Hobnobbing with MFDC Rebels

Rebels untying the hostages

Several hours after they were unshackled and ferried away from hell of a bush in Casamance to a safe-haven in Gambia, and hosted and freshened-up and quenched and fed in one of Gambia’s finest luxurious five-star hotels, the freed Senegalese hostages, which included six soldiers, could not wear a descent smile. But this forest of frowned faces on display has a distinguished dissimilarity with the rather bluffing grim-faced red-eyed men of boot camp.  

Matter-of-factly, the year-long captivity in the hands of the rebels in the bush, away from women and weapons, has apparently stripped the men in arm and uniform off any aura or pride that accompanies their professional or social standing. The soldiers, to say the least, as well as the gendarmerie and the fire fighter, were uncharacteristically cool and collected despite the pleasant twist of fate that should normally be greeted with bang.  

It was an anomaly that invited the question: How were these hostages treated by the rebels? When I discreetly excused myself and raised this question, I found that the hostages were in no mood to discuss their experience. At least not with the press at the time. "Did Salif [Sadio] not tell you everything?" one of them told me and turned his face away to hide his tear-swelled eyes. I wasn’t sure whether what I saw were tears of joy or just the opposite. Undeterred, I proceeded to face up another soldier. Without allowing me to release the words stubbornly dancing on my tongue, he gestured in disapproval of my overture and pursed his lips in agony. That wasn’t for me, I tried to convince myself.  But I did not wait to verify that before drifting back and joined the crowd that gathered around Salif Sadio. The MFDC rebel chief was deep in an articulate lecture session, justifying his reasons for plunging that treasure-trove of a region called Casamance, so far, into unforgivably misery, in the name of seeking independence.

Of course, the impressions from the reluctant response from the soldiers strengthened a deep-rooted concern I shared with many others that the hostages were subjected to cruel treatment. However, refusing to come home and polish my reportage with mere impressions, I had to anyhow muster courage and ask away the questions burning the proverbial curious cat in me. Salif Sadio, a rebel leader who compromised on such precious war booties in order to build a political capital was not an option. Not because of fear but rather, under the circumstances, the chances for him

Salif (clad in white) poses for photo in a farewell with his former hostages

to rubbish claims that could spoil his day were high. I settled for a rebel fighter, whose comments nonetheless contradicted my mental picture. "We eat the same food as they do. They were never treated badly,” the rebel fighter, a Baboucarr Jarjue told me. "You know, if it were the other way round, we would not have been spared. The Senegalese soldiers show no mercy us," he says.

Then, wearing a smile that confused rather than assured frightened-me, the gap-toothed fighter, clasping an assault rifle which weight puts him in a state of disequilibrium as he walks, further suggested that “perhaps the soldiers were bitter that they were kept against their will and away from their loved ones in the bush."

His version of the story was confirmed by a Red Cross official. "We visited the hostages several times while they were in the custody of the rebels,” the official who was not authorised to speak to the press told me.

Over a course of meal of muttons and vegetables and fruit juices at the Ocean Bay Hotel where the hostages were prepared for anxiously waiting families in Senegal, the Red Cross official further told me: “And I can confirm that they eat the same food with the rebels, and the rebels were not cruel against them.” He however, refused to disclose whether the condition of the prisoners was bad. He did admit though that they proffered recommendations for improvement upon their visits. The recommendations, too, were confidential. “This is important in order for us to be able to continue our contact with the rebels,” he justified for refusing to let just one more cat of the bag.

 

The author poses for photo with rebel chief Salif Sadio

Manhandled or not, merely been left to the kindness of rebels who are allegedly reputed for inhumane and degrading treatment on the civilian population, talkless of an enemy fighter, could be enough to take huge toll on the hostages. Lo and behold, these men, through a slightest stretch of one’s imagination, could be seen to be proud soldiers primed to free their country, either by hook or crook, from the clutches of a bloodletting civil war which puts an ugly scar on the relative pretty face of the only nation in coup-ridden independent Africa never to witness a coup, and ripped it apart, ironically, into resource-poor progressive north and resource-rich backward south.

