As long as I can remember, I have never had any of my overseas colleagues or friends make editorial inquiries about a regular party conference of Social Democrats party. But suddenly this week Germany's internal politics touched an international nerve.

A proposed speed limit for Germany's super highway – the autobahn – was put on the political agenda at the Hamburg party Congress. Once the news hit the front pages of papers across Europe, it immediately triggered questions from many of my American colleagues. 

Apparently many had been day-dreaming about a high-speed journey in a powerful Porsche, whizzing past Cinderella-like castles, racing toward an ice-cold beer at one of Munich's famous beer halls – and they were afraid those dreams might be prematurely dashed.

Road rules reality

Unfortunately, I have to put an end to the myth of good times speeding along Germany's roads unhindered by speed limits.

Germany is not the biggest race track in the world – speed limits have been in place for quite a while! Most stretches of the 7,600-mile highway network are marked with speed limits of 65 to 80 miles per hour. The regulations are often enforced by mobile radar traps – all too often leading to the painful fines arriving in mailboxes across the country.

And the very few roads in Germany that still allow you to press the gas pedal all the way through the floor are either congested with heavy traffic or supplemented by very narrow construction sites.

In the past car lovers from Great Britain have organized illegal races with ultra-powerful sports cars across central Europe. Guess where they were stopped by the police this year? Yes, in Germany!

Arguing environmental concerns
Germany's Social Democrats, junior partners in the grand coalition of Chancellor Angela Merkel, have argued the introduction of a speed limit would reduce both CO2 emissions and the accident rate.

In fact, statistics show that most of last year's accidents occurred on stretches with no speed limits.

But, while the SPD's own environmental experts argue that a speed limit of 80 mph could reduce CO2 emissions by 9 percent or more, other experts say that common traffic congestion and large combustion engines are just as harmful to the environment.

Merkel opposes the nationwide speed limit and says that Germany would be better off improving traffic circulation in order to reduce the amount of time cars spent in traffic jams.

The solution in this debate, which has been going on for years, may be simpler: Further introductions of even more environmentally friendly cars or just more train rides. (That is, if German train drivers don't go on strike again!)

And for visitors from foreign countries who are still seeking a high-speed adrenaline rush, the former formula one race track, the famous Nuerburgring, offers open roads on weekends for anybody who wants to catch the Indy 500 feeling in their own private – or rented – vehicle.

CHIBOMBO, Zambia – For whatever reason, it is considered improper for journalists to cry.  We are supposed to remain detached, and act as if we've seen worse.  That's why, when tears do come, we often walk away or bury ourselves in notes.  It is, I believe, one of our greater failings.

After seeing what we had seen in Zambia, I was surprised anything would get me going, but I wasn't prepared for the littlest grave.

We had traveled one hour from Lusaka, the nation's capitol, to the small village of Chibombo to see, of all things, the giving away of bicycles.

World Bicycle Relief, the vision of F.K. Day of Chicago, is a stunningly simple idea. 

It delivers tens of thousands of bicycles to the poorest people in the world. Why? Because simple transportation improves people's lives more than you can imagine. 

John Larson / NBC News

World Bicycle Relief trainees build bikes and learn maintenance in Lusaka, Zambia

All of a sudden, a child can get to school, a parent can find work, and a rural medical worker can reach eight families with AIDS. Farmers can transport extra corn. A father can walk one hour a day instead of seven. Emergencies can be dealt with. Neighbors can get a message. Income increases. Nutrition improves. All because people have wheels, and they can move. Think what your life would be without your car, and you get the idea.

Riding to the rescue

While we were there, we followed two Zambian "field-care specialists." They are villagers who volunteer to help the sickest people in their region. In the massive international effort to fight AIDS, powerful people are discovering that the least powerful people – those villagers who live in the middle of the pandemic – may be the most critical link of all.

They provide regular care, support, and help where there is little or none. Village volunteers receive training, and simple medical care kits. Before today, these "field-care specialists" walked everywhere, traveling long, dusty tracks to bring basic medical care, or HIV drugs, to desperate friends and neighbors. 

On the day we visited, World Bicycle Relief gave brand new, indestructible bicycles to 70 field-care specialists. It was fun to watch. The recipients danced and sang as if they had just received 70 space shuttles.  I have rarely seen people happier.

Lisa Berglund/NBC News

From left to right, World Bicycle Relief founder F.K. Day,  Roderick, and  field care giver Phinmore Choongo, surrounded by Roderick's younger brothers and sisters.

We decided to follow Phinmore Choongo as he rode a shiny, new black World Bicycle Relief bike to his first client. He is a smart young man who farms, and does whatever he can to support his own family. He also volunteers 30 hours a week to help eight other families – most sick or suffering from HIV/AIDS.  While it would usually take him three hours to walk to the hut we visited with him, instead it was a 30-minute cruise on his bike. When we arrived, we found a family of eight children. 

We met everyone and exchanged information. There were no parents.

We were looking at eight children, ages 3 to 18. Choongo told us their story. A year and a half ago, their father – Edward Malekano – died of AIDS. Last May, their mother – Catherine – was lifted out of her hut and carried to a distant hospital. She died there, leaving Roderick, the eldest son, to care for his six brothers and sisters.

'I hope I can learn to be a better farmer'

"[Roderick] was very sad when it all happened, of course, and lost," Choongo told me. "He realized he might not ever marry, that his sisters and brothers might die, that even he might not survive. He got very depressed.  I would come as much as I could just to bring food, but mostly to talk to him about being ethical and strong." 

Choongo explained that there are many children in Roderick's situation – lone children heading households. Some just give up, going to the town, getting drunk, finding drugs, and often getting sick and die.  And then, of course, everyone back home – all the kids in the family – struggle or die, too.

Roderick was soft spoken. His clothes were torn and filthy. We sat in dirt under the only shade tree. He looked tired. I asked him about his mom and dad. 

"Neither of them ever said goodbye to me," he said. "Father got sick and couldn't do much. One day he told me it was time to be strong like a man. And then he died. We buried him in the village."

The worst was still to come. According to custom, Roderick, his mother and brothers and sisters had to leave their father's home and land and move far away to another hut. By the looks of the hut, it was a huge step down. 

The crumbling hut was, at most, nine feet by six feet, and sat in a dusty corner of a barren, forgotten field. Soon after moving, his mother was too sick to help with much of anything. In the end, she talked to Roderick in a whisper, telling her oldest son to be strong, and to keep the rest of her children safe.  She never told him how, and she never gave Roderick advice. 

Lisa Berglund/ NBC News

Roderick and all of his younger brothers and sisters from left to right, Ronica 8, Cecilia 10, Abel 9, Kenon 7, David 12, Roderick 18, Kelly 3, and Mumba 15.

"I didn't know she was dying," he said. "They took her away and I thought she would come back. Then my cousin Imelda came, and told me mother had died in hospital. She told me I would have to raise the children myself. And then she left."  He was 17. He had already been the man of the house for nearly a year.

Roderick's brothers and sisters surrounded us. In addition to Roderick, there were the two older boys, Mumba, 15, and David, 12. Then, two girls – Ronica, 8, and Cecilia, 10. Then, there were the two youngest boys – Abel, 9, and Kenon, 7. There was even an eighth child – Kelly, a nephew, who was left there on the day we visited while his mother attended a funeral. Kelly was 3 years old and cried if we came too close. Everyone wore torn clothes and appeared starving. It was unknown whether their parents passed HIV to any of the children.

No one smiled, until I start asking them about their brothers and sisters. "Who eats the most?" I asked.  Everyone started laughing and they all immediately pointed to Kenon, who looked suddenly sober. Roderick smiled and said Kenon will eat off anyone's plate if they leave it unattended.

"Who do you think will be the first to have a boyfriend or girlfriend or get married?" I asked. Everyone smiled and looked at Ronica. She was wearing a torn dress, had what appeared to be head lice, and was clearly malnourished, as almost everyone was. I found myself wondering if Ronica would live long enough to have boyfriend.

Choongo brought out presents – T-shirts for the boys and two dolls for the girls. The girls, who have not had a mother in six months, were ecstatically happy. They cradled the dolls and walked them around. Ronica wanted to leave her doll strapped in the box, because she thought it was prettier that way. I asked her what she would name the doll. "Motinta," she said. I later learned that Motinta means "beautiful girl among boys."

"The difficult thing now is that Roderick must do almost everything," Choongo said. "He must get food for them everyday, and cook it, too.  Mumba is beginning to help, and the girls do what they can, but it is mostly Roderick." Choongo had to loan Roderick seeds to plant, so the family would have corn to sustain them.  It was still unclear whether the seeds will produce much.

I spent a lot of time talking to Roderick. I asked him about what he thinks life holds for him. Once, he told me, he thought of marriage and family.  Not anymore. He used to go to school. He stopped school when his father got sick. I asked him about his dreams. He just looked at all his brothers and sisters and said, "I hope I can learn to be a better farmer."

'I miss her most at meal times'

Two hours later, we were with a different caregiver, visiting a different family. 

Elizabeth Noonga was pedaling toward a gathering of mud huts. Noonga was wearing church clothes – a pressed brown and red flowered dress. She had a quick smile and was a big woman.  I mention this because she hauled herself up on her bike, as if she were not. 

Although she could have had a bicycle with a low crossbar designed for women, she asked for a man's bike, because she can carry two children on the high crossbar. She pedaled slowly and stopped when she reached the huts. 

John Larson / NBC News

Zambia field care specialist Elizabeth Noonga gets ready to get on her bike and visit families in need with NBC photographer Lisa Berglund looking on.

Kenneth Ntalasha and his three children were sitting beneath a tree. Ntalasha smiled and looked very weak.  His eyes were yellow and bloodshot – he is HIV positive. 

Noonga greeted him and they began to talk. Kenneth's wife Gertrude died from AIDS last year. She was 35. Noonga had Gertrude tested, and even got her some of Zambia's free anti-viral drugs designed to combat HIV, but it was too late. Gertrude died of tuberculosis, a common cause of death among the immune-weakened people of Zambia.

Gertrude left her husband with their two daughters, Rachel, 11, and Cynthia, 8, and a 1-year-old son, Robson, who is HIV-positive, too.

