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Nations attending the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit in Beijing have agreed to cooperate on the extradition of corrupt officials, a move backed by the U.S. and pushed by China, which has been on a drive to clean up bribery and money laundering in its Communist Party.

Secretary of State John Kerry, who is attending the 21-member APEC meeting, described the agreement as "a major step forward."

Kerry said: "Corruption not only creates an unfair playing field, it not only distorts economic relationships, but corruption also steals from the people ... who believe the system can work for everyone."

Reuters says the informal network would share information among anti-corruption and law enforcement authorities in the region: "The agreement commits the ... member economies in the Asia-Pacific region, including China and the United States, to "deny safe haven to those engaged in corruption, including through extradition, mutual legal assistance and the recovery and return of proceeds of corruption."

As NPR's Frank Langfitt reported earlier this week, gambling revenues in the Chinese gambling mecca of Macau are down some 20 percent since Beijing's corruption crackdown. Mainland "whales" are scared to be seen placing large bets for fear they might become a target and some are moving their gambling activities elsewhere in Asia, Frank reports. This year alone, more than 13,000 Chinese officials have been found guilty of corruption and bribery, the BBC says.

Also, the BBC notes, it's not clear how the agreement — known as the Network of Anti-Corruption Authorities and Law Enforcement Agencies (ACT-NET) — would work because the U.S., Canada and Australia, which all signed on, don't have extradition treaties with China.

Asia-Pacific

Secretary of State John Kerry

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Chief warden Emmanuel de Merode calls Virunga "the greatest park on Earth" for its remarkable diversity, including rare mountain gorillas. Courtesy of Virunga Film hide caption

itoggle caption Courtesy of Virunga Film

Chief warden Emmanuel de Merode calls Virunga "the greatest park on Earth" for its remarkable diversity, including rare mountain gorillas.

Courtesy of Virunga Film

In a new documentary, Virunga, mountain gorilla orphans play with their handler in a nondescript concrete building in a Congolese national park. They jump. They tackle each other. They hug. They play pranks.

When the gorillas are onscreen, the film, by British director Orlando von Einsiedel, is absolutely charming. But they're just one part of a complicated story encompassing everything from the fate of these animals (only about 800 remain in the world) to the best way that Virunga National Park can benefit the people of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). As always, there are opposing interests and forces, ranging from conservation to oil drilling and tourism.

Under constant threat of poaching, the gorillas themselves teeter on the brink of extinction. While results of a 2010 census offered hope — 480 mountain gorillas were estimated to be living within the park, and conservation efforts had contributed to a 3.7 percent annual growth of the species — the film clearly shows that Virunga's mountain gorilla population is not in the clear.

And neither is Virunga. It's Africa's first national park and has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1979 because of its remarkable diversity, including the highest concentration of mammals in the world. It boasts 50 percent of all the terrestrial species in Africa and a topography that includes lowlands, wetland savannahs, tropical rainforests and volcanoes.

Gorillas And Guerrillas Share The Troubled Congo

But since 1994, the 2 million-acre park has suffered. Aside from the wildlife poaching, 140 park rangers have been killed either by militants or poachers. Virunga borders major communities; a 20-year civil war has claimed more than 5 million Congolese lives and made the dense forests a hiding place for militias while also serving as a refuge for fleeing citizens. Its foliage has made it a convenient base camp for the Congolese Revolutionary Army's M23 rebel fighters, and an escape for armed groups from neighboring Rwanda.

Meanwhile, a British petroleum company has begun to explore the park. Many locals believe oil money will enrich their day-to-day lives, but environmentalists argue that drilling would lead to the destruction of this African paradise.

Virunga's staunchest defender, a key figure in the documentary, is the park's chief warden, Emmanuel de Merode, 44. He's a Belgian prince who has lived his entire life in Africa and is the only foreign national to serve in the Congolese government. For de Merode, protecting Virunga is personal: He's run the park for six years, studied it as an academic and risked his life for it. In April, unidentified gunmen ambushed him on a road outside the park and shot him multiple times in the chest and abdomen. Local residents and emergency surgery saved his life. By May, he was back on the job.

While de Merode doesn't like to discuss the shooting, he is eager to speak about the importance of sustainable development — which he defines as using natural resources in a safe, productive way that benefits both wildlife and the community.

"We have 2 million acres of land set aside for conservation because it is important for humanity," de Merode said by phone from New York, where he has been promoting the film. "With local communities, we can create 100,000 jobs in the next five to eight years. There's no way the oil sector can achieve that. Sustainable development can."