Even for those of us whose safety and security had to be guaranteed and re-guaranteed before signing up for the rare, risky rendezvous with the rebels, entering what would be no-man’s land was no less than buttock-clenching affair.  Under the auspices of an international faith-based organisation, Sant Egidio, based in Rome, Italy, the journey had been slated for Saturday 8 December, 2012, but for reasons which would be self-revealing, it was possible the following day – Sunday December 9. Waking up at an unusual hour of 5:a.m, as a Muslim, I performed my morning rites, precisely, of prayer and food. This time round, though, I was in no hurry to complete a complicated set of prayers, seeking as well, Allah’s security over my life. Then, I waited for a telephone call to confirm our departure. Until 7:a.m, not even an SMS popped up on my phone. I made a phone call only to be told that the convoy was taking off. My request to be waited for just five minutes was brushed aside without a second thought, even though I had waited for more than ten hours the previous day. Surely, I concluded to no one in particular that, if journalism has another word, it is ‘Patiencism’. With enough of it at my disposal, I managed to catch with the convoy up in Banjul, at the offices of ministry of foreign affairs.  

By 9:a.m, everything was set for an hour and half long journey. Somewhere in Sibanor, a major town in Foni district, the convoy veered off and snaked its way through a handful of out-of-the-way villages along the narrow road paved by donkey carts and footsteps. It was in a Gambian border village called Tamba Kunda, which I had always thought was in Senegal, the cars pulled up. State ministers, foreign diplomats, Gambian military officials, Red Cross officials and few journalists all alighted from their vehicles. The delegation came in clear view of the rebels, who mounted their checkpoint right at the back gate of the last compound into the Senegalese soil.  

The atmosphere became edgy. Even before any serious contact was made with the rebels on the ground there was a drama. Abdoulie John, the only independent local journalist at the scene, beside me, was in confrontation with a State House photographer. This was after we disembarked and entered a compound and started greeting an old man, apparently the compound headman. “Boy Saiks, hey Saiks,” a voice called out. That must be someone who knows me well! Yes, it was a former classmate of mine, now working as a presidential affairs correspondent with the state-owned GRTS. “Boy bulen nyu creatal problem fi…” he told me. Create problem for you? Though I was flabbergasted and angered by this insinuation that I was there to make trouble, I was able to summon my skills of ‘patiencism’, laughed of the incriminating charges against me, and dutifully complied and sequestered into a ‘trouble-free’ zone.

It was at this time that a State House staff photographer started barking at us: ‘In fact, who invited you here?’ I did not only ignore but knew he was irrelevant in the equation that involved me there. John who was there to cover the event for the U.S-based Associated Press news agency and seemed to have had history with the photographer, reacted. A commotion ensued between the two. The country’s intelligence chief, who was on the ground, was prompted into action. John unsurprisingly became the casualty; he was disallowed entry into Casamance to cover the event. I would see him days later, for he was since put under detention by the NIA.

After that tension eases, my former classmate and a State House protocol started lecturing me on ‘objective journalism’. I wanted to spit out a tip of universally-accepted textbook mumbo jumbo in contravention to their interpretation of objective journalism, but it was pointless, as, perhaps I do not know better than they do. All this was after the interior minister, Ousman Sonko, called me to inquired why I was there. Of course, I was there to cover the event for France-based AFP news global agency. “Ok you can go in,” he told me. At last a breakthrough!  Certainly, this was thanks to my former classmate who impressed on them that he knew me to be an ‘objective journalist’.