I talked with Kenneth. He is a smart, soft-spoken man who speaks workable English. He said Gertrude was very sick, of course, and that in the end, he spoke to her about God.  "I wanted her not to be afraid," he told me. "I wanted to have comfort. I told her it would be all right."

Of course, it was not all right. Gertrude was leaving her family behind and her sickly husband was not prepared to raise three children alone. Before she died, Elizabeth's last words were "keep them safe."

Kenneth did the best he could, but soon he was so sick he could not do very much at all.  Plus, he was not a very good mother. The children were dirty and crying. 

"I miss her most at meal times," he told me. I asked, "Did you bury Gertrude yourself?"  He said, "Yes, behind the house." I asked him to show me where.

Too many graves

We set off on a path behind the house with Kenneth carrying Robson and the girls walking behind him. "I visit her grave twice a month," he said. We walked about 200 hundred yards and it was clear the grave was not behind the house. We kept walking.  Several times during the next 30 minutes we stopped and asked, "Is it near?"  "Yes," said Kenneth, "It is right over there."

We keep walking. It was not "right over there." We walked more, crossing several dry, grassy fields. Eventually we passed huts and other families and we entered a patch of scrub and dry trees. The ground was bumpy and uneven. I realized the bumps were unmarked graves. 

Courtesy John Yaeger/ World Vision

Kenneth Ntalasha and his two daughters, Rachel, 11, and Cynthia, 8, and Robson, his 1-year-old son, Robson who is HIV-positive.

We walked past a dozen graves and stopped. Kenneth told me there were 300 graves here. None of them had a single marking, cross, stone, or slightest sign that the people who rested there were loved.  But, of course, they were. 

We stood in silence and Kenneth began to cry. He wiped his tears away and then his daughters began to cry, which was all too much for Kenneth, who began weeping.

When enough time had passed, I spoke with him and he told me that he had not brought his daughters to the grave since their mother died.  As we were about to leave, I noticed a very small grave among the others.  I said, "That must have been a child?"  Kenneth responded, "That was my son."

He told me how strong his boy was, and how he died, but it was mostly lost on me.  I didn't hear much. This one thin man's pain was so big I felt dizzy. Tears were rolling down my face. We stood by his wife and his son for a while, and then left.

On the way back, Kenneth told me that none of the graves were marked because everyone is too poor. "If we were rich, we could make a stone," he said. "But we are not."

Back at his home, Noonga was waiting. She cuddled the children and talked to Kenneth about his health. She has helped him get anti-viral drugs and he is feeling better.

Noonga stripped little Robson and washed him with water from a plastic tub. He screamed in protest as the dirt fell off. Noonga dried him, put on a clean shirt, and cuddled him like a mother until he is happy. 

I found myself thinking that if there were angels among us, they might wear a brown and red flowered dress and look a lot like Elizabeth Noonga.

We left after taking pictures and wishing them well. We know our wishes will not help Kenneth, Rachel, Cynthia and Robson nearly as much as Elizabeth will.   

There are a million children in Zambia alone who have lost one or both of their parents to AIDS. The number is an estimate, of course, because no one is really counting them all.

For more information about how you can help, please visit the World Bicycle Relief website.

PESHAWAR, Pakistan –  I'd never been mistaken for a Taliban fighter before.  I've been accused of being a CIA agent, a Mossad spy, a crusader and a war profiteer, but never a militant Islamic fundamentalist.  I hardly look the part.

But when we pulled up outside the madrasa near Peshawar, it was the first thing we were asked.

I was in the back of a new Toyota 4x4, driven by a Pashtun who knows how to handle himself.  The Pashtuns are members of an ancient tribe that straddles the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. Before these were ever countries, the Pashtuns were here, and they like to brag how they pushed out British colonial forces and now American soldiers. They like to think of themselves as the toughest people in the world. They might be right. 

I was flanked by two armed guards, also Pashtuns. One was dressed in an old police uniform.  The other had a thick black beard and wore the traditional vest, long jacket, skull cap and baggy trousers. 

In the 1980s, Peshawar was the one of the centers of al-Qaida, then known simply as the Services Office. The Services Office's mission was to deploy holy warriors from across the Islamic world into Afghanistan to fight the Soviets. Osama bin Laden had a house in Peshawar.  The two-story villa is now a dormitory for a girls' school. Two decades later, the holy warriors are back in Peshawar. That's why we were accompanied by armed guards. You don't fool around in Peshawar. 

VIDEO: A look inside one of Pakistan's madrasa schools in Peshawar

Outside the madrasa, men huddled around a steaming cart serving boiled chickpeas turned and stared when we pulled up in the 4x4. With the expensive car and hired gunmen, I guess we looked like we meant business, and the only people doing that these days in Peshawar are al-Qaida and the Taliban.

"Are you from the Taliban?"one of the men asked my main Pashtun escort. The armed guards never spoke a word.

"Maybe," he said.

"What are you doing here?"

"We are bringing Islamic Revolution."

"Good," the man said and nodded. "We need it."

Jihad academies

Within a few minutes we were taken into the madrasa, which in Arabic simply means "school."  But in Pakistan the madrasas are Islamic institutes, boarding schools where children memorize the Koran eight hours a day, six days a week and study what I like to call The Theory.

The Theory is a world view – a mixture of history, conspiracy and myth – common from Morocco to Indonesia. The basic tenet is that the United States and Israel are united in a crusade to destroy Islam, harvest the Middle East's oil and subjugate Muslims through a network of corrupt dictators.

The director of the madrasa summed it up by saying, "American is the enemy of Islam. The United States wants Muslims to be slaves." 

The madrasa's brochure said – in English – that its objectives are:

- imparting religious and Arabic education.

- interpreting correct and rational beliefs based on the Koran and Sunna (the accepted traditions of the Prophet Mohammed)

- safeguarding Islamic and Arabic culture

- countering false beliefs

- equipping holy warriors with culture and morals.

The madrasas are jihad academies, and they are expanding.

We arrived on registration day. The madrasa normally holds 800 students, but we saw hundreds more submitting applications. The school's director said there are at least 20,000 madrasas across Pakistan and that the U.S.-led "War on Terrorism" has made them more popular than ever.

Coming to madrasas for answers

In the last four months reporting on al-Qaida in Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Jordan, Syria and now Pakistan, I have been told over and over that the war on terrorism is a war on Islam. American-funded television stations and other Washington PR initiatives designed to show the Islamic world that Muslims in fact enjoy full rights in the United States (often more than in their own countries) do not seem to be working. 

When I asked about all the new applicants, and visited the new wing being built to accommodate them all, the madrasa's director certainly seemed to think the U.S. approach was producing results – for him.

 "Whenever the United States equates terrorism and Islam," he said, "people here want to find out, 'What is this Islam?'  What is it about Islam? Why is America so frightened by it? Many more people come to the madrasas to find out."

It is a serious problem. While the Taliban, al-Qaida and their ideology were a serious threat in Afghanistan (as proven by the atrocities of 9/11), they are much more dangerous is Pakistan, a poor country of 165 million armed with 35 to 40 nuclear weapons.

LONDON – Every time I touch down in this magnificent city of such history, I can't help but be taken by how much of it is new.

Construction cranes are everywhere; the Thames is lined with sparkling new and amazingly unaffordable ultra-modern condos, and red Ferraris boast their untested powers on the traffic-slowed streets. 

This town is awash in foreign cash. Huge sums of it. You can almost feel the buzz, emanating from the Financial District. My poor little dollars seem to shrink even more in my pocket.  I try my best to protect them.

And the British press talks of London being the new capital of capital – the new financial center of the universe.

In the last U.S. Republican primary debate, several of the candidates treated the question itself as if it were an affront to patriotism:  Will London overtake New York as the financial capital of the world?

What?!  Never! Un-American, seemed to be the general feeling.

But there are many analysts who say it's already happened. 

Depends who you ask
This year, MasterCard declared London the winner.

There have been widespread reports to that effect here in England. Still, it all depends on how you measure it.

The value of shares traded in New York is still about quadruple that in London, according to one calculation. Yet, the value of bonds traded here is about quadruple that in New York.

London's strength seems to be its foothold in the global economy, and its continued growth there. It is much easier here for foreign investors to get in and thrive, especially after 9/11.

Some analysts say New York is more dependent on the domestic economy and investments, which have been rocked by the subprime mortgage fiasco.

About $100 billion in foreign investment shapes London every year. Forty percent of foreign equities trades, and a third of the world's currency exchanges, happen here. That's more than in New York and more than in Tokyo. And 80 percent of London's business is international.

Property values in London have topped New York.  The cost of a dinner out has topped Tokyo. 

While London's markets are sprawling, New York's have been hampered by some instability, stricter regulation, litigation — and even the time zone. 

London gets a five-hour headstart. It's also been shown to be attracting the world's best traders, and the world's most aggressive companies. Last year, financial traders here earned more than those in New York, by about half.

Yet it's tough to really determine who is Number One hands down. But some analysts – and companies – are leaning toward London.

Alarmed officials in New York and Washington are studying the situation with concern, looking for ways to make U.S. markets stronger, and less restrictive.  The head of the Security and Exchange Commission and the U.S. Treasury are involved, obviously thinking it's important to keep New York on top. 

Ask the guy with the bigger bonus what he thinks...
We live in a global marketplace, and there is no turning back.

Meanwhile, the Indian billionaire brothers who have an expanding outpost in London, trying innovative investments in all corners of the world, seem happy.  So does the young American financial whiz who relocated here from New York to seek his fortunes.  And the trader whose bonus last year was upwards of $50 million.

On more practical, day-to-day matters, I just wish that the shampoo and conditioner I bought in a rush didn't cost me $70. Sigh. Hopefully our greenbacks will gain strength in coming days. 

HAVANA –  During a recent trip to Cuba to follow-up on our earlier reporting on the lucrative but very dangerous business of smuggling Cubans to the United States, we came face to face with some of the human tragedies behind this illicit trade.

