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A gold-mining barge docks along the Madre de Dios river. Courtesy of Duke University hide caption

itoggle caption Courtesy of Duke University

A gold-mining barge docks along the Madre de Dios river.

Courtesy of Duke University

Picture this: A rickety, barge about the size of a garden shed is floating on the Madre de Dios River in eastern Peru. A stream of tan sludge pours off a conveyor belt on one side of the platform. Smoke from a generator belches from the other. The sound of a massive pump thuds across the water. And dangling over the side of the barge is a thick tube to suck sediment up from the riverbed.

Welcome to wildcat gold mining in the 21st century, Peruvian-style.

"Somebody will dive down to the bottom of the river with a scuba suit or some kind of tube to breathe," says Bill Pan, an assistant professor in the Global Health Institute at Duke University. "They'll be on the bottom sucking up the dirt."

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A miner holds a nugget of mercury mixed with gold. The mercury is used to extract gold from river sludge. Rodrigo Abd/AP hide caption

itoggle caption Rodrigo Abd/AP

A miner holds a nugget of mercury mixed with gold. The mercury is used to extract gold from river sludge.

Rodrigo Abd/AP

The miners sift through the dirt searching for flecks of gold and use a ball of mercury to extract tiny specks of specks of the precious metal from the sludge.

In this process, tiny beads of mercury end up getting dumped back into the river along with the leftover mud.

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Sarah Diringer, a Ph.D. student at Duke University, examines fish samples from the Madre de Dios river for potential mercury exposure. Courtesy of Duke University hide caption

itoggle caption Courtesy of Duke University

Sarah Diringer, a Ph.D. student at Duke University, examines fish samples from the Madre de Dios river for potential mercury exposure.

Courtesy of Duke University

Pan and his colleagues at Duke are showing in a new research paper that these illegal mining boats, along with open-pit artisanal mines, are responsible for toxic levels of mercury not just near the miners, but also hundreds of miles downstream.

Over the last decade, tens of thousands of people have moved to this remote area of the Amazon jungle in hopes of striking it rich — or at least making a bit more money than they were before. Not all of them work on floating barges. Some of the miners clear trees from riverbanks and sift the soil in search of gold. The destruction of the forests has been widely documented. This new study shows the extent of the mercury contamination. And the study clearly shows the link between mining and the elevated levels of mercury in the environment.

"There's definitely a strong correlation between where the mining is occurring and where people are at risk for mercury toxicity," Pan says. "And that risk remains elevated for hundreds of miles."

A study in 2013 from the Carnegie Institute found mercury in fish and people in the region at levels far above what the World Health Organization views as acceptable. Mercury exposure can lead to neurological damage. It's particularly dangerous for pregnant women and young children. Heileen Hsu-Kim, an associate professor of environmental engineering at Duke who worked on the study with Pan, says it's clear that mercury levels in fish and people have been going up as mining has expanded.

The government of Peru has attempted to crack down on illegal miners operating on the Madre de Dios river. The Peruvian Navy has even blown up some of the barges. But with gold prices well above $1,000 an ounce, laborers continue to flock to the boats and open-pit mines where they can earn far more than in the other jobs that are available to them in the country.

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The wedding of Leslie Knope (Amy Poehler) and Ben Wyatt (Adam Scott) was one of Parks And Recreation's greatest moments. So was the wedding of April Ludgate (Aubrey Plaza) and Andy Dwyer (Chris Pratt). But Tuesday night, Parks spent the second half of its hour-long double episode on its greatest love story: the friendship of Leslie and Ron Swanson (Nick Offerman).

To recap: This final season has involved a time jump, such that it takes place in 2017. We learned at the start of the season premiere that there had been a falling out between Leslie, the good-government liberal, and Ron, the skeptical-of-government libertarian, that had broken their unlikely but profound bond and made them enemies. It involved something they kept referring to as "Morningstar," and happened sometime after they stopped being colleagues at the Pawnee Department Of Parks And Recreation and Leslie went to work for the National Park Service while Ron went off to start his own business, the Very Good Building Company. This season, Ron and Leslie found themselves facing off over land she wanted for a park and he wanted for the new headquarters of Gryzzl (a tech company that we learned last night has a Vice President Of Cool New Shizz), but they had turned on each other long before that.

In last night's episode "Leslie And Ron," their friends got tired of seeing them at war with each other and locked them in their old office, vowing to leave them there overnight to force them to work things out. And they did, which came as a relief, since seeing them fight was really stressing me out, you guys.

