The diamond-rich Lundas are the last battlefield in Angola’s civil war. Philip van Niekerk reports on a deal that is brokered to share the diamonds among the warring parties
AFTER sundown the town of Saurimo in northern Angola is alive with gunfire — the rattle of AK47s and pistol shots. A nonchalant United Nations peacekeeper sips his beer and waves his hand dismissively. “What you hear now is people getting drunk,” he says. “Everyone here has a gun.”
The last battle of the 19-year Angolan civil war is being waged amid the crazy diamond rush in the provinces of North and South Lunda in Africa’s wild west.
As the rest of the country moves slowly into line with last year’s Lusaka Protocol between the Unita rebels and the government MPLA, the Lundas are the last contested areas.
The region is crawling with bandits, diamond dealers and mercenaries — and Unita and army troops. Only 20 yards separate their front lines across the Chicapa River. One UN peacekeeper said that in July alone the army lost 153 troops.
A two-hour plane ride away, in the Angolan capital of Luanda, a deal is being brokered by the UN to bring peace to the Lundas. No one will talk about it publicly because they are embarrassed — the rebels and the government are carving up the diamond fields of the Lundas. The mercenaries will get their share; the poor will not.
The talks are well-advanced, but the Lundas are still volatile. Here it is not peace protocols that rule, but diamonds — although, except for the posh pink headquarters of the state diamond company in Saurimo, it would be difficult to tell that this was the entry point to one of the richest gem-fields.
Twelve miles north, in the Luachimo river diggings, a boy no older than 11 scratches at the ground, shovelling dirt on to a mound. This is put into a bag by a man and given to another man to carry 100 yards down to the river. There, a fourth person is sifting sand with a makeshift sieve, searching for the tell- tale sparkle.
“Here we have found 12 stones,” says Manuel Pedro, aged 39, sweat glistening on his shoulders. But the proceeds have to be shared with the boss, who automatically takes the largest cut. The boss emerges from the pit, his camouflage uniform frayed and caked in dust. He is Jose Ngangula, an officer in the Angolan army.
The Unita diggings are only 12 miles upstream; diamonds have paid for the rebels’ war. “If a mango falls from a tree you don’t just leave it to rot,” said a Unita official at the joint monitoring commission.
That is the sticking point. In the Lundas, the UN has been unable to secure peace because it cannot prise the warring sides from their diamonds.
General Chris Garuba, head of the UN peacekeeping force, says: “We hit a wall in the Lundas. The parties themselves created a gentlemen’s agreement to remain where they are. When the time comes, Unita are supposed to go straight to the quartering areas (where they are to be demobilised). But I think we’re going to have
Unita sees no reason why it should vacate its diggings. “Why must Unita withdraw if higher ranks from the Angolan government are digging on the other side?” says a UN mediator. “Unita also needs money to pay its
Unita soldiers want guarantees before they abandon the diamond mines and go into the quartering areas — the crucial step to end hostilities. The formula the two parties are searching for in Luanda is one in which Unita can exploit the diamonds legally. The mechanism by which Unita can hold on to its mines has already been worked out.
Fernando Faustino Muteke, the chief government negotiator in Luanda, says the only condition is that Unita will have to create enterprises or front companies and register with the government. “Concessions will be given to companies Unita sets up,” he says.
But it is apparent that the carve-up is more extensive. Katangese mercenaries, from the southern province of Zaire, and South Africans from Executive Outcomes, who helped the Angolan government inflict heavy defeats on the rebels last year, are also to be rewarded with
But before Unita and the MPLA can implement any under- the-table deal, they need to restore law and order.
At the market in Saurimo, snappily dressed Malians and Senegalese hold out uncut diamonds in grubby newspapers. They carry their own miniature scales which they whip out to “test” carat levels.
The diamond dealers are a source of great anxiety for De Beers, the South African company that controls the world diamond market through its Central Selling
Diamonds have been flooding out of Angola since last year’s ceasefire signalled the start of the diamond rush. Even though De Beers pays dollars, no questions asked, to any Angolan who shows up with a diamond, most of the stones continue to evade the net. “The majority are still getting out illegally,” says Ken Kempson, Angolan director of De Beers. “This is a source of enormous concern. It is clearly affecting the market.”
President Jose Eduardo dos Santos of Angola agrees, saying earlier this month that restoring control to the diamond diggings remained his priority. He says that state revenues from diamonds amounted to about $5- million a month, but that $350-million to $400-million was leaving the country illegally.
The government has announced a clean-up operation in the north. However, talk of 20 000 troops moving into the Lundas has prompted a new crisis because Unita fears they could turn into a military operation against
“If the army went in to clean up the area, even to chase the bandits into the bush, it wouldn’t be long before they find themselves in confrontation with Unita’s diggings,” says Isias Samakuva, Unita’s chief negotiator in Luanda. “If the government attacks Unita, the Lusaka Protocol may collapse.”
The object of the operation is to chase all illegal foreigners out of the Lundas. “We want to create an environment in which Angolan citizens, state companies and foreign companies will be able to work in peace,” says Muteke, the government negotiator.
There is still deep distrust between the parties. But the one thing Unita and the MPLA agree on is that whoever gets the diamonds it should not be gangsters from Zaire, Senegal and South Africa.
Ordinary Angolans, however, have been excluded from a share of the spoils. The war has reduced millions to homelessness and beggarhood. A general strike is planned in Luanda this week against unemployment and the rise in crime.
The voices of those cut out of the deal are starting to make themselves heard. “There’s a lot of hatred and bitterness from the last two years that is almost impossible to eradicate,” says a development worker who has lived in the Lundas for four years. “Poverty is worse, prices are shooting up.”