Taking to the seas to leave Cuba and to find a new life in the United States is a desperate and horribly risky endeavor. It speaks volumes about the difficult life on the island -- and about the lure of virtually guaranteed entry in the U.S. where the Cuban Adjustment Act (and its so-called "wet foot/dry foot" policy) give unique privileges to Cuban immigrants who set foot on American soil.

Over and over again we talked with young and middle-aged Cubans in Havana who said they feel no hope here for them or their children. They spoke openly of economic deprivation, of shortages, of struggling to survive, and of seeing the treacherous ocean as their only way out.

VIDEO: NBC's Mark Potter reports from a Cuban Border Guard patrol boat trying to stop smugglers from sneaking Cubans illegally into the U.S.

One man, facing an interminable wait for a U.S. visa and unable to afford the $10,000 fee charged by smugglers coming on fast boats from South Florida, said he was all but ready to take his chances on a rickety homemade boat.

It seemed a faint boast, but the next night, under cover of darkness, he proved he was serious by showing us the metal frame of a boat he and other men were quietly building in a garage. 

Journeys gone awry
Another man told us of a smuggling scheme that went awry.  After arriving at a desolate island beach with the help of Cuban arrangers, he boarded a boat bound for Mexico, hoping to eventually cross the U.S. border in Texas. (Tightened security by the U.S. Coastguard around Florida has made this is an increasingly common route for Cubans.) The boat, however, broke down in bad weather. After two terrifying days adrift in rough seas, the vessel floated back to western Cuba and crashed on the rocks, killing two of his friends.

Our saddest encounter was with Maria Villalba, a Cuban mother who last year lost her only son, her daughter-in-law and a nephew aboard an ill-fated boat trip to Honduras, from where they had hoped to cross into Mexico and then head north to the United States. Visibly broken and crying through much of our interview, she said she'd been told the three were separated from the others on the boat by huge waves and had disappeared.  

The hardest part was to hear her clinging to the faint hope that, because the bodies had not been found, her son and the others might still be alive somewhere, perhaps suffering from amnesia. It was absolutely heartbreaking.

Cuban officials argue the flow of Cuban migrants to the United States is the result of the U.S. economic embargo, U.S. immigration law and a lack of resolve to stop the Miami-based smugglers. American officials argue the thousands of Cubans taking to the sea are symptomatic of the economic, social and political failures of the Castro government.

Far from the Cuban Foreign Ministry, the U.S. State Department and the decades-old political arguments, though, are the people on the ground and in the boats making desperate choices, and suffering immeasurable pain. That's what this trip showed us. 

See more of Mark Potter's report about the sad reality of human smuggling from Cuba's shores to the United States on NBC's Nightly News with Brian Williams Wednesday evening.

Read about the blistering comments President Bush made about the Castro regime on Wednesday.

CIZRE, Turkey –  It's a spectacularly beautiful corner of the world. The canvas has a sandy-bronze backdrop of mountains on the Iraq and Syrian border. Tufts of tawny grass populate the foreground, backed by fields of cotton, orchards, and vineyards.

The only disconcerting sight we see as we drive along the headwaters of the Tigris here in southern Turkey towards the Iraq border, is a scattering of tanks under camouflage. We stop on the road's shoulder when we see a platoon of Turkish soldiers being ordered through their paces on a hill below. As our cameraman pushed in for a tight shot, another three cars pulled up and still photographers and video shooters piled out. This is our first good glimpse of the Turkish army buildup along the Iraq border.

Since Sunday's ambush of Turkish troops by rebels of the Kurdistan Workers' Party – known by the acronym PKK – a couple of miles from the Iraqi-Turkish border, more troops and artillery have been dispatched to the region.   

VIDEO: Ned Colt reports on the tensions growing along the Turkey-Iraq borderÂ

The message to the estimated 3,000 Kurdish militants in northern Iraq is anything but subtle. Turkey is ready to go in and root them out. It's already been happening – with artillery bombardments and airstrikes. 

On Wednesday, the government also acknowledged sending in small numbers of troops to pursue guerrillas over the past couple of days.

'Nothing out of the ordinary'

So far, the mass incursion feared, has not materialized. And on this side of the border, there are few apparent signs of concern. The bazaar in this town remains busy, as does the nearby border crossing into Iraq.

SLIDESHOW: Cross-border tension

When we stopped by the border on Tuesday, drivers were brewing tea alongside their trucks. The line stretched for at least two miles. Drivers complained they had been waiting for a week to cross into Iraq but they said that one week was better than the two it used to take. (Apparently the hold-up was mostly due to border bureaucracy).

Back by the roadside, an armored personnel carrier (APC) trundled up to us from where the Turkish soldiers were training. A smiling captain got out, and politely asked us to refrain from our picture-taking.

"This is normal training," he said. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

But as pressure builds on the Turkish government for opposing actions – diplomacy from the international community and military retaliation from protesting Turks – the feeling on this strip of border is anything but ordinary.

By Adrienne Mong, NBC News Producer

We were running at least half an hour behind schedule – a little surprising given the tightly orchestrated nature of China's weeklong Seventeenth Communist Party Congress (informally known and much less a mouthful as the "17 Big" in Mandarin).

Hundreds of journalists from around the country and around the world were herded down passageways inside the Great Hall of the People – or as NBC cameraman Marcus O'Brien calls it, the Great Walk of the People. (To get anywhere inside the cavernous building, you have to walk. A lot. The Hall, which seats China's legislature, covers more than 1.8 million square feet.)

We all came to a stop on the second floor of the Great Hall of the People, outside the viewing hall. Minutes more passed as everyone, yawning and bleary-eyed on a Sunday morning, shuffled equipment and feet.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

Cameramen aplenty on the opening day of the Party Congress.Â

However, when the doors suddenly opened, a roar erupted as everyone surged through into the room, rushing to get the best spot.

Pole position

Chinese and foreign cameramen elbowed their way to the front of the seating overlooking the stage below, planting tripods and stepladders over one another. Photographers jumped onto folding chairs and whipped out colossal telephoto lenses to get a closer shot of China's leadership arrayed in a row of seats below us. Print journalists pulled out binoculars to review the personalities.

All the big names were present: President Hu Jintao, of course; his predecessor Jiang Zemin; Premier Wen Jiabao and his predecessors Zhu Rongji and Li Peng; and many more.

The closing speeches began: "The Seventeenth National Congress of the Communist Party of China has approved the report made by Comrade Hu Jintao on behalf of its Sixteenth Central Committee...."

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

China's leadership at the closing session of the 17th Party Congress.Â

As the speaker intoned, I began noting the frequent use of the phrase zhongguo tese sehui zhuyi, or "socialism with Chinese characteristics." During Hu's speech on the first day of the 17th Party Congress, this well-known slogan, which Deng Xiaoping formally introduced at the 12th Party Congress in 1982, appeared 52 times.

'Think coronation'

As much as it's a set piece that never deviates from a highly stage-managed script, the Party Congress does lay out China's future policy blueprint and elects a new leadership.

And for all its orchestration (during the opening session, Lindsey Hilsum of Britain's Channel 4 gleefully called the event a farce while the LA Times' correspondent Mark Magnier wrote, "Think coronation"), the pomp and circumstance remind onlookers that the Congress only takes place once every five years.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

Stuffed Olympic "friendlies" adorned the front of every bus shuttling Party Congress delegates.

As with the first day of the Party Congress, many journalists on the last day didn't bother taking notes. Instead they busied themselves with taking snapshots of one another to mark the occasion. Not unlike many of the 2,217 delegates who – during breaks – pulled out digital cameras to take pictures with one another like long-lost roommates at a college reunion.

However, I was startled out of my reverie when a number of cameras suddenly appeared to be trained in my direction. In fact, they were all zooming in on the pristine-looking journalist sitting beside me – Sally Wu, better known in this part of the world as Wu Xiaoli.

Wu is a news anchor for the popular Hong Kong-based cable news station, Phoenix TV— part-owned by Rupert Murdoch's News Corp. She gained instant notoriety back in 1998, when then-Premier Zhu Rongji singled her out at his inaugural press conference, saying that he watched her news broadcast every day.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

Delegates from the more exotic parts of China, dressed in their cultural finery, give interviews outside the Great Hall of the People.

Several times, I tried to duck out of the way, into the lap of a rather annoyed European journalist sitting on the other side of my seat, as Chinese reporters sidled up to Wu to request to take a photo with her.

The spectacle and the spectacular

When the voting began, however, we all perked up. As Hu asked, "Agree?" all hands were raised. "Not agree?" A silence ensued for a couple of second before calls of "mei you" ("None") rang out through the hall.

Several reporters chuckled aloud. To me, the phrase was doubly amusing, recalling the days back in the 1980s, when "mei you" was the stock answer to every question you ever asked of a shopkeeper or train ticket seller in China.

Despite all the tight controls, there was one notable change this time. Several veteran Party Congress reporters told me that there was greater freedom in covering the party delegates. Media could request interviews with delegates on the Party Congress media website or simply doorstop them on their way out of meetings.

It made for quite a sight: Dozens of camera crews and reporters trailing delegates from the steps of the Great Hall of the People to the dozens of tour buses standing across the road on Tiananmen Square, ready to shuttle the delegates back to their well-guarded hotels. And the delegates most often stopped were those from China's ethnic minorities and dressed in elaborate, spectacular even, tribal costumes. This – perhaps as much as the voting itself – lent new meaning to the word spectacle.

Sometimes the story is out in the street. Sometimes, it is on a battlefield. Sometimes, it is in the room, sitting next to you. 

After a four-hour drive south from Zambia's sprawling city of Lusaka, I'm sitting in a small, whitewashed office with 11 people. Clement Chipollilo, an aid worker, is telling us about a Zambian village we will visit. HIV/AIDS, unemployment, and drought have ravaged the village. In recent years, most of the region's cattle have died of pneumonia. Drought has trashed its agricultural base. It is the next thing he says, however, that makes us all sit up and listen.

He tells about what happens when parents die, usually from AIDS, and leave their children behind. "In the city," he says, "children often raise themselves. A 7-year-old child becomes the head of the household. You'll see them along the street. If the children are orphaned in a village, however, a relative usually tries to take them in, but sometimes they cannot afford to." 

