Shake Hands With the Devil (24 page)

I walked out onto the balcony, where I lit a cigar and looked over toward the
CND
complex, already swarming with activity. For a moment I envied the
RPF
their organization, energy and resolve. We were three months into the mission and I still lacked a deputy force commander and chief of staff, which meant that all the day-to-day tasks and decisions about resources fell to me. I really didn't know how much longer I could sustain this pace and the administrative hassles, which were eating a black hole in my time.

That first week of January, I had a major row with Hallqvist, which must have been heard all over the headquarters. The
CAO
directly accused me of manipulating his staff while he was on Christmas and New Year's leave, in order to get them to approve the cleaning, repairs and equipping of the
CND
for the
RPF
battalion, as well as building the security perimeter. I shot back that as far as I was concerned he had left the mission without making sure our requirements had been met. He insisted that he had no authority to just make things happen and no money, either, and I yelled that it wasn't me who was setting the milestones, but the politicians and the accords—but still I was damned if we were going to let this country down. Somehow in this battle, which raged for one of the longest hours of my life, we cleared the air between us. While the
UN
administrative and logistics systems continued to frustrate us enormously, Hallqvist and I bashed out a way to work together.

A date had been set aside for the swearing-in ceremony of the
BBTG
: January 5. After the acrimonious debates of late December, there was still no consensus on the cabinet, but Booh-Booh suggested we go ahead on January 5 and at least swear Habyarimana in, and then sort out the problem of the ministers and the representatives later. I wasn't sure that was a good idea. Since the
SRSG
's arrival, I had sworn off direct involvement with the political side of things, so I was surprised, on January 2, to receive an unscheduled visit from Enoch Ruhigira, the former prime minister of Rwanda and now Habyarimana's chef de cabinet and a close confidant.

We sat in the little conference room beside my office and talked
about the political impasse. Brent had put together a schematic of the
BBTG
on one of the white boards we'd put up on the walls, and I remember staring at it and actually having to agree with Ruhigira: for those inside the former regime, it looked like the cards were stacked against them. The moderates seemed to have cornered most of the important government portfolios; to Ruhigira, they weren't moderates at all but “
RPF
sympathizers.” He suggested that once the
BBTG
was installed, the
RPF
and its “sympathizers” could send Habyarimana and those around him to jail for crimes committed by the regime.

And he was right. During the Arusha negotiations, the former regime, and especially Habyarimana, had wanted an amnesty provision. For the sake of making a lasting peace, they should have gotten it. Instead, the
RPF
had successfully argued for a process in which a two-thirds vote in the national assembly could impeach a president or minister. In the new government, the
RPF
believed that all the moderate opposition parties would support them; the moderates and the
RPF
would assume control of certain key ministries, open the books, no doubt find corruption, present such crimes to the National Assembly for a vote, have the individual impeached and charged, and be able to discredit and punish the
MRND
. It struck me that all the jockeying from Habyarimana's side since Arusha may have been dedicated to blocking the swearing-in of the
BBTG
until the Hutu Power factions had infiltrated the moderate parties and assumed control of at least 40 per cent of the assembly, thereby blocking any potential impeachments. If there had been an amnesty included in the Arusha Peace Agreement, none of this would be in danger of happening. But what could I say to Ruhigira? All I could offer was that because of the involvement of the international community, due process would have to be observed and any impeachment would take years to organize: there would certainly be a mellowing of attitudes as time went on and the political process matured. Besides, I added, the political landscape could change significantly when the scheduled democratic elections were held in two years. At that point it might prove to be counterproductive to put Habyarimana on trial.

After Ruhigira left, I sat alone in the conference room, looking at
the chart of the
BBTG
and wondering if there was some way of getting the
RPF
to bend a little and offer some concessions to the former regime. But given the sweet deal they had cut at Arusha, the
RPF
had shown little interest in negotiating. As far as I was concerned, going ahead with the swearing-in ceremony in these circumstances was inviting disaster. But the
SRSG
insisted, and after meeting with all the concerned parties as well as the diplomatic community, the day of the installation ceremony was confirmed.

On the morning of January 5, large crowds swarmed around the
CND
, where the ceremony was to be held. The people were noisy but not particularly threatening to the
UNAMIR
soldiers who were providing security alongside the Gendarmerie. Then Habyarimana arrived in a high-speed motorcade of Presidential Guards, who drove so recklessly they almost ran down some of the spectators and blue berets. The guards leapt out of their transport, tough, arrogant and armed to the teeth. As Habyarimana was hustled inside the National Assembly, the Presidential Guard commander set up just outside the gate and began issuing orders to some of his troops, who were dressed in civilian attire. They dispersed into the crowd and, moments later, the situation turned ugly as spectators started to threaten the moderate delegates who were trying to follow Habyarimana through the entrance. Lando Ndasingwa and a busload of Parti libéral delegates were swarmed, blocked from entering and terrorized. When we asked the Gendarmerie to intervene, their attempt to control the mob was half-hearted. I did not want to create an incident by having armed
UNAMIR
troops wade in alone; we protected those who sought refuge with us on the perimeter of the mob. I was supposed to join Booh-Booh, the ambassadors and other
VIP
s to watch the ceremony, but something in me rebelled. I excused myself from the proceedings on the pretext that I had to keep an eye on the situation outside.

Meanwhile, inside the
CND
, Habyarimana was sworn in with much pomp and circumstance. Then the proceedings ground to a sudden halt when the list of ministers and delegates was distributed. The
RPF
delegation realized that someone had changed the document at the last
minute. Members of the Hutu Power wings of the
MDR
and
PL
were now on the list and the names of the moderates had been omitted. The
RPF
delegation stormed out and the ceremony ended in failure. Nevertheless, the newly sworn-in president came out of the building and beamed for the waiting
TV
cameras; quickly surrounded by a cordon of Presidential Guards, Habyarimana climbed into his black Mercedes and was driven off at breakneck speed. Booh-Booh and his political staff melted away, leaving me alone to explain to the
RPF
and to the media what had happened.

