Atrocities, Diamonds and Diplomacy

by Peter Penfold

  The rift between Ecomog and the UN was not helped by the withdrawal of my colleague, Mohammed Abubakar, the Nigerian High Commissioner. I had grown to like Mohammed very much. We had gone through a great deal together from the negotiations in my residence in 1997 to the endless upheavals since then. He had served in Sierra Leone since 1991, so his knowledge of the situation was second to none. I much valued his wise, realistic, but usually pessimistic advice. Although his influence on President Kabbah and the government was overshadowed by the Nigerian military officers serving in Sierra Leone, especially Maxwell Khobe, he was much liked by the people and in appreciation before he left he was appointed an honorary paramount chief. Celia and I dressed up in our chiefly robes one Saturday morning to attend the colourful ceremony in front of the law courts.

  The international bickering over Ecomog and the UN was exploited by Sankoh, who switched his allegiances from one day to the next and it did nothing to calm the fears of the Sierra Leone people. Despite the shortcomings of Ecomog they had faith in them as opposed to the UN troops, who displayed a marked reluctance to keep the rebels in their place. This was further fuelled when Bockarie impounded a UN helicopter and detained some UN personnel in Kailahun. This led to Sankoh being pilloried both internally and on the international stage for the behaviour of Bockarie. For a long time Bockarie had been testing Sankoh’s leadership, and for the latter this latest incident was the last straw. He despatched some loyal RUF fighters to Kailahun to eliminate Bockarie. Bockarie got wind of this and fled to Monrovia to seek sanctuary with Charles Taylor. Bockarie’s departure was greeted enthusiastically by the Sierra Leone people. To them he personified the evil of the RUF and removing him from the scene would be a positive step forward. Many Sierra Leoneans would ideally have hoped that his removal could have been permanent.

  And so we headed towards the end of the year and the dawn of a new millennium. In that there was no major fighting taking place, the peace appeared to be holding. The UN were deploying more troops and there was some disarmament taking place, albeit too slowly; Ecomog was withdrawing, but hopefully not too quickly. The Sierra Leone government remained weak and ineffective, but was still there. A third of the population remained displaced. Britain’s standing in the country was as high as ever and some of the DFID-FUNDED projects were making a positive impact.

  I attempted to reflect this cautious optimism in a song that I composed for the choir of the Milton Margai School for the Blind to help raise funds for the school:

  My West African Home

  No more guns, no more killing,

  No more crying and fear of living.

  No more hunger, no more pain,

  No more hiding in the rain.

  Peace and democracy,

  That is what we want to see.

  Here in Salone … my West African Home.

  In the face of alarmist predictions that computers would crash all around the world with the advent of the new millennium, the Foreign Office’s attention was more concerned with the effects of ‘Y2K’ than the plight of poor Sierra Leone. There was a deluge of instructions from London of what we had to do to prepare for the potentially imminent disaster. All our embassies and high commissions around the world were told to send signals back to London at two minutes past midnight as we entered the new millennium to make sure that our communications were functioning. In response I told London that as we already lived in a country where for days we could go without electricity or water, where telephones or faxes rarely worked and e-mails did not reach, and where even the diplomatic bag service could take weeks to arrive, it seemed rather meaningless to us to get worked up about the possible effects of Y2K. In any event, I added, as this was Sierra Leone we did not expect the New Year to reach us until the end of February.

  Thankfully Christmas passed peacefully. My daughter Catherine and her boyfriend had flown out for Christmas and New Year, so for once we enjoyed a family Christmas, attending Christmas services at both the Catholic and Anglican churches. To see in the millennium a group of us went down to Toke, about one and a half hours’ drive along the peninsula, where we danced around the camp fire under the African night sky to see the dawn of the new millennium, before collapsing under our mosquito nets on the beach.

  Welcome to the new century. What would it bring for poor Sierra Leone?

  Chapter Twelve

  Farewell Sierra Leone – 2000

  Diplomatic postings overseas generally last three years. Some are longer but it is rare for them to be shorter. As I had spent so much time out of the country, I argued that I should be entitled to complete a full three-year tour in Freetown, which would mean that my tour would end towards the end of 2001. But London insisted that I should leave at the end of April. My successor had already been selected – Alan Jones, who had been serving as the Deputy High Commissioner in Tanzania. So early in the New Year I went up to Hill Station Lodge to give President Kabbah the news. He was, to quote his own words, ‘shocked and horrified’. He had expected me to stay in Sierra Leone for at least another year and said that he would take the matter up with ministers in London. The opportunity for him to raise the matter came very soon with the arrival of Peter Hain, the new Minister for Africa in the Foreign Office, who was paying his first visit to Sierra Leone in the middle of January.

  Peter Hain had succeeded Tony Lloyd in a reshuffle in 1999. Poor Tony Lloyd had been made to carry some of the can for Sandline. I felt much sympathy for him. He had been a sincere, well-meaning minister, who had been let down by officials in the office. Many had felt that if a ministerial head had to fall, it should have been Robin Cook’s, and not one of his junior ministers – but such was political life.