John Larson / NBC News

A young orphan girl in Zambia.

I ask him how often this happens, parents dying, leaving their children with nothing and no one. "A lot," he says. "In fact, all four of us in the room are raising children who are not our own."

There are four Zambian men in the room. They look up and nod. Between them, they are raising 23 children who are not their own. I ask them about their kids. Clement has one child of his own, but he is raising five more. When Clement's cousin and his cousin's wife died of AIDS, Clement took the kids. Bernard Zulu, another Zambian aid worker in the room, has four of his own children and is responsible seven more – including some of his own siblings. Same goes for Victor Simuchimba, whose brother and sister both died of AIDS. He raised three children in addition to his own. Goffrey Mankhungwe Kamanga has two boys, but is raising or helping raise four more. Goffrey's sister is sick with an AIDS-related illness. That means that soon he may have more.

When I tell them how stunned I am by their stories, they laugh. "You should have met Aladon," Goffrey says. "He is a fifth employee in our office and he has raised about 12 children that are not his own."

All the men are bright, educated and passionate about Zambia's poorest people. The stories they tell are both hopeful and desperate. On one hand, they are building a beautiful school. On the other, unemployment in the region is almost 100 percent. Huge advances in free antiviral medication for HIV/AIDS provide hope. Yet, the average life expectancy here is just a stunning 38 years – down from 46 years just a few years ago. The HIV pandemic is crushing Zambia's adult population. More than half of the nation's 11 million people are suddenly under 15 years old. Their parents – dead or dying.

One of the men in the room mentions malaria. I later learn that all four Zambians in the room have malaria. "If you are Zambian, you've had malaria," says Goffrey. But that is another story, for another room.

Not everyone was displeased to see more than one hundred Pakistani citizens dead on the streets of Karachi on Thursday.  Most of those who commented on the suicide bombings on a popular pro-militant Internet site called EkHlaas greeted the news with postings of "God is great!" 

"This woman promised the United States to fight Islam and allow the U.S. to interrogate the father of the Pakistani nuclear weapons.  God is great, thank God, the Mujahideen (holy warriors) Taliban said they would shoot her," posted one visitor under the name Meskin.
"I hope she will be destroyed and this is the last page for Musharraf.  I hope they will all be burned," a visitor named Abbas said.

Even before the attack, one contributor posted a hauntingly accurate predication:  "Today Bhutto will return to Pakistan and has announced she will allow the U.S. troops, so the suicide bombers are having a rendezvous with her today," wrote Mohenid Saram. "If not today, after a week, or a month, but reaching her before she reaches power will be easy and the mujahideen (holy warriors) will not spare an effort."

One sole voice stoked an angry debate when he stood against the attack: Tarek al Shamri called it a 'crime' that killed hundreds of Muslims and described the perpetrators as "infidels."  He questioned whether the CIA was behind it. 

Others quickly rebuked him by saying the attack targeted a tyrant, her guards and supporters, and not innocent Muslims.  Argued Abu Rayan al Ansari, "If you call it a crime, it is not a crime."

The Turkish parliament approved a possible cross-border offensive against Kurdish rebels in northern Iraq. NBC's Richard Engel reports on the significance of the vote and how it is a major show of force for Turkey both politically and militarily.

VIDEO: Turkey authorizes military action

The last time a Russian leader came to Iran was in 1943 when the Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin, President Franklin Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill attended a wartime summit in Tehran. 

Six decades after Stalin's visit, it was the turn of President Vladimir Putin, who came to Tehran to make it clear to Washington that Moscow would not accept military action against Iran, a sentiment shared by other Caspian Sea states at the summit.

"We should not even think of using force in this region," Putin said at the summit in comments clearly aimed at the United States and Europe.

And as far as official Iran is concerned – Putin's visit was just as significant as the Tehran summit during World War II.

"The mere fact of Putin's presence on Iranian soil is evidence that the West's policy of isolation is a failure and can be interpreted as a victory of Iranian diplomacy," the newspaper Iran News wrote prior to the summit.

But even though Tehran may seem to have gained an upper hand with what seems to be Russian support for it is nuclear program and a buffer against a military strike, at the same time, many Iranians don't trust Russia as a country that will defend their national interests. While official Iran is touting Putin's visit as a victory that is beneficial for Iran, unofficially the visit has been treated with a great deal of suspicion.

Russian, not always such a good friend

Historically Russian has a bad track record with regard to Iran and its territories. At its height, Iranian rulers controlled Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, much of Central Asia, and the Caucasus. Many Iranians today consider those areas part of a greater Iranian sphere of influence, as opposed to a Russian sphere, at least culturally.

But high mountains and the vast emptiness of the Iranian plateau were not enough to shield Iran from the Russian Army or British Navy. Both literally, and figuratively, shrank Iran.

At the beginning of the nineteenth century, Azerbaijan, Armenia, much of Georgia, and Afghanistan were under Iranian control, but by the end of the century, the Russian Empire wrested much of it from Tehran. All the rest of the territories were lost to the British. So, for many Iranians there is no love lost for the Russians or the British.

"I have lived in Iran all my life, 91 years, and I have seen a lot of changes to my beloved country," said Babak Mansour, a former carpet deatler. "I have seen three kings come and go, countless territories lost, a coup to overthrow a democratically voted prime minister and two revolutions, all in my life time. I can tell you, with God as my witness, that the Russians and the British were behind all of them."

"There is no way that the Russians would go against their friends in the West for Iran if they were not going to gain something vast in the long run, they only came to Iran to serve their own interest, not ours," he added. 

VIDEO: Putin warns U.S. not to attack Iran

Divvying up the riches of the Caspian Sea

Although the tussle of Iran's nuclear aspirations made the headlines, the main issue before the summit was the Caspian Sea. Divvying up territory in and around the inland sea – believed to contain the world's third-largest reserves of oil and natural gas – has been a major bone of contention among the five nations.

The Caspian's offshore borders have been in limbo since the 1991 Soviet collapse and the lack of agreement has led to tensions and conflicts over oil deposits. Putin's visit was also largely aimed at strengthening efforts to blunt U.S. economic and military interests in the area.

Putin suggested that Moscow and Tehran should have a veto on any Western plans for new pipelines to carry oil and natural gas from the Caspian Sea – which would safeguard Russia's current monopoly on energy deliveries from the region. 

In terms of Iran's nuclear program, Putin made an unspecified proposal at a private meeting with Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran's supreme leader, Iran's state news agency reported Wednesday. 

No details were provided, but Khamenei, who has the final say on all government matters, said Iran will give Putin's proposal serious thought before giving a response. "We will ponder your words," Khamenei was quoted as saying.

Meanwhile, Putin refused to set a date for completing the Bushehr nuclear plant – which is being built by the Russians and would be Iran's first nuclear reactor – in an attempt to avoid an outright show of support for Iran's defiance over its nuclear program.

That lack of commitment on the Bushehr plant was a significant oversight as far as Ahmad, a political science student in Tehran, was concerned.

"The only reason the Russian came to Iran was to steal our share of the Caspian, they are just pretending to be our friend," said Ammad, who asked that his last name not be used. "If they are really supporting us, why did they not set a date for the completion of the Bushehr plant?"

"It's funny that our government is making deals with a country that has done so much harm to us," he added. "The Russians have hurt Iran more than the Americans ever have, yet we are making deals with them and not the Americans."

By Adrienne Mong, NBC News Producer

LHASA, Tibet - Travelling in the field as part of a TV news crew, you get used to the attention a big video camera attracts.

In China, where you're rarely on your own, people stop mid-flow and stare, open-mouthed, occasionally throwing out a question to no one in particular about what you are doing.

In Tibet, where you're often in huge open spaces with nothing around but maybe a yak or two, the locals emerge like apparitions, drawn to the camera.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

A Tibetan peasant and his granddaughter who were drawn to our TV camera on the road from Shigatse from Lhasa, Tibet.

On a drive toward Shigatse from Lhasa one morning, we stopped at a riverbank overlooking the Yarlung Tsangpo - a vast meandering river that becomes known as the Brahmaputra once it crosses into neighboring India.

As we filmed the surrounding valley, an elderly Tibetan man and his granddaughter appeared from nowhere, looking intently at the camera.

Native curiosity

The man was wearing threadbare clothes – a dark brown blazer with holes and faded green sneakers. He didn't speak Mandarin, only Tibetan, but his 12-year-old granddaughter was fluent and translated what he said. She told me they lived on the other side of a mountain behind the valley.

Carrying a spool of black yak wool he was using to make a blanket, the 66-year-old grandfather watched our crew with quiet and respectful fascination. Unlike the Chinese and unlike us, he asked no questions. I peppered them with my own.

Is her grandfather retired? This provoked much mirth. "He's a peasant," came her rebuke. "They don't retire."

Where do they farm? Up the side of the mountain above us, where a herd of black cows grazed.

Does she have any brothers and sisters? A brother, he's 5. He doesn't go to school. 

How many are there in their household? Five of them. Her paternal grandparents, her mother, herself, and her brother. 

How old is her mother? She's 38. 

Does she work? Yes, she's the main breadwinner of the family.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

Tibetan farmers take a break.

I wanted to ask more probing questions, but just a few feet away inside a van sat our government minder. It wasn't worth getting this family into any trouble.

Still, I wondered what their lives were like. Whether it was better than it was a decade or two ago. Whether it would have been better without the Chinese.

A better tomorrow?

That life in Tibet has improved is a common refrain among Chinese officials, who like to trot out impressive statistics. In addition to the $8 billion invested from 1994 to 2005, Beijing says they plan to funnel into Tibet an additional $10 billion over the next five years.

"The government puts the development of Tibet high on the priority list," said Yu Heping, deputy director-general at the Development and Reform Commission of the Tibet Autonomous Region. In an interview with Yu, he made repeated references to achieving a goal of double-digit GDP growth.

The refrain comes from some Tibetans, too.

A native farmer in a village outside of Shigatse sang the praises of the Chinese government. "They've done a lot to make our lives better," said Ci Nan, who was especially effusive about Beijing's investments in irrigation.

Adrienne Mong / NBC News

A worn China flag blows in the wind along with Tibetan prayer flags.

