Pan Butamire
As it used to be (and still is, in some
places?), peacekeeping could not impress anybody in Rwanda, in my
opinion. With it, Rwandans saw the meaning of shame and will never be
identified with it.
When UN peacekeepers had their stint in Rwanda in the early 1990s,
except a wee few courageous individuals who, at their personal
initiative, saved lives – some of who lost their own, God bless their
souls – they did not give Rwandans any reason for fond memories.
If anything, they left memories of distress, derision, rage and
rancour. In instances where their intervention was most critically
needed, where death of innocents was looming, their reaction was at best
comical, at worst embarrassingly heartless.
Take the case in a technical school, in Kigali. Thousands of cowed
Rwandans were holed up there in 1994, having run to peacekeepers camped
there for protection. All around the fence, a militia of uncountable
maniacal murderers hungrily waited, their crude killing implements
dripping blood from killings elsewhere.
Then, inexplicably, an order came for the peacekeepers to evacuate
and they left their charges high and dry. As they set off, they watched
as the killers burst over the fence and set upon their victims with
clubs, machetes, axes, stones, any killer tool at hand.
Even as screams rang in their ears, the peacekeepers headed for the
airport: not a shot to scare the killers away; not an odd gun left
behind for the hapless victims.
To this day, the (sole?) survivor who tearfully recounts this
incident is nursing the stump of a lost arm and a
nail-studded-knobkerrie-machete battered body. Listening to this
disgrace – leave alone reliving it – is heart-rending. Similar examples
in areas all over the country are legion, none any less agonising.
Rwandan soldiers, wherever they can, and for as long as they can,
will never allow such infamy to be visited on any innocent
individual/group of individuals.
Whoever attempts to comment on peacekeeping as practiced by Rwanda
Defences Forces (RDF) should never forget this hell they came from.
Rwanda today is a product of the disgrace of her history and so is
RDF. Wherever RDF volunteer to keep the peace, their own peace is
secondary. First and foremost, the victim in the conflict must be
protected.
That’s why it should not surprise anybody that Rwandan peacekeepers
in the Central African Republic (CAR) appear to be acting the
daredevil.
Last Sunday, February 16, as RDF’s Rwanda Mechanised Infantry
Battalion forces (RwaMechBatt1) were on the 700-km road to the Cameroon
border, escorting a humanitarian convoy through a marauding mixture of
fighters, when they came under attack. But where other peacekeepers try
to keep out of harm’s way, RDF plunged into the thick of it.
The Anti-Balaka marauding murderers must have regretted their
adventurous folly after suffering seven losses, even if they killed
three innocent civilians. At the end of the encounter, more than 2000
Muslims were rescued.
Wherever they are, RDF soldiers are with any defenceless person,
anybody vulnerable, to the hilt. The person may be Muslim, Christian,
black, white, whatever.
In Rwanda, we know this. Whether they are joining the monthly
umuganda; building houses for vulnerable families; providing community
health services; constructing classrooms; handling emergencies; saving a
life in any way, RDF are in their element.
We remember helicopter evacuations of accident victims inside Rwanda,
in Uganda, in Tanzania; the market fire in Burundi. The soldiers are
imbedded in the populace: in CAR, Darfur, South Sudan or Haiti – and
wherever next.
And so when the CAR capital and surrounding areas were faced with
hunger last January, they answered the call and opened up the
humanitarian and commercial corridor that connects Bangui to the
Cameroonian seaport of Duala. In Bangui, it’s their duty to put a stop
to looting; lynching; any case of lawlessness.
Some non-Africans may have milked cheap popularity out of the
corridor incident, as reports have it, but to think that RDF is in this
life-and-death business for the money and fame is to insult Rwandans in
the extreme. It ignores the painful reality of our brothers and sisters,
daughters and sons that we receive home, legs first.
As a young compatriot observes, nobody should engage in some academic
merry-go-round about “prestigious achievement”, “celebrity status” or
“war tales” going to RDF’s head.
But the compatriot should also disabuse himself of these beliefs of
anyone standing “a slim chance of taking the reigns” [sic] because of
the place the army holds in this country. In Rwanda, the army is the
people. And the people, the army.
All in all, methinks to RDF, peacekeeping is about giving the
victimised peace, and keeping it – for eventual transfer. The forces
have no time for amusement parks.
Their overriding calling is to restore people’s dignity and
self-worth. For having suffered the disgrace they did, Rwandans could
not but redefine peacekeeping as we knew it.