With Burundi’s President Sticking to Power, Violence Is on the Rise
By JEFFREY GETTLEMAN
DEC. 5, 2015
BUJUMBURA, Burundi — On a recent Sunday when many people were still out enjoying the warm night air, a squad of gunmen burst into the Bwiza street market and started shooting. The gunfire raked across the thatched stalls and iron shanties.
When the smoke cleared and residents stood over the bodies, they could not make sense of it: A meat seller? A night watchman? A boy asleep in bed? What was the point of such an attack?
Others shrugged, saying it was just another weekend in Burundi.
Ever since April, when President Pierre Nkurunziza said he would run for a contentious third term, this verdant little country in central Africa has had an ominous cloud hanging over it.
There have been deadly protests, an attempted coup, heightened ethnic tension and a rat-tat-tat of violence that is sudden, shadowy, hard to decipher, and often gory — bodies found with hands tied, corpses missing fingers, a severed head discovered in a swamp. Many of the killings occur on the weekends, when more people are hanging out in the streets or meeting up at bars.
Human rights groups say hundreds have been killed since April in mysterious deaths and clashes with the police — and Western officials have issued alarming statements in recent weeks saying Burundi is teetering on the brink.
“Terrible acts of violence have taken the lives of innocent men, women and children,” President Obama said in a recent videotaped address. “From Burundi’s painful past, we know where this kind of violence can lead.”
Western officials say they are working hard at the highest levels to prevent a major war in a historically volatile region of Africa. But the surge of attention and all the talk of Burundi “on the precipice” — as a White House official said last month when announcing sanctions on four Burundians accused of stoking the violence — may be a double-edged sword.
While it has sent a clear signal to Mr. Nkurunziza’s security services to behave better, and police brutality does seem to have decreased, the spotlight may also be encouraging the opposition to step up a campaign of sabotage.
In recent days, the violence seems to have shifted from what appeared to be government-sponsored killings to rebel attacks. There have been more assassination attempts, more grenades tossed at government property and more random shootings like the one on the Bwiza market — all thought to be the handiwork of the opposition. Just this past week, three people were killed in yet another assassination attempt, this time against a senior police official.
Analysts say the worse Burundi looks, the more pressure there is on the government to negotiate, which is exactly what the opposition wants. Under this logic, some opposition forces are exploiting the attention on Burundi to fuel the fears of wider violence and chaos in order to force Mr. Nkurunziza into some sort of Western-backed power-sharing agreement, which most analysts said he should have agreed to from the beginning. It is not clear if this strategy will work, but so far, calls for negotiations have intensified as more bodies show up on the streets.
“This is all a ploy,” said one Burundian intellectual who did not want to be identified because of safety fears. “It doesn’t matter who gets killed. The government looks bad either way and the opposition benefits.”
But it is not as if the government is clean, either. Burundi’s war, if anything, is a dirty war. Mr. Nkurunziza is widely suspected of killing his enemies, and in previous weeks human rights observers have been more concerned about killings apparently carried out by the government and its allies and incendiary speeches by officials than rebel activity.
Many Burundians have also shared stories of torture, including police officers’ tying heavy containers of water to suspects’ testicles until they give up information.
So far Mr. Nkurunziza has shown little enthusiasm for sharing power. He rejected his detractors’ argument that it was illegal for him to serve a third term, saying he was entitled to run because the Constitution did not explicitly bar it.
The presidential election was held in July and, with many opposition members boycotting, Mr. Nkurunziza won handily, though Western countries said the vote was deeply flawed.
“The issue of a third term is over,” said Gervais Abayeho, a presidential spokesman. “It’s done, past.”
But while Burundi may be smoking, it is not on fire. There is no comparison to the 1990s, when more than 100,000 people were killed in a civil war.
Traffic circulates smoothly past the roundabouts in Bujumbura, the capital, where women sell pineapples from big wicker baskets and the aroma of fresh baguettes wafts out of cafes that serve French fries in cones and play European rock. Life continues pretty much as normal in most areas, at most times.
Though the nation’s two major ethnic groups, the Hutus and Tutsis, fought viciously less than a generation ago, they eventually reached a much deeper reconciliation than in neighboring Rwanda, which has a similar ethnic breakdown and legacy of bloodshed (though Rwanda is widely regarded as one of the most repressive nations in Africa, where many strong feelings are actively suppressed by the state).