  Notwithstanding Tony Lloyd’s departure, there was much excitement about Peter Hain’s appointment. This was the man who had made his mark in Britain in the 1960s as a leading campaigner in the anti-apartheid struggle. Born in Kenya and brought up in South Africa, he made a point of saying that he was ‘a son of Africa’. He had proved to be an energetic minister in the Welsh Office and his move to the Foreign Office appeared to indicate that he was going places. He was welcomed in the Foreign Office, especially by those like me dealing with Africa. Prior to his arrival in Sierra Leone, he had made an impact by describing Savimbi, the Angolan rebel leader, as a thug who had no place in Angola’s future. If he felt that way about Savimbi, what would he think of Sankoh? The omens for some realistic thinking on Sierra Leone looked good.

  Peter Hain flew in from Nigeria accompanied by Ann Grant, the Director for Africa, and as usual we accommodated them and Hain’s Private Secretary at the residence. Again we invited President Kabbah for a quiet supper to enable the minister to get the feel of the President in a relaxed and informal setting. However, the chemistry was not as good as it had been with Clare Short. Maybe the two of them were tired, but it seemed to me that the experience of growing up as a ‘son of Africa’ in Kenya and South Africa was not very relevant to the situation in West Africa, where there had been far fewer white settlers. Peter Hain was not that much impressed with President Kabbah, whom he felt was more like an old style African chief than an African politician. At the end of their official meeting the next day when the two of them were alone, President Kabbah raised with Peter Hain the question of my departure. The latter said that he was aware that I had done a good job and would be missed and assured the President that I was being replaced by a good man. However, he said that he would take note of the President’s comments. Kabbah took this to mean that the decision to replace me was still open to change.

  A meeting had also been sought with Sankoh. I advised against going to Sankoh’s home and the close protection team advised against using the High Commission office. So instead the meeting took place in one of the meeting rooms at the presidential lodge. We went to great pains to ensure that the British TV team who were accompanying the minister did not get a picture of the two men shaking hands. Sankoh was on his best behaviour, and constantly used a word
that he had obviously just learned – ‘marginalized’. He was ‘marginalized from the peace process’, he was ‘marginalized from the government’, his supporters were ‘marginalized from the DDR programme’, etc. Peter Hain sought a firm assurance from Sankoh that he was committed to peace. Sankoh gave it. Peter Hain was not impressed by Sankoh, whom he considered a bully, but he still wanted to keep alongside him. He felt that it was important to help him in order to lock him into the political process. This meant providing assistance for the establishment of the RUF as a political party.

  Peter Hain was more impressed with Johnny Paul Koroma; and he had some useful meetings about the UN’s role with Ambassador Adeniji and General Jetley. In a public speech at the British Council, attended by parliamentarians and civil society leaders, he outlined what Britain was doing for Sierra Leone, including military training and support for DDR. He announced a contribution of £250,000 for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. He concluded:

  I believe that Sierra Leone is now turning the corner. You can make this beautiful country a free country, a democratic country, a prosperous country, and a safe country for its people. Britain wants to help you make this vision a reality.

  There would be one more British ministerial visit before our departure – Clare Short again, her second within the space of eight months, which was a clear demonstration of her personal commitment to the problems of Sierra Leone. As a double bonus, Sir Jeremy Greenstock, ‘our man at the UN in New York’, was also visiting at the same time. Jeremy was one of our most senior diplomats, a class act. As Britain’s representative on the UN Security Council he had a key role to play in all of the UK’s international relations and was closely involved in the developments in Sierra Leone. We had never met but I had followed his reports from New York with keen interest and much admired the consummate skill with which he helped steer HMG’s policies through the complex and bureaucratic machinery of the UN. He, of course, would go on to feature prominently in events in Iraq before finally retiring to become Director of Ditchley Park.

  Africa featured heavily in all of the UN’s deliberations and Jeremy had chosen to visit some of the key African countries with which the UN was grappling, e.g. Angola, South Africa, Zaire and Zimbabwe. Sierra Leone certainly merited inclusion in the travel itinerary. He arrived one day ahead of Clare Short so Steve Crossman and Rob Symonds, our military liaison officer, were able to take him on a trip to the DDR camp in Port Loko.

  When Clare Short arrived we immediately took her back up to Masiaka. I was keen to show her the changes since her last visit. For a start we were able to travel there without an armed Ecomog escort. Instead, the police, whom DFID were assisting, supplemented the security of the close protection team. Over half the population had returned and were busy rebuilding or repairing their broken homes. Unfortunately, Paramount Chief Kompa was not with us. He had gone off to Mecca on the Haj but the sub-chiefs were there and they arranged a welcoming reception. This time there were plenty of chairs for us to sit on as we gathered under an awning in the hot sun. Sitting in the audience was Sheka Mansaray. Masiaka was his home town, and in my brief remarks I made a point of praising all he had done and was doing for the peace and security of the country.

