The web home of anglo-ivoirian multimedia journalist John James

The Ninjas arrive, 2007

On a warm day in September, rebel leader Pasteur Ntumi, was due to come into Brazzaville to take up a post in the government. The Ninjas had controlled the Pool region to the west of the capital since the civil war in the 1990s. They’re a mystical sect that wear a lot of purple and look like rastas. Unlike their peace-loving equivalents though, the Ninjas are armed to the teeth and somehow succeeded in keeping the government army at bay, something many Congolese attribute to mystical powers. I wasted a couple of hours waiting at the presidential palace where nothing was happening. I wrote a little colour piece which was never used in the end, but which I’ll print below:

It was supposed to be a significant day in the final stages of the peace process in Congo-Brazzaville. Instead, it ended with military attack helicopters swooping down on the former rebels and their instant rearmament.

Former rebel leader Pastor Ntumi was supposed to be at the People’s Palace in the morning. After leaving the capital Brazzaville in 1997 to fight a rebel war against President Denis Sassou-Nguesso, he was now expected to take up a position in government as a junior minister responsible for peace and reparations.

It soon became clear that there were some last minute difficulties between the government and the ex-rebels, who call themselves the Ninjas. After spending several hours at the palace, I took a taxi to the village of Madibu on the outskirts of the city where the ex-rebels were waiting. All along the avenue leading out of Brazzaville crowds of Ninjas were ready to welcome their leader. The young fighters in this semi-religious movement stand-out from the onlookers thanks to their beards, dreadlocks and purple cloth.

My taxi driver won’t take me into the village. He drops me off and makes a hasty retreat, while I’m quickly surrounded by hundreds of Ninjas. I’m asked what I’m doing and given a thorough search by one of the senior Ninjas who goes by the name of Rambo. He leads me through the crowd and we walk to the centre of the village where Pastor Ntumi is sitting with his advisors waiting for news from their delegation in the city.

‘Everyone’s waiting for me all along the road to the sports centre in order to hear me speak and hear what I’m going to say to reassure them’, he tells me.

‘We’re also still waiting.’

He’s spent a decade hiding out in the forested Pool region to the west of the capital. Although tired of the delays he says he still wants to enter Brazzaville to show that they’re serious about peace.

‘We want people to know that we’ve changed into a political movement – and it’s also to explain the steps we’ve taken on the road to peace; what’s been done so far and what’s left to be done. It’s important that people know more about these things.’

There’s only me and another journalist from a local newspaper in the middle of 3,000 ex-fighters. Not particularly comfortable, but I don’t want to miss to witness their historic arrival.

After a couple more hours, the Ninjas say the sticking point is the presence of armed police on the bridge over the Djoué river; the gateway into the city. I’m beckoned into a 4×4 along with Pastor Ntumi, three advisors and a bodyguard. We head to the bridge; it was as close as he ever got to the city. The police indeed had guns, something that appeared contrary to the day’s security arrangements.

We drove back to Madibou and Pastor Ntumi continued negotiations with the government on his mobile phone. The government was nervy; Pastor Ntumi had permission for 30 armed bodyguards, but the government said he had at least 300 armed men. The presence of up to ten thousand supporters waiting to welcome their leader was also cause for concern.

Such negotiations often run for days without development. In this case, the government seemed to have had enough. We heard the sound of helicopters and the weary crowd sprang to life. Attack helicopters were the government’s major weapon during the five year civil war with the Ninjas, which ended in 2003. The helicopters swooped down on us in a series of close fly-bys. People panicked. Within a minute, what had appeared to be a largely unarmed crowd of young men was suddenly bristling with assault rifles and rocket launchers. Even Pastor Ntumi’s suited advisors now had Kalashnikov rifles on their shoulders. I didn’t hear any shots but the Ninjas were shouting that the government had betrayed them and wasn’t serious about peace.

Things are getting out of hand and the Ninjas were concerned for my safety. A United Nations bus came around the bend and was brought to a halt when someone smashed his rifle against a side window. The crowd started banging on the bus and telling the driver to take me back into the city. He didn’t refuse. On the way back the main avenue was full of people streaming out of the city.

Less than two hours later I’m with the government spokesman, Alain Akouala.

‘Thing went wrong because Pastor Ntumi didn’t respect the way that we defined how he could come in Brazzaville. Our responsibility as a state is people’s security. To let Pastor Ntumi come here with three hundred men is impossible. No country in the world would allow that.’

I ask how using the attack helicopters would help negotiations with the ex-rebels.

‘No explanation. It was just a routine flight like in any country. It has no meaning. The war is over.’

The fly-by had meaning for the Ninjas and the peace process has now taken a few steps back.

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