The young Tibetan woman assigned as our minder, De Qu, spent her teenage years in Beijing but couldn't wait to return to her native city, Lhasa, after graduating from university. She put it to me in succinct terms: "Actually it's much easier to find things here now. What you can find anywhere in China you can find here now, too."

But critics of China's modernization drive in Tibet argue that the material benefits come at too high a cost – part of a grand design to retain firm control over the region by remaking the former Himalayan kingdom wholly Chinese.

As long-time Tibet researcher, Robbie Barnett of Columbia University, put it, Tibetans "can see that they are being bought off."

SLIDESHOW: The Dalai Lama, the exiled spiritual leader of Tibet's Buddists.

Early this month, hundreds of exiles living in India led a protest over an Indian publication that praised Tibet's double-digit economic growth under the Chinese. 

This was followed by a protest in early August in a predominantly Tibetan corner of China's southwestern province of Sichuan – in which protesters called for the Dalai Lama's return and demanded greater religious freedom.  

The Tibetan people might be able to make money, said Barnett, but they're not able to make decisions about their own culture, traditions, or religion – all of which activists say are being slowly eroded by the increased migration of ethnic Chinese to Tibet.

Tibet: Reflecting on the West's development missteps?

It's this cultural erosion that speaks to outsiders, says Barnett.

"We all live in economies which are very wealthy, where we have destroyed our cultures basically or trampled on them," he said. "China has this huge advantage in that it can leapfrog over the West in terms of these sensitive questions of development and culture."

An interesting counterpoint came from Alexandros Yannis, a Greek diplomat with cynical views about China's role in Tibet who we encountered on the train to Lhasa.

"You must always strike the right balance. I don't believe you can keep the earth … a museum. You cannot keep the clock where it is," said Yannis. "Life will change. Our challenge is to make it as less painful for all those who go through the change, and our challenge is to do it in a balanced way so that we can preserve what we can and move on with the rest of the things that we do as humans."

The Dalai Lama, the exiled spiritual hea of Tibet's Buddhists will receive the Congressional Gold Medal on Wednesday. Read about the U.S. balancing act with China over Tibet.

See more about China's evolving role on the world stage on NBC Nightly News' with Brian Williams series "China Rising" airing all this week. 

I don't know what kind of sweet nothings Prince William whispers into his girlfriend Kate Middleton's ear.

But, inspired by this weekend's British tabloids, let me take a guess at romancing royal style: "Darling – I want you to come and stay with Pa – win him and Camilla over - it's time for them to know we are serious and in love - that you will be my queen one day.

"So what say you come over and shoot Bambi?"

Beats the usual slushy hearts and flowers stuff, right?

The Sunday papers here were positively gushing at photos of the comely Kate in her camouflage jacket stalking deer on the queen's Scottish estates.

The romance is back on for sure, they screamed. A wedding can't be far away. Look, here she is trying to impress her future Pa-in-law Prince Charles by shooting Santa's little helpers (OK – so they weren't reindeer, but they're related).

VIDEO: Will Prince William get engaged?

Was that the distant glimmer of an engagement ring? Nope. It was a telescopic sight.

I couldn't find anything on this in The Rules, but Kate sure seems to know how to win her way into her future in-laws hearts.

Noble hobby…

Back in the U.S.A. hunting with rifles is nothing unusual.

Over here it's more usually the sport of kings, toffs, city bankers– and poachers.

Movie-goers will remember the deer-hunting scenes in the Oscar-winning movie "The Queen," where her Majesty gets all torn up about a noble beast that has literally lost its antlered head after falling to the hunter's knife.

Get over it, Ma'am – we all know that killing the blighters has been one of the royals' favorite hobbies through the ages.

The good news is that this particular bloody past-time is not as socially divisive here as fox hunting – once pithily described by Oscar Wilde as the "uneatable pursued by the unspeakable" – and it doesn't lead to demonstrations in the streets.

But it wasn't quite what we common folk were expecting from a modern, fashionable, girl-about-town and perhaps our future "Queen Kate."  But it's a sign – apparently, she's made of the right stuff to be a royal.

No doubt the lady enjoyed the change. These days – thanks to the paparazzi – Kate's usually the one being hunted.

The deer may have escaped her rifle sights at the weekend. But the photographer and the newspapers are having a field day.

Once I asked a little girl what the Eid al-Fitr feast at the end of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan meant to her. Her answer was: a new beautiful dress, new shoes, a nice gift, candies, balloons and some pocket money to buy extra sweets and enjoy the day at a playground.

It was pretty pure and simple – a child's dream of how to enjoy a day.

Many families mark the end of the month of fasting by bringing their children to simple playgrounds with local made swings, slides, seesaws, and sometimes manual ferris wheels.

SLIDESHOW: Celebrations mark the end of the holy month of Ramadan

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On Friday, in the northern city of Tuz Khormato where kids must have been laughing while innocent smiles spread across their faces as they swung and slid down slides – a vendor approached selling homemade sweets.

But the vendor was not the ordinary one, he was a suicide bomber hiding an improvised explosive device (IED) inside his cart full of sweets. 

The attack killed a boy and his father, and wounded another 20 children. 

The smiles turned to tears, wounds and sorrow.

What was the message that the terrorists wanted to send beyond killing and injuring children? I asked myself and couldn't find an answer other than don't ever cheer up.

* The names of local journalists are not used to protect their identity.

 To survive under Saddam Hussein, you had to feign loyalty and turn on your friends. To survive after Saddam, you had to cooperate with Saddam's enemies. It's a reality that has left so many in Iraq with checkered pasts.

Some former spies have done well and reinvented themselves. Others have been forgotten and disavowed. 

Saddam's final defense minister Sultan Hashim says he is one of the betrayed.

I met Hashim in Baghdad during the 2003 invasion. He was gruff, portly, and abrupt and ended up looking somewhat foolish.  I was in the Palestine Hotel, holed up with a few journalists still in Baghdad, taking shelter from the rain of bombs and rockets. Hashim had come to give a statement to the tiny Baghdad press corps.

VIDEO: U.S. goes to bat for a former Saddam aide who also worked for the CIAÂ

He sat at a table set up on a little stage in the Palestine's main conference room. A giant map of Iraq was pinned to the wall behind him. Hashim's main message was that American troops were bogged down in southern Iraq and were not advancing toward Baghdad as quickly as American commanders claimed. Hashim wasn't fooling anyone. As he spoke, the map behind him shook like paper in the wind as American JDAMs (joint direct attack munitions) and cruise missiles exploded outside. Nope, no Americans here. It was almost funny.

But it turns out Hashim wasn't working only for Saddam.  He'd also volunteered to work for the CIA to overthrow the dictator. 

Saddam's Achilles' heel

According to Rick Francona, an NBC News analyst who worked in northern Iraq for a secret CIA task force code named Achilles, Hashim reached out to the CIA in 1996 through the former Kurdish rebel leader Jalal Talabani.

Francona and his team were trying to overthrow Saddam. Talabani said Hashim wanted to help.

The CIA, Talabani, Ayad Allawi, Gen. Abdullah Shawani and several Iraqi officers were all deeply involved. Their names have been previously published. The plot was called "Achilles" for "Achilles' heel," the weak spot that ultimately brought down the fabled hero. The army officers and insiders, men like Hashim, were meant to be that weak spot, the Achilles' heel.

It's unclear exactly how much Hashim actually did for the CIA. He certainly was helpful to Talabani, who in turn was helpful to the CIA.  Talabani said Hashim "made calls," "communicated" and "helped rebel against (Saddam's) government."

But the CIA's 1996 coup never materialized. Saddam infiltrated the conspirators and executed as many as 200 of the plotters, including two of Shawani's sons.

The survivors, however, would get their chance again when the U.S. took a more direct approach to toppling Saddam, invading the country in 2003.

The class of 1996 did well by the invasion.

· Talabani became president.

· Allawi became Iraq's first prime minister. 

· Shawani became intelligence chief. 

But what happened to Sultan Hashim?

Eight of hearts in U.S. deck of cards 

He was sentenced to death in June, convicted as a war criminal.

A U.S.-funded Iraqi court convicted Hashim of involvement in the murderous campaign against Kurds in northern Iraq known as the Anfal. Kurdish officials say an estimated 160,000 Kurds were killed by Saddam's forces, some with chemical weapons. Hashim was a commander in northern Iraq at the time. He may very well have been guilty of war crimes. But it seems by 1996, he wanted to be OUR war criminal.

It didn't work out that way.  After U.S. forces toppled Saddam's government, Hashim suddenly found himself on the run, listed as the eight of hearts on the U.S. "deck of cards" of Iraq's most wanted former leaders.

Hashim escaped to Mosul, where he has many supporters and relatives. That's where he came into contact with Gen. David Petraeus, now commanding general in Iraq. At the time Petraeus was the commander of the 101st Airborne Division. Petraeus wanted Hashim to surrender and sent him a letter, a copy of which was provided to NBC News by Hashim's former aides.

In the letter, Petraeus wrote:

"... I offer you a simple, yet honorable alternative to life on the run from Coalition Forces in order to avoid capture, imprisonment, and loss of honor and dignity befitting a General Officer.  I officially request your surrender to me. In turn, I will accept this from you in person. You have my word that you will be treated with the utmost dignity and respect, and that you will not be physically or mentally mistreated while under my custody."

A spokesman for Petraeus, who was forwarded the letter by e-mail, said it "appeared to be an authentic copy."

The spokesman said Hashim "was treated with respect while in American custody.  But there was never any promise of amnesty."

That's not how Hashim's family says the defense minister saw it.  His son, brother and former chief of staff tell NBC News Hashim was promised protection and that intermediaries negotiating for Petraeus even suggested the former defense minister would be able to assume a prominent role in the new Iraqi armed forces. Petraeus' spokesman said the general never had made any promise other than a dignified surrender. Intermediaries might have gone further.

Hashim did surrender to Petraeus, and his aides say he was treated with respect by the American commander.  Hashim's aides, however, said they were shocked that the U.S. military handed him over to an Iraqi court that swiftly sentenced him to death.

Will he or won't he?

Now here's the real twist. 