In Bujumbura, the red and green national flag flutters everywhere, not just from government buildings, and many people take great pride in identifying not as Hutu or Tutsi, but as Burundian.
A protester and a burning barricade in Burundi's capital of Bujumbura, during a demonstration in May against the president's decision to run for a third term. Credit Goran Tomasevic/Reuters
Economic woes have been a big part of the political discontent. Burundi remains near the bottom of development charts and many people feel Mr. Nkurunziza, a 51-year-old university-educated former bush fighter, has failed to create jobs. The government counters that it has focused on building thousands of new schools.
“Look, there’s so much we could do,” said Georges Rukere, who runs a cargo business. “We can do tomatoes. We can do more juices. You know, we have very good fruits in Burundi.”
Opposition members had hoped the president would be blocked in court from running again, arguing that a third term violated the intent of a peace accord signed more than 10 years ago. When that did not work, they took to the streets in protest. That did not work, either, and the mysterious nighttime attacks began.
On a recent afternoon, two opposition fighters agreed to meet a reporter at a deserted bar along the marshes that fringe Lake Tanganyika. The men, both young, poor and passionate about their beliefs, said they were part of a loosely organized resistance movement called the Abajeune, or Youth.
They denied attacking civilians and claimed to have killed police officers only “in self-defense.” They said the Abajeune was heavily armed, often buying guns from disaffected and broke police officers who sell AK-47s for as little as $35.
Clearly, many in the security services do not like the president. One 28-year-old police officer, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, saying his life was endangered, said there were countless officers like him who felt the president was in office illegally.
But the officer also said that die-hard members of the security services were intent on keeping Mr. Nkurunziza in power and that he had witnessed torture sessions in which a police general thrust his fingers in the noses of four young boys who were kneeling at his feet and pulled up hard, making them scream for help.
One distraught mother, who did not want her name used for her own safety, said her son had been arrested during a sweep in October. He was not a protester, she said, he just happened to live in a quarter where political protests had been raging.
The mother sat in a restaurant in a slum recounting all the places she had gone to look for him — police stations, a prison, even the dreaded “Documentation Office,” as the national intelligence headquarters is known.
A customer who overheard the conversation pulled her aside and said: “You’re never going to find him. He’s dead.”
The mother looked down at her feet, asked for God’s mercy, and walked out.
DEC. 5, 2015
BUJUMBURA, Burundi — On a recent Sunday when many people were still out enjoying the warm night air, a squad of gunmen burst into the Bwiza street market and started shooting. The gunfire raked across the thatched stalls and iron shanties.
When the smoke cleared and residents stood over the bodies, they could not make sense of it: A meat seller? A night watchman? A boy asleep in bed? What was the point of such an attack?
Others shrugged, saying it was just another weekend in Burundi.
Ever since April, when President Pierre Nkurunziza said he would run for a contentious third term, this verdant little country in central Africa has had an ominous cloud hanging over it.
There have been deadly protests, an attempted coup, heightened ethnic tension and a rat-tat-tat of violence that is sudden, shadowy, hard to decipher, and often gory — bodies found with hands tied, corpses missing fingers, a severed head discovered in a swamp. Many of the killings occur on the weekends, when more people are hanging out in the streets or meeting up at bars.
Human rights groups say hundreds have been killed since April in mysterious deaths and clashes with the police — and Western officials have issued alarming statements in recent weeks saying Burundi is teetering on the brink.
“Terrible acts of violence have taken the lives of innocent men, women and children,” President Obama said in a recent videotaped address. “From Burundi’s painful past, we know where this kind of violence can lead.”
Western officials say they are working hard at the highest levels to prevent a major war in a historically volatile region of Africa. But the surge of attention and all the talk of Burundi “on the precipice” — as a White House official said last month when announcing sanctions on four Burundians accused of stoking the violence — may be a double-edged sword.
While it has sent a clear signal to Mr. Nkurunziza’s security services to behave better, and police brutality does seem to have decreased, the spotlight may also be encouraging the opposition to step up a campaign of sabotage.
In recent days, the violence seems to have shifted from what appeared to be government-sponsored killings to rebel attacks. There have been more assassination attempts, more grenades tossed at government property and more random shootings like the one on the Bwiza market — all thought to be the handiwork of the opposition. Just this past week, three people were killed in yet another assassination attempt, this time against a senior police official.
