Reportage in Ethiopia on the edge of the abyss


In Ethiopia, the central power relies on its militias to fight the forces of Tigray. Reporting.

Posted on the second floor of an abandoned building, the sentry scans the horizon. An Orthodox cross dangles under the muzzle of his old Kalashnikov. In his thirties, Yunas belongs to the Fano, these self-defense militias which mobilized to support the offensive launched on November 4, 2020 by the regime against the secessionist province of Tigray. In their makeshift headquarters, on the outskirts of Shewa Robit, a small town in the center of the country in the hands of the Amhara ethnic group, the fighters cohabit with a cow which grazes peacefully, indifferent to the sound of boots. In the distance, rises the clamor of religious songs accompanying the celebrations of Timkat, the Epiphany in Ethiopia.

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With the end of his weapon, Yunas points to the ridges that stand out a few kilometers away. It was from there, he said, that the forces of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (FLPT) emerged in mid-November, encircling the town of 30,000 inhabitants, before seizing it at the end three days of fighting. The militiaman claims that the rebels managed to break through the defense lines from the northern side, which the regular troops were supposed to hold. “They quickly abandoned their positions, forcing us to do the same,” he says bitterly. Between yesterday’s allies, trust is broken.

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Even if the city of Shewa Robit was taken back at the end of November by government forces, the auxiliaries did not digest the debacle. Out of the question, they swear, to line up again under the protection of this army of fugitives. They are about forty composing a disparate troop, some equipped with military uniforms and rangers, others with civilian clothes and plastic sandals. Most are peasants or small traders. Not Yunas, former professor at the university. If he joined the ranks of the Fano nine months ago, it was, he says, to “defend [son] people… until the end”. Last week, however, his group, which was fighting in the Kobo region, further north, was sent back by federal troops. The front being stabilized, their reinforcement was, according to them, no longer necessary. Dispossessed of “his” war, the militiaman does not hide his anger: “The FLPT still controls territories that historically belong to the Amharas; for us, nothing is finished. »

After relying on these nationalist volunteers, recruited with a vengeance to counter the lightning offensive of the Tigrayan forces, the Addis Ababa regime is therefore dissociating itself from them. “Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed is trying to put the ball back in the center in order to appear in the eyes of the international community as the key player in stabilization”, analyzes Éloi Ficquet, researcher specializing in the Horn of Africa. On January 7, the head of government announced that the army would no longer carry out military operations in the Tigray region. This does not prevent the Amhara irredentists from promising that they will continue to track the enemy down to his stronghold. “It’s only when the last of them is rotting underground that we will consider the war to be over,” asserts a comrade of Yunas. The militias, accused by several international organizations of war crimes, still carry the hope that the government gives them free rein to finish the dirty work.

“What happened here is inhuman,” sighs a doctor. Don’t come and talk to us about reconciliation.”

Sent to the front line with old guns facing the heavy artillery, the soldiers of fortune fear being the turkeys of a bloody farce. If the balance sheet of this conflict, considered the deadliest of 2021, is difficult to quantify, the active combat zones remaining inaccessible, a source close to the government tells us of 350,000 dead. Another, independent, evoking “strategies of human waves” and “infantrymen sent to the breakers”, considers that the figure of 500,000 would be closer to reality.
After fourteen months of conflict, the military situation seems to have returned to its starting point. Along the winding road heading north, there are about forty buses full of soldiers, as well as dozens of pick-ups of militiamen, kalashes in the wind, who go up to the front singing. This influx of reinforcements, even as the government announces a pause in the fighting, is it only intended to show the muscles before engaging in talks? Or could this be the sign of an imminent offensive?

In a curious mixture of genres, the military convoys cross long processions escorting the “tabots”, these replicas of the tables of the law taken out of the churches on the occasion of the religious festival. On the outskirts of a village, a group is busy around a 155 cannon taken from the enemy, trying to hide the imposing carcass under large sections of fabric in the colors of Ethiopia. Vain attempt to hide the scars of a war that never ends. Along the roads, its shattered remains – trucks and tanks abandoned on the sides – testify to the surgical precision of the firing of these drones that the government acquired last summer. An aerial arsenal which seems to have dealt a severe blow to the military and logistics chain of the Tigrayans, forcing them to withdraw.

