N. Group of Experts on Congo contradicted Daudin, establishing that between June and November, the “production from [the former SMB] sites was either smuggled to Rwanda or laundered into the official supply chain using [ITSCI] tags for minerals produced in [the SAKIMA concession], where mining activities were still authorized.”

“ITSCI recognizes that there have been, and remain, ongoing risks regarding fraud and presence of both non-state and state armed groups in the area of Masisi territory, North Kivu,” the ITSCI spokesperson wrote. “These risks are regularly reported through ITSCI’s OECD-aligned systems.”

Muhima, the Congolese researcher, sees the possibility of tainted minerals in the ITSCI supply chain as inevitable, given its built-in conflict of interest. “Their income depends on the volume they export. They cannot stop tagging minerals, or their business will collapse.”

“We don’t need another scheme.”

Congolese activists were not pleased with the Global Witness report exposing the shortcomings of ITSCI when it was published in 2022. They felt that the research mostly rehashed criticisms and evidence that they had presented for many years without being listened to and that the report failed to draw the necessary conclusions, ending with tepid recommendations to reform ITSCI or consider options to replace it with another independent scheme. “We don’t need another scheme,” Murairi said. “We don’t need more foreigners who think Congolese can’t do anything.”

Global Witness’s cautiousness should perhaps not come as a surprise. The activist organization played no small part in paving the way for today’s conundrum, and the risk of triggering another de facto embargo on Congolese minerals hangs heavy. “We’ve learnt some very difficult lessons, and as an activist, I’m not the one who bore the consequences of bad policymaking,” said Pickles, the former Global Witness campaigner.

When I pressed Daudin last July about ITSCI’s resumption of its activities in Rubaya, even as armed groups were swarming the mining area, he dodged: “If we don’t start tagging again, mining communities will be the first ones to suffer from not being able to carry on their activities.”

ITSCI suffered a major setback in October 2022, when the Responsible Minerals Initiative (RMI), a member association of more than 400 of the world’s largest corporations, announced that it was taking the scheme off its list of recognized upstream due diligence mechanisms. ITSCI had failed to submit an independent assessment of its alignment with the OECD guidelines in time. When the organization eventually released an independent audit in June 2023, it failed to assess ITSCI’s activities in Congo, focusing solely on coltan production in Rwanda. The RMI has offered to pay for three site visits in Congo, including in Rubaya, but ITSCI has so far not agreed. (“Site visits outside alignment assessments are not explicitly required,” said the ITSCI spokesperson, who noted the terms of such a visit are nonetheless under negotiation with RMI.)

“They are holding everyone hostage,” an industry insider close to the RMI process told Foreign Policy. “There is so much pressure on the RMI to capitulate and say we need this system. But this isn’t a technical issue.” To many experts and industry insiders, the resurgence of the M23 conflict has at least had the benefit of clarifying the situation. “The system cannot withstand what it was built for. It can’t withstand the conflict. We are back to square one.”

Breaking ITSCI’s quasi-monopoly is often presented as the solution in minerals circles, but SMB’s switch to Better Mining solved none of the problems in Rubaya and only created more confusion. Better Mining’s for-profit business model and its reliance on technology make it hard to scale and mean it is explicitly designed for larger companies with capital, not artisanal miners. “The problem with all these initiatives is that no one is there to control them,” said de Brier, the IPIS researcher.

Who is supposed to exert this control is part of the problem. Much like the fragmented nature of the supply chain, the nebulous ecosystem of public and private actors involved in responsible sourcing means that responsibility befalls no one in particular. In a July 2023 report, the GAO noted that the number of companies filing conflict minerals disclosures to the SEC had been steadily declining year-on-year since 2014, in part because “companies perceive that they are unlikely to face enforcement action by the SEC if they do not comply.”

Pickles noted that, unlike Dodd-Frank, the European Union’s own conflict minerals regulation, which came into force in 2021, avoided the trap of focusing only on Congo but equally fell for industry schemes such as ITSCI. “I’ve spoken to the competent authorities of three member states, and they said that the reports they receive from companies don’t tell them anything. They don’t actually know what’s happening along the supply chain,” she said. “So where does that leave us?”

For Congolese, ending this hypocrisy is a necessary first step but requires trust and support on the part of international partners. “The Congolese government has its own traceability system. All the necessary documents are delivered by Congolese state agencies. They tell you where the minerals come from just as reliably as ITSCI’s tags, which is to say it’s not perfect but it’s no worse,” Muhima said. “The same state agents deliver these documents and implement ITSCI’s program—for free I might add, since ITSCI doesn’t pay for them. What needs to be improved urgently is their payment.”

These lessons are relevant beyond the specifics of the 3T supply chain. The attention around cobalt—the conflict mineral du jour thanks to its use in electric vehicle batteries—is a case in point. While there is no conflict in the area where cobalt is extracted, working conditions and child labor have been discussed in much the same way as conflict minerals were back in the 2000s: in decontextualized and sometimes inaccurate reports that fail to examine the complex ways in which minerals interact with people’s livelihoods. Instead, such reports paint artisanal mining as illegitimate, something to eliminate. They have been used to justify land grab by large mining companies whose supply chains are easily traceable for end-user companies.

“We haven’t learned from our experience with diamonds or 3T minerals. With cobalt, it’s as if those experiences never existed,” said Joanne Lebert, the executive director of IMPACT, a nonprofit organization working on natural resource governance. “Instead of supporting communities, we’re just monitoring. There is no connection in my view between a clean supply chain and governance and security outcomes. Maybe you take kids out of your supply chain, but they’ll go to agriculture, to domestic work. They’ll go to another mine. They’ll sneak in at night. Clean supply chain is about eliminating the risk and not necessarily about doing good. And it’s the doing good we have to get at.”

Following the same pattern, an EU law aimed at preventing products linked to deforestation from entering the European market is pushing coffee companies toward industrial producers able to generate the paperwork and sidelining small farmers from Ethiopia to Brazil. Private companies will always take the shortcut, while black markets, exploitation, and conflict feed on exclusion.

Whether Western consumers like it or not, artisanally mined minerals will continue to find their way into the supply chains that fuel the energy transition and consumer products. Investing in mining communities’ welfare, education, and businesses is indispensable.

Museni is still living in the refugee camp on the outskirts of Goma with her husband and young children. Surrounded, the provincial capital has been struggling to absorb and provide for the constant new waves of displaced families reaching the city as the M23 is inching closer.

Even as evidence of Rwanda’s support to the rebellion has been mounting, the country has still not been sanctioned. In February, the EU signed an agreement “to nurture sustainable and resilient value chains for critical raw materials” with the Rwandan government, calling the country “a major player on the world’s tantalum extraction.” Congolese President Félix Tshisekedi described the deal as a “provocation in very bad taste.”

