On Assignment
By Kiko Itasaka, NBC News producer
More than 8 million Toyota owners had been waiting for an explanation and an apology. They were kept waiting for a reason -- saying sorry is no simple matter in Japan.
The art of expressing regret is very nuanced. There are different levels of saying sorry, ranging from a simple “excuse me” to “please accept my most humble regrets,” and these words are accompanied with bows of varying degrees. The degree of apology is often carefully considered.
On Tuesday, with heavily accented and carefully phrased English, Toyota’s president Akio Toyoda apologized for letting down his customers. It is not unusual for a Japanese executive to take responsibility. In fact it is very typically Japanese. Toyoda’s departure was to issue his statement in English. Normally a Japanese executive would speak in Japanese with simultaneous translation rather than be embarrassed by less-than-perfect English. Toyota is clearly desperate to reach out to its global audience and in particular, the huge American market.
Separately, in the Washington Post, Toyoda accepted that his company had let down their customers. “As president of Toyota, I take personal responsibility” he wrote. That is why I am personally leading the effort to restore trust in our world and in our products.” CONTINUED >>
By Ian Williams, NBC News correspondent
TOKYO, Japan – I’ve always found Japanese press conferences to be infuriatingly polite.
And that’s initially how it seemed Thursday as we were ushered into a large conference hall at Toyota’s Tokyo headquarters for a presser called to unveil the company's much improved quarterly results.
It was packed, and soon highjacked by the recall crisis, putting beleaguered executives on the defensive, describing quality as their "lifeline." They revealed that the recalls would cost Toyota a staggering $2 billion in lost sales and costs to put right the gas pedal problems which have led to the recall of more than 8 million vehicles worldwide.
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| VIDEO: Hearts sinking in Toyota ci |
Just as I was beginning to enjoy it, Toyota called time. Thirty minutes had been allocated, and after precisely 30 minutes, that part ended. Then another executive in a grey suit took the hot seat to talk – for exactly 30 minutes more – about new problems, this time with Toyota’s best selling hybrid, the Prius.
The Prius problem is a brake problem, and involves dozens of complaints about inadequate braking on bumpy or frozen roads. It doesn’t appear to be on the scale of the gas pedal recalls, although the company plans to recall 270,000 of its Prius hybrid in Japan and the U.S., according to a report by the Nikkei News Service. However, on Thursday afternoon, a spokesperson at Toyota's U.S. sales division said he did not have any information about Toyota's decision to recall the Prius.
Still, Prius’ woes have a broader significance – the hybrid is the jewel in Toyota's crown, and these cars were made in Japan.
Until now, there has been a real tendency here to see the quality problems as a foreign problem. Several times I've been told, "This could never happen in Japan."
Toyota here is more than a car company – it’s a national icon. Only last week it was named as Japan’s best known and most valuable global brand.
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By Ian Williams, NBC News correspondent
Unlikely though it might sound right now, there is hope for Haiti, and that hope is called Aceh.
As I discovered during a recent five-day visit, the Indonesian province -- devastated by the Christmas 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami -- has made a remarkable recovery.
I’d last been to Aceh shortly after the Christmas 2004 tsunami, which turned the coastal areas into a wasteland. Up to 170,000 people lost their lives in one of the most destructive natural disasters in modern history.
As with Haiti today, it was hard to imagine back then, amid the death and destruction, how the place could ever get back on its feet.
But five years on, and Aceh has been transformed, thanks to a $7 billion international aid effort.
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By Charlene Gubash, NBC News Producer
ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia –
Doctors, nurses, family members and an NBC cameraman fanned out across the hospital in an all-out search for Aden. But the 6-year-old managed to evade us as she flitted from patient to nursing station, the hospital staff shouting out her location in the hospital atrium: "She was just here, but I think she’s gone to visit pre-op!"
Aden Eshetu had made lots of friends during her two-week hospital stay and seemed bent on seeing each and every one before her check-up. Suddenly she appeared in the corridor, strolling hand-in-hand with a nurse, an exuberant smile on her round face. She greeted her doctor with a big kiss on the cheek before hopping onto the examining table.
Incredibly, Aden had not always been so full of vigor.
"Before the treatment she couldn’t run properly," explained her mother, Namestsigye Bire. "She couldn’t play with her friends. But now she is OK. She can play as long as she wants."