The park, aided by foreign investment organizations, has taken small steps toward encouraging development in surrounding communities, focusing heavily on small hydroelectric plants that draw on rivers in and around the park to provide power and jobs without negatively affecting the pristine environment.

A plant created last year "is community-based, off-grid and serves the community with 400 kilowatts, [the equivalent of] 40,000 light bulbs — enough to supply one block of New York for a year," de Merode says. Although a relatively small project, "It has transformed a community and encouraged investment," he says. Meanwhile, "A German company has finished construction for a soap factory with 400 jobs, driving up the price of palm oil for 100,000 farmers around town ... All of the profits are retained in Congo."

That isn't the case, de Merode contends, where the British oil company SOCO International is concerned. While successful oil exploration in Virunga would provide trickle-down benefits to surrounding areas, he says, most of the profits would not benefit locals.

The Virunga film includes footage shot undercover by French freelance journalist Melanie Gouby, showing SOCO representatives offering bribes to park officials, making racist remarks about the Congolese ability to manage the park ("We should re-colonize these colonies, they act like children, they're not mature," says one SOCO employee) and proposing how SOCO could overtake de Merode's park ranger unit to drill within park boundaries, a violation of international law due to Virunga's World Heritage status.

"There's an alternative to this form of development," De Merode says, one that wouldn't "[damage] the natural environment."

If peace comes to the DRC, Virunga will become an increasingly strong draw for tourism, de Merode suggests, particularly given the adorability of the mountain gorillas. Estimates suggest 3,000 to 6,000 tourists already visit the park annually.

He believes that Virunga's natural gifts match, and even beat, those of better known African tourist destinations. Kenya's tourism, de Merode points out, brings in millions. Virunga could, in his opinion, someday make Kenya's tourism revenues pale in comparison.

For now, things seem to be taking a turn for the better in Virunga. In June, SOCO struck a deal mediated by the World Wildlife Fund to stop drilling unless "UNESCO and the DRC government agree that such activities are not incompatible with [the park's] world heritage status." But this doesn't mean de Merode is resting. If anything, he is fighting more tirelessly than ever.

These days, he is vigorously promoting the park's conservation efforts as part of the documentary's publicity tour, along with the gorilla caretaker featured in the film. He hopes Virunga — warmly received by critics, funded by philanthropist Howard G. Buffett and featuring Leonardo di Caprio as executive producer — will encourage audiences to see that what happens in the park as an issue with consequences far beyond the DRC's borders.

Should things in Virunga deteriorate, "I'm genuinely concerned about the ramifications across the world," de Merode said. "If we don't do anything, what's happening in Virunga is something we will deeply regret, that our children will deeply regret. That would be the destruction of the greatest park on Earth."

Virunga premieres Friday, Nov. 7, on Netflix.

national parks

gorillas

development

conservation

environment

documentary

Democratic Republic of Congo

When the East German government erected the Berlin Wall in 1961, it underestimated just how far some were willing to go to make it out of the communist country.

And perhaps no one went to greater lengths than the Berlin Wall "mole," Hasso Herschel, who is credited with helping more than 1,000 East Germans escape to the West from 1962 to 1972, inspiring the 2001 film The Tunnel.

On the 25th anniversary of the wall's demise, I caught up with Herschel, who is now 79 and lives on a farm north of Berlin, spending his days shoveling hay and herding sheep.

The first escape that Herschel engineered from East to West was his own.

Born in Dresden in 1935, Herschel was a member of the Hitler Youth as a child and then became a champion swimmer as a teenager in East Germany, formally known as the German Democratic Republic.

But by his late teens, he was in constant trouble with East German authorities, including a four-and-a-half-year stint in a labor camp for "economic crimes" related to selling a typewriter, binoculars and a camera in the West.

"The final straw for me was when the government began turning guns on their own citizens. By then, I knew it was time to go," Herschel says.

Using a forged Swiss passport from a West Berlin student, Herschel successfully crossed the border to the West on Oct. 21, 1961, just two months after the Berlin Wall was built.

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Hasso Herschel, who now lives on a farm, is shown near his house north of Berlin. Courtesy of Mathias Wasik hide caption

itoggle caption Courtesy of Mathias Wasik

Hasso Herschel, who now lives on a farm, is shown near his house north of Berlin.

