A crisis few know of
While the world’s attention is firmly fixed on the civil war in Syria, a possibly even greater tragedy is being played out in the middle of Africa. When in March the president of the Central African Republic (CAR), François Bozizé, fled his country in a helicopter, much of the world, in as much as it noticed, seemed to take some satisfaction from the removal from power of another venal exploiter of people.

A displaced boy runs past a mural on a building in the 40-acre diocesan compound in Bossangoa, Central African Republic. Bishop Nestor-Desire Nongo Aziagbia of Bossangoa says more than 35,000 people are living on the compound, seeking protection from rebels who are targeting Christians. (CNS photo/Joe Penney, Reuters)
There were exceptions. South African troops fought on behalf of Bozizé against the coalition of rebels, and our government lost a strategic ally when the president admitted defeat and took off.
Even before Bozizé’s departure, warnings were issued by the Catholic Church and other Christian leaders that the rebel forces, known collectively as the Séléka (the Alliance), were not so much interested in the shortcomings of Bozizé’s democratic ways as in fomenting sectarian violence, pitting Muslims against Christians.
In a country where the majority is Christian, with 15% Muslim and the rest animist, the Séléka is dominated by Muslims, mostly from Chad and Sudan, and is followed by many of the republic’s Muslims.
Although the Séléka is aided by Islamic militants, such as al-Shabab from Somalia and the feared Janjaweed from Darfur, its sectarianism appears to be mostly an expedient. The conflict is about power and access to the CAR’s precious resources, which include gold, diamonds and uranium.
The Christian majority, which had previously maintained good relations with their Muslim neighbours, was caught off-guard as Séléka forces looted, raped and burnt their way through Christian villages, pointedly targeting also Church buildings. Arbitrary executions, even of children and frequently taking on grotesque forms, have become common; worse, whole villages are burnt to the ground in reprisal for resistance to the pillaging forces.
With many farmers unable to tend to their land, the country may face a severe famine next year, especially among Christians whose livestock has been looted and who have been prevented by the threat of random death from sowing new crops.
In a country which once had at its head the murderous megalomaniac Jean-Bédel Bokassa, the Catholic bishops felt compelled to note in June: “Never has our country known a conflict so grave in its magnitude and duration; never has any military-political disorder spread through our territory with such a violent impact. Never has a crisis caused such systematic and programmed destruction of what remained of our country’s slender industrial and economic fabric.”
The Church’s pleas for international intervention, including one by Pope Francis in March, have gone largely unheeded, as many such pleas from Africa have been in the past—usually until it’s too late.
It is indeed “the worst crisis most people have never heard of”, as the US ambassador to the United Nations, Samantha Powers, has put it.
A peace-keeping force of the African Union numbers 2500 soldiers; totally outnumbered, it provides a presence that is more symbolic than interventionist.
Christian leaders in many parts of Africa fear the rise of warfare by insurgents who either seek the Islamisation of Africa, or are using religion as a pretext for grabbing power.
Increasingly African Church leaders, such as Bishop Tarcisius Ngalalekumtwa, head of Tanzania’s bishops’ conference, express the fear that attacks on Christian targets are intended by Islamists, often from other countries, to put into effect the 1989 “Abuja Declaration” by the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation. The Abuja Declaration called for turning all of Africa Muslim and “to eradicate in all its forms and ramifications all non-Muslim religions in member nations” (which include South Africa).
Meanwhile, the Catholic Church in the CAR is doing its best to provide shelter to the country’s 400000 internally displaced. St Anthony of Padua cathedral in Bossangoa, for instance, provides shelter for some 34000 refugees—while the remnants of the now officially disbanded Séléka continue their campaign of terror against the population.
President Michel Djotodia, propelled into power by Séléka atrocities, is doing little to stop his erstwhile comrades; even if he could, observers say, he probably would be unable to control them.
And the world still averts its eyes.
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