04 Khartoum 0215: The Darfur Rebels Call*

*  This cable posted a bit out of sequence.

04 Khartoum 0228: The Jinjaweed

Journal Entry for March 5, 2000: Notes from a Trip Down the Nile

Just finished unloading pictures (see below) from my Nile Trip. Was really incredible. I joined for three days the First Nile Expedition. The expedition, headed by Pasquale Scaturro and with Gordon Brown, left the source of the Blue Nile high in Ethiopia on Xmas Day 2003 for the first trip all the way to the mouth of the Nile in Alexandria Egypt. (The Blue Nile carries 85% of the water of the Nile.) While going down the river, they were taking part in making an IMAX film. The Expedition arrived in Khartoum on February 16. After two weeks of rest and re-stocking, plus filming at some sites near Khartoum, they left on Monday (the 1^st) to begin the second half of their journey and I went with them. I spent three days and two nights traveling about 210 kilometers to the next big town downriver, Shendi.

Being on the Nile was a real trip. Long ago, the wildlife disappeared from the river. There are no hippos or crocs. Competition with the people was just too intense. That’s because the Nile creates a thin strip of life through the desert. (Every drop of water we went by fell as rain hundreds of miles upstream in Ethiopia and Central Africa.) We passed 100’s of small water pumps lifting water from the river up to the fields on the flood plains. Fields of sorghum, groves of date palms, fields of tomatoes and other produce are everywhere that people can get to. All along the shore, men in their white jellabiyas, women in brightly colored clothes, bashful girls and playing children waved or ran or asked us – mostly in hand signals – who we were and where we were going. Despite that lack of big animals, the Nile reminded me of the Zambezi except usually bigger. It meandered along sometimes seeming more like a big lake with no end rather than a stream rushing to get anywhere. We used two rafts that were necessary for running the upstream rapids. Each had an outboard motor at the back that was connected to a long handle that we used to steer. I was allowed to take the “wheel” and spent many outstanding hours guiding us through the river. Simply no way to describe how cool that felt. The first great river that man ever traveled on over a million years ago and I was on it.

The wind blew most of the time and until we reached the deep desert just south of Shendi, it blew cool and comfortable. The water was muddy and lots of things floated in it, including dead cows, goats and donkeys. The guys washed in the river and our two Sudanese helpers drank it. I did neither. But I did get into the river in a shallow to help reposition the motor. It was cool and probably safe enough since it was flowing rapidly. At night, we made camp on sand bars that were under the river just several weeks ago. These were lovely spots of sand and scrub. We pitched tents while dinner was cooked. I brought along some beer and cigars. We ate under the stars as the moon crawled through the sky and the water pumps went off. I slept in a tent that was mostly just a mosquito net. Both nights it was cool enough to use a cover.

By the third day, I was getting into the rhythm of the river. Waking up, breaking camp, setting out, cruising until late afternoon, making camp, eating, talking till late and then sleeping again. If I stayed another day, I might never have left. 

 

Journal Entry for March 4, 2004: An evening with the Sufi -- Sophist Night

Tonight I went to a “Sophist Night” in old Omdurman. The occasion was to mark the death of the founder of a school of Islamic jurisprudence who was also the progenitor of the extended clan that traced their descent back to him. A prominent human rights activist and secularist – Ghazi Sulieman – was this year’s organizer of the celebration and invited me. The sophists came out of a 9^th century movement within Islam to base one’s relationship to God on reasoned knowledge of the Koran. Various schools of thought developed over the centuries and there are many, many schools that differ in ways that I’ll never understand. Sufism came from this movement.

The celebration took place outside and started at 8:30 pm. I was a bit late but no matter and I was escorted to a place of honor and supplied with drink and food throughout the evening. The field was decorated like a country fair, with lights and a bandstand. But there were no rides and the bandstand was for the speakers and leaders of prayer. Rows of seats circled the stand but with a clear space in front. Various people went to the microphone to make speeches about the founding teacher (sheik), pray or chant. All during the evening, groups from other schools came to pay their respects (thus “Sophist Night”). As they arrived, Ghazi would dance over to them with his ceremonial stick held high in his right hand, pumping it up and down as he went. (The fist or stick pumped this way while dancing by all the men to be greeted is the custom in Sudan for important gatherings.) The group would then dance by “in review.” They dressed colorfully – some all white, some green or red – and usually had percussion sections. The schools reminded me very much of the traditional samba schools of Brazil. And the chanting often reminded me of blues music. Indeed, both the samba schools, the blues and Sufi schools share a common African culture. The Sudanese Sufi’s are Islamic by faith but African by impulse. The Sudanese in prayer can barely refrain from dancing and some don’t even try. I saw little children – it was a family get together although the women sat on the side and did not take part in the ceremonies – breaking into a spontaneous dance that clearly served as precursor to the grownup version called worship. Once the schools danced through, they went over to the side where some really got into the spirit of things through chanting and dancing to their own music.