The origin story of Parks is now familiar: it was originally rumored to be a spinoff of The Office, it had a central boss who was weird enough that it originally seemed to actually be a local-government version of The Office, but it gradually grew into one of the most emotionally rich shows on TV — not only in broadcast or in comedy or in broadcast comedy, but overall. One of (many) things that separates it from The Office, though, is the underlying fact that working in a midsize paper company really was, in and of itself, a job in which it was hard to find real meaning, which is part of why the relationships were so important. But Parks has a point of view about working in government, and that point of view is unapologetically that it is possible for people in government to do things that are meaningful — hard, but possible.

There's a scene in a very early episode in which city planner Mark Brendanawicz — who later left the show — explains with some misery that his latest accomplishment is getting a speed bump lowered two inches. Leslie, as always, had the bright side covered: "You fixed a problem," she says. "That's what we're supposed to do."

But beyond its theory of government, the show has always had a more fundamental optimism that, particularly on the night of the State Of The Union, seemed more subversive than ever: it has been committed from the start to the idea that people with very different politics can love each other, and that humanity is a kind of universal solvent that doesn't undo disagreements but can clean off enough other stuff for surprising connections to happen. It isn't optimistic about everything — Leslie had to ship a couple of male penguins out of town to quiet the uproar after she inadvertently married them to each other a few seasons back. Leslie has lost a lot. She lost the seat on the City Council that it had been her pinnacle as a human to win, and she has remained in administrative and not elective office ever since. The Pawnee government is full of problems (and weirdos).

The beating heart of the show, though, is this hard-won (and beautifully acted and written) friendship that has not placed Ron and Leslie in full agreement, but eventually made them allies as far as they agree and respectful opponents when they don't. Leslie has learned to respect Ron's brand of happiness instead of bulldozing him for what she perceives to be his own good — she didn't try, for example, to force a surprise party on his birthday, but arranged for him to spend the evening blissfully alone, as he actually wanted.

In the end, a little bulldozing did have to be employed. When Ron wouldn't talk and Leslie was ready, she employed an escalating series of discomforts to force his hand. He withstood a fan blowing on his ear, being covered in Post-Its and having water dripped on his mustache, but when Leslie blasted "We Didn't Start The Fire" and made up her own lyrics ("Freddy Krueger bought some pants/Oprah has a turtle farm/Peter Piper pee pee poopy/Daddy ate a squirrel") he broke. (Poor Billy Joel.) So they talked.

This is not the obvious kind of "love conquers all," but it is a love story nonetheless — earnest and unpredictable and built on the same series of advances and retreats as any love story in fiction. And it was a story with higher emotional stakes than the great majority of romances that television and film will ever come up with, to be hoenst. Rather than futz around with the ridiculous question of whether men and women can be friends (spoiler alert: yes), Parks has devoted itself to the specifics of this relationship, these people, this office, and this town, and the fact that they matter to each other.

It was still very, very funny — Leslie's coercion tactics, those alt lyrics, Ron detonating what he believed to be a real land mine in order to break out of the office, only to discover that it was ... not a land mine. There's no trade-off between writing with feelings and writing with goofs except when writers choose to make one, and this particular episode was a welcome return to the Parks world as it should be: Ron and Leslie loving each other with all the platonic purity of purpose that Peter Piper could ever ask for.

Note: Thursday morning on WNYC at about 11:40 a.m., I'll be talking to The Brian Lehrer show about this episode and the other one that aired last night, "William Henry Harrison."

Shin Don-hyuk told a powerful story about the misery of life in a North Korean prison camp, becoming the most famous defector from that notoriously reclusive country.

His story seemed well-documented. Veteran journalist Blaine Harden brought him to prominence in a 2012 book, Escape from Camp 14, which has been published in 27 languages. 60 Minutes featured him in a report by Anderson Cooper. Shin's testimony played a role in a United Nations report condemning North Korea for human rights violations.

Now Shin says some parts of his account were not true.

His story raises the tricky question of authenticating information from North Korea and other largely closed societies where access to journalists and other outsiders ranges from extremely limited to nonexistent.

Harden, a former Washington Post reporter, wrote on his website that he learned last Friday that Shin "had told friends an account of his life that differed substantially from the book."

Harden goes on to quote Shin as saying: "When I agreed to share my experience for the book, I found it was too painful to think about some of the things that happened. ... So I made a compromise in my mind. I altered some details that I thought wouldn't matter. I didn't want to tell exactly what happened in order not to relive these painful moments all over again."

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Shin, 32, maintains he accurately described his basic story. He says he was indeed born at Camp 14, north of the capital Pyongyang, and that he was subjected to torture.

But he originally said he spent his whole life at that camp until he escaped in 2005, when he was in his early 20s. Now he says that when he was 6, he and his family were transferred to a nearby prison, Camp 18. There, he says, he witnessed the execution of his mother and brother.

He also now says he escaped the camp twice as a teenager: once in 1999, and once in 2001. After his second escape, he says, he managed to reach China but was arrested and sent back to North Korea for punishment in the more brutal Camp 14. He'd originally said he was 13 at the time of the torture that left his back scarred. Now he says he was 20 when that happened.