Truth be told, however, I could not believe my eyes when I rushed to the newsstand the following day and saw the front page story of both Observer and The Point. The headline read: “Gambia Secures the Release Senegalese Hostages.” The one broadcast on GRTS the previous night was no better. This could not be the whole truth. For, when the rebels were freeing the hostages, as immortal father of Gambian literature Lenri Peters would poetically put, ‘I be there’. 
Besides, those in the know would admit that the best way to describe Gambia’s participation in the release of the Senegalese hostages was that of a conveyor. The release of the rebels, as Salif Sadio confirmed, was purely a byproduct of negotiations held in Rome in October 14, 2012, when a faith-based organisation, Sant Egidio, brought the rebels and Senegalese government to a table for peace talks. How dare could media reports go further to state that pragmatic Salif Sadio’s statement was read on his behalf by presidential affairs minister, Dr Njogu Bah. Is there not a world difference between a statement read on someone’s behalf and someone to translate the original speaker’s script?

In journalism, the ethical principle of truth must be wholly kept. The power of money and politics must be shunned in favour of telling it as it is for public good. This had been drummed into my head like a circumcision song. I, of course, was not oblivious of the fact that certain journalists do distort facts to suit their masters different from the public. That such would feature in the reportage of the release of the hostages I was not completely caught off guard. Because prior to our departure, when I asked a Sant Egidio official why the journey could not materialise on the originally scheduled time even when the rebels were ready to receive us, his response was enigmatically sarcastic. “We do not want to have any medals in this,” he told me. “All we want is to see that the hostages are free. We worked for that and if someone else wants to take the medal, he can take it.”

Yet coming face to face with such a blatant act of misinformation and disinformation, as appeared in Gambian media on the release of Senegalese hostages, was a terrible journalistic disaster my mentor, doyen Swaebou Conateh, did not prepare me to stomach. And, then, it clearly occurred to me why my former classmate at Nusrat and GTTI, was telling me why I worked for Daily News. “After all, it was not a prominent paper. You have to do something that will give you reward.”

Somehow, I get by, but not before churning out the thoughts that would allow me no peace. In my diary, I wrote:

 “…if reward and prominence means I have to not only do propaganda, but also mislead the public with such a terrible confidence; if reward and prominence means I have to rob Sant Egidio of their work in broad day light; if reward and prominence means I have to satisfy the ends of some politicians at the expense of truth, the gospel truth, I prefer to remain unrecognised, unrewarded.”

Back in Tamba Kunda village, it was clear that the rebels had put their intelligence to work. We stood waiting for almost an hour before allowed to pass through into Senegal, as the rebels made sure that not only necessary protocols are clear, but also that it safe the give us passage. The delegation shuttled in a single file through a forest of thick herbs. Flanking us were rebels, some of whom were combing through the bushes with a noise that sent nerves down the spines. Finally, the delegation was settled under a big cotton tree that provided shade for the tens of people. This was about 200 hundred metres from the border Gambian village of Tamba Kunda. Here, the climate was relatively serene. Some sign of sigh of relief could be noticed. Yet, it was at the same time dramatic. We were almost put at gun point by rebels who surrounded us with their rifles poised and refused to take seats like everyone else had done.  

In addition, there was no sign of the hostages. Nor was the rebel chief Salif Sadio. Some 150 meters, in the East, a contingent of noisy rebels was stationed with an armored vehicle. There was another stationed in the north. In fact, we seemed to be sandwiched by the rebels as the Gambia is sandwiched into Senegal. If this was a game, clearly, not only I was reluctantly playing along. If it was to instill fear, the rebels had not totally failed. More importantly, if it was to display their strength to the visiting delegation - including foreign diplomats, whose countries’ support they badly needed - at least they have made an impression, no matter how insignificant.  

In that bush, I mean where we were, a no-man’s land, the rebels hold sway. No one but Salif Sadio dictated the pace and the scheme of things. Everything works according to the whims and caprices of the rebels. Even the hands of time are controlled by the rebels who allow it to naturally tick in tune with their pace and scheme, and as freely as the River Gambia gets its source from Fouta Diallon. For instance, the delegation of so-called V.I.Ps, including western diplomats whose culture forbids beyond-five-minutes late, this time round, waited for almost two hours before the king of the Casamance jungle, Salif Sadio, emerged from the bush. Flanked by his lieutenants, Sadio clad in white for the occasion, and immediately made his presence loudly felt. "Welcome to our country, the democratic republic of Casamance," he saluted in a manner that attracted attention, as he exchange a round of greetings with each member of the delegation.