Courtesy of Mathias Wasik

Before fleeing, he had made a pact with family and friends that the first one out would help the others flee. So in May 1962, he teamed up with two Italians, Domenico Sesta and Luigi Spina, and began digging Tunnel 29, a 150-yard-long operation leading into an East Berlin basement on Schnholzer Strasse in West Berlin.

Desperately needing money for materials, they approached the U.S. television network NBC and proposed the filming of a real escape. To the amazement of Herschel and his partners, NBC agreed and paid them a hefty advance to begin construction.

On Sept. 14 and 15, 1962, they brought 29 people to the West, including Herschel's sister, Anita, her husband, Hannes, and their 1-year-old baby daughter, Astrid. One woman was so eager to arrive in the West in style that she clambered through the muddy tunnel in a Dior dress.

"Some were completely pale when they entered the West, collapsing to the floor and crying, "Finally! After four years of waiting!" Herschel says.

And it was captured on film.

YouTube

After this initial success, Herschel was bombarded with pleas from people asking him to help their friends and family flee. Not all his tunnel escape missions went as smoothly as the first, though.

In 1963, East German police staked out the tunnel from the ground above using detection devices, and Herschel had to abandon the operation.

Herschel then became involved in long distance escape assistance from Hungary to Austria in hidden car compartments through the support of diplomats, charging escapees up to $8,000.

Herschel insists it was not about the money at the time. He did became a businessman in later years, owning several restaurants, bars and clubs in West Berlin until he went bankrupt.

When the Berlin Wall fell on Nov. 9, 1989, Herschel was so overjoyed that he opened the doors of his West Berlin club that Thursday so everyone could celebrate.

"I never believed the wall would ever fall," he says. "We all started to believe in world peace that day. Apart from the birth of my daughters and my prison release, that was the best day of my life."

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Remembering The Berlin Wall, 50 Years On

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In Berlin, Remaking The City Can Rekindle Old Frictions

He says the bustling metropolis of Berlin today is worlds apart from the divided city it once was.

"When you walk around Berlin nowadays, you can't really notice the difference between East and West anymore, let alone see where the wall once was," he says. "The city's 'scar' has disappeared completely. Even our head of government, Angela Merkel, is from the GDR."

In recent years, he worked at Berliner Unterwelten, or Berlin's Underworld, giving talks on how his subterranean escape routes worked. He grew tired of retelling his story, but he still gets attention for his deeds.

"My sister always tells me, 'Thanks to you, I could live my life the way I wanted to.' I also get lots of calls from people saying, 'Forty years ago today, you helped my wife flee. I'm forever grateful,' " he says.

"It's not like I wake up in the morning and think, 'I'm such a hero,' " he says. But he does appreciate the kind words.

"When so many people say you've changed their lives in a positive way, perhaps it's a kind of gratitude and recognition that doctors experience. Someone even once called me up and said, 'Yesterday we had a baby and we named him Hasso.'"

Emily Wasik is a freelance journalist based in Berlin. You can follow her @EmilieWasik.

Germany

Berlin Wall

Wait Wait is in Austin, Texas this week, and so we've invited country singer Dale Watson to play our quiz. Watson has that true Austin sound — not to mention his own honky-tonk bar.

We've invited Watson to play a game called, "Elementary, my dear Dale!" Three questions about the immortal detective, Sherlock Holmes.

Copyright © 2014 NPR. For personal, noncommercial use only. See Terms of Use. For other uses, prior permission required.

PETER SAGAL, HOST:

And now the game where we travel the country to find people who at least didn't have to leave home to do this. To many, Austin, Texas means music - specifically country music - and by that, we don't mean the stuff they pedal in Nashville. We mean the down home twanging songs about cold beer and true misery. Dale Watson has got the true Austin sound...

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: ...He's got the tats, he's got the pompadour, and he's got his own honky-tonk right here in Austin. Dale Watson, welcome...

DALE WATSON: Thank you.

SAGAL: ...To WAIT WAIT ...DON'T TELL ME.

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: Austin City Limits - that's the great music program out of Austin - they call you Austin's king of country music. Does that sound right to you? Do you accept that title?

WATSON: Oh, no, I couldn't do that.

SAGAL: Really?

WATSON: No, but I'm very honored. I play Ameripolitan music.

SAGAL: I've read about this - Ameripolitan music. You have decided that the word country music has been what? Degraded? Misused?

WATSON: Well, no, it just doesn't describe what I grew up to know as country music anymore. I'd like to say that the definition is original music with prominent roots, influences - started with Jimmie Rodgers and Hank Williams and, you know, Kitty Wells. So it started there and it goes on. And if you can hear the influence of an artist in another artist, than that's your roots.

