Don't Scared To Talk

The total of goods and services produced around the world is projected to slump by 1 percent in 2009, compared with a 3.2 percent growth rate the year before.

Leading the slump will be the world's most developed economies, including the United States, Europe and Japan.

Japan's economy is forecast to shrink by 5.8 percent in 2009, while Europe's is expected to decline 3.2 percent and the United States' 2.6 percent.

"The turnaround depends critically on more concerted policy actions to stabilize financial conditions as well as sustained strong policy support to bolster demand," the IMF said.

The IMF thinks the world's emerging and developing economies will continue to grow this year, but by no more than 2.5 percent, after a 6.1 percent growth rate in 2008.

Global economic recovery won't come until 2010, according to the IMF report.

On Monday, two Russian Ilyushin IL-38 maritime patrol aircraft, known as "Mays," overflew the U.S. aircraft carrier Stennis while it was in international waters in the Sea of Japan.

The Russian aircraft flew about 500 feet over the ship, lower than other flights the Russians have made over U.S. ships in the past year.

The USS Stennis was about 80 miles east of Pohang, South Korea, participating in the joint military exercise when the flyover occurred.

On Tuesday, the USS Blue Ridge, a lead command and control ship, and the Stennis were overflown by two Russian "Bear" long-range bombers multiple times, according to U.S. military officials.

The Bears overflew the ships at about 2,000 feet, officials said.

U.S. military officials said that in both cases, U.S. Navy F/A-18 fighters met up with the Russian aircraft about 70 nautical miles from the U.S. ships and flew alongside them until they left the area.

On both days, U.S. aircraft tried contacting the Russian planes on international air frequency radio channels, but the Russian pilots did not respond, officials said.

The last time Russian planes flew over a U.S. Navy ship was February 2008, when two Bears flew 2,000 feet over the aircraft carrier USS Nimitz south of Japan.

Russian long-range flights skirting U.S. or other nations' boundaries have also been common over the last year.

The message is a dramatic shift in tone from that of the Bush administration, which included Iran, along with North Korea and Iraq, in an "axis of evil." It also echoes Obama's inaugural speech, in which he said to the Muslim world, "we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect."

In Friday's video, Obama said: "The United States wants the Islamic Republic of Iran to take its rightful place in the community of nations. You have that right, but it comes with real responsibilities. And that place cannot be reached through terror or arms, but rather through peaceful actions that demonstrate the true greatness of the Iranian people and civilization."

There was no immediate response from Tehran to Obama's message, but Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said last month that his country would welcome talks with the United States "in a fair atmosphere with mutual respect."

The United States, several European nations and Israel suspect that Tehran has been trying to acquire the capacity to build nuclear weapons, but Iran says its nuclear program is solely for peaceful purposes.

Last month, the Washington-based Institute for Science and International Security released a report saying that Iran has reached "nuclear weapons breakout capability" -- it has enough uranium to make a nuclear bomb.

The report was based on an analysis of data from the International Atomic Energy Agency. However, an IAEA official who asked not to be named cautioned against drawing such dramatic conclusions from the data, saying Iran's stock of low-enriched uranium would have to be turned into highly enriched uranium to be weapons-grade material. That hasn't been done, the official said.

The United States has had tortuous relations with Tehran since the Islamic revolution in 1979, but the Obama message speaks of "new beginnings" with the promise of a new year.

That purchase price would value the deal at around $8 billion, including $1.4 billion in cash on Sun's balance sheet. The newspaper said an agreement is expected to be announced as early as this week.

Such a move could bolster IBM against rivals in the high-end computer server market.

Shares of Sun [JAVA 8.80 -0.09 (-1.01%) ] jumped 80 percent Monday to near $9, while IBM [IBM 92.38 0.43 (+0.47%) ] shares were down a little more than 2 percent.

• For Real-Time Quotes on IBM, Sun Microsystems and Hewlett-Packard

If the companies reach a deal, it would be IBM's largest-ever acquisition, and represent a departure from its recent strategy of focusing on deals to strengthen its software and services businesses, rather than hardware.

Analysts saw talk of the deal as part of a consolidation trend, as Hewlett-Packard [HPQ 29.24 0.25 (+0.86%) ], IBM and Cisco Systems [CSCO 16.21 -0.29 (-1.76%) ] jostle for control of corporate data centers and compete to supply the high-end computers that power complex corporate transactions and networks.

"It makes sense in an industry consolidation view, but looking at Sun's performance over the last couple of years, it's not one of my top picks for IBM to buy," said Jyske Bank analyst Robert Jakobsen, speaking from Denmark.