"If she had not been treated at this hospital she would have suffered more and died," said Bire, her eyes filling with tears.
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By Anne Thompson, NBC News’ Chief Environmental Affairs Correspondent
COPENHAGEN – By protest standards, the crowd wasn’t that big – about 2,500 people – but it was certainly loud and diverse.
Anarchists, anti-capitalists, socialists and environmentalists all united to protest the fact that no deal has been struck yet among the 193 nations gathered in Copenhagen on how to solve the global climate crisis.
Paul, a man who looked to be in his 20s and declined to give his last name, came from Germany. As we tried to chat with him, a few of his fellow protesters aimed some choice words at our NBC News team, deriding us as "corporate media."
Paul was helping to carry a banner that said "It’s our climate, not your business." It was a popular chant along the protest route. Paul’s fervent belief in the message was also why he was walking through snow and cold and rain to deliver it.
He has no faith that government or big business can find a real answer to climate change. "No, they are the problem, they make the problems, why should we trust them?" he asked.
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By NBC News' Warangkana Chomchuen
NEW DELHI, India – Stray cows are no strangers to the streets of India’s capital. Cows in all different sizes and colors are a common sight across the city munching garbage, lolling about on the sidewalk and mooing as they stroll through traffic. They are generally oblivious to what’s going on around them.
But city authorities have ordered that all bovines must be removed from the roads. And city employees like Chandan Singh and Parveen Kumar have taken on a new role – cowboys herding street cattle.
Singh and Kumar don’t wear hats or boots, but they do have two characteristics typical of a Western cowboy – lassos and will power.
"The danger is plenty in the job," Singh said. "Sometimes the cows get really mad and charge us. Many catchers sustain injuries."
Singh, 38, and Kumar, 37, are on the same team with about 16 other cow catchers. Singh said he was picked for this job because he’s stout. "Perfect body to wrestle with cows," he said.
But if Singh resembles John Wayne, Kumar is more like Billy Crystal’s character in the movie "City Slickers."
"Sometimes I still have a strange feeling that I’m doing a bad thing," said Kumar. "My family doesn’t like what I do because cows are our sacred animal. But it’s my duty. I just have to."
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By Ian Williams, NBC News correspondent
KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia – Watching them feast was pretty unnerving. Their whiney buzz cut through the silence, a swarm of mosquitoes hovering and then settling in a dish containing a cocktail of human blood and the often deadly dengue fever virus.
VIDEO: As temperatures rise, mosquito-borne disease spreads
Thankfully, this banquet was contained in a cage of fine netting inside a laboratory at Kuala Lumpur's Institute of Medical Research. The mosquitoes would later be separated, and kept at different temperatures. The results so far show that a rise of four degrees Fahrenheit (from 82 degrees to 86 degrees) can almost double the speed at which the virus develops in the mosquito.
"The incubation period of the virus become shorter, so they become very infective much faster than before," said Dr Lokman Hakim, the head of disease control at Malaysia's health department.
Other new research suggests that rising temperatures shorten the lifespan of mosquitoes, making them hungrier – they bite more, in other words.
Dengue is just one vector-borne disease, but it is the fastest growing. Worldwide, the World Health Organization estimates that there are 50 million dengue infections a year. More than 25,000 people are killed by more severe forms of a related disease called "break-bone fever" because of the severe joint pain it can produce, as well as headaches and fever.
It used to be contained largely to south-east Asia, but has been spreading, and is now found in South America, Africa, south Asia and parts of Australia. It recently turned up in Nepal, and last month returned to Florida for the first time in 50 years. Increasingly scientists are blaming climate change, supported by Malaysia's ground-breaking research.
"Dengue will be a global problem in terms of health," said Dr. Samlee Plianbangchang, the World Health Organization’s South-East Asia Director. "Because as climate changes and temperatures rise, mosquitoes breed better."
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By Martin Fletcher, NBC News Correspondent
LAIKIPIA DISTRICT, Northern Kenya – It was a shocking sight and the putrid smell almost made me vomit: A hundred dead cows were spread across the dry plain in various stages of decomposition. Flies buzzed around their insides which had oozed onto the dry grass. Organs lay exposed and body parts, legs, heads and ears littered the earth.