  I again had invited President Kabbah to come to supper at Runnymede with Clare Short but he insisted that this time he should host a banquet in her honour, so instead we invited James Jonah, Momodou Koroma and Zainab Bangura to join us. The occasion was marked by a remarkable display by the residence staff. During the dinner while we were still eating, all four of them, Osman, John, Alimamy and Toma, dressed in their crisp white uniforms, suddenly came in from the kitchen and stood at the end of the table. Celia and I initially thought that Osman had come to apologize for forgetting to cook the vegetables for the dinner (none had appeared – oh dear!). Osman started to speak, looking directly at Clare Short, who had broken off from talking to James Jonah and turned her chair to face the staff.

  ‘Madam Minister, there is something we wish to say to you. It is about the announcement that the High Commissioner is leaving. We are not happy about that. We need him here. Our ship is just coming to land, but we fear without him it will sink before it reaches.’

  John, shaking with emotion, continued: ‘We were in church last Sunday together when the priest announced our chief is going. Everyone was shocked and started crying. We do not understand why he has to go now. This is another blow for our country.’

  The next to speak was Toma. ‘I represent the village of Juba. The people there want me to say that they are not happy. Why can’t the High Commissioner stay until the elections?’

  Alimamy, as shy as ever, hung back behind the others. Clare Short asked him if he had anything he wished to add. Clutching his testicles for comfort, he said: ‘Yes please, I agree with everything that has been said. We do not want our High Commissioner to leave us right now.’

  It was a very emotional and dramatic moment, which took us completely by surprise. Clare Short had handled it beautifully. She was the first amongst us to immediately realize what was coming when the staff had walked in. Zainab openly cried. James Jonah and Momodou Koroma dropped their faces and wiped away a tear. Jeremy Greenstock broke the tension by clapping them. I was embarrassed but full of admiration for the guts they had displayed. It was like a messenger walking into a meeting at No. 10 Downing Street unannounced and addressing the Cabinet. No wonder Osman had forgotten to cook the vegetables! Clare Short told them that she was aware of the strong feelings about my departure. It was not her decision but she knew that I was needed back in London.

  As with all her meetings, Clare Short displayed an uncanny ability to read the moment and make the appropriate response. Unlike so many other politicians, she never tried to flannel people. She always gave whoever was present an opportunity to say something. She was both a good talker and a good listener. She was not bothered with the spin, she saw the substance.

  The next day she was again in good form in meeting the Sierra Leone market women’s association. The meeting was arranged in one of the downtown markets. It was very colourful, full of the sights, sounds and smells of Freetown. The women were gathered in their blue, white and green outfits, surrounded by their market produce – the dried fish, onions, tomatoes and cassava leaves set out on the dry stone slabs. As we disembarked from our vehicles the women started singing and dancing. Many of them were carrying placards saying, ‘Don’t let Penfold Go’ and ‘We Want Komrabai to Stay’. A petition was handed over to Clare Short to pass on to the Prime Minister.

  It always amazed me to see the energy and dynamism of the market women. These, tough, hard working, semi-literate women were the backbone of the community. As women, they were the driving force behind the grass roots economy. As mothers and daughters, they bore the brunt of the problems. Thanks to the efforts of people like Zainab Bangura, these women had grasped the fundamentals of democracy. En masse they were a formidable force and yet the government still tended to treat women as second-class citizens. For example, it was very difficult for women to obtain bank loans for homes and businesses. With DFID’s assistance we set up a loans scheme to help the women, which was launched by Clare Short at the meeting.

  Just prior to Clare Short’s visit the ‘new’ DFID-funded ferry had arrived. This had been a long drawn-out saga. The previous ferry, which had plied its route between Freetown and Tagrin providing the lifeline between the capital and the international airport at Lungi, had gone aground in February of 1999, thanks mainly to the vessel being overloaded with Ecomog military vehicles. This had had a serious effect on both the economy and security. We had informed the President at the time that the British Government through DFID was prepared to fund an immediate temporary replacement to the tune of £1 million, the largest single gift to Sierra Leone. Finding a second-hand ferry was not easy. It was not exactly the sort of thing you see advertised in Exchange and Mart. DFID officials scoured the world looking for a suitable vessel. A few pos
sibilities were located in various corners of the world, but for one reason or another they turned out to be unsuitable. When Clare Short had visited in July of 1999 she had informed President Kabbah that the new ferry would arrive shortly, but nothing had happened. Finally, a ferry was located in Greece and in November, after lengthy negotiations and some refitting, she started her journey through the Mediterranean and towards West Africa. However, she broke down en route and had to limp into Tenerife for further repairs. She finally arrived in Freetown in February. I had suggested that Clare Short might wish to hand her over during her visit, but the minister said she preferred that I do it. So almost a year to the day when her predecessor had gone aground, I handed over to President Kabbah the MV Mahera. At the handing over ceremony at the Freetown Docks, I suggested that perhaps a better name for the ferry might have been Pretty Soon, as this was the reply I had always given the President every time he had asked me, ‘When will the ferry arrive?’ Even after her arrival we continued to be plagued by running problems and it was thanks mainly to the efforts of Clive Dawson that the ferry continued to operate. Its timely arrival was to provide us with a good way to leave Sierra Leone.