When I study a topic I like to read from various points of view, from various authors in order to try to paint a reasonably wide picture of the events in own mind. On the topic of international affairs I have read books from the diplomats from WW2 onwards, from the generals who lead the wars, from the CIA and intelligence agencies and from the very human element of the individuals involved.

Having recently read Operation Certain Death (and having read Charlie Wilsons War & Black Hawk Down) I wanted to try to get a picture of what compelled the kids mentioned in this book to actually pick up a gun. What sends them down such a pathway? And can they be brought back from utter darkness their souls are find themselves in?

I felt like Mark Bowden in Black Hawk Down touched momentarily on the why, something that Damien Lewis generally skirted around (which was ok in the context of his book), but I wanted to see something deeper. So a friend recommended I read “A Long Way Gone” by Ishmeal Beah

http://www.amazon.com/Long-Way-Gone-Memoirs-Soldier/dp/0374105235/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-0395680-9265728?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1183436943&sr=8-1

It is a profoundly moving story, greatly troubling, and touched by moments of great wisdom. In my previous blog post I wrote about the concept of Instigators, Innocent Bystanders and Participants and how a person can be dragged from being a Bystander to a Participant.

I found it incredibly compelling just how Ishmael walked along this pathway.

1. The Initial Shock Of Conflict

“According to the teachers, the rebels had attached the mining areas in the afternoon. The sudden outburst of gunfire had caused people to run for their lives in different directions. Fathers had come running from their workplaces, only to stand in front of their empty houses with no indication of where their families had gone. Mothers wept as they ran towards schools, rivers, and water taps to look for their children. Children ran home to look for parents who were wandering the streets in search of them. And as the gunfire intensified, people gave up looking for their loved ones and ran out of town.”

“Do you guys think it is a good idea to go back to Mogbewmo?” Junior asked. But before either of us  had a chance to answer, a Volkswagen roared in the distance and all the people walking on the road ran into the nearby bushes. We ran, too, but didn’t get far. My heart pounded and my breathing intensified. The vehicle stopped in front of my grand mothers house, and from where we lay, we could see that whoever was inside the car was not armed. As we, and others, emerged from the bushes, we saw a man run from the driver’s seat to the side-walk, where he vomited blood. His arm was bleeding. When he stopped vomiting, he began to cry. It was the first time I had seen a grown man cry like a child, and I felt a sting in my heart. A woman put her arms around the man and begged him to stand up. He got to his feet and walked toward the van. When he opened the door opposite the driver’s, a woman who was leaning against it fell to the ground. Blood was coming out of her ears. People covered the eyes of their children.”

2. The Build Up of Frustration – “when the wicked are in power the people groan.”

“You were negative nineteen years old.” That’s what my father used to say when I would ask about what life was like in Sierra Leone following independence in 1961. It had been a British colony since 1808. Sir Milton Margai became the first prime minister and ruled the country under the Sierra Leone Peoples Party (SLPP) political banner until his death in 1964. His half brother Sir Albert Margai succeeded him until 1967, when Siaka Stevens, the All People’s Congress (APC) Party leader, won the election, which was followed by a military coup. Siaka Stevens returned to power in 1968, and several years later declared the country a one-party state, the APC being the sole legal party. It was the beginning of “rotten politics,” as my father would put it. I wondered what he would say about the war that I was now running from. I had heard from adults that this was a revolutionary war, a liberation of the people from corrupt government. But what kind of liberation movement shoots innocent civilians, children, that little girl? There wasn’t anyone to answer these questions, and my head felt heavy with the images that it contained. As we walked, I became afraid of the road, the mountains in the distance, and the bushes on either side.”

3. Where the “revolution” ended up

“We heard that the rebels were stationed in Sumbuya, a town twenty or so miles to the northeast of Mattru Jong. This rumor was soon replaced by letters brought by people whose lives the rebels had spared during their massacre in Sumbuya. The letters simply informed the people of Mattru Jong that the rebels were coming and wanted to be welcomed, since they were fighting for us. One of the messengers was a young man. They had carved their initial RUF (Revolutionary United Front), on his body with a hot bayonet and chopped off all his fingers with the exception of his thumbs. The rebels called this mutilation “one love.” Before the war, people raised a thumb to say “One love” to each other, an expression popularized by the love and influence of reggae music.”