According to Iraqi law, as president, Talabani must sign Hashim's death sentence. He must approve the execution of a man with whom he conspired against Saddam, a man he introduced to the CIA.

Last month, Talabani told a press conference that he will not do it. 

"I used to urge him to rebel against the government, and he used to cooperate," Talabani said last month."So how can I now authorize his execution? I just can't."

So Talabani, a Kurd, is in the bizarre position of defending one of Saddam's top generals convicted of war crimes against Kurds.

For now, there's a deadlock over Hashim's execution. Quietly some American officials here are working for some sort of compromise. CIA officials tell us they are not trying to commute Hashim's sentence.

Read more about Sultan Hashim's involvement with the CIA from NBC News' Senior Investigative Producer Robert Windrem: Did a former Saddam Minister help the U.S.?

Israeli police questioned Prime Minister Ehud Olmert for five hours Monday about his role in the 2005 privatization of one of the country's biggest banks. Olmert, who was finance minister at the time, is alleged to have altered tender rules to favor a friend, Australian businessman Frank Lowy.

Monday's questioning has highlighted other allegations of financial misconduct over a Jerusalem house he purchased in 1999.

Yonathan Weitzman / Reuters

Israel's Prime Minister Ehud Olmert attends a session of parliament in Jerusalem on Monday.Â

Olmert is not the only Israeli prime minister to be associated with corruption: Benjamin Netanyahu was questioned over his lavish spending while in office, including modifications to his residence; Yitzak Rabin's family confessed to owning illegal foreign bank accounts; and Arial Sharon's family was investigated for bribery connected to hotel construction projects in the Mediterranean. 

Olmert's approval ratings have been low since he failed to win's last summer's war against Hezbollah in Lebanon. In Israel, where security concerns are paramount, mismanaging the country's armed forces is considered a cardinal sin. Whiffs of corruption may be the death knell for his political career.

What happened to the days when Israelis admired their prime ministers as pioneering giants dedicated to the defense of the Jewish state and willing to take risks to ensure its security?

Prime ministers of old

In Israel's 59-year history only three prime ministers have managed to complete a full four-year term: David Ben-Gurion, Golda Meir and Menachem Begin. That statistic speaks volumes about the state of Israel's democracy where smaller parties have been able to hold the balance of power between big right and left-wing parties in coalition governments since the Jewish state was founded in 1948.

Ben-Gurion and Meir have faded into history now, and Begin's place is tenuous. 

I disliked him from a distance since 1982 when he authorized Israel's invasion of Lebanon to expel the upwardly-mobile Palestinian Liberation Organization from its base in Beirut. I lived in the Lebanese capital at the time, and like my neighbors I cursed his name every day during the long summer of bombardment and killing that brought Lebanon to its knees.

Begin now has a Jerusalem museum dedicated to his memory. I joined a tour there Monday to see a re-creation of his early life in Poland, his Tel Aviv family apartment and his office as prime minister from 1977 to 1983.

Begin's legacy

Our tour group numbered only 10 people - an Israeli husband and wife with a baby, three Italian female tourists, an elderly American couple, a young Orthodox Jew, and me. We were issued headsets and then walked through film shows and lectures dedicated to the memory of Begin. 

He was born in Poland in 1913. German soldiers killed his parents there in 1941. His brother Herzl vanished in the Holocaust of World War II. Begin, active in Jewish socialist circles and a fervent Zionist, was imprisoned by Russians in Siberia and eventually made it to Palestine where he served an interpreter for the British Army until 1943. 

Then, while Britain was still at war with Germany, Begin became the leader of Irgun Tzvi Leumi-Etzel, a Jewish paramilitary group dedicated to pushing the British out of Palestine. He was high on a list of terrorists wanted for bombing and killing British troops and civilians.

Begin always spoke of his Irgun days as the most important of his life, more important than being prime minister. But it was in the nation's highest office that he made his mark.

In 1977 Prime Minister Begin invited his Egyptian counterpart President Anwar Sadat to visit Israel, the first and only Arab head of state to do so publically. A peace treaty was signed between the two states ion 1977. Begin and Sadat were honored with the Nobel Peace Prize in 1978.

In 1981 Begin asked his cabinet to approve the bombing of an Iraqi nuclear reactor at Osirak.  The facility was destroyed.  Begin was lionized by Israelis as a leader who would go to any lengths to protect them.

But then, in 1982, Begin ordered an attack into Lebanon to clear Yasser Arafat's Palestinian guerrillas back from Israel's northern border.  The incursion soon escalated into a full-scale invasion – it was only halted by international pressure and rising sentiment against the war at home. 

Begin was clearly not in command of his military during the Lebanon war, and when his wife Aliza died in November 1982 his own health declined rapidly. He stepped down as prime minister in 1983 and spent the final decade of his life as a recluse. He died of heart failure in 1992.

Not quite the giants of the past

Museums like Begin's invariably provoke emotions and opinions among those who visit them, but our group was quiet when the one-hour tour ended.

These days, with one prime minister facing allegations of corruption and another – Ariel Sharon – in a coma since suffering a stroke in January 2006, Israel's leaders seem to have lost their luster... especially when compared with the giants of the past.

Observe the kids at any Havana rock concert or on line for a Saturday night movie date, and lots are wearing Ché Guevara's photo emblazoned on T-shirts or handbags.

They are no different from the many kids around the globe who sported the iconic image of the young Argentine revolutionary a few years ago when Hollywood released the "Motorcycle Diaries."

SLIDESHOW: Ché communist hero to capitalist icon

But sales of Guevara paraphernalia go beyond Ché chic in Cuba.

Here, kids are urged to identify with Ché as a role model. Starting in primary school, children salute their flag with the slogan "Seremos como Ché"… "We will be like Ché."

Doe-eyes due to flu

The image of the starry-eyed revolutionary is one of the most reproduced of the 20 century, taken from photo shot in 1960 by the late great Cuban photographer Alberto Korda.

The photo is said to be inspiring, especially for young people reading hope into that look in the Argentine revolutionary's eyes.

Ironically, Korda told me in one of his last interviews before his death in 2001, that Che's glaze was actually due to fever, suffering that day from the flu.

Korda also confessed that he personally was never that impressed with the photo, finding it too passive.

It took seven years before it would be published, shortly after the Bolivian army and the CIA executed Guevara on Oct. 9, 1967.

Despite those beginnings, the photo has helped keep the image of Ché alive around the world.

Cuba being no different…

To Castro a 'flower yanked prematurely from its stem'
Monday the image flew on banners at a ceremony marking the 40 anniversary of Guevara's death.

Ché's family and former comrades gathered at his tomb in Santa Clara for what was for the most part a low-key remembrance.

There was one moment when staidness was cast aside. Ché's youngest son and namesake, Ernesto, mirrored his father's tour of Latin America and arrived on an apple red motorcycle along with a few dozen members of the island's Harley Davidson Club.

The ailing Fidel Castro, who has not been seen in public since he ceded power to his brother Raul over 14 months ago, missed the official event but paid homage to Guevara in an essay published in the local press: "I halt in my daily combat to bow my head with respect and gratitude to the exceptional combatant…" Che, he wrote, was a "flower yanked prematurely from its stem."

Inside and outside Cuba, Ché's image is big business. In Europe, ad men exploit Che's bearded image to sell everything from vodka and cigarettes to Ché bikinis and Louis Vuitton Ché-embroidered handbags that go for $4,500.

Here, Ché is used to sell revolution and alliance to the socialist government.

Only history will decide if this has worked. At the moment, when Fidel Castro remains sidelined, Cuba's youngest generation seems more inclined to embrace consumer goods than movements for social justice.

A hungry crocodile lurked in the muddy water as thousands of migrating wildebeest massed nervously on the bank of the Mara River. Some crammed forward, and then frantically retreated. Dust flew up under their hooves. Finally, after hours, one brave wildebeest plunged in, and then the rest followed.

Exaggerating wildly, I felt a bit like that brave wildebeest, which by the way was eaten by the crocodile, when I wrote my blogs about my NBC News team's adventures and misadventures in Kenya recently. I took the plunge, knowing the responses may be somewhat hostile, as they always are to critical comments, but I must admit I was a bit taken aback by the sheer vituperation of some.

"You guys are a bunch of crybabies!" I think that was one of my favorite responses. Maybe we have indeed been spoilt by our other trips this year, which include sweltering Iraq in midsummer for Kevin, freezing Afghanistan in mid-winter for Jeff and me, and Gaza for all three of us, but I doubt it.

In fact, Kenya was my most pleasant trip for years. It's true; some of the blogs readers may conclude that if I was such a crybaby in Kenya, which I loved, how dreadful must my whining be from the other places? But you know what? I like pointing out problems. That's my job. Maybe somebody will fix them.

Still, the responses to the Kenya blogs, with a few silly and rude exceptions, were so interesting, passionate and educational that I wanted to respond.

Thanks and some answers

First, thank you to the many people who corrected my spelling. MATATU!

One reader wondered what the life expectancy of the Masai is. I Googled the question, and to my astonishment found that the average Masai male dies at age 42 and the women a couple of years later. One website called it the lowest life expectancy in the world. Only then I realized that we had seen no old men there, and only one old woman, Kipas's mother, who he said was 90 years old. The reason? I assume partly it's the diet, of mostly milk and meat, plus bad water and poor health care. Does anybody know?

VIDEO: The revolutionary LifeStraw is saving lives in Kenya

Several readers complained that I should expect lousy roads from Nairobi to Masai Mara as part of the safari experience, while another countered that it was no coincidence that the plane companies that fly tourists down there are owned by politicians. I don't know whether the inference is correct or not, but I understand the point.

And yes, Kenya is a fabulous place, with wonderful people and amazing wildlife viewing, as, by the way, is neighboring Tanzania. I'd return to both in a heartbeat, if NBC would foot the bill again. High prices for tourists protect the animals, and low prices for citizens are good. What I didn't like is how exclusive the safari experience is. Backpackers, average wage earners, in fact, most regular folks, may as well just go to the local zoo and forget about an African safari.