The evening was warm but not oppressive and the people were very friendly. Ghazi was dressed in his trademark white pants with blue suit-jacket. His hair slanted upwards as usual and I often saw him dancing with his stick in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Two teenage girls (his daughters?) wore jeans and no head-coverings and seemed to serve as his messengers, running here and there. At the end of the ceremony, a small group of people gathered around me to talk. One was a retired general who had trained in the U.S. in the 70s. Another was an opposition politician. Ghazi explained to me that what I had seen that evening was Sudan’s “civil society”, a people united by a shared faith that was their own, varied and apolitical. He also explained that he had dressed in his suit to make a point to the government that a secularist could be a sheik. The small group I was with all agreed that the radicals who mixed religion with politics have to go because they are “alien” to Sudan. On Sophist Night, I could feel what they mean.

Journal Entry for February 26, 2004: Trying to Catch Up with USAID

Started the day running a bit late because I actually slept until my alarm. Checked the email, used my exercise bike and took a shower, leaving a bare 15 minutes for breakfast. At ten, I met the leaders of the new SPLM office in Khartoum. They were clandestine but now the youth and women’s section had become open. I made them feel welcome (and reported same). Bright, committed and focused. It was a pleasure to meet them. For lunch, I went to [my military attaché's] house to meet a couple of Sudanese generals and the local military attaches. Spent some time talking with the PLO attaché. He was polite and likable. I am glad I don’t defend US policy on Palestine for a living. Spoke to Pasquale a couple of times by phone to do him a favor – get extra pages into his passport – and about leaving for the Nile on Sunday. Did some office work and eventually wound up at the British ambassador’s place to hear from him – he was just back from Kenya – what USAID policy on Darfur is. What I mean by that, is that USAID – one part of the USG – is not telling the State Department – another part of the USG – what it is doing about meeting Darfur rebels but is talking to Her Majesty’s Government. After leaving, and on the way to the Japanese Ambassador’s for dinner, I managed to call Nairobi via Washington and transmit the intelligence on USAID to my State Department boss soon to arrive in Kenya. (He had earlier called me from Amsterdam to see what I knew.) Dinner was quite excellent Japanese food including sushi and tempura. The Ambassador had actually brought a Japanese chef with him, the only one to apply for the job. Also at dinner were the Libyan, quite jovial, and his wife, a UN person from Yemen and the Greek Ambassador. The Greek looks dour all the time but is simply Greek – cynical about everything but also with a happy appreciation of the absurd. The Yemeni had a simply endless list of problems that would make the peace process in Sudan “much more difficult than everyone believes.” Another day in the life.

04 Khartoum 0196 - SPLM Surfaces in Khartoum

Journal Entry for February 23, 2004: A French reception

It don't take much to satisfy one's deepest longings in Khartoum. One is alcohol and the other is, how shall we say, company. Well, turns out that the French can be depended upon for one (and, for the record, who really needs the other). Went to the French Ambassador's residence this evening and scored big time. Only the second place in all of Sudan that has gin PLUS white vermouth at the same location at the same time. And to boot, olives! Taught the southern Sudanese bartenders how to mix a dry martini -- okay, it took two tries but both were worth it -- and then went over to the table with olives -- black will do -- and plunked two in. Had a GREAT time. At the end of the evening, told the ambassador that he could invite me any time he had the mixings of a martini. He said, like James Bond? I said, yes, just like James Bond.

On the way home, spoke to the Nile expedition dude. He said he'd be happy to have me accompany them when they leave Khartoum later this week. Two days on the Nile till we reach Merowe. We'll get to pass over the Sixth Cataract too. Thanks to the martinis, and therefore the French, I agreed.

04 Khartoum 0175 - Meeting with Darfur Tribe Leaders (plus journal entry)

Journal Entry for Feb 20:   

Didn't write last night cause I was too tired. High point of day was speaking with five senior Darfurians representing the rebels and non-Arab tribes. Making policy as I go fully aware of the many crosscutting forces working right now. Cautioned them to focus on immediate agenda take up EU offer to meet. Of course, as of now the GOS my be pulling plug on that.

