A glint of light on steel and Abubakar Kargbo’s life changed forever. That was
when the axe came crashing down and severed his arm from his body. Seconds
later, the action was repeated. His left arm then also joined the pile of
bloodied, lifeless limbs at the foot of the village mango tree.
That was eight years ago, at the height of Sierra Leone’s brutal civil war. He
was 28 and has never worked since. “I go into town to beg, but it is hard.
People have lost sympathy because of the time that has elapsed,” Abubakar,
married with three children, explained sadly. “Some don’t want to be
reminded of the war.”
His stumps often ache but he cannot afford medicine. Until recently the Health
Ministry pocketed all the money given to buy drugs. “The Government tried in
the early days but overall, since the end of the conflict, very little has
been done to bring the victims back as close as is possible to what they
were. They have forgotten totally about us now,” he told The Times.
Lamine Jusa Jarka, his former neighbour, was “amputated” on the same day by
the same group of rebels, a motley gang of drugged child soldiers, led by
Commanding Officer “Cut Hands”. They had been found hiding in their houses,
defying instructions to come out and welcome the rebel Revolutionary United
Front.
Amputations were a trade-mark of Sierra Leone’s civil war from 1991 to 2002,
one of the fiercest witnessed in post-independence Africa. There are
believed to be at least 6,000 such amputees across the country. With
elections planned for July, they are now mobilising. Hundreds have
registered to vote. By special decree, those without hands will be allowed
to use their toes to stamp their mark. “Al-Haji” Jusa Jarka, chairman of the
Amputees and War Wounded Association of Sierra Leone, declared: “We are
going to vote for a president who recognises our plight.”
The amputees are the most visible victims of this former British colony’s
descent into hell but they are far from being a lone voice. Their complaints
over the Government’s failure to deliver promised peace dividends are echoed
by others and have raised fresh concerns over the country’s future
stability.
Mustapha, 20, who is unemployed, said: “They are crooks, all of them. They do
nothing for us. I hate those greedy bastards.” Mustapha left the countryside
to look for work in Freetown, the capital, and scrapes a living guiding
foreigners around town.
Vivien, a scantily clad prostitute in one the many neon-lit discos lining the
capital’s long, curving beach, cried softly into her beer. “There is nothing
here, my mother is ill and I have to support her. There is nothing for young
people here, just misery.”
It is easy to understand their frustration. For seven out of the past ten
years, Sierra Leone has been ranked officially as the world’s poorest
country, nudged out of bottom place only by Bangladesh. The UN’s Human
Development Index reads like a roll call of horror. Life expectancy, at 37
and falling, is the worst in the world.
Deaths in childbirth are the highest in the world, made worse by widespread
female genital mutilation. More than 300 children out of 1,000 do not make
it beyond the age of five. Unemployment is put at more than 70 per cent.
More than two-thirds of the population of five million live below the
poverty line of 52p a day.
In the teeming slum of Kroo Bay in central Freetown, more than 5,000 people,
crammed together in flimsy tin-roofed hovels, live in extreme poverty. Pigs
wander knee-high in stagnant pools of water — human excrement floating on
the surface — while women and children wash clothes and bathe a few yards
away.
Sento Sesay, 12, great beads of sweat running down her face as she squeezes
filthy water from washed clothes, says that each day she dreams of leaving.
“When it rains, we are flooded, everything comes into our houses — human
waste, litter, mosquitoes. It is horrible here.” In a quiet voice, she adds
that sexual abuse is also rampant.
Tony Blair, whose father taught at Fourah Bay university in Freetown, West
Africa’s first, is assured of a hero’s welcome when he visits the country
next month, although it is unlikely that there will be a repeat of the
euphoric scenes of his last visit in 2002 when he was met with banners
saying: “We love and respect you, we support you.”
Within six months of British paratroopers leading an international
intervention force in May 2000, a ceasefire was agreed and notorious gangs
were disarmed. By 2002 a full UN-supervised peace agreement was in force.
The ousted Government of President Ahmad Tejan Kabbah, elected in 1996, was
restored.
The rebels and their foreign backers bankrolled the war with diamonds — events
depicted in the Hollywood blockbuster Blood Diamond. In little more than ten
years 500,000 people — about one tenth of the population — were murdered,
maimed or raped. A UN-supported tribunal was set up to bring the ringleaders
to justice. Charles Taylor, the warlord who became President of Liberia, who
channelled the gems through his country on to the world market, goes on
trial in The Hague in June.
There has been undeniable progress since the end of the war. With Western
support, the police and army, though notoriously corrupt and underpaid, have
been restructured. The coups and counter-coups that marked the period after
independence in 1961 are believed to be a thing of the past. The country is
at peace.
Critics, however, say that what began as a model “nation-building exercise”
has been knocked off course by high- level corruption and misrule by the
same generation of politicians responsible for the initial crisis. They say
progress has now slowed to a halt.
Valentine Collier, dismissed as head of a supposedly independent
anti-corruption unit in November 2005, says Britain, the country’s biggest
single bilateral donor at £40 million a year, takes a “softly, softly”
approach because it does not want to spoil Sierra Leone’s image as a success
before Mr Blair stands down this year.
“The greatest threat to peace and stability in Sierra Leone today is still
corruption. In four years, I failed to bring one successful high-level
indictment even though in some ministries’ capital flight per month is as
high as $15,000,” he told The Times.
Mr Kabbah, 75, is due to step down but his chosen successor, Solomon Berewa,
his current Vice-President, is not expected to make any changes. Two
opposition leaders could push him closely but, even if they upset
predictions and win, political analysts doubt that there would be any
significant changes in policy.
Though few people, including the amputees, believe that war would return, many
analysts fear that unmet expectations from the coming poll could destabilise
the country once again.
Government supporters point to progress in many areas, notably education and
food provision. “We had so many conflicting priorities. In the provinces,
even a small thing like the creation of a market is a huge step forward,”
said Kadie Sesay, a former academic who is now Minister of Trade and
Industry.
“I think we will see new faces begin to emerge. Those who suffered most want a
new type of leadership.”
Conflict toll
— The Civil War in Sierra Leone began in 1991. In July 1999 the warring
parties signed the Lomé Peace Agreement, but despite UN presence fighting
continued
— Conflict was between the Sierra Leone Government and the rebel
Revolutionary United Front (RUF), backed by Liberia
— Elections in May 2002 brought relative political stability. RUF
incursions and flows of Liberian refugees continue to threaten peace
— Out of a population of 5 million, it is estimated that 2 million have
been forced to leave their homes for refugee camps and 75,000 have died
— Diamond production in Sierra Leone was estimated at 300,000 carats by
De Beers in 1998. Each carat is worth $100-$300. In 1998-99 official exports
fell from 114,438 carats to 9,320, a drop attributed to RUF control of
diamond-producing areas
Source: UN Global Policy Forum; www.american.edu