In Nyabibwe, Kulimuchi took me on a final walk around the town, waving around at the myriad businesses and hard-working people in the streets. “No one here has a bank account, for example. We can’t save. We can’t build,” he said. “We don’t require much—a road to Bukavu, a little boost, you know. Then, we’ll take it from there.”

[whiskey-bumblebee]

12 days of winter: day two

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Word Count: 626

Prompt: Decorating

A/N: Fluff. Tree decorating- I tried to keep it general (i.e. not for a specific religion), but let me know if it’s not inclusive!

Hotch’s hand is all but attached to your thigh as he drives you home, a freshly cut tree strapped to the roof of his car. He’s humming along absentmindedly to the radio, committing your visit to the tree farm to memory. The way you looked, wandering down the paths, looking for the perfect tree to fill your shared living room. Aaron’s high ceilings meant you could get something like a 10 foot tree, and you’d already picked out a spot in the living room, close to the fireplace, but not so close that it could get singed.

You’d already gone out to buy some baubles and lights, a more cohesive collection of decorations than you and Hotch had as individuals, before you moved in together. His decorations were mostly souvenirs from his college days: a bauble with the Space Needle in it, a tiny bear that one of his friends had given him, one or two sentimental ones from his childhood that he’d taken out of the box in the attic before he moved away. Yours were the same, an odd collection of family heirlooms, gifts from friends, homemade decorations... You couldn’t wait to decorate the tree with Aaron, leaving little monuments of both of your lives tucked between the green branches. But the store bought ones would fill the tree, make everything work together a little more neatly.

Besides, it was fun in and of itself to watch Aaron stalking the aisles, picking up each box of baubles or string of lights, watching his reactions to each one. Gold? Too gaudy. Glitter? Sure to make a mess. Glass icicles? Perfect, delicate, classic. You had nodded in approval when he picked up the warm-toned lights. There was already so much white light reflecting off the snow, and besides, the warm tone would compliment the firelight on the nights you had the fire going.

Before you knew it, you were turning into the driveway and unloading the tree. Aaron had (wisely) laid out a tarpaulin through the house, so you could fold it up with all of the loose needles inside, and shake it out outside. You filled a jug with water while he screwed the tree into its base, your movements around each other intuitive, like the paths of the planets.

Since the tree was going in a corner, you used a tip Penelope had passed on to you, draping the lights vertically up and down the tree, rather than around the circumference. You and Aaron took turns unpacking the decorations and carefully unwrapping the fragile ones from their tissue paper. You marveled at the artefacts of his life before you were a part of it, taking in the photos of him that for some reason ended up in this box. You could tell they’d been taken on a film camera: stills of him studying at his desk, pulling a face at the camera, his arm slung casually around a friend, a cigarette between his lips, at a concert, raising his fist, mouth open, shouting the lyrics.

He wrapped his hand around yours, the gesture tender even if it was utilitarian as he helped you up onto a chair from the dining room, passing you the star for the top of the tree. He helped you down again after you’d adjusted it to perfection, and you nodded at him to flick the switch.

The tree lit up like something out of a movie, looking dazzling, with hundreds of lights peeking through the pine needles, glass baubles catching the low light of the living room, reflecting the lights from the tree itself. Icicles glistened, looking almost wet from the way they’d been arranged in the tree. And most beautiful of all, yours and his ornaments between them.    

[foggynitefic]

Drop Them Bones Chapter 3 notes

Batten Down the Hatches: to secure and make preparations.

History: This phrase is believed to come from the common naval practice of needing to prepare a ship's hatches for impending poor weather conditions. Hatches were designed to promote fresh air circulation below deck and were secured with wooden battens and tarpaulins to keep the interiors dry.

The most challenging part of translating Real World to One Piece is technology- is it science? magic? the ineffable? So I mostly crib / adapt from wooden caravel vessels and hand-wave the rest, focusing on food technology from around 1850 through the 1930s. I imagine that the Thousand Sunny will be more like a modern ship, if we get that far in OPLA.

Yeast is one of those food items whose history is fascinating and the preservation science of yeast goes back farther than I expected. Like, we've been using dry yeast commercially since the early 1800s. The active dry yeast you can buy today is essentially the same as it was in 1920.

Yeast Bread - I love making bread that doesn't require kneading. I leave any yeast-work to my partner, the house's resident foodie. Can confirm it's a lot of hurry up and wait work.

Vegan Bun Rieu - I've been pulling recipes mostly from the Caribbean and Indo-Pacific areas, but upcoming ones will also be more West African focused. This one is actually fairly simple, which makes me give a sensible chuckle as we use Simply Almond milk to make it. In our area (Eastern U.S.), most stores carry Goya or Badia brands for annatto.

No soundtrack this chapter - but it's coming up next!

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

Okay, I'm still not making much headway on chapter four of HYH, but I needed to write something or I was going to explode. So have a little bonus scene for the first story instead. :D It takes place somewhere after the mineshaft adventure but before the meteor shower.

}{

"And that one's the Gilded Goose," said Scott, pointing up at the sky with one hand while the other entwined with Jimmy's. "She's only visible at the height of summer. Then she moves on, and when winter approaches its peak the Red Wolf takes her place."

Jimmy gazed up at the pattern Scott pointed out in the stars, his thumb absently moving over the back of Scott's hand. "I can't believe how many there are," he said. "I bet if you combined every story from every place, there wouldn't be a single star left that wasn't part of something bigger."

"No, probably not," agreed Scott. It was one of the many things he liked about traveling; every region he visited saw the same stars in a different way, and every story he collected made the tapestry above that much richer. "Are there any that you know?"

"Just that one," said Jimmy, pointing in another direction. "I don't know any stories, but it's called the King. There's his sash, and over there is his crown."

"Oh, wow," said Scott, recognizing part of the constellation. "He overlaps with the Ocean Queen. You can't see the full pattern from here, but she's the most recognizable thing in the sky if you're near the Shallow Sea. They share a crown, I guess."

Jimmy laughed. "Maybe they were in love. Be a strange pair, though, a king of the mesa and a queen of the ocean."

Scott smiled. "Maybe they were." He lay his head on Jimmy's shoulder. "And now they get to dance together for eternity."

"Sounds kinda nice," said Jimmy, and pressed a kiss to Scott's hair. "Speaking of dancing, I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to when we went to town."

"Eh, it's alright," said Scott, then smirked. "I enjoyed what we did get to do much better." He didn't raise his head to see if Jimmy's ears were turning red, but he assumed they were from the squeak Jimmy made, and he laughed softly.