Journal Entry for February 18, 2004: Deep Inside Normal Khartoum "Diplomacy:

Ended the day at the British ambassador's residence, meeting with him, the Dutch Charge and the UN Special Representative (a Norwegian). I was sipping some fine scotch as we compared notes and talked about serious Sudan stuff. It was approaching six and, as usual, we had all probably had almost nothing to eat since breakfast. Often don't have time to eat. We therefore made quick work of the cashews and chips that had been provided with the drinks. The Ambassador's wife offered her husband to refill the bowls. He, understanding we'd make a meal of any choice snack foods he set out in front of us, sensibly, if quietly, declined his wife's offer. We kept drinking and talking but eventually I gave in and thought I'd try one of the wrapped things in the bowl in the center of the small table in front of us. Unwrapped it and since it looked soft, popped it into my mouth. I immediately realized that it was not soft but, in fact, hard as steel. It may never have been soft but clearly had also been in that bowl for some time. Because it is what diplomats do, I soldiered on as best I could. It was too big to discreetly get rid of anywhere. I thought of letting it slip into my drink but realized that could not pass unnoticed. I had no napkin. So I downed some more scotch in the hope of dissolving it and eventually ground it down to swallowing size. Needless to say, I did not contribute much to the conversation during this period.

The Ambassador noted my situation. An attentive host, he made a mental note to get rid of the wrapped stuff at first opportunity. However, the UN Special Representative did not notice. After my ordeal was finally over and I could speak again, he reached for a wrapped thing. The Ambassador, torn by a sense of responsibility and also embarrassment, mumbled a warning about it being "hard candy" but took no further action. The Norwegian popped it into his mouth just as his phone rang. He got up and wandered into the hall to talk. A few moments latter, I got up to leave. Said goodbyes and went into the hall where I stuck out my hand to the Norwegian. By the rules of diplomacy, he had no choice. He had to shake my hand too. One of his hands was holding his phone so he stuck out the other. In the middle of his palm was his discarded hard candy thing. It was there in the middle as our hands clasped. Fortunately, he was re-wrapped by this time. It's these moments that make this all bearable.

04 Khartoum 0171 - A Darfur Primer

04 Khartoum 0162 -- EU Pressing on Darfur, Meeting Rebels

04 Khartoum 0161 -- Washington delegation travels to Darfur (plus note from journal)

Journal entry for January 15:  I can hardly remember how I started the day, some meeting at the UN, I believe. I had two there today and then ended up at the UN rep's for dinner. (He is being canned, in part because USAID doesn't like him.) In between, I had Ken Bacon to my house for a meeting with him and his staff. He was press spokesman for the Pentagon under Clinton.... We had a good chat; he is CEO of some refugee-related NGO, maybe a Demo front organization. I sought to put out a balanced, nuanced picture of reality here. He seemed to buy it.

Mikie (Mckinley) and Mike (Ranneberger) come back tomorrow for one more day of trying to micro-manage my embassy and me. I sent a few cables this weekend that may take some of the wind from USAID's sails as they try to parley seeing burning villages into a declaration of war against the thugs we happen to be working with now. But tomorrow I plan to sleep in and find some time to open my present.

Journal Entries for February 13 & 14, 2004:

February 13:  The house is empty again and I'm fading already.  It was an exciting few days.  Between USAID and State fighting it out and at the same time trying to end two wars, there were moments of interest.  Was fun watching McKinley operating.  He can't stand to see a moment go by without launching a bureaucratic or policy-oriented action of some sort.  Compared to him, I am a watcher and I draw lines that he fudges with ease.  Though to be fair to myself, I have been doing pretty well here with the little info that filters to me from DC.  Armed with the information gleaned from my visitors and their "elephant love-making," I believe we can stay a bit ahead of the home office.  The next two months will tell if the peace process will work out or not.  After that, US domestic politics, the elections and the coming of a new Assistant Secretary from USAID will pull the rug out from under a balanced approach to Sudan.  I alerted my CT guys here to beef up cooperation so we can create some countervailing facts on the ground.

I plan to sleep in tomorrow and then do nothing.  Even closed the Embassy comms so no one has an excuse to work.

February 14:  Meant to do nothing but spent most of the day working on getting government people to understand that my visitors in Darfur did not get arrested and to let them know they will have big political problems with the US if they don't move quickly to stop the violence.  Finally did get to relax with dinner of stuffed peppers from the food stash left by James.  Then went out onto my patio for a martini, which I am hoping will depress my system somewhat.  Running on adrenalin and 5 hours sleep, I need to come down a bit.