SAGAL: Right.

WATSON: And to me, the mainstream stuff coming out of from Nashville has got their roots firmly planted in midair. They have no roots whatsoever.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: But, so...

FAITH SALIE: Hey, Dale, how do you feel about the banjo?

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: There's a thing called perfect pitch. You ever heard of perfect pitch?

SAGAL: Yeah, people who can hear a note and know exactly - sing a note...

WATSON: No, no, no, no, no. It's when you throw an accordion in a dumpster...

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: ...And it doesn't hit the rim and it lands on a banjo.

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: For people, Dale, who are not lucky enough to have heard you play around Texas where you play all the time or your own club in Austin, what songs are you known for?

WATSON: Probably "I lie when I drink."

(APPLAUSE)

WATSON: (Singing) I lie when I drink. I drink a lot.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: When I told people you we were going to be on the show, the people from Austin who I told, they said, well, you got to ask him about his Sunday gig every Sunday. And I know it's going to be difficult...

WATSON: Chicken poop bingo.

(APPLAUSE)

WATSON: For a poultry $2 donation, you can win...

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: You can win over $100 if the same number that's in the bag, you draw, is the same number the chicken picks in her chicken picking way.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: All right. So you've got some sort of like dirt thing on the floor?

WATSON: It's free hot dogs and...

SAGAL: Free hot dogs?

WATSON: ...And $2 Lone Stars.

SAGAL: All right.

BOBCAT GOLDTHWAIT: Well, it'd be weird to eat chicken in front of the chickens.

SAGAL: Yeah, I know.

GOLDTHWAIT: It wouldn't really motivate them.

SAGAL: So the way this works is you've got like, it marked down on the floor - maybe a dirt floor - I haven't been there. I'm guessing.

WATSON: No.

SAGAL: No, not dirt floor?

WATSON: Cement floor.

SAGAL: Cement floor. And you got to mark that with numbers. Cement, that's what they have here in Texas.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: So you got your cement floor. You got it marked out with numbers. And you have chickens...

WATSON: No, no. There's a board that we put on the pool table...

SAGAL: OK.

WATSON: ...And it's got numbers on it. And if the chicken picks that number - that one you draw out of a bag - then they won the money.

SAGAL: And the chicken picks the number by relieving itself on the number?

WATSON: There is a line ticket, which, you know, is the luckiest ticket.

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: In case it crosses into a line.

GOLDTHWAIT: Sure, I got you.

SALIE: Is at the same chicken every week?

WATSON: Yeah, well, actually we've been doing it for so long I think we're on our sixth chicken now.

(LAUGHTER)

TOM BODETT: Do you have a lucky chicken?

WATSON: Doesn't everybody?

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: No.

GOLDTHWAIT: That's rather personal, Tom.

WATSON: Well, you know, the thing is we've had them pass away. I never knew how long a chicken could live, but they can - they be a good long time.

GOLDTHWAIT: Yeah, they're tenacious.

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: We've had one killed by the chupacabra.

(LAUGHTER)

GOLDTHWAIT: That'll happen.

SAGAL: You have a...

GOLDTHWAIT: Did the chupacabra lose the week before?

SAGAL: Did the chicken actually killed by the chupacabra?

WATSON: Oh, yeah. His...

GOLDTHWAIT: Are you drunk now because you said you lie when you drink.

SAGAL: I want to hear about the chupacabra eating your chicken.

WATSON: Well, we assume it was 'cause the chicken's body was still in the chicken coop and the head was on the outside.

GOLDTHWAIT: Could've been the Mafia.

WATSON: Could've been the Mafia - the Texas Mafia.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: And you know how they thought it was the Mafia? 'Cause it's feet were in a little tub of cement.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Now you are dressed - is this the rig you perform in - what you're wearing now? 'Cause you're wearing really shiny cowboy boots. And you've got fabulous hair. You've got this beautiful white pompadour.

WATSON: Well it didn't used to be white, it used to be pretty black.

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: It's getting whiter as this show goes on.

SAGAL: Yeah I know.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Dale Watson, we are so enjoying talking to you, but we have asked you here to play a game we're calling...

BILL KURTIS, BYLINE: Elementary, My Dear Dale.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Should've seen this coming.

WATSON: I love the way Bill says that.

