Close your eyes and think about war veterans, demobilised soldiers or ex-combatants. Chances are the images will be those of violent or menacing men. Soldiers coming from the world’s battlefields and trying to adapt to civilian life tend to get bad press and not much else.
The Mozambican ex-combatants who set up Propaz (For Peace) in 1997, insist that there is more to their story than this. The group is scrupulously composed of ex-soldiers from the ruling party Frelimo and the rebel Renamo formation that fought in the war, which ravaged Mozambique between 1976 and 1992. Propaz works in six provinces where its volunteers help local communities to solve conflicts without using violence.
Why former combatants? Armando, who fought for Renamo after being abducted in the central province of Sofala, wants to turn that question on its head.
”Why not? When the war was over we were the ones who had to show everyone else that peace had truly arrived.”
Ex-soldiers began setting up joint associations to defend their interests.
”When we stopped fighting we sat together with our former brother enemies and talked about all our experiences,” says Cardeal, who lives in the southern district of MatuitÃÂne.
They quickly found out that they had all been living in hell and never wanted to go there again. It was more difficult to convince the population that the country was returning to normality. Ex-combatants played their part. ”You must appear in public with your former adversary and explain to the people that the war is over. We had to give good examples,” Armando explains.
Observers have wondered about the remarkable speed with which Mozambique achieved this kind of reconciliation. What the ex- combatants will tell you is that this was made easier by the mere fact that the war was, at a very basic level, never their war. You will not hear the term ”civil war” in Mozambique. It is ”the-16-year-war”, something that the country, like most of those who fought in it, got dragged into. Alice, ex-Frelimo, recalls being drafted. ”We were still at school when we were told to take military training. Of course we did not want to go. It was the end of our regular education. But you had no choice.”
What former combatants want most of all is a regular life in which they can earn a living and provide for their families. This has been difficult since Mozambique is poor and most of its citizens sit on the margins of existence.
Its much-vaunted boom economy has delivered prosperity for only a few. And, unlike the veterans of the war of independence against the Portuguese (who are fully catered for by the government), this group of ex-combatants is politically ambiguous. ”I think the government does not really trust us,” says Anna, who lives in Nampula in the north. ”There are people who believe that if you work together with Renamo you betray your country.”
Propaz has had reasonable success in the communities where they work. A common problem they’ve encountered is land ownership. ”Plenty people have died after the war because of land disputes,” assesses Judite, a former Renamo fighter who lives in Nametil, the drought-prone northern part of Mozambique.
”We try to solve this by getting the parties to talk to each other — through us. If that does not work, we use other mediators, friends or family.” And if that does not work there is always the court. The message constantly repeated is that whatever people do, violence will not solve anything. Judite and her colleagues feel they are better placed than anyone else to put this message across.
Renamo and Frelimo still exist as political parties. In September, at least 12 people died in the northern town of MocÃÂmboa da Praia during an election contest. Salomão Mungoi, a programme officer at Propaz’s Maputo office, is convinced that the violence was orchestrated. ”This is all political manipulation,” he insists. ”It has nothing to do with the problems people are facing on the ground.”
The ex-combatants are vigilant about political manipulation. They want to avoid legitimate grievances being hijacked by political hustlers, effectively turning them into political tools and separating them from the rest of the people. This is why they are keen to build peace, in their homes, among families and in their communities. ”Always talk,” Armando concludes. ”Never stop talking to each other.” It’s the Mozambican way.
Bram Posthumus interviewed the ex-combatants for the Netherlands Institute for Southern Africa Bram Posthumus
Close your eyes and think about war veterans, demobilised soldiers or ex-combatants. Chances are the images will be those of violent or menacing men. Soldiers coming from the world’s battlefields and trying to adapt to civilian life tend to get bad press and not much else.
The Mozambican ex-combatants who set up Propaz (For Peace) in 1997, insist that there is more to their story than this. The group is scrupulously composed of ex-soldiers from the ruling party Frelimo and the rebel Renamo formation that fought in the war, which ravaged Mozambique between 1976 and 1992. Propaz works in six provinces where its volunteers help local communities to solve conflicts without using violence.
Why former combatants? Armando, who fought for Renamo after being abducted in the central province of Sofala, wants to turn that question on its head.
”Why not? When the war was over we were the ones who had to show everyone else that peace had truly arrived.”
Ex-soldiers began setting up joint associations to defend their interests.
”When we stopped fighting we sat together with our former brother enemies and talked about all our experiences,” says Cardeal, who lives in the southern district of MatuitÃÂne.
They quickly found out that they had all been living in hell and never wanted to go there again. It was more difficult to convince the population that the country was returning to normality. Ex-combatants played their part. ”You must appear in public with your former adversary and explain to the people that the war is over. We had to give good examples,” Armando explains.
Observers have wondered about the remarkable speed with which Mozambique achieved this kind of reconciliation. What the ex- combatants will tell you is that this was made easier by the mere fact that the war was, at a very basic level, never their war. You will not hear the term ”civil war” in Mozambique. It is ”the-16-year-war”, something that the country, like most of those who fought in it, got dragged into. Alice, ex-Frelimo, recalls being drafted. ”We were still at school when we were told to take military training. Of course we did not want to go. It was the end of our regular education. But you had no choice.”
What former combatants want most of all is a regular life in which they can earn a living and provide for their families. This has been difficult since Mozambique is poor and most of its citizens sit on the margins of existence.
Its much-vaunted boom economy has delivered prosperity for only a few. And, unlike the veterans of the war of independence against the Portuguese (who are fully catered for by the government), this group of ex-combatants is politically ambiguous. ”I think the government does not really trust us,” says Anna, who lives in Nampula in the north. ”There are people who believe that if you work together with Renamo you betray your country.”
Propaz has had reasonable success in the communities where they work. A common problem they’ve encountered is land ownership. ”Plenty people have died after the war because of land disputes,” assesses Judite, a former Renamo fighter who lives in Nametil, the drought-prone northern part of Mozambique.
”We try to solve this by getting the parties to talk to each other — through us. If that does not work, we use other mediators, friends or family.” And if that does not work there is always the court. The message constantly repeated is that whatever people do, violence will not solve anything. Judite and her colleagues feel they are better placed than anyone else to put this message across.
Renamo and Frelimo still exist as political parties. In September, at least 12 people died in the northern town of MocÃÂmboa da Praia during an election contest. Salomão Mungoi, a programme officer at Propaz’s Maputo office, is convinced that the violence was orchestrated. ”This is all political manipulation,” he insists. ”It has nothing to do with the problems people are facing on the ground.”
The ex-combatants are vigilant about political manipulation. They want to avoid legitimate grievances being hijacked by political hustlers, effectively turning them into political tools and separating them from the rest of the people. This is why they are keen to build peace, in their homes, among families and in their communities. ”Always talk,” Armando concludes. ”Never stop talking to each other.” It’s the Mozambican way.
Bram Posthumus interviewed the ex-combatants for the Netherlands Institute for Southern Africa