04 Khartoum 0144 -- Meeting President Bashir

Journal Entry for January 31: Visit to Sufi Mosque

Last evening I went to a Sufi mosque in Omdurman to watch part of their worship service. The Sheikh of the Summaniyya sect invited me when I first met him last year. The Sufis are a major tradition in Islam going back several hundred years. There are many Sufi “schools”, or sects, each founded by a particular sheikh (teacher). Sufi sects are various disciplines of worship usually seeking some sort of mystical (or inner) union with God (Allah). Some achieve this through music and dance. The “whirling dervishes” come from those Sufi sects that find mystical transport through dance. Sufism is popular in Sudan and fits the mostly gentle and tolerant approach of the Sudanese people. Sufism is pretty much the exact opposite of Islamist extremism.

The three largest sects in Sudan – the Mahdiyya, Khatmiyya and Summaniyya – are Sufi. Sheikh Hassan Qaribullah invited me to attend part of the prayer ceremony that actually started in the early afternoon and went on until late night. I arrived at 5:30 as they started the chanting phase and left – after a cup of tea with the Sheikh’s son – as they went into quiet prayer and discussion.

The ceremony took place outside of the Mosque on a street closed for the event on every Friday. The ground was spread with carpets and I took my shoes off to enter. Carpets were hung also on the fences and walls. Younger men were on one side and the sect’s elders on the other. They were chanting and bowing when I got there. Summaniyya is popular in Islamic Africa and I can see why. The chanting and movement was very African. The men did not dance in the sense of moving around but they did in place every dance step I’d ever seen in Africa or from Africa. There was even a brief moment I thought I was watching a long line of The Four Tops. The rhythm was African and there was even a touch of blues and jazz. The Sheikh or one of the elders led the chants – invocations of Allah – using microphones to be sure to encourage others in the neighborhood to join them. One of the younger men also had a mike to emphasize the various vocalizations they made along with their movements. There was no music per se but it was quite hypnotic and though I sat there for almost two hours, I didn’t want it to end. But at sunset, an elder called evening prayer and – after the Sheikh formally thanked me for attending -- I was invited inside for tea. Everyone was very nice and quite pleased the American Charge attended their prayers. They were also anxious to tell me that they are not political and like America. They don’t understand why America doesn’t like Sudan. I assured them that while we had problems with the fundamentalist government of the 90’s, we want better relations now. It was a very pleasant and moving evening. 

 Ascending....

Bits from January 2004 Journal

January 27: Well, no snow or ice here except for the cubes in my drink. Just came up from having a nightcap with my visiting Marine BG. Nice evening talking pro to pro. Evening is quite nice with pleasant chill in the air. Turns out too that his Marine bodyguard was the deputy commander of the Marine contingent in Brasilia. He remembers the day we took the picture of Andy in full regalia!

 

Shit happening in and about Darfur. Washington is ready to jump in head first and I'm trying to point out that the pool might not have as much water as they think.

January 28: Last night was quite cool but had to get up early to see off my guest. Tonight I am too tired to write or open the windows. Day ended with 3 1/2 hour intense meeting with Assistant President. Was supposed to be at pizza night with staff. This weekend will last 8 days with Eid. Rest then.

 

January 30: The weather has been quite nice since I got back from holidays. The evenings are cool and the temperature falls to the lower 60 by early morning. Over the weekend, we are supposed to hit the 50s. This is open window weather and I do. Even during the day, in the office, I open the windows and the breeze makes it comfortable all day. (I'm on the 6th floor and can see to both Nile Rivers.) Not for years have I been able to open the windows in the office. Very nice.

With windows open, the air cools nicely in my house. I also get the smells of the city. Most every night, this includes the smell of burning garbage but is bearable and passes quickly. One morning this week, it was so bad it woke me and I put on a face mask that I has been reserving for the sand storms. But windows open is too good to pass up. Locals say it'll only last to February.

With the windows open, I hear lots of things. At night I hear sometimes the bass rhythms of Arab music. This morning as I was waking, I heard several different kinds of birds singing. The early morning sounds start earlier. I hear the night trains and their whistles as they pull into Khartoum Station. The first call to prayer is around 5:30. I can sleep through that but usually stir and then go back to sleep. For some reason, not all the mosques use the same schedule and there seems to be a second call around six. This week, perhaps because of the Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca), the first call to prayer also seems to come with a chorus of some kind. There is much I don't know about Islam.

A boy's school sits just down the block from me. The boys all wear green pajamas (they look like pajamas to me). They start school pretty early. Well, the morning sounds include what I have taken to calling the Daily Harangue. Remember the school assemblies of old? Well, these may be like them. A voice, on a big load speakers, starts speaking something that sounds like the call to prayer. Very pleasant to listen to, almost like singing. But then he switches into the voice I imagine the Ayatollahs use to excite the faithful to slaughter the infidels. This goes on for some time and actually has convinced me not to go outside during it. Then as suddenly as it began, the harangue stops and the voice assumes the tome and cadence of your high school principal. When the daily is over, I know it's time to get up. Sort of a Khartoum alarm clock. I'll miss it when it's time to go back to AC.