"Still," said Jimmy, "you said you like dancing. I just think it's a shame you didn't get to do something you – oh!" He sat straight up, the movement dislodging Scott from his comfortable position. "Wait, I forgot! There should be - " He jumped to his feet and darted over to the barn. Scott followed, curious, and watched as Jimmy dug around a corner where it seemed a variety of objects had been stored out of the way.

"Here it is!" Jimmy lifted a tarpaulin to reveal an old phonograph, then opened a chest below it and took out a record. "Let's see, how did this work again?" he muttered to himself, and after a moment of fidgeting with it, music filled the barn and spilled out into the night air as he successfully got the disc in place and spinning.

Jimmy grinned triumphantly, then went to where Scott stood in the doorway and offered his hand. "I, uh, don't actually know how to dance," he said as his grin turned sheepish. "But would you do me the honor of being my partner?"

Scott laughed, delighted by the music and Jimmy's eagerness. "I would love to," he said, and took Jimmy's hand. "Come on, I'll teach you."

He guided Jimmy through the steps of a simple waltz, and it didn't take long before they were swaying together in a comfortable rhythm. Once Jimmy had an idea of what was expected, his hold on Scott was confident and strong, but never lost its gentleness. Scott watched the moonlight slide across his face as they turned, and the way Jimmy gazed at him made him feel like his heart would drift away to dwell with the stars above if it got any lighter.

Scott's smile dimmed as a realization settled against his ribs. I can't do this to him.

Jimmy was not the first person to look at Scott like they were holding the entire world in their arms. It was another of the things he liked about traveling; sometimes when he found someplace to stay for a while, he got lucky and also found a pretty boy to have a little fun with. He would spend a few weeks pretending to be swept away by flattery and attention, until his admirer conveniently revealed the location of a hidden stash of gold or gems, and Scott's visit conveniently came to an end.

It should have been as simple as it always was. Jimmy should have been just like every other lover swept away by Scott's charm. Scott never dreamed anyone would be able to sweep him away in turn.

The record ended, and Scott and Jimmy drifted to a stop. "How was that?" asked Jimmy with a grin. "Was I okay?"

Scott smiled, feeling a pang in his chest at how easily his arms slipped around Jimmy's neck and Jimmy's arms slipped around his waist. "You were wonderful," he said softly.

Jimmy's grin brightened at the praise, and he pulled Scott into a kiss. Scott leaned into him, fingers caressing the nape of his neck, and he never wanted to let go.

He needed to let go.

In the end, Jimmy made the decision for them. "It's getting late," he said as he pulled away. "Let me get that back where it goes, and we'll go to bed."

Scott stepped back and watched Jimmy disappear into the barn again. "Thank you for the dance," he said when Jimmy returned, and their hands found each other again as they headed back to the house.

"You're welcome," said Jimmy, and pulled Scott's hand up to his lips. "I'll be your dance partner whenever you want. I can't imagine ever wanting to dance with anyone else."

Scott laughed, and he blamed the weakness of it on the late hour. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of dance partners in the future, and better ones than I am."

Jimmy's laugh was far warmer. "Impossible," he said, dropping to a near whisper as they entered the quiet house. "You're everything I could ever want."

series masterpost

[blurban-form]

Storeroom Couplet

There are two connected storerooms in the basement, or at least one storeroom connected to another room.

We see the second of the rooms (and part of the other room) when Dad is preparing to battle the mischievous fairy… and when he was looking for his Polaroid camera.

This looks like a basement type room full of the sort of stuff one might have in a garage. Note that the Heeler’s house doesn’t have a true basement, it’s more a walkout basement level we’re on, and they don’t have a garage but do store tires in their garden shed.

Note the poster with “Queensland” and a pineapple in the other room. A framed poster might be a clue that the attached room is slightly nicer? (Like a game room or a “man cave” or something.)

There’s also (not a complete list!):

a stop sign,

some tools,

a workbench,

a filing cabinet,

some of Mum’s hockey trophies, and a trophy with a magnifying glass, maybe for Mum's work?

a drying rack for laundry,

a surfboard with a pineapple motif (pineapples are grown in Queensland)

a bodyboard (the short stubby board next to the surfboard),

a tarpaulin covering some house-painting supplies,

some sort of framed document,

a jerry can for water,

a dirty coffee cup,

and a can of WD-40.

There’s also a window.

I’m not 100% confident about the location of this pair of rooms; it might alternatively be one of the two doors off of the main room for instance. A future episode will likely help confirm the location of these rooms.

[cassandranorri]

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[edwardthomasnw]

Right

Here we go

(Will be honest it's not quite there, but I'm comfortable enough sharing it so it's out of my damn head-)

The most recent idea to find it's way into my head and make itself at home is Great Northern being on the NWR. With almost no one actually knowing who he is

Stay with me

So, in 1962/'63 the NWR's then CME - a former LNER man who'd moved to Sodor and The Works in the late 1940s - somehow manages to get the poor engine moved to Crovan's Gate, rather than being broken up. He also somehow gets the original frames there too. And has them swapped on. The boiler & frames of the rebuild then get cut up (this will play in later, haud yer wheesht!), and stored in trucks behind The Works with him, covered over with tarpaulins.

He is then forgotten about and left there for around half a century Because Reasons.

During the mid - late 2010s, Gordon - who, for whatever reason, is commandeered to shunt - rediscovers the frames as he prepares to move them elsewhere. Initially believing them to be some old wagon, perhaps a heavily-built wartime flatbed, the wind catches the tarp and reveals the number, presumably painted on by one of the group who switched the frames back. After the Fat Controller arrives (having been alerted to 'a situation', primarily involving Gordon having A Moment) a new small group is then made up to undertake the restoration, only they know who the engine is - though they can't stop the news of an A1/A3 just being found out the back of The Works going around.

On checking the surrounding trucks, it is realised they contain the cut up boiler and frames of the Rebuild - and then they find out why. The great-grandson of that CME finds his journal, which reveals he elected to cut up the rebuild parts in order to safely and secretly store them, with the eventual aim to recycle them into new parts for Great Northern - the same way Henry was rebuilt from a somewhat-naff stolen Pacific design into a Black Five all those years ago.. (yep, working by The Love Bug '97 rules - already had that sort of idea for Henry, and this latched to it perfectly) No one knows how it works, really, but it seemed to work for Henry - or, at least, didn't adversely affect him - so no harm was seen in repeating that process

(This last bit is where it gets A Bit Thin but I am at the Struggle Point with it now) A couple of years later (maybe a year instead), and the new boiler is in the frames. The steam tests are underway. He wakes up, to see Gordon rolling steadily into The Shop. "You started without me?" "We didn't think he'd be waking this soon..!" The Big Engine helped calm his younger brother's anxiety, and answered his questions to the best of his ability. He'd return for each of the following tests, and the 'inaugural steaming', leading him out of The Shop and into the yards - where some of the other engines were waiting to greet and welcome him.