“After we crossed the swamp, the real trouble started, because the rebels began shooting their guns at people instead of shooting into the sky. They didn’t want people to abandon the town, because they needed to use civilians as a shield against the military. One of the main aims of the rebels when they took over a town was to force the civilians to stay with them, especially women and children. This way they could stay longer, as military intervention would be delayed.

We were now at the top of a busy hill immediately behind the swamp, in a clearing just before the escape route. Seeing the civilians all about to make it out, the rebels fired rocket-propelled grenades (RPG’s), machine guns, AK-47s, G3s, all the weapons they had, directly into the clearing. But we knew we had no choice, we had to make it across the clearing because, as young boys, the risk of staying in town was greater for us than trying to escape. Young boys were immediately recruited, and the initials RUF were carved wherever it pleased the rebels, with a hot bayonet. This not only meant that you were scarred for life but that you could never escape from them, because escaping with the carving of the rebels’ initials was asking for death, as soldiers would kill you without any questions and militant civilians do the same.”

4. The effect on “by-standers”

Distrust:

“Being in a group of six boys was not to our advantage. But we needed to stay together because we had a better chance of escaping the day-to-day troubles we faced. People were terrified of boys our age. Some had heard rumors about young boys being forced by rebels to kill their families and burn their villages. Some people tried to hurt us to protect themselves, their families and communities.”

Distance:

“I looked at Junior, whose face was sweating. He had been so quiet lately. He looked at me and smiled a little before his face resumed its dullness. He got up and walked out to the yard. Never moving, he stared at the sky until the sun disappeared. On his way back to sit on the verandah, he picked up a stone and played with it throughout the evening. I kept looking at him, hoping that we could have another eye contact and maybe he would then say something about what was going on in his head. But he wouldn’t look up. He only played with the stone in his hand and stared at the ground.”

Anger:

We became the evening gossip. I was so angry at the way they pitied us that I would sometimes kick their children’s behinds at school, especially those who gave us the look that said, My parents talk about you a lot.

Bravery in the face of Horror:

I didn’t go to the mosque that night, but Kaloko did. He said that upon realizing that the rebels were in the village, everyone quickly and silently left the mosque, one at a time, leaving the imam by himself as he stood there leading the prayer. Some people tried to whisper to him, but he ignored them. The rebels captured him and demanded to know what parts of the forest people were hiding in, but the imam refused to tell them. They bound his hands and feet with wire, tied him to an iron post, and set fire to his body. They didn’t burn him completely, but the fire killed him. His semi-burnt remains were left in the village square.

Fear:

Everything felt awkwardly brutal. Even the air seemed to want to attack me and break my neck. I knew I was hungry, but I didn’t have the appetite to eat or the strength to find food. I had passed through burnt villages where dead bodies of men, women, and children of all ages were scattered like leaves on the ground after a storm. Their eyes still showed fear, as if death hadn’t freed them from the madness that continued to unfold. I had seen heads cut off by machetes, smashed by cement bricks, and rivers filled with so much blood that the water had ceased flowing. My body twitched with fear, and I became dizzy. I could see the leaves on the trees swaying, but I couldn’t feel the wind.

Beauty of Wisdom:

He drew a map on the ground with his walking stick. “This is how you get to Yele,” he said.

“What is your name?” Kanei asked the old man.

He smiled as if he knew that one of us would ask this question. “There is no need to know my name. Just refer to me as the old man who got left behind when you get to the next village.” He looked at all our faces and spoke softly, with no sadness in his voice.

“I will not be alive to see the end of this war. So, to save a place in your memories for other things, I won’t tell you my name. If you survive this war, just remember me as the old man you met. You boys should be on your way.”

Dying Inside:

“How many times do we have to come to terms with death before we find safety?” he asked.

He waited a few minutes, but the three of us didn’t say anything. He continued: “Every time people come at us with the intention of killing us, I close my eyes and wait for death. Even though I am still alive, I feel like each time I accept death, part of me dies. Very soon I will completely die and all that will be left is my empty body walking with you. It will be quieter than I am.”

