Real Clear World
It
was a rainy Sunday afternoon in early April when we called "Brigadier
General" Sultani Makenga, the military leader of M23, currently one of the
strongest armed groups in eastern Congo. Working as field researchers in the
Kivus, we wanted to engage with him face-to-face to capture his take on the DR
Congo's state of affairs and learn first-hand about the latest developments
inside the rebellion. M23 was consumed by heavy infighting in recent weeks,
after latent fractions and fissures between Makenga and his rival Bosco
Ntaganda erupted into open and violent conflict. In the ensuing whirlwind of
events, Makenga regained the upper hand in late March, and Ntaganda surrendered
to the International Criminal Court, leaving many of his men with no choice but
to re-defect.
The
initial telephone conversation was an unanticipated success. With little
hesitation, Makenga agreed to meet us. The ensuing organizational logistics
were simple and matter of fact, conducted via text message informing us of his
whereabouts north of the provincial capital of Goma. As an individual
sanctioned by the United Nations and the United States
government, he remained relatively unconcerned and non-clandestine about his
location.
Accessing
rebel-controlled territory requires preparation. This area had experienced high
levels of violent conflict in previous weeks. After interviewing several
drivers, we hired an experienced fixer with his own car. Colleagues and
security experts consented to our plan. Easter Monday we set off.
A
barricade at the northern outskirts of Goma, two kilometers past the airport,
was the last demonstration of Congolese state authority before entering
M23-held territory -- a dozen uniformed men and a thick wooden stick placed
across the road. It is symptomatic of the feeble protection that has come to
characterize the army's performance in the country's main eastern city. The few
state officials that are stationed at the frontlines may offer little
resistance if M23 were to decide to retake Goma as they did in November 2012,
with the alleged support of Rwanda and Uganda.
As we
approached the roadblock, the driver gave us a run-down for easily getting
through the barrier. In an extended back-and-forth, he pretended we were
tourists eager to explore the nearby volcano that had engulfed the city in lava
in 2002. Shortly past the barricade four UN peacekeeping tanks stationed at the
side of the road -- heavily armed and well protected but venturing little into
M23-held territory. They smiled awkwardly and and waved us through.
Traffic on the bumpy road was relatively busy in
both directions, in stark contrast to a trip to Rutshuru taken in early March,
when the population was fleeing toward Goma, balancing what belongings they
could carry on their heads. The road was largely absent of M23 soldiers. Along
the way we passed small bands of rebels, some wearing their old Congolese army
uniforms. Apart from surprised and sometimes confused looks, they paid very
little attention to our passage.
The surrounding scenery is very beautiful.
Encircled by towering hills and volcanoes, the road led us through lush green
pastures. Despite the tragedy associated with the Kivus, nature's charm in this
part of the world is captivating and puts in stark contrast the cycles of
violence prevalent in the lives of the people who call eastern Congo home.
On the ninety-minute drive, we encountered one
major security checkpoint in the small town of Kibumba, roughly 30 km north of
Goma. Approximately twenty combatants -- some of whom carried RPGs, grenades
and other assorted heavy arms -- forced us to stop and explain ourselves. One
M23 member in particular was very agitated and made our driver step out of the
car. Leaning through the window, he asked for our identities, professions and
the purpose of our trip. We mentioned the "rendezvous avec le
général," allowing us to resume the journey minutes later.
Despite the politico-military events in the region,
life in the villages goes on. Markets are bustling and villagers go about their
daily activities. Life in complex emergency settings does not necessarily take
on the chaos described by the media. Life must continue as a set of daily tasks
and relationships within communities regardless of the violence surrounding
them. The rebels we saw lingered around, chit-chatting and waiting -- a rather
peaceful situation that might not necessarily be the case at any time.
Once in Rumangabo, a rather quiet village, we had
to pass an improvised barricade staffed by three M23 men.
They used their Motorolas to announce the arrival
of "Christoph and Timo." The "Brigadier General" stays
relatively secluded from the village, preferring to remain in the army's former
military base and "centre de brassage." Overseeing the base, offices
and houses for superior officers lie at the top of a hill against the beautiful
backdrop of the Rwenzori Mountains. Makenga's close entourage, approximately 40
men, took guard positions around the buildings.
The soldiers paid little attention -- seemingly
accustomed to the arrival of ‘bazungu,' the name for white people in Kiswahili,
who came to interview their leader. Surprisingly, we were not searched for
weapons and only asked in passing to open our bags.