In interviews and meetings the day after the botched swearing-in ceremony, the
SRSG
characterized it instead as a major step forward. The delay in installing the actual cabinet of the
BBTG
, he said, was a minor political problem that would soon be ironed out, especially since Habyarimana had shown his commitment to Arusha by agreeing to the swearing-in. Booh-Booh and the rest of the political types seemed persuaded that Habyarimana would be able to broker a deal to break the impasse. They couldn't have been more wrong.

Of even greater concern to me was the speed and skill with which the mob had been provoked by the Presidential Guard. This was the first time I'd seen just how well the extremists and the Presidential Guard were organized and how easily they could coordinate major operations—a new security challenge we had to overcome. That afternoon I held a meeting with Luc, Tiko and principal Force Headquarters staff officers, in which we drew up a security strategy for future installation ceremonies. We'd block the Presidential Guard in its camp, control the major routes to the
CND
and the entrance to the compound, escort the moderates to the
CND
and take down any barriers that might spontaneously appear in the way of the moderate politicians. The rest of the week was spent trying to hammer out an agreement on the representatives. At one point I stepped into the fray, telling the
SRSG
that after the meeting I had had with Enoch Ruhigira I had begun to believe that if the
RPF
and the moderates could agree to make some concessions around the issue of amnesty or even on the selection of the justice portfolio, there might be a way around this mess.

One night that week I got a phone call from Lando asking me to
come to his house to discuss the situation. I headed over to his place with Brent and Philippe Troute. Lando and Hélène and a few other
PL
members were having an impromptu meeting in the living room; a couple of the deputies were pushing Lando hard to reach some sort of compromise with Justin Mugenzi, who had split the
PL
and now headed the extremist, or Power, wing. Mugenzi was quite an operator, smooth and charming, and up to his eyeballs in the dirt and corruption of the regime. He did, however, control many of the hard-liners inside the
PL
, so getting him onside was crucial if the impasse was to be resolved. Neither Lando nor myself were blind to the risks that such an alliance implied, but Mugenzi and his wing presented a much greater danger to Rwanda if they remained outside the process and continued to flirt with volatile elements such as the Interahamwe.

It was a difficult meeting, but I kept emphasizing that the installation of the
BBTG
was just a stage on the road toward free and fair elections and that stalling the implementation would send a negative signal to the international community, which Rwanda was depending upon. I think my argument made sense to Lando that night. In previous meetings, he had been extremely voluble, rarely giving way or really listening to what others had to say, but now there was a definite shift. He knew how serious the situation had become and how high the stakes were. We agreed among us to invite Mugenzi to the meeting, and I sent Brent and Troute to fetch him. Mugenzi's home was surrounded by militiamen who were either protecting the politician or preventing him from leaving home. When Brent argued his way into the compound, Mugenzi's wife told him that her husband was not at home. Brent suspected she was not telling the truth; he had heard male voices inside.

Even without Mugenzi, I still thought that we might get somewhere and suggested we call in the
SRSG
and get his input. This idea was not met with a great deal of enthusiasm, but I was uncomfortable mediating what was potentially an important political meeting without him and sent Brent to retrieve him from his suite at the Mille Collines. It was very late and Booh-Booh did not appreciate being disturbed, but he came anyway, and we went at it for another hour or so. Though nothing tangible was agreed to, I saw a crack in Lando's armour and I left feeling more optimistic than I had in days.

The political players—the president, the two prime ministers and the
RPF
—with the concurrence of the
SRSG
, decided to try again to swear in the representatives for the
BBTG
, on Saturday, January 8. We moved into high gear to ensure that the ceremony happened under the tightest possible security. But on that Saturday morning we were surprised by a series of violent demonstrations throughout Kigali. Many of the demonstrators were armed with machetes, and the focus of their anger appeared to be the moderate or non-aligned members of the
PL
, the
MDR
and the
PSD
parties. Angry crowds prevented the politicians from getting through to the
CND
where the ceremony was to be held. The mobs materialized rapidly, and again, a number of Presidential Guards in civilian clothes, men we recognized, were inciting them.

This swearing-in was also foiled by backstage manipulations of the lists of ministerial and assembly appointments, and the behind-the-scenes tug-of-war between the president and Faustin. At the last moment, the president decided not to attend, and when the politicians, the diplomatic community and the representatives of the
RPF
caught wind of the fact that he wasn't coming, the ceremony degenerated into a shouting match.

Late in the afternoon of January 10, Faustin came to my office and insisted on a private meeting. He was shaking with excitement and fear. I took him out onto the balcony where we could talk without being overheard. Almost breathlessly, he told me that he was in contact with someone inside the Interahamwe who had information he wanted to pass on to
UNAMIR
. I had a moment of wild exhilaration as I realized we might finally have a window on the mysterious third force, the shadowy collection of extremists that had been growing in strength ever since I had arrived in Rwanda.

After Faustin left, I immediately called Luc Marchal and asked him to meet me in my office. I briefed him on Faustin's news and suggested he try to arrange a rendezvous that night. Though I was as excited as he was, I cautioned Luc that the person who had come to Faustin might not be telling the truth and this might possibly be a set-up, and suggested that he take my intelligence officer along with him. I worked as
long as I could and then headed home to the bungalow. Brent and I were both tense with anticipation and said little to each other. I made a pot of tea, sat down to watch some
TV
and tried to relax, but I just couldn't settle. Luc finally got to the bungalow with Claeys and Major Henry Kesteloot, the operations officer of Kigali Sector, at about 2200.