Liberia Teeters Along the Edge of a Humanitarian Disaster

Inside the kitchen of the U.S. Embassy in this battle-scarred West African capital, members of five different ethnic groups are working side by side.

One Liberian pours pancake batter into a pan and hands it to the cook. Another is taking inventory. To his right, a man is writing up a receipt. To his left, the cashier is ringing up a bill. Together, they run the kitchen as smooth as grease--and nobody is quarreling.

As a lively chatter picks up, it’s clear the employees are united in another way too. The words tumbling out spell frustration and anger at the vicious ethnic conflict that has been raging outside the embassy’s walls since April 6.

“The government people are rogues. The rebels are rogues,” one disgruntled worker says. “Everybody is a rogue.”

From kitchens to hotel lobbies to a refugee camp in Monrovia, ordinary Liberians are cursing their nation’s plunge back into anarchy. But their collective grumbling is falling on deaf ears. In the streets, machete-wielding gangs continue to loot and burn stores while heavily armed factions try to annihilate one another, ignoring a truce imposed only Friday.

The carnage took a turn for the worse Tuesday. According to reports, heavy shelling pounded the streets of Monrovia. One rocket crashed into a bombed-out church, and bodies were strewn throughout the city as warlords battled for control of territory.

As the U.S. military evacuation of foreign nationals winds down and with Marines due to arrive Saturday to help secure the embassy and its nearby residential compound, new concerns are emerging. Most foreign relief agencies are leaving, and aid workers fear that Liberia is on the verge of a humanitarian disaster. And if the bloodletting escalates beyond Monrovia’s limits, observers say, fighting could spill over into neighboring nations, such as Sierra Leone.

“I see something close to anarchy for the next several weeks,” said Herbert Howe, head of the African studies department at Georgetown University’s School of Foreign Service.

Liberia holds an important place in U.S. history. In 1822, a group of American philanthropists bought chunks of land in West Africa to resettle several thousand freed slaves and called it Liberia. In 1847, the new arrivals declared their territory an independent republic.

In the Cold War scramble for Africa, Liberia remained a staunch ally of the United States while many of its neighbors received support from the Soviet Union. For 133 years, Monrovia’s seat of power was, for the most part, held by descendants of the freed American slaves.

But in April 1980, Master Sgt. Samuel K. Doe overthrew and killed President William R. Tolbert Jr. in a military coup, giving Liberia’s indigenous ethnic groups real power for the first time since 1822. Within weeks, Doe had a vice-like grip on the nation.

In 1989, opposition factions led by warlords Prince Johnson and Charles Taylor triggered a civil war, and by 1990 they had seized control of much of the country. Refugees flowed into neighboring countries; Americans and other foreigners were evacuated as U.S. warships were anchored off Monrovia.

After Doe was killed, the warlords turned on each other. To further complicate matters, there were factional splits with new, equally ruthless power-mongers in charge. In August, a peace pact was hammered out in Abuja, Nigeria, creating a shaky coalition government.

The recent carnage is a grisly repeat of 1990. The accord between seven rival factions, most of them ethnically based, unraveled 11 days ago when the coalition government tried to arrest Krahn tribal faction leader Roosevelt Johnson (no relation to Prince Johnson) on murder charges.

Fighting soon erupted between Krahn fighters loyal to Johnson and those who support Taylor and another warlord, Alhaji Kromah, prompting the United States to evacuate more than 2,000 people, including 406 Americans. Thirty-eight Americans registered with the embassy are still believed to be in Liberia, preferring not to leave, embassy officials say.

For most analysts, the new spate of violence comes as no surprise: Thirteen peace pacts have shattered and more than 150,000 Liberians have died since the conflict erupted in 1989.

“The fact is we’re pulling out, but Liberians still have to deal with the [war],” said Dave Decker, 38, a missionary from Minneapolis, before boarding a U.S. helicopter bound for Sierra Leone. “That’s what makes it so hard for us to leave.”

Here, perhaps, is the most troubling aspect of the current mayhem. Many Liberians feel betrayed by the swift departure of the international community--and they fear for their future.

Nowhere are these sentiments more apparent than in Graystone, a residential complex next to the U.S. Embassy that has been transformed into a vast refugee camp.

“We are suffering. We have no food or money. The rebels are killing our children,” said David Rouss, 40, who arrived with 18 family members last week. “Our lives are in your hands. When you [foreigners] all leave, the rebels will kill everyone here.”

In Sierra Leone, many worry that Liberia’s conflict could disrupt their own war-plagued nation’s long march to peace, as happened in 1990.

Trade between the two nations has slowed dramatically. Sierra Leone’s government has beefed up its border security.

It remains to be seen what will happen to the 10,000-strong Economic Community of West African States peacekeepers in Liberia. Tuesday, Nigeria announced that it is considering removing its 8,000 troops, citing safety concerns.

Whether this departure will occur is a big question. In recent days, the peacekeepers have come under heavy criticism for not doing enough to stop the bloodletting in Monrovia. Analysts say one solution would be to boost their strength by giving them a mandate to enforce peace.

Another path to peace might involve the warlords. U.S. Ambassador to Liberia William Milam said he is in touch with the various factions but acknowledged that there is a long road ahead to any enduring peace agreement.

“Everybody wants someone to make the first move, which means nobody will,” he said. “It’s very frustrating.”

Most of all for the average Liberian. In the Graystone compound, Ida Page, 36, a mother of eight, angrily pointed to the bloated stomach of one of her malnourished children and said:

“I blame the factions and the government. As leaders, they should have had a dialogue. If they had, we wouldn’t be here in this situation today.”