The men mandated to protect Makenga hang around the
buildings, seemingly unsure of what to do with themselves. A group of men just
lay face down on the grass, taking a nap. Others oiled their weapons with torn
rugs, smoked, cracked jokes and went about their day. However relaxed, their
weapons were always within reach. If not for the guns and uniforms, the young
men could have been in any of a thousand villages in the DR Congo.
We tried several times to engage the soldiers in
conversation, but to no avail. While they readily accepted our cigarettes, they
remained taciturn. One soldier in particular seemed to give the others
instructions not to talk to us. While our driver stayed behind, we followed a
civilian toward a stone platform on top of the hill, where they had already
placed four plastic seats and a table. We stood by, stiff with apprehension.
It took Makenga approximately 15 minutes to arrive
after his men seemingly concluded that we posed no threat to him. He wore
civilian clothes -- black jeans, black shirt and a black jacket -- and his
emblematic cap. "Bonjour, Général, ça va?" After a few minutes of
small talk, we got down to business.
Born on December 25, 1973, in eastern Congo,
Nziramakenga Ruzandiza Emmanuel Sultan aka Sultani Makenga belongs to the
Mugogwe sub-ethnic group of the Tutsi community. With his family originating
from eastern Masisi, he grew up in Rutshuru territory just north of Goma. In the
early 1990s, he joined the Rwandan Patriotic Front to fight the then
Hutu-controlled government in neighboring Rwanda. Alternating between the
Rwandan and Congolese army as well as several non-state armed groups (RCD-Goma,
CNDP, M23), Makenga has spent his entire adult life as a military figure. He
eventually acquired various grades, promoted to "Colonel" in the army
and "Brigadier General" in M23. With few years of formal schooling,
Makenga proved
to be rather successful in striking alliances and gaining the trust from
influential players in the region.
Albeit awkward, the one-on-one interviews were
rather relaxed given that Makenga is accused by
the United Nations of "killing and maiming, sexual violence, abduction
and forced displacement" of civilians in eastern Congo. In the little time
we spent with him, we encountered a man starkly different from his public
persona. His has an appearance of a reserved, slender, tall man, seemingly too
shy to make for an authoritative commander.
Throughout the conversation lasting a total of
ninety-minutes, Makenga remained rather reticent, offering only short answers
to comprehensive and nuanced questions. He is the character opposite of his
political pendant, Bertrand Bisimwa, the political chairman of the rebel
movement. Speaking to him for more than three hours in Kampala in late
February, Bisimwa is the stereotypical spokesperson -- a bumblebee of a man,
animating and upbeat.
One observation was striking: Makenga seemed
exhausted, leaning deep -- almost crouching -- into the chair, while his face
and eyes remained vivid as if juxtaposed against his fatigue. His entourage
surrounded us, and his mannerisms remained limited and slow. Rumors are
widespread that his health is deteriorating, and according
to Usalama Project Director Jason Stearns, he was "visibly unwell
during the M23 advance in 2012."
Slowly, however, Makenga seemed to warm up to us,
offering shy smiles and silent laughter. The laughter seemed out of place,
given circumstances and the topics of discussion. He received carefully crafted
criticism well, even inviting us to offer our views and interpretations of the
situation. The laundry list of allegations -- war crimes, the affiliation with
International Criminal Court indictee Bosco Ntaganda, exploitation of minerals,
the support by Rwanda and Uganda -- he dismissed with a feeble but stern smile.
At times, he allowed his assistant to elaborate on
questions about the forthcoming United Nations intervention brigade and the
role of new UN Special Envoy Mary Robinson, former president of Ireland.
Unfortunately, the answers were non-conclusive. He vilified the government and
boasted that they had captured Bosco, both grieved about the plight of the
populace and offered to be a force for good; however, they offered little in
the form of a clear-cut political strategy. Makenga seemed much less aggressive
than his movement's official stance. In response to questions on disarmament,
security sector reform or land and citizenship issues, Makenga lectured
well-rehearsed and well-argued statements.
Following the interview, M23 has stepped up its
rhetoric against the forthcoming UN intervention brigade, alarmed in the face
of a new potential foe of 3,000 troops from South
Africa, Tanzania and Malawi. Allegations abound once again that M23 is
receiving external support. All the while, talks with the Congolese government
have resumed in Kampala -- with an open end. However reserved, Sultani Makenga
remains the leader of M23, canny and authoritative in his command. Shy but
determined, he will continue to force his imprint on the future of his country.
Timo Mueller is a Field Researcher for the Enough Project in Goma and tweets @MuellerTimo. Christoph Vogel is a
Mercator Fellow on International Affairs based in eastern Congo and tweets @ethuin.
No comments:
Post a Comment