Guilt:

Saidu’s family was unable to leave town during the attack. Along with his parents and three sisters, who were nineteen, seventeen, and fifteen, he hid under the bed during the night. In the morning the rebels broke into the house and found his parents and three sisters. Saidu had climbed to the attic to bring down the remaining rise for their journey, when the rebels stormed in. Saidu sat in the attic, holding his breath and listening to the wailing of his sisters as the rebels raped them. His father shouted at them to stop, and one of the rebels hit him with the butt of his gun. Saidu’s mother cried and apologized to her daughters for having brought them into this world to be the victims of such madness. After the rebels had raped the sisters over and over, they bundled the family’s property and made the father and mother carry it. They took the three girls with them.

“To this day, I carry the pain that my sisters and parents felt. When I climbed down after the rebels were gone, I couldn’t stand and my tears froze in my eyes. I felt like my veins were being harshly pulled out of my body. I still feel like that all the time, as I can’t stop thinking about that day. What did my sisters do to anyone?” Saidu said after he was done telling us the story one night in an abandoned village. My teeth became sour as I listened to his story. It was then that I understood why he was so quiet all the time.

4. Joining the Fight: (WHY?)

Each time the soldiers went to the front lines, few returned. Those left behind became restless and started shooting civilians who were on their way to latrines at night. The lieutenant asked his men to gather everyone at the square.

“In the forest there are men waiting to destroy all of our lives. We have fought them as best as we can, but there are too many of them. They are all around the village.” The lieutenant made a circle in the air with his hands. “They won’t give up until they capture this village. They want our food and ammunition.” He paused, and slowly continued: “Some of you are here because they have killed your parents or families, others because this is a safe place to be. Well, it is not that safe anymore. That is why we need strong men and boys to help us fight these guys, so that we can keep this village safe. If you do not want to fight or help, that is fine. But you will not have rations and will not stay in this village.”

The lieutenant stood on several bricks so that he could be high enough to be seen by all. He let silence settle in our bones, then waved his hands to some soldiers who brought before us two bodies – a man and a young boy who had lived in the village. The blood that soaked their clothes was still fresh and their eyes were open. People turned their heads away, and little children and babies began to cry. The lieutenant cleared his throat and started speaking in the midst of the cries, which eventually ceased as he went on.

“I am sorry to show you these gruesome bodies, especially with your children present. But then again, all of us here have seen death or even shaken hands with it.” He turned to the bodies and continued softly: “This man and this child decided to leave this morning even though I had told them it was dangerous. The man insisted that he didn’t want to be a part of our war, so I gave him his wish and let him go. Look at what happened. The rebels shot them in the clearing. My men brought them back, and I decided to show you, so that you can fully understand the situation we are in.” The lieutenant went on for almost an hour, describing how the rebels had cut of the heads of some people’s family members and made them watch, burned entire villages along with their inhabitants, forced sons to have intercourse with their mothers, hacked newly born babies in half because they cried too much, cut open pregnant women’s stomachs, took the babies out, and killed them… The lieutenant spat on the ground and continued on, until he was sure that he had mentioned all the ways the rebels had hurt every person in the gathering.

“They have lost everything that makes them human. They do not deserve to live. That is why we must kill every single one of them. Think of it as destroying a great evil. It is the highest service you can perform for your country.” The lieutenant pulled out his pistol and fired two shots into the air. People began shouting, “We must kill them all. We must make sure they never walk this earth again.”

5. Being a Soldier

The sharp aches in my head, or what I later came to know as migraines, stopped as my daily activities were replaced with more soldierly things. In the daytime, instead of playing soccer in the village square, I took turns at the guarding posts around the village, smoking marijuana and sniffing brown brown, cocaine mixed with gunpowder, which was always spread out on the table, and of course taking more of the white capsules, as I had become addicted to them. They gave me a lot of energy. The first time I took all these drugs at the same time, I began to perspire so much that I took off all my clothes. My body shook, my sight became blurred, and I lost my hearing for several minutes. I walked around the village aimlessly, as I felt restless because I simultaneously felt a tremendous rush of energy and numbness. But after server doses of these drugs, all I felt was numbness ot everything and so much energy that I couldn’t sleep for weeks. We watched movies at night. War movies, Rambo, Commando, and so on, with the aid of a generator or sometimes a car battery. We all wanted to be like Rambo; we couldn’t wait to implement his techniques.