Like with the Works staff and public in general, only a select group of the engines actually know who he is, and work with Gordon to help him. He is himself aware of his true identity, but only vaguely - he can recall some memories, more from after Thompson's rebuild than before, but they're all faint and somewhat clouded. He is, however, very sure of how those around him felt about the rebuild - comforting him due to his anxiety over it, despite his improved performance, and cursing Thompson for having done such to the eldest of their clan (okay yeah I know Gordon's eldest but shush). He was never blamed or faulted, and appreciates that, then and now.

He is still figuring himself out, and as a result has come to an agreement with TFC & Gordon that his true identity is not to be officially revealed until he is ready.

Again don't expect a story from me following up on this, I'm better at creating lore than turning it into stories (and even then most of it's half-written notes..), just sharing it cause it's an idea with form to it.

[nusaibaaaa]

passion can be ugly too

for the majority of my life i tried making myself more digestible. acceptable, likable, not come on too strong or too weak for certain people i thought really loved me. walking on eggshells. trying to win their approvals. but if they did love me, they wouldn’t try cutting the corners of my character and diluting who i am “to make me a better person.” people only do that when your character threatens them.

but these deep-seated, destructive feelings i hide have given me a breakthrough. “i will not water myself down to make me for digestible for you. you can choke.” you can choke and die, and i’ll watch. i will not try fitting myself into these microscopic boxes you hold and claim store all things perfect. i am much happier being flawed and imperfect than your slave or follower. i am euphoric for you to hate who i truly am than for you to love me for something i’m not. meanwhile i can continue hating you for pretending to be something you aren’t and who you really are. i could pray for it to change, i could supplicate and have faith but i don’t care anymore. you don’t appear in my duas any longer. and it’s fine by me if i don’t appear in yours; you’re only masquerading to be one of us anyway. disgust fills my veins— your self-righteous character thinking Islam needs to change, to reform, to adapt with this wretched “modern” world and your looking down on anyone who opposes or has a functioning brain stem. mean, you say? no dear. this is called being passionate. and i hate you with a passion. it’s almost art.

people think passion is always pretty, that it’s all rosy and dreamy and beguiling but the strongest kind of passion is ugly and unwanted. it’s rage fueled by years of wrongdoing, it’s grief, and it’s no wonder that these are what create the best works of any artist. it isn’t love— because, obviously, despite being the bearer of all my love you still turn out to be like this. it’s disgust, it’s when you realized you’ve been wronged and mistreated and the anger that rises with retaliation. so no, i don’t smile anymore when i see you. i don’t even talk to you let alone initiate small talk. i don’t give a damn about you. you have destroyed me too much to expect my heart to still beat at the sound of your name. all your promises are fake, and your words are wrapped with lies like tarpaulin. at least illusions are beautiful, they’re convincing and enjoyable but you’re none of these things in the slightest. people say truth is uglier but then there’s you, the ugliest, filthiest lie i’ve ever seen, i’ve ever interacted with and pretended like doesn’t break me.

[neonpajamas]

hosting a reading in this amazing record store (Bric A Brac Records in Chicago) on Saturday from 2p-5p! Stop by, hear some poems, grab some vinyl ❤️

w/ Parker Young, Daniel Borzutzky, Mallory Smart, Johannes Göransson, Nathan Hoks, Zachary Swezy, & Evan Williams

[feat. presses X-R-A-Y x Maudlin House x Future Tense Books x Coffee House Press x Black Ocean x Action Books x Tarpaulin Sky Press]

[justinewt]

The World is Corrupted - TMR REWRITE Chapter Seven

[TMR REWRITE-MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: The safe haven that they had been promised was not exactly what the group of friends had expected and after the truth behind their saviors came to light, Thomas led them all across the scorchs, ignoring Janson’s warnings about the outside world. Everything had fallen to ruins but they had to keep going, and get to safety from those who wished them harm, under the guise of benevolence.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: TMR Scorch Trials spoilers, Janson AKA Rat man, needles, restrains, angst, some violence, blood, escape, cranks, decaying flesh, mention of suicide

Grace tried to struggle as best as she could and get out of the guard's grip, but he grabbed her free hand and held them behind her back to restrain her and she had to resign herself as he led her through a maze of corridors, all looking the same, bright lights hanging from the ceiling. The strangest thing in all this was that the guard was absolutely not taking her in the same direction than the other teenagers that got their names called a moment ago and it made her think, maybe they just wanted to do a few more tests with her blood or something, not that it was any better than getting her body put under a tarpaulin and brought to that room Aris showed her and Thomas just the night prior. Seeing that she calmed down and was being a little more compliant and under control, the guard let go of one of her arm, still holding the other one pretty tightly and she thought that if she kept behaving this way, maybe at some point there might be a window of opportunity for her to try to escape and reunite with Thomas and the others and ultimately, get out of this forsaken place. This was the goal; get the fuck out of here but right now, she had to keep full possession of her faculties to succeed in slipping away from them when the right time would come.

The guard stopped in front of a door, swiped his access card to the side and it opened with a long beep. Inside, a few doctors were already busying themselves with vials and such, here and there and a woman turned to them as they entered. She gave a smile to Grace, but the teenager could see that it wasn’t genuine, but she just let the guard lead her further into the room as the door closed shut behind them with the same beep, meaning it was now locked.

“We just need to run a few more tests, and then you can join the others.” The weirdly gentle tone of her voice made Grace uneasy. She nodded and the guard exchanged a few words with them as she sat down on a bed to the side of the room, and he left. She was trapped in this room with three doctors; the woman that addressed her seemed to be kind of in charge of the two others but as Grace was observing her surroundings, she was still very much unsure as to how to get rid of the three of them and make her escape. Right now, she had to make them think she was really oblivious as to whatever they were going to do to her, and really, she was because she had no idea what was actually going on in their minds but what she wasn’t oblivious to, was the fact that it was certainly not for her own good like they pretended it was. She was watching them, seated on the edge of the bed and one of the other two doctors, a man, approached her and asked her to reach out her arm and roll up the sleeve of her t-shirt. She obliged and he put a tourniquet around her arm that he tightened, and he clipped it so that it woudn’t move and the veins in the crook of her elbow would raise. He then came back with a needle and filled half a dozen vials with her blood, which he then stored on a plate on a metal roller tray and pushed it aside while the woman gave him more instructions. It was all scientific gibberish that Grace didn’t understand so she looked at the third doctor as he looked at a sample of her blood through the microscope, or she guessed it was what he was doing.