SAGAL: Don't you? I love the way he says anything. So you are a Watson, but what do you know about Holmes? We're going to ask you three questions about the immortal detective Sherlock Holmes. Get two right, you'll win our prize for one of our listeners, the voice of Carl Kasell himself on their voicemail. So Bill, who is Dale Watson playing for?

KURTIS: Elizabeth Day of Austin, Texas.

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: She's out there somewhere.

WATSON: Elizabeth - let me just first say Elizabeth, I will make this up to you.

(LAUGHTER)

GOLDTHWAIT: All the free chicken bingo you can handle.

SAGAL: There's nothing I want to right more with my life than go to play chicken bingo on Sunday.

GOLDTHWAIT: I have a confession - I'm the chupacabra.

(LAUGHTER)

GOLDTHWAIT: I owe you a chicken.

SAGAL: Here is your first question Dale. The BBC version of "Sherlock" - you might've seen it, it's a huge hit in China. They lovingly refer to the stars Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman by nicknames which are what? A, Rizzoli and Isles; B, the Captain and Garfunkel; or C, Curly Fu and Peanut.

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: OK.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: You're thinking.

WATSON: I am. I'm not used to it.

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: I'm going to go with Curly.

SAGAL: Curly Fu?

WATSON: Peanut.

SAGAL: Curly Fu and Peanut is the right answer.

(SOUNDBITE OF BELL)

SAGAL: Curly for Benedict Cumberbatch's luxurious hair and Fu is the Chinese derivation of Holmes, apparently. All right. Two more questions. "Sherlock Holmes..."

GOLDTHWAIT: Wait. What's the Peanut for?

SAGAL: Well, Peanut is Martin Freeman. I guess he's smaller - he's a rather short man so I guess that's where that comes from.

GOLDTHWAIT: Oh, OK.

SAGAL: Sherlock Holmes, some believe, is the most filmed character ever, right? More movies with Sherlock Holmes than any other human character. Which of these is the title of a real "Sherlock Holmes" film? Is it A, "Tom And Jerry Meet Sherlock Holmes;" B, "Sherlock 2: Sherlocker;" or C; "Holmes On The Range"?

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: Those - one of them is real?

SAGAL: One of those is real.

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: Well, now could one of them be a cartoon, is that what you're talking about?

SAGAL: One of them could be a cartoon.

WATSON: OK, well, I'm going with a Tom and Jerry.

SAGAL: You're right, "Tom And Jerry Meet Sherlock Holmes."

(SOUNDBITE OF BELL)

WATSON: Wow.

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: Now one more question. Let's see if you're perfect. Hundreds of people around the world right to Sherlock Holmes.

WATSON: Oh, I'm not perfect.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Do you want to talk about it?

WATSON: No.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: We're all friends here if you want to discuss anything.

BODETT: Sing about it.

SAGAL: I'll ask you the question. Hundreds of people around the world write to Sherlock Holmes for help each year. And these letters end up at the Sherlock Holmes Museum in London. Now most are - please to help solve mysteries, oh, please Mr. Holmes. There's one letter on display at the museum that is what? Is it an e-mail from a Nigerian Prince asking for Sherlock Holmes' help in a business opportunity? Is it B, a postcard from a local optician reminding Mr. Sherlock Holmes it's time for his checkup? Or is it C, a J.Crew catalog addressed to Sherlock Holmes and advertising their fall collection of deer stalker hats?

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: All right. I'm going to say the catalog.

SAGAL: The catalog. No, I'm afraid it was the optician.

WATSON: Was it really?

SAGAL: Yep, an optician wrote to Sherlock Holmes saying you're ready for your next eye appointment. When their last one was, we don't know.

(LAUGHTER)

WATSON: Didn't he have just one thing - monocle?

SAGAL: No, no, no, you're confusing him with somebody I can't even imagine right now.

GOLDTHWAIT: With Mr. Peanut.

SAGAL: That was Mr. Peanut, yes. Bill how did Dale Watson do on our quiz?

KURTIS: Two out of three and that's a winner Dale.

SAGAL: Yes it is.

(APPLAUSE)

WATSON: Good.

SAGAL: Congratulations.

WATSON: Thank you.

SAGAL: Well done. Dale Watson is recording in January for Red House Records. Then he's heading out on an East Coast tour with Reverend Horton Heat and Rosie Flores. Dale Watson, thank you so much for being on WAIT WAIT ...DON'T TELL ME.

WATSON: Thank you.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "WHISKEY OR GOD")

WATSON: (Signing) Whiskey or God, going to bring me relief. Believing or not, bending my elbow or my knees.

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