by Rosemarie North in Freetown
The slim, bearded man watched the village
unseen from his hiding place in the tropical bush. After ten years of war,
he wanted to go home. But he was afraid to show his face.
Abu Bakarr Sesay had willingly joined the rebels, the Revolutionary United Front, a fighting force known for its extreme brutality. Its methods were gang rape, deliberate mutilation, poisoning wells by throwing in bodies, torture, kidnapping children to use as soldiers or sex slaves. Their frenzied rampages were often fuelled by drugs.
Even before the war, Abu Bakarr had always been ready for a fight. During a dispute with a neighbouring village over fishing rights, a man had stabbed him in the stomach. "My parents told me to cool down and just forget about it. But when the war came, I thought of what he man did to me at the stream. There's a proverb: You do me, I do you."
Abu Bakarr got his chance for revenge when the RUF raided the neighbouring village: "I was so wicked. The man did not remember me, so I had to remind him." Abu Bakarr cut the man's arm off at the elbow and sliced off two of his toes.
People in his village, Fallu, knew about the atrocities he'd committed. So when he had had enough of fighting, he hesitated to come out of the bushes. What gave him courage was a radio show about a Red Cross programme called Community Animation and Peace Support (CAPS) that was helping ex-combatants reintegrate into their old villages.
When he revealed himself to his brothers, they welcomed him. But everyone was scared of Abu Bakarr, because they knew about his bloodthirsty past. His wife, Mammie Sesay, who had been given to another man during the war, says she was afraid to come back to him.
"But what gave me courage was that I was made to understand that he was coming back to the community and embraced by the people. My own parents talked to me about him. And I loved him," she said.
She agreed to go back to him. Abu Bakarr says returning to domestic life helped settle him: "I was in peace because my wife came back. We had a child, Ibrahim, who is now three. I was de-traumatised."
Making peace with the rest of the village was more difficult. For six years Bockarie Smart had served with the Civil Defence Force, trying to rid the country of people just like Abu Bakarr. Bockarie's fighting name was Kalay Kalay, which people say means 'kill or be killed'.
Bockarie had a personal reason for hating the RUF. They had kidnapped him, though he managed to escape. Later his wife and children were captured and held for four days. So it is surprising when the two former killers throw their arms around each other.
"When somebody does wrong to you, it is only an individual who can help you. God can't come down to talk to you," Bockarie explains. It was up to the two sworn enemies to talk it out, with the help of the Red Cross CAPS staff, who had trained the village in non-violent conflict resolution.
"I made up my mind to forgive and embrace an RUF man. It was only that. We were talking together day after day," Bockarie says.
Since CAPS started three years ago it has reached 96 villages and more than 60,000 people. CAPS supervisor Samba Charlie says it addresses the causes of conflict: "The main goal is to have peace building and to establish relationships between people, and at the same time to sensitise them to undertake their own development.,"
CAPS, which is funded by the British, Canadian, Swedish and Netherlands Red Cross Societies, encourages factors that connect communities and minimises factors that divide them. Each village elects a committee of respected people who are trained by CAPS to resolve conflicts such as "woman palaver" (adultery), disputes over territory, theft and child abuse. They hold discussions in "peace huts" built for the purpose.
The programme helps villages return to normality by providing tools to rebuild houses, seeds and training for agriculture and animals to restock farms.
"After the war we came back, but we were not together. Families were not even helping one another in their normal family activities," says Philip Emile, an elder in Fallu, a village of some 400 to 500 people. "During the intervention of CAPS, it has been possible to bring us together to work in groups so that we can help one another."
Marie Bojohn was left to support seven children when RUF rebels killed her husband. On her own she wouldn't have had a chance, she says. But a cooperative working group in Fallu means she can feed her children thanks to their garden, where she grows okra, grains, peanuts and cassava.
"I work hard now. I have no man to take care of me. I depend on my agricultural tools," she says.
CAPS uses drama and music, so essential to African culture, to bring people together, expose problems and explore peaceful means of settling conflicts. "All the culture was completely lost. Everything was missing. We couldn't get people together to dance," says Samba. "Now, everything they are going through they sing and dance about. We try to encourage it. It helps to de-traumatise. We help them to reveal their lives."
Under the CAPS programme, villagers are encouraged to hold discussions on topics that will help build peace. Baindu Jabaty was forced to get married at 15 to pay for her two younger brothers' education. During the CAPS programme, her father happened to visit her in Fallu when there was a discussion about children's right to education.
"When my father went back he was so impressed that he sent my younger sisters to school," she says. It may be too late for Baindu, but her four daughters are all at school and she herself is now taking adult literacy classes.
In the 845-strong village of Ngiyehun, Kadiatu Mansaray's family hadn't spoken to their neighbours, Joseph Kargbeni and his family, since 1976, when someone started gardening in part of the bush reserved for the other family. Several expensive hearings with chiefs didn't resolve the dispute and it festered among the 110 people involved.
"When the Red Cross came they said a lot about peace and conflict and we sat down and thought about what we were being told," says Kadiatu. With the help of CAPS-trained mediators who live in the villages for 12 months and then return when needed, the two families sat down for three days of discussions and eventually agreed to farm the land together.
"We greet each other. We work together. If there is a problem we help each other," says Kadiatu. In late May, Kadiatu's mother died and Joseph's family came to pay their respects. She says it would never have happened before CAPS.
The old method of dealing with disputes was to consult a chief. This was expensive -- the chief demanded a fee -- and the result was likely to be an onerous fine for one of the parties, who often left town feeling resentful and waiting for a chance to take revenge.
Some communities have been sceptical about CAPS, rejecting it for cultural or political reasons. Others were suspicious of the Red Cross, believing the organisation to be collaborating with the enemy. So the first job was to explain the role of the Red Cross and its fundamental principles, including neutrality.
One of the success stories has been reintegrating former fighters, says Ngiyehun youth leader Abdul Rahman Fadika. "Some of the ex-combatants who have been reintegrated burned homes in the village in the war; some of them even raped girls here."
"Because of the CAPS programme, we have been encouraging them to forgive and forget, talking about peace and reconciliation. If the conflict continues the village will never be at peace," he says.
Abdul Rahman introduces me to Mummy, a fine-featured, softly spoken woman of about 30 (she does not know her age), who was gang raped by rebels just outside Ngiyehun 10 years ago.
How can she live next door to men who have committed such crimes? "I'm in a state of torment whenever I see them because I reflect on what happened to me. I'm also afraid of strangers, and men, she says. "After the war, whenever I saw an ex-combatant I was very annoyed. But the CAPS people counselled me and encouraged me. I've accepted them, but I'm still annoyed."
People say it hasn't resolved all their disputes. But it has reduced the number and given them a way of settling new ones.
So can CAPS make a long-term difference? "Things went wrong in the community because of factions, grudges and hate," Samba Charlie says. "My experience is that it is easy to start war. It is easy for war to start again if people still have their loyalties, their grudges.
"Unless they are addressed there will be a recurrence of the war."