When we ran out of food, drugs, ammunition, and gasoline to watch the films, we raided rebel camps, in towns, villages, and forests. We also attacked civilian villages to capture recruits and whatever else we could find.

6. Rehabilitation

“We fought for the RUF; the army is the enemy. We fought for freedom, and the army killed my family and destroyed my village. I will kill any of those army bastards every time I get a chance to do so.” The boy took off his shirt to fight Mambu, and on his arm was the RUF tattoo.

“They are rebels,” Mambu shouted, and before he could reach for his bayonet, the boy punched him in the face. He fell and when he got up his nose was bleeding. The rebel boys drew out the few bayonets they had rushed towards us. It was war all over again. Perhaps the naïve foreigners though that removing us from the war would lessen our hatred for the RUF. It hadn’t crossed their minds that a change of environment wouldn’t immediately make us normal boys; we were dangerous, and brainwashed to kill. They had just started this process of rehabilitation, so this was one of the first lessons they had to learn.

7. From the mouths of children

“I am from Sierra Leone, and the problem that is affecting us children is the war that forces us to run away form our homes, lose our families, and aimlessly roam the forests. As a result, we get involved in the conflict as soldiers, carriers of loads, and in many other difficult tasks. All this is because of starvation, the loss of our families, and the need to feel safe and be part of something when all else has broken down. I joined the army really because of the loss of my family and starvation. I wanted to avenge the deaths of my family. I also had to get some food to survive, and the only way to do that was to be part of the army. It was not easy bring a soldier, but we just had to do it. I have been rehabilitated now, so don’t be afraid of me. I am not a soldier anymore; I am a child. We are all brothers and sisters. What I have learned from my experiences is that revenge is not good. I joined the army to avenge the deaths of my family and to survive, but I’ve come to learn tha tif I am going to take revenge, in that process I will kill another person whose family will want revenge; then revenge and revenge and revenge will never come to an end…”

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The above only touches the very surface of ONE life. As George Keenan once said “take that one life, what was missed, what will never be, all the hopes and the dreams, the family the friends, now consider that for all the lives across the conflicts and you begin to fathom the immeasurable toll on humanity that war has.

Here we saw precisely the reason WHY bystanders become participants. What started as corrupt governance, and the perception of a struggle for “freedom” ended up in atrocities mounted on atrocities. Add to this the greatest arms black market in history with AK47s pouring out of the former Soviet Union, combined with blood diamonds as the currency to fund all this and the results were almost inevitable.

It is VERY hard in such a situation to extract oneself from the emotion, the politics and the religious implications of this situation and look objectively for solutions. It is also very hard to believe that people can be redeemed from being ‘a long way gone.’

However, I reiterate the thoughts in my previous blog post:

1. There needs to be a forced end to such fighting by a stronger objective 3^rd party voice (force). In the case of Sierra Leone it was the intervention of vastly superior British forces (and the specific intervention of the SAS/SBS against the West Side Boys) that created the shift in balance of power that could (a) seriously inhibit the power of the rebels and (b) enable a dramatic reduction / refactoring of the army to take place.  (the specifics of how the UN can enable this are covered in the previous blog posts)
2. The rehabilitation process is a task of enormity equal in size possibly larger in terms of resources required. The share volume of unconditional love required to win the trust of a broken soul is hard to quantify but definitely significant bordering on 1:1 (at least for participants).
3. The effectiveness of a justice system to hold instigators accountable for their actions (quick justice is a strong deterrent).
4. Solid infrastructure and education needs to be build to (a) provide a viable alternative and (b) to bring a true solution / conclusion to the rehabilitation process.

If the economics of force to resolve conflict in Africa is/ was around the $800m - $1B mark, it would be very interesting to study the economics of rehabilitation and education. This will attempt to do in a future blog post.