Tribal Strife Is Set Aside for Survival in Burundi

NGOZI, Burundi — The peasant women stood in a semicircle, smashing clumps of dried earth with hoes. Some were shrunken and shriveled; others had babies strapped to their backs; all were barefoot and wearing head scarves.

In a country mired in ethnic strife for decades, it didn’t matter that some of these women were ethnic Hutus and others Tutsis. Their tools crunched in harmony as they prepared the soil to plant Irish potatoes that would provide both food and a profitable commodity.

“We are all the same,” said Theresa Ndadashimana, leader of this group of female farmers, who are part of a United Nations-sponsored Food for Work group. “We are united by our poverty and vulnerability. We don’t have time for ethnic problems.”

Most even refuse to reveal their ethnic affiliation. They say it doesn’t matter.

Ndadashimana’s words are echoed by many ordinary people across this central African nation of 6 million people. But skeptics doubt that these declarations of harmony are genuine or, if they are, whether they can withstand age-old animosities that turn friends and neighbors against one another.

Burundi has the same mix as neighboring Rwanda: a strong Hutu majority and a Tutsi minority that dominates most institutions. In Rwanda, hatreds exploded into genocide in 1994. About 800,000 people, primarily Tutsis, were killed.

Holding Together Despite Violence

Burundi barely avoided a similar horror but may not be out of the woods yet. The most recent eruption in years of fear, resentment and rage came in 1993, with the assassination of Burundi’s first democratically elected president, a Hutu, by Tutsi troops.

Tutsis were massacred in retribution; the predominantly Tutsi army responded in kind. More than 200,000 people have died, but the country has held together.

However, ethnic allegiance may prove stronger than the solidarity of people like the peasant women of Ngozi. As pressure mounts from unemployment and poverty, it would not take much for intertribal friendships to fray. Furthermore, hierarchy and tradition are just as important here as they are in Rwanda. Ordinary people tend to follow their leaders.

Many here agree that if the command were given to kill an ethnic foe, doctors and lawyers as well as soldiers and the largely uneducated peasants would obey.

“We consider ourselves sheep,” said Innocent Ntiruvakure, a local basket weaver. “We have to follow all the decisions of the politicians. It will be up to them to bring peace to the country.”

Farmers like Ndadashimana blame the ongoing conflict on intellectuals living 200 miles south in Bujumbura, the capital, who are using the ethnic card in their fight for political power.

The women farmers said they reported strangers who tried to infiltrate their group and stir up tensions.

Caught in Cross-Fire Between Extremists

Average people insist that they have no quarrel among themselves and have simply been caught in the cross-fire between Hutu and Tutsi extremists. Given the chance to live and work together without politicians inciting animosity, these people believe, they could have long-lasting peace.

“Bujumbura is a highly politically engaged capital with really divided Hutu and Tutsi quarters,” said one U.N. official, a longtime veteran of Burundi, who requested anonymity. “But in the interior, there is no difference. The ordinary people work together, eat together and intermarry. It’s more relaxed.”

Although Hutus make up about 85% of Burundi’s people, Tutsis control most political, military and financial institutions. Critics say they are not keen to relinquish power.

Negotiations on peace and power-sharing among the government, the opposition and rebel groups over the last year in neighboring Tanzania have reaped few results. Many are losing hope of an imminent settlement.

“A year ago, people were more optimistic than now,” said Marie Dimond, a U.N. humanitarian affairs officer. “It was the beginning of the peace talks. Now . . . people are very discouraged.”

Salvatore Nicimpaye, a Hutu basket weaver who is also part of an ethnically mixed Food for Work group sponsored by the U.N. World Food Program, said the country’s political leaders are ignorant of the kinship among Burundians who must forget their tribal differences in order to survive.

“The politicians are telling lies,” said Nicimpaye. “They talk about ethnic problems, but this isn’t true. . . . Local rural people don’t have any interest in fighting each other.”

