Nearly two months ago, Catalina Santana jumped a turnstile in the Santiago metro and helped launch a movement that changed the course of Chilean history.
Student protests over a fare hike morphed into a nationwide call for socioeconomic equality and better social services that brought millions to the streets and forced President Sebastián Piñera to increase benefits for the poor and disadvantaged and start a process of constitutional reform.
But Santana, 18, isn't done. Although the headlines have faded, she and thousands of other young people are still taking to the streets of Santiago and other Chilean cities almost daily to demand the government follow through on its promises of chance.
Two similar student-driven movements over the last decade and a half led to significant but limited reforms in education policy, including lower costs for university students. The young protesters are hoping that this time around they will be able to force the government to make deep-rooted structural changes that address the fundamental causes of inequality, economic injustice and poor social services in Chile.
"If my grandmother retires, she shouldn't die of hunger," Santana said during a recent protests in central Santiago. "If I go to a hospital, I shouldn't die waiting for treatment. The professor teaching my classes shouldn't be paid so little money. It can't be this way."
Starting with high-school students in 2006, then university students five years later, Chile has been hit by regular, large-scale protests led by young people that have won concessions from the government.
High school students' protests won discounts on public transportation and the waiver of charges for university entrance exams for most students. University students won free tuition for nearly half the students in the country, and lower interest rates on student loans.
In several cases, student protesters went on to become left-wing legislators who are now pushing for the reforms demanded by the street protesters.
"In 2006 and 2011 we won partial solutions," said Fabrizio Termini, a 31-year-old law student who went onto the streets for the third time this year. "Now the support is widespread for all the demands we made, somewhat timidly, for years, and every sector of society is hoping for solutions to their problems."
Piñera has already canceled some interest payments on student loans, but protesters are demanding more relief for education payments and related debt.
The largely peaceful protests have been accompanied by vandalism and violence at the hands of masked young people in cities across Chile, and use of tear gas and non-lethal ammunition fired by police that has wounded thousands.
Tensions across the country remain high despite the government's slight raising of pensions for the poorest citizens, a hike in the minimum wage, a freeze of power prices, increased taxes on the richest people and the granting of additional medical benefits under the public health system.
Protesters say they have no plans to stop and like Catalina Santana, many are high-schoolers, who have shown up at protest after protest even as adults and university-age students stopped attending.
"In many senses, they've been in the vanguard," said Mario Garcés, a historian of social movements in Chile. "Many times they've been a step ahead, announcing what's to come."
Gabriel Boric, a 2011 student leader who became a left-wing congressman, said he was confident that the 2019 student-led movement would lead to important changes in Chile.
"The movement today is part of something that's happening worldwide, with people protesting to express deep unhappiness, and it will end up provoking a much-needed reconfiguration of the political map in Chile."
Song Hong Ryon looks like any other young woman in South Korea. But three years after her arrival from China, the half-North Korean, half-Chinese 19-year-old has made only two South Korean-born friends and says she's often been hurt by little things, like when people ask if she's from China because of her accent.
"I've agonized about it a lot by myself," she said.
Song's mother fled North Korea in the late 1990s in search of food and work in China, like tens of thousands of other North Korean women did to avoid a famine at home. Many women ended up being sold to poor Chinese farmers as brides, before fleeing again and moving to South Korea, which considers the North part of its territory and therefore embraces North Korean refugees.
Many of the children of these marriages, if they're able to reunite with their mothers in the South, are alienated and frustrated as they struggle to navigate a strange culture, cut off from friends and many of their relatives.
To tell their little-known stories, The Associated Press talked to three of the children, two of their North Korean mothers and an array of school teachers, experts and government officials.
Many of the North Korean mothers lived in China in constant fear of being captured and repatriated to the North, where they could face torture and lengthy detention. When they made the risky trip to South Korea, they often left their children behind in China.
The lucky ones, after getting jobs and saving money in South Korea, arranged for their children and husbands to travel to the country. But some children were abandoned, or their fathers refused to leave their hometowns and move to a place where they had no relatives or friends.
Family reunions, if they happen at all, often take years, meaning many half-Chinese, half-North Korean children must fend for themselves during their adolescent years.
Song said she was 10 when her mother left their home in the northeastern Chinese city of Yanji in 2010. A year later, her father also went to South Korea, leaving her with her grandparents.