Let me also point out to the many people who said Mexico City is worse than Nairobi. First, so what? And second – it isn't. I passed through Mexico City twice this year, in summer and winter, and they appear to have overcome their terrible pollution of earlier years. It's pretty clean today, despite the appalling traffic congestion. It may give hope to Nairobi.

One thing I've noticed about blogs is that so many readers pounce on one thing that offends them, often getting it wrong, and ignore the greater issue. Fair enough, it's a chance for everyone to have his/her say, and I enjoy the intellectual back and forth. So the kind readers who were concerned that I may be insulted, please don't worry, I'm not. I experience much worse at home every day.

On another note, the reaction to our story about LifeStraw as a way of cleaning dirty water, which was the reason we went to Kenya in the first place, has been exceptional. So many people asked how they could help, donate money or get more information, that Linda Friedman, the Custom Safaris owner who helped us report the story, has been almost overwhelmed. I say almost, because such an exceptional person will always find a way to cope, especially if it is with good things.

A final thought: Kenyans who were offended by my comments: you shouldn't be. Every comment I made was based on direct observation. And I was comparing Nairobi with the town I knew so well when I lived in Africa for four years. Africa is still my favorite continent, for many reasons. But please, let's not be blind to its problems. Instead, let's try to help solve them.

Read Martin Fletcher's reports from his recent assignment in Kenya and watch his video piece that aired on NBC's Nightly News with Brian Williams: "Losing the anti-pollution battle in Nairobi," "LifeStraw battles waterborne disease in Kenya," "Rough riding in Kenya," and "'A pure Masai man.'"

The problem with election fever is that it sometimes leads to politicians catching a cold.

Sadly for British Prime Minister Gordon Brown, he is showing all the symptoms. The frenzy of speculation – fueled by his own advisers – that he was about to call an early election to capitalize on his "popularity" has been spectacularly stamped out. 

Brown has now been forced to announce it's not going to happen.

Instead of heading for what the opinion polls had suggested only days ago would be a resounding victory, the prime minister has pulled the comforter over his head and told everyone to come back in a year or two.

Brown 'bottled it'

His lead over the Conservative opposition has all but disappeared overnight.

And his reputation for surefootedness – he skillfully handled the attempted terrorist attacks, as well as foot-and-mouth crises in his first 100 days – has been tarnished.

The view in the media is that Brown "bottled it" – a taunting phrase used when someone squaring up for a fight loses his nerve.

Brown is doing his best to play it down. He had, he says, the power to go early to the polls – and the responsibility to listen to what the public wanted.

He has a vision for change, he says, and now needs time to see it through.

But his opponents are enjoying his discomfort – and are on the attack.

David Cameron – until this week the struggling leader of the opposition Conservative Party – accuses Brown of "treating the British public like fools." He says Brown didn't call an election because he knew he would lose it.

Only one thing for certain

For Brown this is his first major setback since taking over from former Prime Minister Tony Blair. He promised an end to the "old politics" of spin. But that's exactly what he's now accused of.

What does it add up to?

The only certainty – if there is such a thing in politics – is that there won't be any more talk of early elections.

Under British law, Brown can wait another two years before putting his future to the vote.

In the interim, he will hope to rebuild his reputation and authority by implementing his "vision for change." And, no doubt, keep taking large amounts of Vitamin C.

A top Cuban rock band – "Moneda Dura" – is in trouble with government censors. Someone decided their newest song is too controversial. Presumably it's been perceived as too unfavorable to the Cuban government – so it's been banned on all state-run airwaves.

But, the songwriter feels his work is misunderstood. "We did something important, that mattered to the people who listen," said Nassiry Lugo, the band leader.

VIDEO: Cuba censors hit song

The song is entitled "Mala Leche" – Cuban slang for "evil intentions." It's the title track on their latest CD, released this summer on the island's Egrem label.

Despite the official ban – or maybe helped by it – Mala Leche is gaining fame.

Local fans are downloading the contraband from YouTube – and then, sending it straight to the Cuban underground.

Proof that in today's high-tech world, censorship is no match for a good song.

VIDEO: "Mala Leche" music video

And here is a translation of the "Mala Leche" lyrics:

Evil Intentions

It's 4 o'clock, the bus is still not here

People around me won't stop talking

and they drive you nuts

Sweat rolls down my ears

I'm talking about just another typical day

 

It's 6.45, I get on the crowded bus

Nauseated by the bad smell of the guy beside me

People pushing all the time

People with evil intentions

Others who hammer my ears

 

We're a mixture of grease and iron

We're like cows hurrying to the slaughter-house

We're like ants going into a hole

We're a ball of fire

 

I find people who live to make things worse for me

People who don't talk, only bark

People who spit words

If I don't hurt you, don't pick on me

If I don't hurt you, why your evil intentions?

Ah! Tell me what I did to you to make you target me

Relax and cooperate,

Can't operate on the fat in your brain

Don't take it so hard, your shouting unnerves me

Ah! But tell me, tell me

Why your evil intentions?

7 o'clock in the morning, I slowly eat breakfast

As if I lived in a palace

(Instead of) this tenement and its noise

The lights are still not on

Without a doubt, today will be fun

 

I spend 15 minutes spying on my neighbour

I get turned on and she doesn't even look at me

The electricity bill is killing me

But what can I do, if living is also killing me

 

Now my brain is in a coma

Now my life is a car without tires

Now I was so happy with my vices

All is well when I'm immoveable

I don't bring solutions, I don't give surprises

Why am I to be blamed because of your headaches

If we're doing the same, don't obsess on me

Give your brain a chance to relax

We come from a unique lineage

If we're the heat that burns deeply,

Why don't we treat each other as brothers

My heart beats when they call me Cuban

 

MALA LECHE

( POR MONEDA DURA )

Las 4 de la tarde, la guagua que no llega

La gente que no para de hablar y que se desespera

Gotas de sudor que caen por mis ojeras

Te cuento de otro día normal

 

Las 6:45 me subo apretado

Revuelto por el mal olor que trae el tipo de al lado

La gente que te empuja todo el tiempo

Gente sin pena, otros que taladran fuerte en las orejas.

 

Somos una masa de grasa y acero

Somos como vacas que se apuran hasta el matadero

Somos las hormigas que van al agujero

Somos una braza de fuego

 

Y todavía me encuentro con gente que vive

Para ponérmela más mala

Gente que no habla, solo que te ladra

Gente que escupe las palabras

Si yo no te hago daño, no es pa' que te despeches

Si yo no te hago daño

¿Cuál es tu mala leche?

Ay! Pero dime qué te hice para que me toques las narices

Relájate y coopera la grasa en el cerebro no se opera

Oye no es para tanto, tus gritos ya me vienen estresando

Ay! Pero dime, dime, dime

¿Cuál es tu mala leche?

7 de la mañana desayuno despacio

Como si estuviera en un palacio

El barrio con su bulla

La luz que no ha venido

Hoy va a ser, sin duda, un día entretenido

 

Paso 15 minutos espiando a mi vecina

Yo que me enveneno y la muy zorra no me mira

La cuenta de la electricidad me está acabando

Pero qué voy a hacer si es que vivir me está matando

 

Ahora que tengo mi cerebro en coma

Ahora que el carro de mi vida está sin gomas

Ahora que estaba tan tranquilo con mis vicios

Ahora que todo sale cuando me encapricho

No traigo soluciones, no regalo sorpresas

Qué culpa tengo yo de tus dolores de cabeza

Si estamos en lo mismo, no te ofendas no te reprendas

Dale un chance a tu cerebro pa' que se distienda

 

Venimos de una estirpe única en el mundo

Si somos el calor que quema desde lo más profundo

Dime por qué no nos tratamos como hermanos

Me late el corazón cuando me dicen cubano.

Along with the changing foliage and colder days, there's a touch of election fever in England's autumn air.

After fifteen years waiting in the wings, and 101 days in office, Prime Minister Gordon Brown may be about to risk it all and "go to the country" – one of the phrases we use to describe a general election over here.

Unlike in the United States, the prime minister can call an election anytime in his or her government's five-year maximum term of office. (The number of terms is unlimited.)

The trick is to know when the wind is in your direction.

But it's a delicate call – and sometimes governments get it spectacularly wrong.

Knowing when the time is right

Most famous was Labour Prime Minister Jim Callaghan back in the fall of 1978, when he joked at his party's convention about the political soothsayers urging him to call an early election.

He decided not to – and after a disastrous "Winter of Discontent," with public sector workers on strike, garbage piled high in the streets and bodies unburied – he suffered a resounding defeat at the hands of Conservative leader Margaret Thatcher in May 1979.

Callaghan's indecision helped change the British political landscape for almost two decades, a fact Brown is keenly aware of. And right now our new prime minister is enjoying a "bounce" in the opinion polls. 

The public seems to like what he's doing. Concerns that he might seem boring and lackluster after his predecessor, Tony Blair, have proved to be a bonus.  It appears we prefer Brown's serious and rather solid demeanor as the antidote to the overdose of Blair charisma – and its accompanying spin.

Speculation running rampant

Driving the speculation is the sorry state of the main opposition party, the Conservatives.  Ever since the departure of Margaret Thatcher and her successor, John Major, they have quickly burned through three leaders and been trounced at the polls.

But a convincing convention – concluded by their leader David Cameron's much-needed bravura performance – may have spiked Brown's guns.

The strong showing by Cameron, a youthful 41-year-old who has led the party since late 2005 – was their plan and their hope. They need to buy time.

And if the opinion polls swing back towards the Tories (as the Conservatives are nicknamed) – narrowing the prime minister's double-digit lead – it may force him to delay.

(Brown has until May 2010 to call an election; if he wins, the five-year clock starts again.)

Opinions differ. Some say the cautious Brown will not want to throw away the job he waited so long to have.

Others want him to make the most of the moment. While Cameron may have cut Brown's current lead, he may not have done enough to "make the prime minister tremble in his boots" (at least according to one respected opinion pollster).

Keep an eye out

There are other factors that Brown needs to weigh: the incoming winter weather and the early nightfall make it more difficult to get voters out into the cold and dark.

But if he does decide to call an election soon, the betting is on early November. And under the timetable for British elections, that means we should expect an announcement next Tuesday. Or not. Only Brown knows for sure right now, and he's not saying.

