Armed groups of vigilantes called anti-balaka, comprised of
Christians, animists and former troops loyal to the toppled government,
have spent months trying to rid Central African Republic of most of its
Muslims. Many claim they’re exacting revenge against Séléka, the
disbanded coalition of mainly Muslim rebels who staged a coup more than a
year ago and initiated horrific abuses like rape, torture and
random killings, largely against non-Muslims. But their retaliatory
atrocities have amounted to reports of ethnic cleansing and warnings of
religion-fueled murder, destabilizing the land to the darkest period in
its modern history.
Tens of thousands of Muslims, at a minimum, have fled to
Cameroon, Chad and Democratic Republic of Congo. But those who haven’t
been forced out or killed, or who don’t remain in the western region
either at will or by force, have moved to the eastern part of the
country, where fighting that has gripped the west for months is just
starting to creep in, or at least be documented.
French photojournalist William Daniels spent much of his
fourth trip since November covering the impact of the conflict on people
in the capital, Bangui, and the northwest. As French troops shifted
into the third phase of their intervention begun in December, he
traveled east to peek into life where ex-Séléka rebels reign and where
few aid workers and journalists have yet ventured. “It’s definitely the
next stage of the story,” he says.
Daniels, 37, and a few other journalists had a good
contact in a ex-Séléka general stationed in Bambari, the capital city of
the Ouaka region and viewed as the gateway to the east. Bambari
appeared normal as both Muslim and Christian neighborhoods in the city
seemed peaceful. “We hadn’t seen that in the West in a long time,” he
says. Local Christians said they were pleased with the general’s arrival
months ago because he batted down intercommunal tension that began to
permeate and worked to oust the more radical rebels.
But that didn’t mean all was well. After Bambari, Daniels
traveled to nearby Grimari, where clashes between anti-balaka and
ex-Séléka and then heavy rains would keep him for three days. At the
Catholic mission, where hundreds of people had sought refuge, Daniels
heard about an attack in a nearby village, Gulinga. Near a burning house
were the bodies of two men and one woman. Their blood hadn’t yet dried
when he arrived. He surveyed the scene, taking pictures of the wailing
relatives over the corpses, then left amid rumors the perpetrators were
circling back. Ex-Séléka admitted the next day they were responsible,
claiming the men were anti-balaka and the woman was in the wrong place
at the wrong time, a sort of collateral damage.
The number of displaced at the mission grew by thousands
of people over the next few days before Daniels returned to Bangui. The
entry of French troops allowed residents to return home and bring back
food and supplies, whatever they could carry, showing the beginnings of a
new camp. “The first day, you had people completely scared [of the
situation]. The second, you had people beginning to cook. On the third
day, you had a small market,” he recalls. “The life of the city had
completely moved into the camp.” That scene has become familiar across
Central African Republic. When life will again move out of the camp is
anyone’s guess.
Culled from Time News
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