Having said that, there's clearly a huge synergy combining these two companies," he said. "The market hasn't been kind to Sun Microsystems in the last 12 months. So it's not an expensive acquisition in my view."

Sun, which was not available for comment, has long been cited as a takeover target for IBM, HP, Dell or Cisco, which introduced a comprehensive set of data center products earlier this week. Bankers have said Sun has been searching for a buyer in recent months.

But the challenge of valuing Sun's intertwined software, hardware and services businesses could put off potential buyers, analysts say. Sun has never fully recovered from the dot-com bubble burst in the early 2000s, when demand for its servers cratered.

IBM, which had nearly $13 billion in cash at the end of $2008, declined comment. Its largest acquisition to date is the $5 billion purchase of Canadian software maker Cognos in 2008.

The Wall Street Journal said HP had declined to buy Sun, citing a person briefed on the matter.

Tech Spending Cuts

IBM was the top supplier of servers in the fourth quarter, with a market share of 36.3 percent, according to market researcher IDC. HP has 29.0 percent, followed by Dell with 10.6 percent, Sun with 9.3 percent, and Fujitsu with 4.2 percent.

These five server vendors all posted declines in their fourth-quarter server revenue, hurt by pullbacks in corporate spending on technology due to the weak global economy.

IBM's move, as well as Cisco's announcement on Monday, may signal a new wave of partnerships and acquisitions in the data center market as companies strive to provide more comprehensive products and services to their customers.

Cisco's move could put into play data equipment maker Brocade Communications Systems [BRCD 3.11 0.17 (+5.78%) ], infrastructure software maker Citrix Systems [CTXS 23.52 -0.19 (-0.8%) ] and niche network optimization companies, such as Blue Coat Systems [BCSI 11.73 0.16 (+1.38%) ] and Riverbed Technology [RVBD 13.02 0.13 (+1.01%) ], analysts said.

"IBM wants to become a one-stop shop for all IT related offerings, whether it is hardware, software services or solutions," Avinash Vashistha, chief executive at IT consulting firm Tholons Inc. "They have been executing this strategy for the last few years and with the Sun deal, they will only accelerate that move."

Sun, whose name stands for Stanford University Network, rose to prominence in the 1990s when start-ups flocked to its high-end computers, which run on its Solaris operating system and have been widely used in the financial services industry.

When the Internet bubble burst in 2000-01, funding for start-ups dried up along with much of the demand for Sun's computers.

Sun has tried to reinvent itself by offering more services and software, and expanding production of Linux-based computers, which tend to be cheaper. But that failed to revive its stock price. The company is shedding up to 6,000 jobs, or 18 percent of its workforce.

Lexus, Toyota Motor's [TM 62.42 -0.85 (-1.34%) ] luxury brand, took the next spot in the study released Thursday, followed by Toyota's namesake brand, then Mercury, Infiniti and Acura.

PR NEWSWIRE British luxury carmaker Jaguar

"Buick and Jaguar both lead the industry in nameplate performance," said Neal Oddes, director of product research and analysis at J.D. Power. "In terms of individual model performance, Lexus and Toyota still do very, very well."

The annual study measures problems experienced by the original owners of vehicles after three years. Suzuki owners reported the most problems among the 37 brands assessed by J.D. Power.

Despite losing its crown to Jaguar and Buick, Lexus still swept top awards in four segments, while Toyota's namesake brand took five awards. General Motors' [GM 2.80 0.16 (+6.06%) ] Buick LaCrosse was J.D. Power's top midsize car, while Ford Motor's [F 2.58 0.11 (+4.45%) ] Lincoln brand took two awards. Chrysler, which took no segment awards last year, won top honors for its Dodge Caravan in the van segment.

Jaguar's sudden jump to the top from its No. 10 spot in 2008 was notable for a study that is fairly consistent from year to year. Oddes said the brand has made significant improvements across many areas.

"We see improvements all over the board with Jaguar," Oddes said, citing fewer reported problems with vehicle exterior, sound system and the overall driving experience. "The improvement at a nameplate level is significant."

Still, Jaguar, which Indian car giant Tata Motors [TTM 4.24 -0.20 (-4.5%) ] bought from Ford in 2007, remains a relatively small-volume brand in the U.S. It sold just 14,000 vehicles here in 2008, while Buick sold 128,000.

• Get Real-Time Quotes for Auto Companies Mentioned Above

Oddes said this year's study was redesigned to exclude routine fixes from a vehicle's list of problems. For example, the study no longer counts tire or windshield wiper replacements as a reportable problem. The intended result is a study that focuses on actual glitches with a vehicle, Oddes said, though it also makes it difficult to make year-over-year comparisons.