In December 2011, when rebels mounted an assault on a Senegalese military barrack in Casamance, there were casualties. Officially, ten deaths were recorded. Six Senegalese military officers, together with a gendarmerie and a fire officer, though escaped death, were taken hostage by the rebels. In what was described as a landmark move – never before in the history of the long drawn out war - the hostages, all of them, were going to be freed. Ironically, the sweet smell of freedom visited them when they were bracing to celebrate their one year in captivity. Just jive days to go!  Adding to the wild pieces of puzzle surrounding the saga was the rebel chief Salifu Sadio’s emphatic assertion that he was forced by no one to release the solders, claiming that his ‘unconditional’ gesture was motivated by humanitarian reasons.  

He said: “By today’s act, the MFDC is making clear of its goodwill which has been characteristic to finding a solution to the war, contrary to the calamity they have been victims of. The release of the eight prisoners does not mean that the fight has ended or the autonomy we are struggling for. The fight for the independence of Casamance is still on.”

Visibly frail, the soldiers all of whom are in their prime - between the ages of 20 to 40 - were handed over to the Gambia government, who was represented by three ministers - presidential affairs, interior and foreign affairs. Besides the Gambia government and the rebel leader, deputy head of International Red Cross Society delegation in Dakar, Beat Schneider, was also a signatory to the document that guarantees the release of Senegalese armies. Foreign diplomatic missions in Gambia, including the US, UK, Nigeria and Cuban ambassadors were all present to witness the event. It was an opportunity for Salif to renew his vow never to cease his fire without attaining independence for Casamance. And the outspoken rebel leader did not waste any second to hammer home the resolve of Casamance to take charge of its destiny. He nevertheless seemed to put more trust on the newly elected President Macky Sall in resolving the crisis than the previous Senegalese presidents.

He said: "Macky Sall was an agent for [former presidents] Joof and Wade. Now he is the head of state. I hope that he learnt many lessons to understand that Senegal will never succeed by using arms. Senegal should accept defeat and give up on Casamance, even though this means their economy will be affected because Casamance provides their resources."

Sadio went on to apportion blame on the Senegalese forces for the genocidal atrocities committed on the civilian population in Casamance. Like guerilla leaders across the world with a feeling of general neglect for their course, Salif also spared some sharp nails to crucify the international community for its inaction on Casamance. “If today’s world is what it has been today,” he says, “the fight in Casamance would not have lasted for over 30 years. A moment when all people in the world have a right to their liberty, the people of Casamance should not be an exception. If we expect that the region of Casamance has abundance of petrol or a country producing diamond, gold, uranium or coco, the international community, I am sure would have shown more pity or be associated to the problem of Casamance. But because that has not been put into consideration, it is really regrettable. …Thus, it is important and relevant for the international community to all get together to assist us in finding a definitive end to the suffering of our people rather than continuing to be silent on this matter.”

But why would Salif release the hostages who would not have shown the same kind of mercy on him? My journalistic instincts advised against completely taking Salif by his words. Then, I consulted an unnamed expert who had successfully struck peace deals in Europe, Africa, and Latin America, and happened to be one of the architects of the ongoing talks between rebels and the government of Senegal. His assessment cannot be off the mark. “I believe there are two reasons,” he told me. “One, it is difficult to keep hostages in the bush. This is not just because of not only the difficulty in giving them food, but also looming threats of attacks by rescuers. Secondly, by releasing the hostages, Salif is playing politics. He wants to show the world that he's not a blood-tasty rebel but a serious politician who is ready for diplomat talks. So it is good for his political profile.”

After 30 odd years of fighting in Casamance, who is winning? I further asked. “No one,” the expert told me. “Neither the Senegalese soldiers nor the rebels are capturing more territory than the one they held since. After all, we have a slogan that ‘in war, no one wins.”