"When my mom left, I didn't cry. But when my dad left, I cried a lot," Song said. "I think it was because I felt I was truly alone then."
She only reunited with her parents in 2016 in South Korea after a six-year separation. Last December, her mother died of lung cancer.
"I came to blame God," said Song, a devout Christian. "I asked why this had to happen to me."
In South Korea, children like Song often face crises in identity, a language barrier, public indifference and poor government assistance. Many of them feel like outsiders and get left behind academically and socially. Some return to China, parting again with their North Korean mothers.
They're often confused about whether they're Chinese, South Korean or North Korean refugees. Because neither parent is originally from South Korea, they don't have help assimilating into the country's brutally competitive and fast-paced society.
"Combined with South Korea's social bias against them and their own distorted views about (the South Koreans around them), they mostly give up on opportunities to develop themselves, and this eats away at them fulfilling their potential," said Kim Doo Yeon, the principal of the alternative Great Vision School in Uijeongbu, just north of Seoul, where Song was enrolled for two years.
Another half-Chinese, half-North Korean young woman — who wished to be identified only by her family name, Choe, because she worries that media publicity could damage her life in South Korea — came to Seoul from China last year to reunite with her North Korean refugee mother.
The 20-year-old speaks only a little Korean and has no South Korean friends. She has yet to travel alone beyond Seoul and often spends time chatting online with her friends back in China.
Her mother fled their home in Dunhua city in northeastern China in early 2017 after seeing a fellow North Korean woman in their village being arrested and sent back to North Korea.
"I was very saddened," the daughter said through tears about her separation with her mother.
Her mother, who asked to be identified as Choe H.Y. because of similar privacy issues, said brokers lured her to cross the border into China with the promise of a job before selling her to her husband for 5,000 yuan ($710) in 1998.
Song said her mother was also almost sold to a stranger before she ran away and met her father.
Upon arrival in South Korea, these children are given citizenship because their mothers are now South Korean nationals. But because they don't have a direct link to North Korea, they cannot legally receive some other special favors that North Korea-born refugees enjoy.
Those missed benefits include the right to bypass the highly competitive national university entrance exam, get a college tuition waiver and, for men, choose whether to perform two years of mandatory military service.
Choe said her brother is still in China because of worries that he'll have to serve in the military. Choe wants to improve her Korean and go to a South Korean university, which means she must compete with South Korean students in the university entrance exam.
But language is a problem. "If I try to go deeper in our conversation in Korean, she won't understand, so I become impatient and start speaking Chinese to her," said Choe H.Y.
The fact that these children's mothers mostly began slipping into China about 20 years ago suggests their children are now reaching adulthood and that their plight could soon become a bigger social issue in South Korea.
According to the South Korean Education Ministry, about 1,550 such children were enrolled in primary, middle and high schools in South Korea as of April this year, compared with about 980 North Korea-born students. The true number is likely higher.
In recent years, the government has tried to help by providing 4 million won ($3,390) to their families and dispatching more bilingual instructors to schools. In May, an opposition lawmaker proposed providing China-born North Korean children with the same assistance given to North Korea-born refugees.
Shim Yang-sup, principal of the Seoul-based alternative South-North Love School, said the children should be supported because they represent an untapped resource, with the ability to often speak two languages and navigate both Korean and Chinese cultures.
Kim Hyun-seung, 20, from Tianjin, China, arrived in South Korea three years ago to reunite with his mother, who came six years earlier. Kim's 52-year-old mother, Kim So-yeon, described him as "a great, loyal son," who tried not to talk much about his suffering and once cooked special foods for her on her birthday.
Tall and slim, Kim said he wouldn't mind serving in the South Korean military and dreams of being a chef in a French restaurant.
But he doesn't want a serious girlfriend out of fear they'd "become a couple like my father and mother that gives pain to their child, fails to live together and worries about many things."
Song's bilingual ability helped her receive special admission to a university near Seoul. Her first semester starts in March, and she's excited and nervous about meeting her mostly South Korea-born classmates.
"I'm seeing things positively ... because even if I complain about some difficulties that I have, they aren't resolved," she said. "I've sometimes gotten sick after brooding alone. As time goes by, I'm missing my mom more than ever."
Marchers were expected to fill Hong Kong streets Sunday in a protest that will test the enduring appeal of an anti-government movement marking a half year of demonstrations.
A large crowd gathered in Victoria Park for a rally ahead of the planned march through central Hong Kong.