Journal Entry for January 24, 2004: Trip to Juba

Just back from visiting Juba. Juba is the furthest south of Sudan’s Nile cities, about 800 miles as the bird flies and a good distance further as the river flows. Juba is also the edge of the north’s furthest reach. Juba itself is less than 100 years old but each empire that has tried to rule Sudan has put an outpost in the vicinity. The Turks, Arabs and the British have done it. The Juba area sits at the point where the White Nile enters the plains after dropping down from the Mountains of the Moon (the Rwenzori Mountains in Uganda). The empires have all wanted to control it in order to control the gateway south and north. But the outposts have always been too far from the north and too difficult to defend. Juba sits well south of the Sud, the great swamp that chokes the White Nile and has always presented an almost impassable barrier to going up river. The border between Arab Sudan and African Sudan is another 300 miles north of Juba but the government and the SPLM have fought most bitterly over this one city and the province – Equatoria – of which it is the capital.

Juba is closer to Uganda and the Congo than to Khartoum. It took our US Air Force C-12 just under three hours to get there. It is dry season but it was clouded most of the time. Rain sprinkled us as we were touring the military hospital. Juba is not really a city but a very humble and over-crowded town. The government has 12,000 troops to control the town and a bit of the surrounding territory. (They seem in no hurry to leave.) About 500,000 people live in government-controlled territory. Most of the 2 million southerners who live in the refugee camps of Khartoum come from Juba. (My cook and houseboy come from there.) Even though with a ceasefire, the countryside – fields for crops, roads – is heavily mined and unusable. In an area that could feed itself, most everything – food and fuel – has to come from Khartoum. The barges can only use the river during the dry season and the town has electricity only for the 3-4 months a year that fuel can reach it by barge. Food costs four times the monthly wage; that means those with jobs can feed themselves from their pay only one week out of the four. Then they “make do.”

The SPLM repeatedly attacked Juba because they wanted to make it their capital. But the government used all of its resources to hold it. They have several towns in the south but the SPLM controls the countryside. This stalemate has made both sides willing to try a peace agreement. The people of Juba have been so brutalized by the war and by oppression by the Arabs that they don’t believe in peace even now. I met with the auxiliary bishops of the Catholic and Episcopal Churches. They have carried alone the weight of helping their faithful survival. One told me that every day that people survived made them thankful but they could never tell about tomorrow. Imagine waking up facing the job of finding work, shelter, the next meal while also being afraid that if you complained or said or did anything that the security people didn’t like that you would disappear and never be found. And the next day, if you survived the night, the same thing all over again for 15 years. The Catholic Bishop spoke of the people having been traumatized and I could see in his eyes what it had done to him. They were glad that the US had not forgotten them. I brought my USAID person with me and we listened to them tell us that they needed help. The people of the US know nothing, nothing about all of these places where other people have nothing, not even hope.

Juba is dusty, dirty – filled with that scourge of mankind, plastic bags – and very poor. But it also is indisputably Africa. The mud huts with straw roofs, the chickens, goats and dogs running loose. The smiling faces, all the children waving and wanting us to take their pictures. That wish to have their picture taken always makes me wonder. They’ll almost certainly never see them. It is that somewhere, somehow they want their lives to be recorded, remembered by someone outside? I always feel at home in Africa. We stayed at the USAID compound, now occupied by the International Red Cross. The ICRC team includes doctors and nurses who run the local hospital. They work 18-hour days, six days a week. The Sudanese staff won’t help them because they don’t care about the local people. The Red Cross people, mostly Europeans, are the most dedicated I’ve ever met. Rough living in Juba but they all can’t stop what they are doing.

I had 15 minutes between meetings – that included with the local army commander, who gave us dinner – and took a swim [in the USAID pool]. Reminded me of Harare. In the evening I sat alone by the pool for a bit and smoked a cigar. I watched the smoke disappear into the night sky and thought of paradise.

04 Khartoum 0119 -- Trip to Juba

04 Khartoum 0098 -- EU approach on Sudan

Note:  Visiting Ministers were from the Netherlands.

04 Khartoum 0065 - Meeting Jaafar Nimeiri

Journal note for January 20: Been back one week. I called on former President Nimeri today. He was most cordial and we had breakfast and talked.