"We cleaned up the survey to really try to focus in on things that are truly broken," he said.

The industry average was 170 problems per 100 vehicles, or somewhat less than two problems per vehicle. Last year, the industry average was 206 problems per 100 vehicles, but year-over-year improvements this year are much less pronounced when accounting for the changes in the study's methodology, Oddes said.

• Slideshow: Detroit Car Candy

The most frequently reported problem was wind noise, followed by brake noise, peeling paint, brake vibrations and problems with a vehicle's lights, Oddes said. The problems have been fairly consistent from year to year, he said.

J.D. Power's dependability study surveyed 46,313 original owners of 2006 model-year vehicles in October 2008. The results are watched closely by automakers and are often used in advertising. Owners' opinion of a car after three years can be a major influence on their opinion to buy that brand again.

The firm also releases an initial quality study, which measures problems in the first 90 days of ownership.

Boom Blox, a collaborative creation by Steven Spielberg and Electronic Arts, is part of a three-game deal between Spielberg and EA. According to Amir Rahimi, senior producer, "Steven came up with the idea for the game after playing Wii Sports with Shigeru Miyamoto. He then came to EA with a very simple and universal idea to build a game that leverages the Wii Remote and allows players to stack up blocks and knock them over. It was also very important to him to create a game that he could play with his family."

That's the easiest way to understand what Boom Blox is all about, even though the game is huge with 300 levels, several different types of game modes, and a cast of 30 wacky block characters. Not only that but you can construct your own levels with an editor that enables you to create your own games, too.

Rahimi says that between film projects, Spielberg would visit the EA offices every week to review progress on the game, provide feedback, and pitch ideas. "Steven would take early versions home," he recalls, "to play with his family."

One of the fascinating things about Boom Blox is that while it appears to be simple to play every puzzle challenges you to come up with unique strategic solutions. This is a Wii Remote-only game with a primary gameplay mechanic that's literally a snap to learn. In most levels you're confronted by some structure that's composed of stacks of blocks of different shapes and sizes. Just like the ones you might have constructed as a kid, every block building looks like it might topple over at any minute. Boom Blox, however, is about you tossing something into it to knock it all down.

To do that, you need to zero in on a block you'd like to hit. Just point the Remote like a flashlight and you can rotate the camera all around the structure see every nook and cranny.

When you find a potential target, you aim a cursor somewhere on a block, press and hold A to lock it onto the spot. Draw the Remote back like a fly swatter, and then flick it forward while simultaneously releasing A to toss a projectile. And there's a ton of stuff to throw. Baseballs, bowling balls, Eight balls, footballs, other blocks, all kinds of items become potential weapons of mass Blox destruction. The impressively robust Boom Blox physics engine endows each one with the appropriate mass and velocity, too.

Once your shot connects, Blox puts on a spectacular show of chaos and collision. And if you hit just the right spot, you might knock the entire thing over with just one shot. Some structures have exploding blox in place. Hit one of those and the debris really flies!

Other Blox challenges require you to grab and pull with the Remote. Similar to Jenga, you pull out certain pieces except that you're trying to make others fall.

In all the puzzles, you're under some sort of time limit and sometimes you're tasked to knock something down to advance a brief story line. In adventure mode you travel through four differently themed worlds--a medieval world, a wild west world, a haunted world, and a tiki island. Each world is a self-contained little story that casts you in good versus evil battles starring Blox creatures.

Boom Blox also looks like a cool party game, too. Multiplayer mode consists of competitive and cooperative games. There are 70-plus levels where two people join forces to figure out the puzzles. In competitive mode up to four players can play against each other in 11 different game modes.

If you prefer to blast apart your own constructions, create mode enables you to remix any level in the game with blocks, props, and even characters or you can just design your own. Additionally, you can engineer massive block "machines" that operate not unlike those domino designs where tipping one domino over makes all the others fall in sequence.

Like a pup, he lay curled against the cold, pressed between dozens of other children sleeping head-to-toe on the concrete floor. His T-shirt was damp with the dew that seeped through the thin walls. The older boys had yanked away the square of cloth he used to protect himself from the draft. He shivered.

It was still dark as he set out for the mouth of a freeway with the other boys, a tribe of 7-, 8- and 9-year-old beggars.

Coli padded barefoot between the stopped cars, his head reaching only halfway up the windows. His scrawny body disappeared under a ragged T-shirt that grazed his knees. He held up an empty tomato paste can as his begging bowl.

There are 1.2 million Colis in the world today, children trafficked to work for the benefit of others. Those who lure them into servitude make $15 billion annually, according to the International Labor Organization.