"We hope this will be a signature for our movement after six months to show to (Hong Kong leader) Carrie Lam as well as to the world that people are not giving up, people will still fight for our freedom and democracy," said Eric Lai, one of the organizers.
Police granted approval for the march, which could boost participation. A few hours before the mid-afternoon start, police announced they had found a pistol with more than 100 bullets that they believe was going to be used during the protest.
Eleven people were arrested, and daggers, swords, batons and pepper spray were also found in raids on three locations, public broadcaster RTHK reported.
The rally was called by the Civil Human Rights Front, a group that has organized some of the biggest demonstrations since hundreds of thousands of protesters first marched on June 9 against now-withdrawn government proposals that would have allowed criminal suspects to be sent for trial in Communist Party-controlled courts in mainland China.
The movement has snowballed from there into a sustained challenge to the government of the semi-autonomous Chinese territory and communist leaders in Beijing. Its demands have expanded to include fully democratic elections for the city's leader and legislature and an investigation into what protesters say is excessive use of force by police against them.
A Communist Party official, meeting in Beijing on Saturday with Hong Kong's new police commissioner, said that China would fully support the Hong Kong police's strict law enforcement and "unremitting efforts in restoring social order," the official Xinhua News Agency reported.
Iran's president said on Sunday his country will depend less on oil revenue next year, in a new budget that is designed to resist crippling U.S. trade embargoes.
Iran is in the grips of an economic crisis. The U.S. re-imposed sanctions that block Iran from selling its crude oil abroad, following President Trump's decision to withdraw from Tehran's 2015 nuclear deal with world powers.
"The budget sends a message to the world that despite the sanctions, we will manage the country," President Hassan Rouhani told the opening session of Parliament.
The budget will counter "maximum pressure and sanctions'' by the U.S., he said.
Rouhani added that the Iranian government will also benefit from a $5 billion loan from Russia that's being finalized.
He said the U.S. and Israel will remain "hopeless" despite their goal of weakening Iran through sanctions.
The next Iranian fiscal year begins March 20, with the advent of the Persian New Year. The budget is set to be about $40 billion, some 20% higher than in 2019. The increase comes as the country is suffering from a 40% inflation rate.
Iran's economic woes in part fueled the anger seen in nationwide protests last month that Iranian security forces violently put down, unrest that Amnesty International says killed over 200 people.
A Houston police officer was shot and killed Saturday evening by a man who had been reported for assault, authorities said.
Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner announced Sgt. Christopher Brewster's death at a media briefing late Saturday. Police officials said in a tweet that the 32-year-old officer was shot just before 6 p.m.
At the briefing, Houston Police Chief Art Acevedo said police received a call from a female victim who reported that her boyfriend was assaulting her and armed with two firearms. Police responding to the address didn't find the pair, but Brewster spotted them three streets away on Houston's east side.
He was shot at and struck multiple times immediately after exiting his patrol vehicle, Acevedo said. The police chief said the sergeant managed to relay a description of the shooter.
"Although he was mortally wounded, he had the presence of mind to draw his pistol out of his holster to protect himself in case the suspect came up and he also had the presence of mind and courage to put out and broadcast suspect information that was critical for the responding units," Acevedo said.
Brewster died about a half-hour after the shooting, which Acevedo said was captured on body cameras. Acevedo initially said Brewster wasn't wearing his vest, but later confirmed that the officer was.
"What people will see is a coward who took the life of a hero," Acevedo said.
A 25-year-old male suspect fled on foot, and responding officers saw him jumping fences, the police chief said. He was armed with a semi-automatic pistol when he was captured at a school, according to Acevedo, who later tweeted that police recovered both firearms and other evidence discarded by the suspect.
Charges had not been announced as of late Saturday.
The woman who called police is uninjured and cooperating with the investigation, Acevedo said.
Houston's mayor said Gov. Greg Abbott had called and expressed condolences for Brewster's family. The governor also tweeted about the shooting, saying "Tonight & Every Night we Back The Blue in Houston & across Texas."
The police chief said Brewster graduated the police academy in 2010 and was promoted to sergeant in February. He's survived by his wife, parents and sisters.
"We're the Houston Police Department," Acevedo said before invoking the loss of Sgt. Steve Perez, who drowned in the floodwaters of Hurricane Harvey in 2017. "We pause, we pray and we drive forward."