The language of peacekeeping
The language of peacekeeping
CAR peacekeepers must be able to communicate with the people, or there will be no trust, says Ruby Diamonde.
© Sarah John
We land in Kaga-Bandoro on a small mud airstrip in the middle of the Central African bush. Flying for one hour saved us a day of driving. There is always a risk of armed rebels putting up road barriers and shooting. This is the only aerodrome in the Central African Republic (CAR) with its own restaurant. And they sell the best curried chicken.
Our plane needed fuel – this takes about 45 minutes – and I need the toilet. A UN military base, with facilities, is the other side of the airstrip. At the entrance, two foreign UN peacekeepers (the local people call them ‘Casques bleus’ or ‘blue helmets’) smile at me. I speak to them in French; but they frown and shake their heads. Ah.
‘Do you speak English?’ I ask.
‘Yes, yes!’ one of them says.
‘Can I please use the bathroom in the base?’
‘Yes, yes!’ But he doesn’t understand.
I point to the toilets inside the base (I’ve been here many times before) and they wave me through.
On my way back, I say hello to a Central African security guard. He points at the two peacekeepers: ‘These men don’t speak our language – where are they from?’ I tell him I don’t know and will ask. With gestures and a few words of English the two peacekeepers tell me they are from Nepal. I tell the Central African.
‘So they have come here to protect us: but how can I talk with them?’ he replies.
This UN mission, MINUSCA (the Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic), that started in April 2014, is the eighth peacekeeping mission here since 1997. It began badly. Pakistani casques bleus were sent to Kaga-Bandoro when Seleka rebels were controlling it. The people thought these new armed men who didn’t speak French were rebels, and began to demonstrate against them. This was because the UN had not explained the peacekeeping to the people it wanted to protect. The Pakistanis could not say anything because they had no language in common with the Central Africans. It was a mess.
MINUSCA now has about 10,000 peacekeepers, and 2,000 civilians, across CAR. They come from more than 25 different European, Asian and African countries. Most of the peacekeepers are men and a lot of them are from India and Pakistan. They get peacekeepers mainly from poorer countries with not so much power internationally. Rich Western countries control the overall UN operations and still have too much control of CAR’s politics.
The conflict here is complicated, but it is basically a fight about myths, money and trust. The politicians have set communities against each other for years, and there is little trust. I know many Central Africans who are happy the casques bleus are here, because security is better; but interactions between the UN and ordinary Central Africans have been blocked because they do not understand each other and by some bad scandals of child-sexual-abuse. Can they understand each other?
But back to the airstrip restaurant. It’s small and local. A Pakistani called Ali runs it with a couple of Central Africans helpers: it is a space where locals and internationals can sit together and eat good cheap food. I just have time to eat some curried chicken before my flight takes off again. Ali is positive about Kaga-Bandoro. ‘We know suffering in my country, so we can understand this place,’ he says. ‘We need to live with them during their struggle, and protect them.’
The UN forces are going to be here for at least the next 10 years. Now they know they need to talk and listen to local people across CAR. Rebel groups in the bush protest because their communities are not included in politics. They need to talk – it doesn’t matter what language!
By Ruby Diamonde (not her real name).
NOW READ THE ORIGINAL: https://newint.org/columns/letters-from/2016/05/01/letter-from-bangui-peacekeeping/ (This article has been simplified so the words, text structure and quotes may have been changed).
