Paul KeenanEthnic tensions are simmering dangerously, writes Paul Keenan
There are two words to be keenly aware of when considering Burundi’s currently ‘shaky’ state. As uncertainty continues to reign in the small African nation over the vowed intention of President Pierre Nkurunziza to seek a third term in office, it is these two words uttered in a single sentence which present in an instant a potentially appalling vista for anyone trying to understand local realities.
The words are Hutu and Tusti.
With even a cursory grip on African history and its diversity of political landscapes, the tribal names are enough to conjure an image of the killing fields of neighbouring Rwanda, where, in 1994, an orgy of bloodletting by majority Hutus saw some 800,000 Tutsis (three quarters of that tribal population) massacred in just 100 days.
In that same year, Burundi’s own civil conflict, based along the same tribal lines – as Hutu rebels faced-off against the Tutsi dominated army – was well underway, following the assassination of the country’s first Hutu president in 1993. The conflict would ultimately result in a 300,000 deaths before peace was negotiated in 2006.
Ethnic harmony
Operating in that milieu, as teacher-cum fighter-cum politician, was Pierre Nkurunziza, who rose to the presidency in 2005. The son of mixed Hutu/Tutsi, Catholic/Anglican parents, it was to be hoped that Mr Nkurunziza would lead his nation along the path to ethnic harmony. Indeed, one of his first acts was to attempt a balance within his own Cabinet, with the naming of 11 Hutu and 9 Tutsi ministers.
Such hopes of harmony have endured until now.
As early as last February, it was rumoured among supporters of Mr Nkurunziza that he was eager to seek a fresh term in office during the forthcoming June 26 election.
The rumours caused immediate division among those who, on the one hand, pointed out that the nation’s constitution expressly bars two-term Mr Nkurunziza from seeking a third (a key element of the peace accord – the Arusha Agreement – ending the civil conflict), and those who argue that his first term was one sanctioned by parliament and not the people, thereby offering him a fresh bid for the leadership.
Into the former camp fall the Catholic bishops of Burundi (ministering to a 70% Catholic population laid across tribal identities). In early March, amid the presidential speculation, the prelates spoke out against the third-term aspirations. “We call upon politicians in power not to speculate or misinterpret the constitution. All the constitutional provisions about the president’s terms are very clear: no president can lead the country more than two terms of five years each,” stated Archbishop Evariste Ngoyagoye, Metropolitan of Bujumbura, said on behalf of his brother bishops.
The president was not for turning, however, and on April 25 officially announced his candidacy for a new term, setting the spark to the first wave of violent protests, which in turn gave way to the attempted May 13 coup led by General Godefroid Niyombare.
Until February last, General Niyombare had served as Mr Nkurunziza’s chief of intelligence, reportedly losing that post when he dared to counsel the president against a third-term bid.
The protests afflicting Burundi now have also served to lift the lid on the ethnic rivalries kept in check since 2006.
In the wake of the failed coup attempt, it has been rumoured among protestors that an army reshuffle, ostensibly to prevent a further uprising, is actually being used to oust and arrest Tutsi officers. Another element of the peace accord is that the army must always be 50/50 Hutu/Tutsi in the name of a neutral force.
On the other side of the tribal line, meanwhile, stories abound of plots being laid in the Rwandan capital, Kigali, by that nation’s Tutsi president to unleash a Tutsi force hungry for vengeance against the Hutu killers of 1994 who fled to Burundi.
Politicians are playing their own dark part in events, too, with some government party members accused of quite vocally pointing out that a majority of violent protestors “are Tutsi”.
Swirling together in a rapidly moving situation, truth and rumour become a combustible mix.
Amid such fears of a Burundian genocide at least 100,000 people have fled the country, ironically enough to neighbouring Rwanda as well as other states.
Many will have been driven by memories of the bloody civil conflict of 1993-2006, but some older Burundians may well remember also the previous genocide of 1972 in which a disputed number of people, but not less than 80,000, mainly Hutus died (including the father of President Nkurunziza).
Sensing the dangerous pace of events, the Catholic bishops have now spoken out again. Calling for calm on all sides, the prelates have urged politicians and tribal leaders to enter into negotiations as a matter of urgency.
“Let’s use dialogue and consultation and stop using violent means… our leaders and all other protagonists should embrace dialogue and consultation,” conference head Bishop Gervais Banshimiyubusa appealed on May 18.
That appeal, heard and acted upon by negotiators, was undone on May 23 with the killing of opposition leader Zedi Feruzi in a drive-by shooting in the capital, Bujumbura. The immediate reaction on the part of nervous residents was to seal off their neighbourhoods with flaming tyres against the imminent attack looming large in the collective imagination.
Then later, activists engaged in talks with the government pulled out of the negotiations in protest at the murder, with many going into hiding carrying the same fear of a looming onslaught.
At the time of writing, Burundians continue to peer fearfully at each other across barricades ethnic and tangible, with a majority offering prayers for salvation to the same God.
If the bishops of Burundi can tap into that one sliver of commonality, thousands may be saved.