Watch this space.

MYAWADDY, Myanmar –

There are two ways of traveling from Myawaddy to Thailand. There's the official crossing over the Friendship Bridge, where day laborers and small traders queue for passes, and there's the numerous illegal transit points across the muddy Moei River, some within sight of the bridge.

Smuggling thrives here, all manner of goods – and people, looking to escape the poverty of Myanmar, a country rich in gas, gems and timber, but where millions live on less than a dollar a day. Such has been the enormity of military misrule.

This morning we traveled into Myanmar, across the bridge and into the border town of Myawaddy. We entered on a tourist day pass, carrying a small camera, into a world filled with poverty and tension, where everyone we spoke to had heard about the military crackdown in Yangon, but where nobody dare talk openly.

VIDEO: Inside Myanmar – a grim reality

The grounds of one temple were filled with street children, their dirty clothes hanging loosely, chasing each other, sliding on the floor, wet from a heavy downpour. One of them break danced, sliding his body round and round.

Live goes on in this ramshackle town, but they are nervous of outsiders. Everywhere there are Buddhist temples. Its the monks who are held in highest regard here not the generals. At one temple a pavilion was packed with the faithful, meditating. We could only imagine what they were thinking - in these dangerous days, thoughts – and prayers – are best kept private.

I spoke to the head monk at another temple, an amiable English speaker. Had he heard about the events in Rangoon. He nodded nervously, looking around for some unseen presence, before changing the subject.

"Everything fine here," he told me.

Click here to read the rest of Ian Williams blog in the Daily Nightly blog.

Columns of soldiers marched into Tiananmen Square at 10:00 p.m. on the eve of China's National Day barking orders to the thousands of students occupying the area to clear out.

The students scattered in confusion and apprehension.

But, it wasn't a crackdown.

NBC News/John Bailey

People line up overnight in Tiananmen Square hoping to get a good spot for the daybreak flag raising on China's National Day.  Â

The patriotic students were only confused about where to line up while crews cleaned the area. They were lining up to get back in to see Tiananmen's sunrise flag-raising ceremony on their country's birthday, Oct. 1. This year's event attracted an estimated 200,000 spectators, according to the "China Daily."

The apprehension? They are all anxious to get front-row seats.

All-nighter

My night in Tiananmen actually began much earlier than 10:00 p.m. I decided to bring my video camera and spend the night in the square with a group of students from the People's University in Beijing. The plan was to camp out for prime seats to the flag ceremony and document it along the way.

After vacating the square, we lined up in a massive queue. Soon it started to rain. Nonetheless, the enthusiastic crowd packed in shoulder to shoulder between barriers enforced by guards and police.

"It's okay," one student joked about the rain. "It will be like the Long March." (He was of course referring to the well-known and hugely propagandized 7,767 miles retreat known as the Long March in which the Red Army escaped destruction during the Chinese Civil War.)

Finally they opened up an entrance, causing lots of pushing and maneuvering. After order was restored, the drenched crowd re-entered the square in orderly columns two by two. It was about 1:30 a.m.

The October Holiday

National Day is like China's version the Fourth of July and kicks off the beginning of the October Holiday, a weeklong national vacation – which accounts for the big crowds at the flag-raising ceremony.

In honor of National Day, Beijing erected an impressive display in Tiananmen Square including hedges cut to resemble the Great Wall, the Summer Palace, and the Wild Goose Pagoda in Xi'an. There was also a nine-foot model of the Olympic torch and a model of the Acropolis in Athens, Greece. In the middle was a large fountain with an arrangement made up of over 400,000 flowers.

Many Chinese use the vacation to travel. And like everything else in China, travel happens on a large scale. Xinhua, China's official news agency, estimated that 300,000 tourists would come to Beijing for the holiday this year. 

As a result, many Beijing residents opted to get out of the way. Wang Jingyi, a teacher in Beijing, planned to leave town to avoid the crush of visitors. "We're going to Hong Kong," she said. "I'm really excited because I've never been before."

Chen Xiaogen / Xinhua via AP

In this photo released by China's Xinhua News Agency, crowds of tourists throng to Tiananmen Square in Beijing Monday, Oct. 1, 2007.

Cold and wet

Huddled under umbrellas in Tiananmen Square, however, what occupied the crowd's mind was the rain.

One member of my group finally surrendered.

"I can't stand it any longer," he said. "If it doesn't let up in ten minutes, I'm going to McDonald's." It was 3:30 a.m.

By 3:40 a.m. we trudged out of the square in search of shelter. As we left, I couldn't help but be impressed by the patriotism and dedication of the thousands of Chinese – mostly students – who, despite the rain, stayed behind for a chance to celebrate their national holiday up close in Tiananmen Square.

We didn't make it to McDonald's. Like many other parts of Beijing, it was under construction. We settled for a nearby Chinese restaurant. Over beef noodles and dumplings, I got a chance to hear the students' thoughts on everything from Sino-American relations to China's prospects versus the U.S. in the upcoming Olympics.

One of them offered his insight of China's economic, diplomatic, and cultural rise.

"I think the rest of the world should understand that China isn't at all like the Soviet Union used to be," he said. "We want China's rise to be peaceful."

As for his countrymen's prospects in the Olympics?

"I don't know if we can win more gold medals than America. If we did, we would all be very proud."

Back to the square

At 5:00 a.m. we rallied and headed back out. The square was full, so we made it across the street to watch from just in front of Beijing's Forbidden City. It was still raining.

The crowd was enormous despite the rain. Packed in behind thousands of onlookers – and their umbrellas – we were unfortunately not in the front-row seats my companions had hoped for.

But at 6:10 a.m., as the sun rose and the soldiers hoisted the Chinese flag above Tiananmen, my friends smiled and sang the Chinese national anthem in anticipation of their upcoming holiday.

Wet and without any video, but appreciative of the experience, I headed home for some sleep and a break of my own.

For more than four years the world has watched news of the violence and political problems plaguing Iraq.

But what do Iraqis watch? You might be surprised....

Many are tuning into black comedies like "The Country Has Been Sold" – a home-made spoof on Iraq's political elite starring a Hitler-like general called "the Chief."

Then there's "Obrah"– a take-off on Oprah Winfrey's show. Obrah, however, mocks her guests – like the fictitious Minister of Displaced Families, a satirical jibe at the government's failure to help Iraq's millions of refugees.

VIDEO:  Iraqi 'reality' TV

It's part of an explosion of reality-based soaps and sitcoms on a dozen new private Iraqi TV channels.

All on a shoe-string budget – less than $5,000 an episode – they mirror the daily grind of war and terrorism and lack of basic services...but with a comic twist.

Click on the link above to watch scenes from the shows and see more of this report.

Here's what travel books don't tell you: If you come to Nairobi, bring a surgical mask. It stinks.

Driving bumper to bumper, with your car enveloped by black smoke pouring out of the exhausts of other vehicles, a blue-gray, throat–scratching pall hanging over the traffic, you can almost see your lungs turning black. It feels like smoking four packs of Russian cigarettes a day.

Between the dust and the pollution, I have never coughed, sneezed, cleared my throat and blown my nose so much. My companions quite lost their patience with me. The soundtrack of much of Jeff Riggins's video sounds as if it was recorded in an infectious diseases ward.

The pollution, which I don't remember existing at all when I visited Nairobi regularly until about 10 years ago, is in complete contrast with the signs sprinkled through town: "Tree-planting campaign, make your city beautiful."

It must be so frustrating for conservationists and environmentalists, who are doing genuinely great work in reforesting Kenya, to see such a noxious advertisement for their work in the capital.

Trying to recreate a forest with a few trees
About three percent of Kenya is forested, while it is recommended that 10 percent of a country be covered by trees to sustain the land and the air. Wangari Maathai, a Kenyan professor, won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004 for "her contribution to sustainable development, democracy, and peace."  Her organization, the Green Belt Movement, has planted more than 30 million trees in Kenya. They have an ambitious international goal, too: To plant a billion trees worldwide to protect the planet.

But to a casual motorist in Nairobi, it's clear who's winning, and it isn't the good guys.

Infant trees line the middle of the main road into town from the north. The little saplings stand proudly the whole length of the drive. But pollution-belching trucks, matatu taxis and private cars overwhelm their promise.

And now, because there are so many cars and so many traffic jams, the municipality is planning to turn the four lanes into six lanes. And of course, to make room for the cars, the baby forest in the grass median down the middle will have to go, even though the trees have only just been planted.

The police say they're cracking down on the worst offenders, the matatu taxi drivers, who charge around the city in their ancient cars causing more pollution than everyone else put together.

But in one police report announcing a crackdown, fines were levied on the drivers for driving vehicles "in poor mechanical condition, overloading, not wearing uniform, tampering with speed governors, lacking licenses, missing seat belts and failing to display drivers photographs and fare." Not a word on smoke-belching exhausts.

But, book soon!
On a separate note:  if you do want to go on a safari, hurry.

It's already expensive enough to visit a game park: $40 per person per day. But the Kenyan Wildlife Service is planning to increase that to $100 a day.  So that would be about $500 a day for a family of five to look at animals. Admittedly it's a fabulous adventure, but is it really necessary to charge so much?

Nearby Rwanda certainly thinks so. The little central African country must be home to the world's most expensive tourist spectacle. Looking at the gorillas in the forest costs $500 an hour. Yes, per hour.

Now Kenya is jealous. "Rwanda charges $500 per hour to see its 13 families of gorillas," the wildlife director thundered in Kenya's "Daily Nation" newspaper, "while we charge only $40 for a visit to Nakuru National Park, which has many more animals." He attempted to temper any sticker shock by saying that the increase from $40 would be implemented incrementally, reaching $100 a day in 2010. So book your flights soon.

Kenyan citizens, incidentally, pay either $3 a day, or $1.50 a day, depending on which park it is.

Read the rest of Martin Fletcher's reports from his recent assignment in Kenya and watch his video piece that aired on NBC's Nightly News with Brian Williams: "LifeStraw battles waterborne disease in Kenya," "Rough riding in Kenya," and "'A pure Masai man. '"