Other North Korean defectors had raised questions about Shin's account. Harden acknowledged the fact-checking limitations, writing in the book:

"There was, of course, no way to confirm what he was saying. Shin was the only available source of information about his early life. His mother and brother were dead. His father was still in the camp or perhaps dead too. The North Korean government could hardly set the record straight, since it denies that Camp 14 exists. Still, the story had been vetted and rang true to survivors of other labor camps, to scholars, to human rights advocates, and to the South Korean government."

North Korea pounced on the latest development, saying Shin's claims were false and again denying the existence of the camp.

The state-run KCNA news agency called Shin a swindler who "styled himself a 'survivor' in the 'concentration camp of political offenders' that does not exist."

Shin's case is likely to raise doubts about future stories from North Korean defectors.

Meanwhile, Brad Adams, Asia director for Human Rights Watch, said memory loss or confusion over details is not unusual in cases where there is trauma.

"It's really quite common," he said. "It depends on the extent of the trauma that people have suffered. Can you remember the name of your third-grade teacher? Or where you were when you where 12 years old, when you had your birthday party? Or other important events in your life? I can't."

Greg Scarlatoiu, executive director at the Committee for Human Rights in North Korea, agreed.

"The true surprise here is that we expect a former political prisoner who went through such unthinkable tragedy to remember everything in minute detail and in chronological order," Scarlatoiu said.

Asked if his organization trusted Shin, he said the foundation of Shin's story is still intact.

"There is a very fine line to walk here. NGOs require academic rigor, but also compassion," he said.

However, Frank Sesno, director of the School of Media and Public Affairs at George Washington University, said journalists always need to consider the veracity of their source.

"Are they for real? Is this person legitimate? Because there are totally fraudulent, made-up people who masquerade around trying to win propaganda points against this or that regime," Sesno said.

North Korea

Shiite Houthi rebels are in apparent control of all of the major institutions in Yemen's capital, Sanaa, a day after they seized the presidential palace and shelled President Abed Rabbo Mansour Hadi's residence.

The rebels took charge today of a military base that houses ballistic missiles, and they posted guards outside Hadi's residence. The president is unharmed and is inside the house.

On Tuesday, the rebels took control of the TV building and the official news agency, and surrounded the prime minister's house.

Abdel-Malek al-Houthi, the Houthi leader whose followers regard him as a saint, in a televised address on Tuesday called the takeover a revolutionary move. The Associated Press reports that he said his group was merely forcing Hadi to implement a U.N.-brokered agreement that gave the Houthis more power.

Yara Bayoumy, a correspondent for Reuters in Sanaa, told NPR's David Greene that signs of Houthi control are apparent.

"When I went past President Hadi's home this morning, we first saw that the sentry posts where the presidential guard units would normally be were completely empty and, at the entrance of his home, there were a number of Houthi fighters with a military vehicle hanging around," she said.

She added: "In general, it would be accurate to say that the Houthis are in control of all of the major institutions in the capital."

The Houthis, who follow a strain of Shiite Islam that is close to the dominant Sunni strand of Islam, were created as a movement in 2004. They have called for greater autonomy for the north of Yemen and for the past year have pushed south toward the capital, capturing territory. The group is considered to be close to Iran. Last September, the Houthis reached Sanaa and took control of the city.

"When they took over the capital ... it really took everyone by surprise," Bayoumy said. "And I spoke to a diplomatic source. He told me if they were in control at 60 or 70 percent back in September, they are now 100 percent."

As NPR's Greg Myre reported, the Houthis and the government reached a deal after September's takeover that allowed the rebels to control parts of Sanaa.

Yemen is a key ally of the U.S. and was recently described by President Obama as a success story in the war on terrorism. Hadi has worked with the U.S. to target al-Qaida in the Arabian Peninsula, which is widely seen as the most dangerous al-Qaida franchise and which claimed responsibility for the deadly Jan. 7 attack on the French satirical weekly Charlie Hebdo.

The Houthis are apparently anti-U.S. — with "Death to America" and "Death to Israel" signs at their checkpoints — but they are also anti-al-Qaida, and have been fighting the group in other parts of Yemen.

"They launched a major campaign against al-Qaida in the province of Beqaa," reporter Iona Craig told NPR's Audie Cornish on Tuesday. "And [there has also been] ... a sharp increase in attacks by al-Qaida targeting the Houthis and now trying to push Yemen into a second sectarian conflict."

Yemen, like much of the Muslim world, is predominantly Sunni. The Shiite Houthis live mostly in the north. In protests against the unrest, authorities in Aden, which is the main city in southern Yemen, closed the airport; the port in Aden was also closed.

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