It's big business in Senegal. In the capital of Dakar alone, at least 7,600 child beggars work the streets, according to a study released in February by the ILO, the United Nations Children's Fund and the World Bank. The children collect an average of 300 African francs a day, just 72 cents, reaping their keepers $2 million a year.

Most of the boys -- 90 percent, the study found -- are sent out to beg under the cover of Islam, placing the problem at the complicated intersection of greed and tradition. For among the cruelest facts of Coli's life is that he was not stolen from his family. He was brought to Dakar with their blessing to learn Islam's holy book.

In the name of religion, Coli spent two hours a day memorizing verses from the Quran and over nine hours begging to pad the pockets of the man he called his teacher.

It was getting dark. Coli had less than half the 72 cents he was told to bring back. He was afraid. He knew what happened to children who failed to meet their daily quotas.

They were stripped and doused in cold water. The older boys picked them up like hammocks by their ankles and wrists. Then the teacher whipped them with an electrical cord until the cord ate their skin.

Coli's head hurt with hunger. He could already feel the slice of the wire on his back.

He slipped away, losing himself in a tide of honking cars. He had 20 cents in his tomato can.

Three years ago, a man wearing a skullcap came to Coli's village in the neighboring country of Guinea-Bissau and asked for him.

Coli's parents immediately addressed the man as "Serigne," a term of respect for Muslim leaders on Africa's western coast. Many poor villagers believe that giving a Muslim holy man a child to educate will gain an entire family entrance to paradise.

Since the 11th century, families have sent their sons to study at the Quranic schools that flourished on Africa's western seaboard with the rise of Islam. It is forbidden to charge for an Islamic education, so the students, known as talibe, studied for free with their marabouts, or spiritual teachers. In return, the children worked in the marabout's fields.

The droughts of the late 1970s and '80s forced many schools to move to cities, where their income began to revolve around begging. Today, children continue to flock to the cities, as food and work in villages run short.

Not all Quranic boarding schools force their students to beg. But for the most part, what was once an esteemed form of education has degenerated into child trafficking. Nowadays, Quranic instructors net as many children as they can to increase their daily take.

"If you do the math, you'll find that these people are earning more than a government functionary," said Souleymane Bachir Diagne, an Islamic scholar at Columbia University. "It's why the phenomenon is so hard to eradicate."

Middle men trawl for children as far afield as the dunes of Mauritania and the grass-covered huts of Mali. It's become a booming, regional trade that ensnares children as young as 2, who don't know the name of their village or how to return home.

One of the largest clusters of Quranic schools lies in the poor, sand-enveloped neighborhoods on either side of the freeway leading into Dakar.

This is where Coli's marabout squats in a half-finished house whose floor stirs with flies. Amadu Buwaro sleeps on a mattress covered in white linens. The 30 children in his care sleep in another room with dirty blankets on the floor. It smells rotten and wet, like a soaked rag.

Buwaro is a thin man in his 30s who wears a pressed olive robe and digital watch. The children wear T-shirts black with filth. He expects them to beg to pay the rent, because there are no fields here to till.

But their earnings far exceed his rent of $50. If the boys meet their quotas, they bring in around $650 a month in a nation where the average person earns $150.

Buwaro expects the children to suffer to learn the Quran, just as he did at the hands of his teacher.

So when Coli failed to return, Buwaro was furious. He flipped open his flashy silver cell phone and called another marabout who kept a blue planner with names of runaway boys. The list stretched down the page. He added Coli's name.

His tomato can tucked under one arm, Coli jumped on the back of a bus, holding on to the swinging rear door. He was hundreds of miles from the village where he grew up speaking Peuhl, a language not commonly heard in Dakar.

He could not ask the Senegalese for help. So he got directions in Peuhl from other child beggars, who like him were trafficked here from the zone of green savannah just outside Senegal.

Coli made his way to a neighborhood where he had heard of a place that gave free food to children like him.

"Do you know where you come from?" asked the kind-faced woman at Empire des Enfants. The shelter's capacity is 30 children, but it usually houses at least 50.

Coli knew the name of his mother, but not how to reach her. He knew the name of the region where he was born, but not his village. "My mother is black," he said. "I'm sure I'll recognize her."

The shelter worker told Coli what to do if his marabout came. We will protect you, she said. If he tries to grab you, scream.

Days went by. Maybe weeks.

Then Coli's marabout arrived.

In 2005, Senegal made it a crime punishable by five years in prison to force a child to beg. But the same law makes an exception for children begging for religious reasons. Few dare to cross marabouts for fear of supernatural retaliation.

Coli's marabout entered the shelter flanked by a column of religious leaders in cascading robes that tumbled onto the ground. One of them stabbed his finger at the clouds and yelled out, "The sky will fall down on you if you don't hand over our children."

