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The Rediff Special/ James Traub

'We are not a war-making force'

Up until a few years ago, these were little known blips on the world map. Places you couldn't point to, to win a bet.

Today, they are flashpoints. Epicentres of an increasingly restless, belligerent world. Easily identifiable by the crackle of artillery and the flash-bang of exploding ammunition.

Sierra Leone is one such. Racked by strife and rebellion, the little African nation is one of the emerging hotspots that has the world's major powers in a tizzy.

The forces of sanity and sense, now trying to restore peace in the troubled land, are spearheaded by Indian Army troops, part of the United Nations Peace Keeping Force.

So what is a peace keeping force all about? What does it do? How does the Indian Army carry out its brief, in an alien land where it is difficult to distinguish friend from foe? New York Times correspondent James Traub went recently to the frontlines, to find out for himself. Another rediff.com exclusive:

I was in Sierra Leone during what turns out, in retrospect, to have been a peculiar interlude of tranquility -- after the UN peacekepers had established themselves around the country, and before the rebels had responded by attacking them. I spent a day and a night with the Indian battalion, which had been quartered in an ancient barracks in the eastern town of Daru. The Indians were considered easily the most professional of the peacekeeping contingents in Sierra Leone, though this was much a judgment on the incompetence of the Nigerians, Kenyans, Ghanaians and Guineans as it was on the competence of the Indian Army.

I wanted to understand what exactly it is that peacekeepers do, and so when I arrived in Daru I asked if I could go out on patrol. Yes, I could, though first I had to sit for a proper Indian lunch -- mutton curry, alu gobi, chapati, etc. The whole encampment felt like an Indian enclave in West Africa, right down to a chhota peg of whiskey at night and the bed tea the following morning. I felt almost embarrassingly well cared for.

After some discussion, it was agreed that I would drive around the countryside with Lieutenant Colonel Amit Sharma, the battalion's second-in-command. Lt Col Sharma was a most unusual soldier -- father a joint secretary, grandfather knighted by the English for loyal service, himself a graduate of Delhi University in political philosophy and English Literature. He conceded that his parents had been somewhat mystified by his career choice. Sharma was solidly built, athletic, reflective and curious; he had read everything about Sierra Leone that he could find. He was also a very good driver.

The further you go from the capital of Freetown, the worse the roads in Sierra Leone seem to become. As we left Daru for the east, the roads became almost impassable. The asphalt had disintegrated so far that the remaining bits had become an obstacle; Sharma slalomed back and forth, sometimes skimming the edge of the bush in order to stay on the red clay, which was itself broken and knobby and pitted with holes. Sharma was able to carry a thought to conclusion even as he wrenched his four-wheel-drive Maruti back and forth and crashed in and out of potholes.

Peacekeeping, for him, meant driving around the countryside and talking to people. "I try to make these people understand what peacekeeping is," he said. "I tell them that we have not come here to fight the rebels, than we are not a war-making force. We are here to give people the sense of security that will allow peace to go forward."

Sharma conceded that many of the people he spoke to found this idea mysterious; they were perfectly content with a war-making force that had fought on their side. But Sharma felt that establishing a presence was valuable in itself. The Nigerian soldiers who had defended Sierra Leone over the last few years had made a valiant stand in Daru and protected the town from innumerable rebel attacks; but they hadn't ventured far from town, and they had conceded the countryside to the rebels.

'Their discipline and self-restraint was a sign of their professionalism'

The Rediff Specials

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