When an alarm suddenly went off in the building, Grace subtly loosened the tourniquet, unclipping it from around her arm and she pulled the needle out. She remained very quiet and discreet, taking advantage of the fact that the three doctors had their backs turned to her, so she slowly got up, the needle in her hand, a thin stream of blood flowing down her arm, she looked around and grabbed a pair of scissors from a tray. She had to get the access card of one of them in order to get out, knowing that she would have to get physical. She set her sights on the doctor closest to her and reached out to grab his neck, holding the scissors up to his throat. The two other physicians jumped on their feet; their eyes widened.

“Open the door.” Grace ordered, trying to keep her voice from shaking from the stress and fear she was feeling.

“Put the scissors down, girl. You don’t want to do this.” The man she was holding tried to convince her to let go of him, but she put the scissor blades closer to his glottis and he gulped, holding his head up.

“No, I don’t. Just fucking let me out of here.” She said through her teeth, her jaw clenched. When the woman held up her card to her, Grace had to act and think quicker than ever; she threw the man onto the one standing near the microscope and in a haste, grabbed the card, threatening the woman with the scissors so she would stay away, and she opened the door and ran down the hallway. In the corridors, a red emergency light, like a rotating beacon light, was illuminating the place, the alarm still going strong and after a minute, she stopped in her tracks, panting and looked around her, the pair of scissors still in her hand. She was relieved she got away from the doctors without actually hurting or killing anyone but now, she had to find her friends and brother and thought that in order to do so, she needed to get to Teresa, wherever she was and if they weren’t already on their way to get her and in that case, she would probably run into them… maybe. When she heard heavy footsteps coming her way, she held her breath and stood behind the wall and waited a second for them to pass. She then started running again, not really knowing where she was going and she gasped, almost letting out a scream when someone suddenly stood in her way. She held the scissors in front of her but eased up upon seeing it was Minho.

“Are you okay?” He looked down at the blood on her arm, worried and she nodded. The others arrived a second later and Thomas noticed her, and he couldn’t look more relieved to see his sister. Teresa was with them too.

“They’re coming.” Newt warned them and they ran off, eventually getting to a long corridor with a hangar door at the end. He tried passing it next to digicode thing to get it to open but it kept beeping, and the door remained closed.

“Thomas!” Janson’s voice rose at the other end of the hallway, and they turned their heads to him. He had a whole squad marching behind him. While the others stood there, almost glued to the door, Thomas walked in his direction, holding up the gun he had picked up.

“Open this door, Janson!” The latter held up his hands.

“You really don’t want me to.”

“Open the damn door!” Thomas then yelled. Minho kept trying to open the door with the access card and Grace suddenly thought of the pass she stole from the other doctor. She realized she didn’t have it in her hands anymore, so she slowly looked down, patting the pockets of her pants.

“Listen to me! I’m trying to save your life. The maze is one thing, but you kids wouldn’t last one day out in the Scorch.” Janson tried reasoning with them. When Grace felt the card beneath her fingers, she pulled it out and Minho let her try to open the door with it. Her hands were shaking. “If the elements don’t kill you, the Cranks will. Thomas, you have to believe me. I only want what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, let me guess. WICKED is good?” Thomas’ question led to a heavy silence from Janson and Grace couldn’t help but glance over her shoulders. It was indeed WCKD that brought them here and kept them locked up. Janson shook his head with a smirk. He just dropped the “caring director” act.

“You’re not getting through that door, Thomas.” Just when he finished his sentence, the door buzzed and opened upwards. In the hangar on the other side were Winston and Aris.

“Hey, guys.”

“Come on!” Siggy urged them and they joined their two friends.

“Thomas! Come on! Let’s go!” Newt called. Thomas then tried to fire at Janson, he only hit the shields the guards held in front of them until the gun clicked and he threw it at them before sprinting towards the hangar. Grace widened her eyes when the door started to close and she called out to Thomas, joined in by everyone else. She felt like she stopped breathing and gasped loudly when she saw her brother throw himself under the door, sliding on his back just a second before the door closed completely and Minho and Newt instinctively reached for Thomas and helped him up.

“Move! Move!” Aris jogged to the door and hit the digicode on their side, so they couldn’t open the door and get to them. Janson and two guards came up to the door, enraged. Elecricity crackled as they tried to get the vault door to open. Grace was standing next to Thomas, and he put a hand on her shoulder, reassured that she was there, and the two siblings stared at Janson through the small rectangular window on the door and he flipped him the bird before Minho urged them to come. They didn’t waste any more time and ran away with their friends. The thin and dried line of blood on her arm slightly pulled on her skin as she moved but there were more urgent things to care about, like getting out of this place, and they were doing just that. Now that they got past Janson and a few of his men, their chances of survival got higher, and their determination too. They reached the huge door through which they came a few days ago and Thomas immidietaly grabbed the lever, pulling on it before stepping back. The door hissed and opened. There was a strong wind blowing outside.

"Come on! Come on!” Thomas prompted them and they ran out before the guards got to them. The group was already climbing up the dunes in front of the building when they looked for them around the entrance. Cars were being driven out and they could hear the soldiers yell to each other to find them. “Come on, go! Go! We’ll lose them in the storm!” They went a little further and all lied down on the sand, letting the vehicles pass in the distance until Thomas spoke. “Everybody, go, go, go. Stay low.” Starting by crawling away, they got up and ran the other way.

“Where are we even going?” Minho inquired, confused as they reached the windowed roof of a building buried deep into the sand. One of the windows was broken and Teresa jumped in. Thomas got scared and called out to her, but she was fine and told them to join her down there, so they didn’t wait around and slid down the sand, really struggling to keep their balance as they got down. Breathing heavily, they looked around and Minho turned on his flashlight, sweeping the surroundings with the beam. The place was in ruins. He turned to his friends. “Where the hell are we?”

“We gotta go.” Thomas motioned for them to come along, and Minho went to follow him when Teresa rose her voice.

“Thomas, stop!” The two young men went to a halt. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s WICKED. They lied to us. We never escaped. Me and Aris, we found bodies. Too many to count.” Grace silently sighed, understanding that behind the door Aris showed them, there were indeed bodies, and she was probably lucky they didn’t bring her there; or maybe they were planning to take her there, but she had escaped first.

“What do you mean? Dead bodies?” Minho wondered.