The shelter is used to such threats. But this time the marabouts had discovered the center's legal paperwork was not complete. They threatened to close the shelter if it did not hand over 11 boys.

To save more than 40 others, the shelter handed over the 11. Coli was on the list.

Back at the school, they beat the 9-year-old until he thought he was going to faint. At night, they dragged him off the floor, doused him in water and beat him again.

Three days later, he ran away again. When he arrived at the shelter, he said: "I want to go home to my mom."

To find Coli's mother, aid workers broadcast his name on the radio in Guinea-Bissau. The names of over a dozen children also from Guinea-Bissau played in a continuous loop, like sonic homing pigeons trying to find their target.

No response. Some boys worried their parents might be dead.

"I'm sure my mother is still alive," Coli reasoned. "When I left her she was well, so why wouldn't she be well now?" Underneath his bright eyes is another worry. Will she be angry that he disobeyed his teacher?

Over the past two years, the International Organization for Migration has returned over 600 child beggars to their homes. Several had been hit by cars. Some had scars on their backs. One 10-year-old was so hungry he ate out of the trash. Soon after he returned home, he vomited worms and died.

Almost all the boys had begged on behalf of Quranic instructors in Senegal.

"Cultural habits have been manipulated for the sake of exploitation," said the IOM's Laurent de Boeck, deputy regional representative for West and Central Africa.

Two months went by before a shelter worker pulled Coli aside. His parents were alive.

The 13 boys from Guinea-Bissau pile into a bus. Coli screams with glee as it takes off for the airport.

"Is this Guinea-Bissau?" one of them asks as they descend onto the cracked runway and enter the small airport of the nation's capital. "Senegal looks better," says another.

Though Senegal is among the world's poorest nations, it's visibly more developed than Guinea-Bissau, listed 160th out of 177 countries on the U.N.'s human development index. The capital they left had streets clogged with taxis and flashy 4-by-4s. The buildings were tall. The capital they returned to has squat, low buildings and crumbling colonial villas.

"I'm not sure I like it," Coli confides.

As the bus leaves the capital, they pass villages of cone-shaped huts and fields where boys herd bulls. They sing songs, clapping their hands. As they pull into the shelter where their parents were told to expect them, the boys fall silent.

Timidly, they file off the bus. A few of the 12- and 13-year-olds recognize their families. They approach them respectfully, shaking hands.

Coli's mother is not there.

A judge tells the parents they will be jailed if they send their children away to beg again. They have to sign a statement promising to protect their boys from traffickers. Most are illiterate, so they leave a thumbprint in blue ink next to their names.

"You sent your kids to hell," the judge says. "You can't say that because you are poor you're going to allow your kids to be abused."

His booming voice ricochets off the cracked walls of the building. The parents stare straight ahead.

But the conditions that made these families send their children to hell still persist.

Many of the villages do not have enough food. Few have schools. In one, the schoolhouse is a bamboo enclosure that doubles as an animal corral. "We haven't had classes here in over a year," an elderly man says as he ducks into the classroom and skirts a pile of bull manure.

The aid group pays for school fees and supplies. But the stipend cannot cover the economic worth of a child. Some of the children returned in previous months now work as bricklayers and goatherds. Others have already been sent back to the marabouts by their parents. The idea of child trafficking as a crime is so new in the region that no African language has a word for it, experts say.

With each passing day, more parents and relatives come, but not Coli's.

On the third day, the shelter pays for another radio address.

By the fourth, half the 13 children are gone.

The others become increasingly agitated. Maybe the radio is broken, Coli muses. His wet eyes fill with the invisible color of worry.

Early on the fifth morning, a woman in a pressed peach robe walks up to the shelter.

Coli rushes outside. He stands a few feet away as tears topple down his cheeks. She covers her face with her veil and weeps.

The two sit side-by-side in plastic chairs. Coli's mother looks at her feet. Her family is poor, she says, and she wanted Coli to get an education. It took her several days to reach the shelter because she didn't have $2 for the bus fare.

For more than an hour, Coli cries. Tears run down either side of his cheeks, forming two watery garlands. They meet at his chin and plop down on his collar bone, pooling above his shirt.

She stands up and wipes his chin. They leave, crossing the dusty boulevard.

Her arm reaches around his shoulder and the long sleeve of her robe falls around the little boy. It hides him from the remaining children, who silently watch Coli go home.

Soon after Coli left, his marabout traveled to Guinea-Bissau. He angrily demanded to know why Coli had run away.

Ashamed, Coli's father promised to make up for the boy's bad behavior.