Tempus
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Tidskriften
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GOMA, Congo — Didier Bitaki, a Mai
Mai militia leader, stood in his yard on Thursday with two baby-faced
soldiers behind him and a little glass bottle in his hands. “This
is it,” he said.
The “it” was a nasty-smelling concoction of mashed-up
leaves and water that looked more like a week-old mojito than
anything else. But according to Mr. Bitaki and thousands of other
armed men still wreaking havoc in the eastern Congo bush, magic
potions like these give them power to fight for their land. And
he handled the little glass vial incredibly carefully, doing a
secret-handshake-like-motion each time his soldiers slipped the
bottle into his hand, making sure it was always covered.
“You got to be careful,” explained Mr. Bitaki (picture),
who was standing barefoot, dressed in a bright white Puma sweat
suit. “You don’t want to let the power out.”
The Mai Mai are the third piece to eastern Congo’s violent puzzle, with the rebels on one side, the government forces on the other and the Mai Mai often terrorizing the uncontrolled areas in between. With their guns, leaf headdresses and special potions that many fighters believe make bullets bounce off them, they are a surreal — but still deadly — dimension to Congo’s civil wars. The Mai Mai insist that they are Congo’s true patriots, but it is questionable how much influence they wield — most villagers call them crooks and they tend to lose their battles. In the past few weeks, they have emerged as spoilers, fighting on when the other armed groups have agreed to stop. The Mai Mai now seem to have a beef with just about everybody: the rebels (whom they clashed with on Thursday); United Nations peacekeepers (whom they clashed with on Wednesday); and Congolese government troops (whom they clashed with on Tuesday). Once again, Congolese civilians have been the victims of most of these skirmishes,
On Thursday, the United Nations Security Council unanimously
approved sending 3,000 additional peacekeeping troops, which would
bring the total in Congo, including police officers, to more than
20,000.
The new peacekeepers will have their work cut out for them, especially
when it comes to the Mai Mai. On Tuesday, Mai Mai fighters ambushed
Congolese troops north of Goma, a strategic city in eastern Congo
on the Rwandan border. The government troops repelled them, witnesses
said, and one dead Mai Mai fighter was left with an umbrella driven
into his face.
On Wednesday, United Nations officials said heavily armed Mai
Mai troops tried to shake down a United Nations peacekeeping convoy
that was patrolling a small village near Goma. According to the
officials, the militiamen initially demanded money but then said
they would settle for some food. When the peacekeepers said no,
the Mai Mai opened fire. The peacekeepers fired back and killed
one Mai Mai, United Nations officials said.
On Thursday, the Mai Mai turned their guns on rebel forces, who
have agreed, after days of touch-and-go negotiations, to pull
out of some of the towns they recently seized. United Nations
officials said the Mai Mai were trying to take advantage of the
vacuum formed by the rebel withdrawal.
“These Mai Mai are really troublemakers,” said Lt. Col.
Jean-Paul Dietrich, a United Nations spokesman.
There are thousands of Mai Mai fighters in dozens of
loosely connected Mai Mai groups scattered across Congo. The movement
started decades ago when Congolese communities formed militias
to protect themselves and tapped into local customs as a way to
inspire the fighters. The term “mai mai” refers to maji,
the Kiswahili word for water, because many of the Mai Mai fighters
grease themselves up with a mixture of palm oil and holy water
before stepping on the battlefield. Often the emollient —
and some homemade necklaces — is all they wear.
In 1998, when Rwanda backed a rebel group that nearly overthrew
the Congolese government, the Mai Mai teamed up with Congolese
government forces to fight the Rwandans.
That conflict, which drew in armies from half a dozen neighboring
countries, ended in a stalemate, and eastern Congo has been plagued
by armed groups and insecurity ever since. Many of the Mai Mai
militias in other parts of Congo have agreed to disarm. But in
eastern Congo, the Mai Mai seem increasingly restless.
Mai Mai leaders in Goma said they felt left out of the
recent negotiations between the Congolese government and the rebels,
who are widely suspected of having continued Rwandan support.
Last month, the rebels routed Congolese government troops and
were about to snatch Goma when the rebels’ leader, Laurent
Nkunda, suddenly declared a cease-fire and said he wanted a political
settlement with the government.
Mai Mai leaders said the government should be talking to them,
not the rebels. “We are the ones who are strong,” said
Maj. Mihali Inakefuno, a Mai Mai commander. “These rebels
would be nothing without Rwanda.”
But many villagers said they disliked the Mai Mai. On Thursday,
as the sound of the Mai Mai’s guns echoed across the green
hills, sending farmers nervously scampering out of their fields,
hoes in hand, Mataza Nirakomano pointed to her filthy skirt and
the scabs on her arms and a wispy infant hanging off her hip and
said, “Look at me. This is what the Mai Mai have done.”
Ms. Nirakomano, a farmer and mother of three, said that Mai Mai
fighters had looted her village, raped women and kept the entire
area insecure and, by extension, poor.
“Fighting for our land? No!” she said. “They are
just as bad as anyone else.”