“No, but they weren’t alive either.” Thomas seemed perturbed by what he had seen with Aris. “They had them strung up. With tubes coming out of them. They were being… they were being drained. There’s something inside of us that WICKED wants. Something in our blood.” Grace frowned, looking down at the blood on her arm and the tiny hole left by the needle. They still had the vials filled with her blood and she had no idea what could be so priceless in it, or why they had to take so much from her. “So, we have to get as far away drom them as possible.”

“Okay. So, what’s the plan?” Newt asked, hands on his hips, catching his breath. “You do have a plan, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“Well, we followed you out here, Thomas. And now you’re saying that you have no idea where we’re going or what we’re doing.”

“Wait.” Aris spoke, staring into space, thinking. “Janson said something about people hiding in the mountains. Some kind of resistance or army.”

“The Right Arm.” Thomas added, looking up at Minho and Newt. The latter wasn’t very convinced by all this and seemed rather annoyed. “The Right Arm. If they’re really against WICKED, maybe they can help us.”

“People. In the mountains. Mountain people. That’s your plan?”

“It’s the only chance we have.” He replied softly.

“Hey, guys.” Winston’s voice rose behind Thomas, and he turned around. “Check this out. Minho, give me a light.” Minho approached and kneeled down next to him, and the beam of the flashlight revealed trails of footprints in the sand. “Someone’s been down here.”

Cautiously and in religious silence, Minho and Winston got to their feet and the group moved forward into the premises, on the lookout. Grace couldn’t stop thinking about the doctors and what they were going to do with all the blood they drew. She didn’t even think of it when she tried to escape and now thought that she should have destroyed it before leaving but she had no idea that they actually wanted something inside of it. But what also troubled her was why they draw blood only from her, or at least, she didn’t know if they did the same with Teresa or any of the others. Thomas had seen the blood on her arm so he would probably bring it up to her at some point, or she would, because she started to feel the need to get it off her chest. They walked further in the building and Minho approached a door. He looked inside with his flashlight and noticed a bunch of water jugs and he and a few others helped him roll up the door.

“Looks like people lived here.” Minho observed, picking up a piece of clothing from a mattress. Teresa and Grace approached a counter and found a couple of flashlights lying there while Siggy found a bigger lamp he held up in front of him.

“Where are they now?” Newt wondered.

“Let’s pack some of this stuff up.” Thomas concluded, putting on a jacket. “Anything you think you might need. We’ll split up, see what else we can find. Meet back here.”

“Wait, Thomas.” Newt gave him the flashlight he found, and Minho then walked away with Thomas and Aris. Grace sighed, looking around with her flashlight. She couldn’t stop wondering about what kind of tests the doctors would run with her blood and she couldn’t understand what they wanted with them, what was so special about her, or any of the others. She put the flashlight down on the counter, the beam illuminating her, and she scratched the dry blood off her skin. She then grabbed the light, glancing at the others and walked around the room, imitating them and after she found a dusty but empty bag, she took it and started filling it up with stuff that she believed could be useful to them, trying not to think of anything. A few minutes later, all the lamps and fairy lights hanging around in the building suddenly came on and they all looked up in surprise and confusion. They walked out of the room, holding their bags and just looking around, wondering what was going on until they heard Thomas shout in the distance and worriedly stared in his direction as he and Minho arrived, running at full speed towards them, calling out to them. A second later, they all understood why they had to run; a whole horde of cranks, screeching and rattling came running after them. They climbed up some stairs in a haste, some were panicking, asking questions without ever stopping, the beams of their flashlights just going crazy, swaying in all directions.

On the upper floor, they got in front of another crank. Aris brandished what he was holding in his hand and rushed towards the creature. He hit him in the knees, and he threw himself forward, splitting the group in two. The cranks were coming from all around them, it was very overwhelming, and they had a hard time knowing where to look, just shouting indistinctly at one another. Grace and the others ran the other way, urged by Thomas to go around while he and Teresa were stuck in the stairs. They eventually all reunited and ran forward, just trying to find a way out before the creatures caught up with them. Grace kicked in something lying on the ground and lost her balance, almost falling down if it weren’t for Thomas who ran next to her. He grabbed her arm, glancing over his shoulder, Newt right after them.

“Newt!” They all yelled out to him when a crank jumped out a window and pinned him down. He called for help, struggling until Thomas rushed to him, kicking the creature off the edge, freeing Newt. Grace grabbed his hands and helped him up in a haste and they looked at the dozens of cranks coming their way, with wide eyes as they started running again.

“Through here! Through here! Come on, let’s go! They’re coming!” Minho led them through an opened grid on the side.

“Guys, where are we going?” Newt asked as they ran, breathing heavily. The creatures were already following them in the corridor they took when Thomas stopped at a door and tried to get it open, but it was closed and the cranks were getting dangerously close to them, so they resumed their run, not having even a single second to catch their breath.

“It’s a dead end!” Minho exclaimed.

“This one!” Thomas found a door and he and Minho started violently kicking and nudging it to break the lock.

“I’ll hold them back!” Winston declared as the creatures approached. He aimed his gun towards them and shot a few of these monsters down. “Get that door open!”

“Move!”

“Come on, Frypan!” Minho encouraged and their friend rushed in the door, finally knocking the lock off its hinges and opening the door. “Come on, it’s open!”

“Everyone through! Come on! Come on!” Thomas then urged the group. When he followed them, a crank seized Winston’s ankle and made him fall flat on the ground, and he screamed as he was dragged. He held onto the door, crying out for help. Minho and Thomas tried keeping the door from opening and letting all the cranks follow them through while Newt and Fry pulled him away but a crank digged his nails into his stomach and scratched him very deeply. Thomas then urged everyone to go right away, holding the door on his own before and the moment he left his post, the cranks started storming through the door. The group reached a non-lit area and hid in silence under large rubbles, listening to the snarling of the cranks as they ran past, just looking at each other, shushing and making sure their flashlights were turned off, holding their breath.

Grace opened her eyes, kind of waking up with a start when Thomas started yelling at a crow picking at stuff hanging out of one of their bags. They had spent the night in their hiding spots and now realized they weren’t in the building’s ruins anymore; they were literally outside. Grace rubbed her eyes, and imitated Thomas as he looked around, but she remained seated next to Teresa still lying down, while he got on his feet.

“Are they gone?” Newt inquired, leaning on his elbow.

“Yeah, I think we’re safe for now.” He picked up his bag. “Okay, we should get moving. Let’s pack it up. Aris, come on. Fry, Winston, let’s go.” Grace stood up, giving a hand to a still sleepy Teresa who was just emerging out of her sleep, and she helped her up. They then climbed up the rubbles and looked in the distance to the city expanding in front of them, hundreds of skyscrapers in ruins, just decaying there. They kept walking, crossing the remains of the past.