Casamance is home to Africa's longest-running guerilla war. Started as a regionalist sentiment, it has simmered into a full-blown war since 1982. The toll on the human lives is incalculable, so is the economy. Senegalese soldiers have been killed, so have been the rebels. Bearing the brunt is the civilian population who is left at the mercy of both the natural consequences of war, and targeted rebel and soldier atrocities.

In so many ways - politically, economically, socially and security - Gambia is affected by this war. For instance, the increase in the number of refugees arriving from Casamance over the years has creased problems especially in Foni, where natives are forced to share their scarce or inadequate resources. The free flow of goods and services is greatly affected. There has been a constant diplomatic spat between Senegal and Gambia, with President Jammeh-led government accused of supporting the rebels against the Senegalese government. Also, many casualties, in recent times, resulted from mine explosions both in Foni and Casamance where Gambians lost their lives.

Of course, Salif Sadio did claim that he never met President Jammeh, slamming accusations that President Jammeh supports them as a figment of the imagination of the Senegalese authorities. Yet, what either Salif or Jammeh seems to have no control over is, as in all guerilla uprisings, the transitional nature of the Casamance unrest.

It was after several hours of hobnobbing with the rebels that I came to appreciate the complexity to resolving the crisis. As mentioned earlier, the rebel checkpoint is right on the farms of villagers of Tamba Kunda. It does not take a close study of this proximity, together with existence tribal and familial links for one to figure out that the fighters do wine and dine with their Gambian neighbours.
Moreover, a guerrilla activist or a rebel fighter minus an AK47 is equal to a peasant farmer, as essentially, every rebel looks like any other peasant farmer. The only distinction is, of course, the put-down able weapon.  Salif Sadio the rebel chief, on that occasion, appeared like an imam going to lead a congregation of thousands.

The Baboucarr Jarjue fellow mentioned earlier had had his education here in Gambia. He knows our renowned Islamic scholars. It was after his schooling in 1998 that he left Gambia for Guinea Bissau to join forces with Ansuma Manneh. “We won the war for Manneh, now I am here,” he told me.  “Why I did you leave that brilliant career in Gambia and came to the bush to fight,” I accusingly asked him. His response came swift: “Because of the atrocities of the Senegalese soldiers. They are very brutal. They kill even innocent people. So I have to come here to help my people.”

A familiar story! Every insurgency in Africa, from Eritrea to Equatorial Guinea, Sudan to Somalia, Nigeria to Angola, started as a peaceful protest for legitimate demands only to be handled with unreasonable force by governments, eventually blowing out of proportions. It is a fact that holds true in Senegal.

Three months after I hobnobbed with the rebels, and during which period I engaged a wide range of experts on the issue of Casamance, answers to the following questions continue to elude me: How could Casamance be brought to an end when rebels can move in and out of Gambia, as they do in Guinea Bissau where they once had a safe-haven provided to them by a network of backers holding top positions in the Bissau government? How can the Senegalese government resolve what it considers to be an ‘internal crisis’ when its soldiers kill the current generation of fighter only to give rise to a new generation of fighters who will hate them even more and fight with religious zeal? How can Senegalese claim that Casamance was part of its sovereign territory when according to the rebels, Casamance, was never part of the French Senegal? How can Casamance succeed in fighting for independence when its war is not only little known, but also its people are apparently tired, and moreover, it’s not winning friends in the face of democratic Senegal whose side of the story the world has always heard, and probably will continue to hear till doomsday?

Yet, as I dial my keyboard to wrap up this write up, through my mind’s eye, I could see women being raped and killed, men reduced to ashes and children who know but only suffering. All these people, I could further see, are crying for a wonderful world which surrounds them, yet remains far, far away from them. I could also see a mother nation that has sworn keep her borders intact, her people together. All are but obligingly in arms. And all wants peace. How to satisfy these conflicting ends, indeed, requires a delicate balancing act. And one thing that must not continue is the indifference of the world, particularly neighbours, to the suffering of Casamance. It is about time that the world take action on Casamance and say: Not any longer.  

The author poses for photo with a rebel fighter.