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Soldiers of misfortune

By Somini Sengupta

Disarming the fighters from the disbanded factions could pose the biggest test for the U.N. mission in Liberia.

SCHOOLED IN the jungle insurgency of Sierra Leone, drafted into one of Liberia's most dreaded fighting units, Tejan Fofanah now spends his days peddling cigarettes on street corners.

A recent morning found him emerging from his sunless room in the basement of a burned-out hotel and ranging across this pummelled, once bitterly partitioned city in search of customers.

The day's journey brought him face to face with old friends and foes alike: one of his old AK-47 boys, now selling bottles of eau de cologne; a mercenary from Sierra Leone, left homeless; a soldier from the rebel camp, now a regular customer.

It was the civilians now that got to him most. A former elite fighter for the exiled President, Charles G. Taylor, he felt the razor's edge of their taunts. Everyone in Monrovia knows that the men who not long ago went around looting and terrorising on behalf of the man they called "Papi" have been left behind with nothing.

As Liberia tries to move on from its latest and most devastating bout of war, what to do with men like Fofanah is the country's most formidable challenge. The repercussions of its success — or failure — are likely to be felt far beyond Liberia's borders. For over a decade, ragtag mercenaries recruited and trained on Liberia's battlefields have roved across West Africa, feeding off of one conflict after another. Stopping that flow once and for all, experts say, is vital to any hopes for the region's stability.

Precise numbers are not available. But the United Nations mission in Liberia estimates there are 38,000 former combatants from among Taylor's loyalists and their two rebel adversaries. About 40 per cent are believed to be under 18. Under the latest peace deal, leaders of all three factions have agreed to disband their forces and turn in their guns to the U.N., but many fighters are holding on to their mortars and AK-47s. With barely 4,700 peacekeepers here, the U.N. mission is hardly in a position to disarm them by force.

Disarmament could pose the biggest test for the U.N. mission in Liberia. Its proposal carries a price tag of more than $49 million. Former combatants are to receive $300 each for joining the disarmament programme and giving up their weapons. They are supposed to get vocational training, subsidised employment, seeds and tools to work the land. Ultimately, they would be urged to go back home.

Homecomings are likely to raise new challenges for a country divided and damaged by 14 years of conflict. Will civilians accept soldiers who wreaked such havoc? Will child soldiers be embraced by their families? Will they find a place in Liberia's ruined economy? Liberia has tried to disarm its fighters before, and it has failed. Liberia being a small country, the past of a fighter-turned-cigarette- vendor such as Fofanah is well known. A high school graduate from Kenema, in Sierra Leone, he joined the dreaded Sierra Leonean rebel group, Revolutionary United Front, which Taylor supported. Later, Fofanah came to Liberia at the behest of one of Taylor's principal allies, Sam Bockarie, a Sierra Leonean warlord. Fofanah joined the unit, run by Taylor's American-born son, Chuckie, and was paid $150 a month.

Taylor has been indicted by a war crimes tribunal on charges that he aided Sierra Leonean rebels. Bockarie, also indicted, was killed this year.

Fofanah's version of his past contains an important — but under the circumstances, easy to understand — elision. He denies any involvement in the Sierra Leonean rebel force, saying only that he joined the Liberian unit, because he saw it as a modern, professional army.He said he turned in his gun in mid-October under orders from a commander; the claim is impossible to verify. He is waiting for something in return. He said his goal was to attend a university (there are none now in the country) and study criminal justice. Most of his comrades, he said, want money. "If people say they want to disarm without money, I for one know the problem will not be solved," he said. — New York Times News Service

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