Analysts say the worse Burundi looks, the more pressure there is on the government to negotiate, which is exactly what the opposition wants. Under this logic, some opposition forces are exploiting the attention on Burundi to fuel the fears of wider violence and chaos in order to force Mr. Nkurunziza into some sort of Western-backed power-sharing agreement, which most analysts said he should have agreed to from the beginning. It is not clear if this strategy will work, but so far, calls for negotiations have intensified as more bodies show up on the streets.
“This is all a ploy,” said one Burundian intellectual who did not want to be identified because of safety fears. “It doesn’t matter who gets killed. The government looks bad either way and the opposition benefits.”
But it is not as if the government is clean, either. Burundi’s war, if anything, is a dirty war. Mr. Nkurunziza is widely suspected of killing his enemies, and in previous weeks human rights observers have been more concerned about killings apparently carried out by the government and its allies and incendiary speeches by officials than rebel activity.
Many Burundians have also shared stories of torture, including police officers’ tying heavy containers of water to suspects’ testicles until they give up information.
So far Mr. Nkurunziza has shown little enthusiasm for sharing power. He rejected his detractors’ argument that it was illegal for him to serve a third term, saying he was entitled to run because the Constitution did not explicitly bar it.
The presidential election was held in July and, with many opposition members boycotting, Mr. Nkurunziza won handily, though Western countries said the vote was deeply flawed.
“The issue of a third term is over,” said Gervais Abayeho, a presidential spokesman. “It’s done, past.”
But while Burundi may be smoking, it is not on fire. There is no comparison to the 1990s, when more than 100,000 people were killed in a civil war.
Traffic circulates smoothly past the roundabouts in Bujumbura, the capital, where women sell pineapples from big wicker baskets and the aroma of fresh baguettes wafts out of cafes that serve French fries in cones and play European rock. Life continues pretty much as normal in most areas, at most times.
Though the nation’s two major ethnic groups, the Hutus and Tutsis, fought viciously less than a generation ago, they eventually reached a much deeper reconciliation than in neighboring Rwanda, which has a similar ethnic breakdown and legacy of bloodshed (though Rwanda is widely regarded as one of the most repressive nations in Africa, where many strong feelings are actively suppressed by the state).
In Bujumbura, the red and green national flag flutters everywhere, not just from government buildings, and many people take great pride in identifying not as Hutu or Tutsi, but as Burundian.
A protester and a burning barricade in Burundi's capital of Bujumbura, during a demonstration in May against the president's decision to run for a third term. Credit Goran Tomasevic/Reuters
Economic woes have been a big part of the political discontent. Burundi remains near the bottom of development charts and many people feel Mr. Nkurunziza, a 51-year-old university-educated former bush fighter, has failed to create jobs. The government counters that it has focused on building thousands of new schools.
“Look, there’s so much we could do,” said Georges Rukere, who runs a cargo business. “We can do tomatoes. We can do more juices. You know, we have very good fruits in Burundi.”
Opposition members had hoped the president would be blocked in court from running again, arguing that a third term violated the intent of a peace accord signed more than 10 years ago. When that did not work, they took to the streets in protest. That did not work, either, and the mysterious nighttime attacks began.
On a recent afternoon, two opposition fighters agreed to meet a reporter at a deserted bar along the marshes that fringe Lake Tanganyika. The men, both young, poor and passionate about their beliefs, said they were part of a loosely organized resistance movement called the Abajeune, or Youth.
They denied attacking civilians and claimed to have killed police officers only “in self-defense.” They said the Abajeune was heavily armed, often buying guns from disaffected and broke police officers who sell AK-47s for as little as $35.
Clearly, many in the security services do not like the president. One 28-year-old police officer, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, saying his life was endangered, said there were countless officers like him who felt the president was in office illegally.
But the officer also said that die-hard members of the security services were intent on keeping Mr. Nkurunziza in power and that he had witnessed torture sessions in which a police general thrust his fingers in the noses of four young boys who were kneeling at his feet and pulled up hard, making them scream for help.
One distraught mother, who did not want her name used for her own safety, said her son had been arrested during a sweep in October. He was not a protester, she said, he just happened to live in a quarter where political protests had been raging.
The mother sat in a restaurant in a slum recounting all the places she had gone to look for him — police stations, a prison, even the dreaded “Documentation Office,” as the national intelligence headquarters is known.
A customer who overheard the conversation pulled her aside and said: “You’re never going to find him. He’s dead.”
The mother looked down at her feet, asked for God’s mercy, and walked out.
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