According to the UN, 400,000 people live in conditions close to famine in this region forbidden to the media

In Kobo, where the front has stabilized for a few weeks, the town is crisscrossed by security forces on the teeth. Beyond stretches a militarized zone. High mountains mark the natural border with Tigray. Impossible to go further. As they enter the city, the buses carrying “fresh” troops are applauded. After four months of occupation, the local population celebrates its recent liberation with liters of beer, sluicing in small cafes lining the main road. The police station is overflowing with prisoners, most of them of Tigrayan origin. In front of a sheet metal shed acting as a collective cell, their families rush to try to send them food and clothing. Inside languish men of all ages, accused of having collaborated with the FLPT. After the reconquest, comes the time for revenge.

In Shewa Robit, the town further south where we met the Fano militiamen, the occupation only lasted eleven days. Enough to fuel ethnic hatred. Before beating a retreat, the men of the FLPT engaged in medieval raids, stealing cattle, looting stalls down to the last bottle of water. The public hospital did not escape this sacking. “When we returned, testifies a doctor, there was not a single box of medicine left. And in our duty room, they had taken our pants and our beds. »

If the inhabitants are quick to denounce a relentless revenge, this looting testifies above all to a desperate Tigrayan army, anxious to supply its province subjected for months to the blockade. According to the UN, 400,000 people live in conditions close to starvation in this region, which is off-limits to the media. The regime in Addis Ababa is more inclined to expose the suffering endured in its camp… In Shewa Robit, the hospital has reopened, but it lacks everything. Impossible to treat the wounded when even the antibiotics are lacking. Even less women, often victims of rape, requesting an abortion or being given preventive treatment against HIV. “What happened here is inhuman,” sighs the doctor, collapsed, in the middle of a desperately empty office. My patients suffer from post-traumatic stress, children don’t play the same way anymore. So don’t come and talk to us about reconciliation! »

On January 7, about twenty political opponents, including several FLPT executives, were released as part of the national dialogue desired by the regime. This decision was perceived by the Amhara populations, the second largest ethnic group in the country, as a betrayal on the part of a head of government who, until recently, declared that he wanted to “bury the enemy in a deep pit”.

When he came to power three years ago, Abiy Ahmed embodied hope. The Western chancelleries saw in him one of those energetic reformers which Africa needs. The following year, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for ending a two-decade-old conflict with neighboring Eritrea. In retrospect, one can wonder if he was not already preparing with the enemy of yesterday this other war against the FLPT, their common adversary, and their people that he embodies. A people of “rats”, according to state media…

In Kobo, the population celebrates its liberation with liters of beer

Tsagaye (this is an assumed name) is holed up at home. “In the current context, he whispers, speaking Tigrinya in the street is enough to send you behind bars. The 37-year-old teacher is one of thousands of Tigrayan civilians arrested in the capital last November as rebel troops stampeded their feet less than 200 kilometers from Addis Ababa. Pretexting the state of emergency, the authorities then engaged in vast raids. “The prisons were so full that they parked us in a warehouse for two weeks,” testifies the young man. Suspected of “supporting the FLPT morally and financially”, he then spent two months behind bars. Tsagaye thinks he was denounced by a neighbor, on the sole basis of his ethnicity. “The government has encouraged the rest of the population to consider us their enemy,” he laments. We are no longer at home in Ethiopia…”

With so much hatred stirred up, reconciliation seems like a wishful thinking. The researcher Éloi Ficquet does not foresee any optimistic scenario: “At best, he speculates, we will witness a long slump, with reversals and opaque negotiations. At worst, die-hard armed forces will take advantage of the chaos to trigger new outbreaks of insurrection. The civil war could escalate into a militia war, threatening to implose Africa’s second most populous country.

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