“What the hell happened to this place?” Fry wondered.

“I don’t know.” Newt replied. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a long time. I hope the whole world’s not like this.”

“Whoaa, hang on, stop.” Thomas spoke and they all turned to him. “You hear that?” Everyone listened carefully, pricking up their ears and the sound of a whirring aircraft reached their ears as it got louder and closer. “Get down! Everybody hide! Hide! Get in there. Here!”  They all crouched down and hid beneath the rubbles and watched an aircraft along with two helicopters passing over their heads.

“They’re never gonna stop looking for us, are they?” Minho wondered in a sigh as they slowly got out of hiding, resuming their walk across the ruined city. It took them a good few hours to climb up and down the high and large piles of rubbles and they walked up a dune, their feet sinking in the sand, Thomas encouraging them to keep going. Once they reached the top, they could see even more ruins just stretching before their eyes but in the distance, far ahead of them were the mountains they wanted to reach. They were all exhausted, burning up under the sun.

“Those mountains, that’s gotta be it.” He pointed in front of him. “That’s where we’re going.”

“That’s a long way off.” Newt said.

“Then we better get moving.” Right after he finished talking, Winston let go of his bag, took a step forward and fell to the ground. They all rushed, kneeling around him and he gasped continuously, his eyes closed. The bandage they put around his stomach was soaked in dark blood.

“What do we do?” Teresa inquired, watching Thomas stand up as he looked towards the mountains, thinking while Newt tried talking to Winston but got no response from him. They made a makeshift stretcher with stuff they had taken from the building and branches they gathered and Minho and Siggy dragged him across the desert, breathing heavily and grunting at the effort. After a while, the wind picked up, blowing sand in their faces as they tried to shield themselves with their hands and some clothing they had scavenged, coughing loudly. They eventually found shelter and settled there, and the wind died down as well. Teresa and Grace were sat down near Winston, watching his chest frantically. He was doing worse since they escaped from the horde of cranks. When Teresa stood up, Grace looked at her and observed her take a few steps in Thomas’ direction before following her. It was certainly the time for her to discuss with Thomas about what happened with WICKED, and this whole conversation about their blood that still bothered her.

“It’s like they’re getting further away.” Teresa observed, staring at the mountains.

“We just gotta keep moving. We can make it.”

“How’s it looking?” Newt’s voice echoed from their shelter and Thomas glanced at him.

“It’s a little further.” He then brought his gaze to Teresa again and noticed she was holding the back of her neck with her hand. “Hey, what’s going on with you?”

“They did something to me.” She grabbed her hair swept it to the side, benting her head forward. Thomas frowned in concern and stepped towards her, taking a look at her neck and so did Grace. There were strange drawings. Thomas shared a wondering glance with his sister, listening to Teresa talking. “At first it just felt like I was waking up from a dream or something. Then they all started coming back.”

“Your memories?” Grace asked, voicing the question both her and Thomas had, and she nodded.

“What do you remember?”

“I remember the first time they brought you two in.” She had a soft smile on her face. “I was taller than you then. And faster.”

“Okay.” He chuckled.

“And I remember why we were there. We thought we could fix all this.” She paused, her gaze losing itself into space and she closed her eyes for an instant before looking at Thomas and Grace again. “I think we should go back.”

“What?” Grace reacted, frowning.

“Just… Just listen to me.”

“What are you talking about? Go back?” He cut her off. “After everything they’ve done to us.”

“It’s not that simple.” She shook her head.

“Yeah, I think it is that simple.” Thomas retorted and Teresa kept insisting, trying to convince them of the opposite.

“No, you don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?” He motioned at Grace and him. “What don’t we understand?”

“Everything was fine until you…” She sighed, shaking her head. “Nothing.”

“Teresa, what aren’t you telling me?” Before she could answer his question, they heard a gunshot coming from the group and one of them yelling. Newt called out to them, and Thomas, Grace and Teresa ran back to them instantly. They put aside the conversation they just had and arrived. Everyone was confused and all over the place.

“What happened?” Teresa inquired.

“I don’t know.” Siggy shrugged. “He just woke up and grabbed the gun and then he tried to…”

“Give it back, please.” Winston begged, on his knees. Thomas took a step towards him when he suddenly threw up, coughing hard. He fell backwards and as he breathed with difficulty, he pulled up his shirt, looking down. “It’s growing… inside me.” His whole chest was getting kind of raw and blackening, the flesh very red and prominent veins. It was honestly pretty gross, and they all felt for him, shocked at the sight. “I’m not gonna make it. Please… please. Don’t let me turn into one of those things.” Newt took the gun from Siggy and softly put it in Winston’s hand. “Thank you. Now, get outta here.”

“Goodbye, Winston.” Newt stood up and walked away, his face down. Each of them said their goodbyes and Teresa, Thomas and Grace glanced at each other in this heavy and emotional silence. Grace went to follow the others when she noticed her brother wasn’t moving an inch, unable to take his eyes off his dying friend and with tears in his eyes, he apologized for leaving him in this condition and picked up his bag. As he was about to leave with Grace, Winston called out his name one last time, to ask him to take care of all of them. Grace watched the two, biting her lips and wiping away a tear that beaded in the corner of her eye. Thomas nodded and the two siblings followed their friends across the dunes, in silence when suddenly, a gunshot echoed through the desert and they came to a halt at the sound.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 

Published (10/17/2022) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405​ @kika64

[hislopchino]

Paul Merton: ‘I stayed in one of the world’s worst hotels in China’

The comedian recalls terrible hotels in China, mishaps with malaria tablets and why he’s happiest holidaying in the UK

Interview by Nick McGrath

From The Sunday Times, 22nd February 2023

Paul Merton, 65, first performed at the Comedy Store in 1982 and since 1990 has been a fixture on the BBC’s Have I Got News for You, which returns this spring for its 65th series. He lives in London with his third wife, Suki Webster, his co-star on Channel 5’s Motorhoming with Merton & Webster

My first holiday of any substance was to a holiday camp in Hemsby, on the edge of the Norfolk Broads. I was eight years old and I loved it. I loved the space to run around and the people drinking beer and watching the shows in the ballroom. It felt idyllic.

I visited Ireland a couple of years later and got a lot of attention from my mum’s relatives, which was great for my performer’s ego. We saw the Ring of Kerry and I was charmed by the locals’ love of words and storytelling.

I spent most of the Eighties living in a bedsit earning very little money, so the first time I travelled further afield was in 1987, when I went all the way to Australia, with a heavy cold, to visit my girlfriend at the time.