Other dead cows were untouched. Jeremiah Lemiruni, a Samburu leader, strode among them, while I kept my eyes fixed to the ground, fearful of treading on some molding skin or rotting corpse. We were followed by a dozen tribesmen in red blankets carrying spears and clubs. They poked sadly at the carcasses as Jeremiah explained: "The older ones were killed by bullets, the rest died from the drought."
A six-hour drive through the Ololoque hills and Samburu bush land of northern Kenya reveals the devastating impact of years of poor-to-no rainfall.
Devastating drought
Rivers are serpents of dust. Natives dig in the parched riverbeds, seeking precious pools of water deep in the earth. Vultures feed off animal corpses by the roadside while skinny goats and sheep totter forlornly on their last legs. Children roam for half the day carrying yellow plastic containers in search of a running spring or at least a muddy pool. Bushes are brown and the land is bare as far as the eye can see.
Hungry tribesmen desperate to feed their families ambush cars on the dirt roads: our guide whispers that three groups of tourists have been robbed at gunpoint here this year. We travel with two armed policemen.
It hasn’t rained here since April and then only a few drops. Before that it was last October and that was a few drops too. Natives scratch their heads and try to remember the last serious rainfall.
And when, hundreds of miles away, the clouds do gather darkly and the skies open, rain gathers in the mountains and rushes in a wall of water through the plains, in flash floods that carry off animals and children. Consistent rain patterns are a distant memory here. The Samburu gather in knots on hilltops with torches and pray for rain but it hasn’t helped much.
The drought is so bad that traditional cattle rustling has turned into murder.
In September Pokoti tribesmen attacked neighboring Samburu villagers, seeking to steal their land, not with the usual spears and blood-curdling screams but automatic rifles. Thirty-three men, women and children died in the one-hour gun battle, which only ended when both sides ran out of bullets.
As the drought persists, the threat of violence is growing.
We read a lot about competition for resources; here it plays out at the most basic level: a fight for pasture and water. Police now guard this area of Laikipia to keep the peace, but too late for Jeremiah.
CONTINUED >>
By Anne Thompson, NBC News’ Chief Environmental Affairs Correspondent
COPENHAGEN – Decisions being made here at the 192-nation climate conference will affect people in far away corners of the globe. In the case of Peru, the South American nation 6,800 miles away, negotiations here could have an impact on the country’s shrinking supply of life’s most basic resource: water.
The United Nations says 80 percent of the water that flows to Peru's highly populated Pacific coast originates in the Andes Mountains. The Andes hold the world's biggest collection of tropical glaciers – glaciers that are disappearing.
Slideshow: Trying to save their glacier
The glaciers in the Cordillera Blanca mountain range stand three miles above sea level. While the majestic mountains appear over overwhelming, Peru’s foremost glaciologist Marco Zapata said that the glaciers of the Cordillera Blanca are now 27 percent smaller than they were 33 years ago.
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By Ian Williams, NBC News correspondent
DHAKA, Bangladesh – When I first met Kohinoor Shelim she was trying to feed rice to her young daughter, but the child just screamed and kept turning her face away. Instead, the girl demanding lentils – wanting anything else except for rice, the only food her mother had been able to afford that day.
Shelim told me that, Insha'Allah (God Willing), her husband, a rickshaw driver, would return later with enough money to buy more food.
Home for Shelim, her husband and two daughters, is a tiny corrugated shack in one of Dhaka's biggest slums, a maze of narrow, crowded alleyways lined with squalid shelters and open sewers, spilling down to a fetid river. She'd moved to the Bangladeshi capital with her family just two months earlier. When I asked her whether life was better here, she just looked away.
Her home near Bhola, a district deep in the river delta on which much of Bangladesh sits, was lost to the sea. "Over time, the river broke our house," she told me. "Until we had nothing to live in."
Video: Sinking below sea level in Bangladesh
‘Global destabilization’
If climate change does lead to a 3-foot rise in sea levels around Bangladesh by mid-century, as some scientists predict, then Shelim's story could echo those of 20 million climate change refugees here. It's an aspect of global warming that's only now being more fully appreciated, but which Atiq Rahman, the country's leading environmentalist, calls one of the biggest threats facing not only Bangladesh, but the world.
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