It is true, however, that there has been a recent escalation of attacks by Hutu rebels and counterattacks by the army around Bujumbura.

Observers Warn of Hutu Militias

Although President Pierre Buyoya, a Tutsi, insists that the rebels do not have the power to undermine the country’s stability, foreign observers warned that the Hutu militias could be quite strong.

“They are courageous,” said the Bujumbura-based U.N. official. “They’re quite well organized and they’re quite well armed. They attack and disappear.”

Furthermore, a peace deal brokered recently among the warring factions in the neighboring Democratic Republic of Congo might destabilize Burundi. Tutsis regained control in Rwanda after the genocide, forcing Hutu fighters across the border to Congo. Now they may head for Burundi.

The increased violence around Burundi’s capital has spurred fear and mistrust among both Hutus and Tutsis.

“People’s tolerance level has diminished,” said Christophe Sebudandi, a local human rights activist. “The ethnic groups are suspicious of each other. It will only take something small for people to start killing each other.”

Tutsis fear that, given the opportunity, their Hutu neighbors would not hesitate to turn against them, as was the case in Rwanda.

“Of course I fear [Hutus]; they could cut my head off,” said schoolgirl Corinne Uizigiyimana, 17, who said she doesn’t have Hutu friends because there are none in her class.

The views of her mother, Hareliman, are more balanced. “I know that not all Hutus are bad,” said the 50-year-old Tutsi primary school teacher. “Some are bad; some are good. Even among Tutsis, there are good and bad.”

“The problem is among the politicians who are defending their own interests,” she said. “The average people don’t care. Burundi is for everybody.”

Hutus who are just trying to live a normal life complain of harassment, both by their own tribesmen for their refusal to support the insurrection and by government soldiers who suspect them of harboring rebels.

“We are victims of both sides of the conflict,” said Nicimpaye, the basket weaver. “Poor people are food for both the rebels and the government.”

Government Move Could Create Crisis

A classic counterinsurgency move by government forces may only add to the tension and create a humanitarian crisis.

Seeking to deny the rebels food and support from the local population, the army recently forcibly resettled about 260,000 civilians into shabby camps with poor sanitation and makeshift shelters around the hills of the capital. The number of deaths from disease is already rising.

In the capital, Hutus and Tutsis largely live in segregated neighborhoods; Tutsis hold most of the prestigious jobs.

During the day, the city is a calm and picturesque settlement overlooking vast walls of mountains and alluring Lake Tanganyika. But at night, a curfew is imposed at 10, and the serenity is broken by the crackle of automatic gunfire.

The government has allowed formation of armed Tutsi militias to give residents a better sense of security, but that is little comfort to the Hutus.

Still, many residents of the capital insist that they don’t fear or hate their ethnic counterparts. They say they shop at the same supermarkets and drink in the same bars.

Kabasha Ngurinzira, a 30-year-old Hutu, said that the government must represent all ethnic groups--Hutus, Tutsis and the smaller Twa group. “If the Hutu, Tutsi and Twa come together, this is the only way we can have peace and security,” he said.

A thriving economy also would help. Poverty and unemployment are widespread. A year ago, Ngurinzira was laid off from his job of nine years in a chemical insecticide factory. Insecurity in the hills around the capital has prevented him from farming his small rural plot. A father of two infants, Ngurinzira can now afford only one meal a day, usually beans, bananas and cassava, a root vegetable. Some days the family doesn’t eat at all.

Ngurinzira’s weight has dropped, and so has his morale.

Such immediate problems are on the mind of rural people in Ngozi too. They say they don’t have time for political intrigue and ethnic rivalry. What concerns them is survival, said Ndadashimana, the leader of the group of women farmers.

“We are combining our efforts to try and make our lives easier,” she said.

Nicimpaye’s weaving group makes baskets, hats and mats for sale at the local market. Profits are shared equally among the members, regardless of ethnicity.

“We are all sons of this country,” said Nicimpaye. “Why divide the country because of ethnicity? A Burundian is a Burundian.”