The cheapest route was London to Sydney, via Athens and Singapore. In Athens, the complimentary coach from the hotel to the airport was full of boy scouts from Liechtenstein, who were on their way to Sydney for an international scouting jamboree. Being stared at by three-dozen hostile Liechtensteiner boy scouts is an experience I won’t forget.

After a two-day delay in Singapore, I eventually got to Sydney on Christmas Day with horrible jet lag and an even heavier cold, sat down to Christmas lunch in 35C heat, then fell asleep for 16 hours. It felt like I’d been kicked in the head by a horse.

I’d only been earning £30 a gig, sometimes £10 even, so holidays were rare. But as my career took off, I travelled more — including to Kenya in 1990, where I had a terrible experience with anti-malarial drugs. Back then you had to take a weekly and daily pill and I had a severe reaction to the weekly pill, but it took a while to work out what the problem was.

Each Friday, first in Kenya and then back home in London, I’d take this pill then start to hallucinate. I got these paranoid thoughts, where I believed I was being followed by the Freemasons and could predict the next song on the radio. Which I couldn’t.

I then went to places like St Lucia, but felt uncomfortable driving around in a rented Land Rover that probably represented what some people there might earn in half a lifetime. I felt the same visiting Cape Town.

I was lucky enough to film a couple of travel documentary series in India and China — and had totally contrasting experiences. The poverty was dramatic in India, but the people were polite and proud and when I returned to film in Mumbai, Delhi and Calcutta, they found our earnestly awful attempts at Bollywood improv hilarious and gave us multiple standing ovations.

I wouldn’t return on holiday to China, as the state interference leaves a bit of a nasty taste, as does the spitting. You literally pull up at some traffic lights and a woman in a very nice car will open her window and spit on the road. Everybody does it. Maybe a popular Chinese film star was a passionate spitter. Or perhaps Chairman Mao decreed it a healthy habit. Filming while surrounded on all sides by armed soldiers wasn’t massively relaxing either.

I also stayed in one of the world’s worst hotels in China. The foyer had a tarpaulin covered in some unusually dark stains and the room had bits of wall missing and stank of urine. I moved to a nearby hotel which was equally basic but clean, at least, although the TV was puzzling. It had a single channel showing a military man laden with medals berating a group of people for hours on end while they looked shamefaced.

I’d love to visit New Zealand as everyone raves about it. Another place I definitely won’t go back to is Tahiti, which everyone imagines is a South Sea paradise, but for me, it wasn’t. The hotel I stayed in was completely overrun by cats.

These days I prefer British holidays, as airports in the 21st century leave you with a low level of anxiety. My wife and I now love travelling round Britain in our motorhome, which is basically a hotel room on wheels. If we all could drop the idea that we have to go on holiday somewhere that has guaranteed sun, holidaying in this country has a lot going for it.

Paul and Suki will be speaking at the Caravan, Camping & Motorhome Show at the NEC Birmingham, which runs from February 21 to 26 (ccmshow.co.uk)

[dunkennethsalon]

Insights Unveiled: Key Takeaways from Interviews with 5 Leading Companies

KOUFUKU

Koufuku is a Japanese inspired restaurant located in SM Uptown Cagayan de Oro City that aims to bring the authentic Japanese cuisine to the Philippines. Koufuku has its own marketing team to promote their products through Facebook, Instagram and TikTok and the locations of the store was chosen because it's near to the owner's house. Koufuku adapts to customers feedback by adjusting the portion size and emphasizes the quality of the food. The business has 12 employees and their success has been greatly attributed to their focus on consumer techniques and social media marketing.

CHOWKING

Chowking Uptown, a Filipino-Chinese restaurant that opened on March 02, 2022 with a mission to offer Filipino's a unique blend of Filipino and Chinese cuisine. The restaurants runs 24 hours with 25 employees working in shifts. They also advertise through social media, billboards, commercials, and also tarpaulins. The location of the business was chosen because their target market are the residents of the town and also the students. Their popular dishes are Beef Mami and Wanton mami, while the less profitable cuisine is the "Buchi".

The CoffeeLAB

Originally The CoffeeLAB started as a furniture business and shifted to coffee because the owner thinks that they make more money selling coffees that furnitures. The CoffeeLAB is located in SM Uptown Northwing, they offer coffee, pasta, cheesecakes, and cookies. With 10 employees and also they are still hiring. The business promotes their business through social media like Facebook.

SEAFOOD PARADISE

SEAFOOD PARADISE , located in SM Uptown Northwing, they offer an affordable seafood and Filipino Buffet. Opened on January 28, 2023, the restaurants have 16 employees. They advertise their products through Facebook and they chose Uptown for it's wealthy customer base. Unfortunately the manager, who is new, could not comment on how to they allocate their resources. They are also having a hard time dealing with rude customers.

The Out Of Nowhere Kitchen

Out of Nowhere Kitchen is a budget-friendly restaurant that is located at SM Uptown Northwing, offering tasty and also a unique ambiance when you go to their store. Opened on October 20, 2020, with 10 employees. They serve dishes like barbeque, Asian cuisines, and snacks. They advertise their foods through Facebook and their standout features are their food and atmosphere. The name " Out of Nowhere Kitchen" was inspired by their location on Davao, which is a place that is hard to find. They are also hiring employees with a good backgrounds and their vision is to continue providing excellent service to the customers.

[geckobrands121]

Geckobrands Waterproof Phone Tote

Stay in touch during every adventure with our Waterproof Phone Tote. Featuring a waterproof exterior, this tote protects your cell phone from water, rain, sand, and snow. Its patented wave-making design allows you to make phone calls, take photos, and send messages without removing your device, ensuring its function and protection in any environment. The additional compartment is ideal for storing other valuables like wallets, keys, and more. Wear it as a crossbody, belt bag, or on your shoulder.PRODUCT INFO

2 compartments: phone sleeve and 2L dry bag for your keys, wallet and other small valuables

Continue to talk, text, take selfies, play games and surf the web with your device inside

Phone compartment fits iPhone 12 PRO/11/X/8/7/6/5/4, iPod and other devices with most protective cases up to 7.0" H x 3.5" W x 0.5"D

Includes 3 carry options: adjustable shoulder strap, handle and belt loop

Material: Durable 250D PVC tarpaulin material

[konradnews]

DEAN & DELUCA, limited quantity of "Tarpaulin Inner Bag Black" made of tough material for outdoor use.

DEAN & DELUCA, operated by Welkam, will release a limited quantity of “Tarpaulin Inner Bag Black” on July 16. The price is 2,970 yen. It will be available at market stores and the official online store. The main body is made of a thin, lightweight yet durable tarpaulin material that is easy to wipe clean when wet or dirty, and can be used for outdoor activities such as camping and at the beach.…