Global Policy Forum

By Ian Fisher

On the Badme Plain, Eritrea - He is a carpenter who became a sniper but who is now very tired of shooting people in this largely overlooked war, deadlier by far than Kosovo. "Personally," said Feshtsion Tesfaldet, his finger on the trigger and his body tucked in a sandy trench here, "I don't want to see anyone else get killed." Rifle fire still rings out and mortar rounds still drop down, but after 15 months of a particularly senseless conflict, the killing may in fact stop soon along the disputed border of Eritrea and its larger neighbor, Ethiopia. Eritrea has accepted all points of a peace plan. Ethiopia is asking questions about only a few details.

Nothing is certain, but President Clinton said last Monday that, "believe it or not," a deal seems near between the two allies of the United States on the Horn of Africa. He then mentioned the war's most ghastly aspect: 70,000 soldiers had died, he said, though his estimate was higher than most so far. Before the war began in May 1998, few countries held as much promise as Ethiopia and Eritrea, both poor but industrious and growing economically. And so the war -- fought in trenches with sickening numbers of casualties -- has been a depressing rebuke to so many hopes for Africa.

The nations' allies watched in horror as Ethiopia and Eritrea turned their strengths against each other. They bought millions of dollars of warplanes and tanks and dug trenches. Ethiopia apparently spent thousands of young lives in human-wave assaults on Eritrea's positions, and bodies still lie in plain view, rotting in the rain. The carnage has been great, and the distrust remains high between the two nations, once so close that the war felt like a domestic spat come to blows. That has made peace hard to find, even now when the disagreements have dwindled to a relatively few technicalities. "We have never been so close to a peace agreement as now," said one Western diplomat in Eritrea. "Which doesn't mean we will have peace in the next few hours."

Neither nation will discuss the details that divide them. But they agree on much of a plan drafted by the Organization for African Unity and pushed by the United States and the United Nations. The plan calls for a cease-fire; for both sides to withdraw from disputed territory along their 625-mile border; and for outside observers, possibly United Nations peacekeepers, to monitor the accord. Meanwhile, the United Nations will finally do what did not happen when Eritrea became independent from Ethiopia in 1993: demarcate the border, based on old maps drawn up by Eritrea's colonizer, Italy. The question is especially tricky here along the Badme plain, where the war began and which both sides claim as their own.

In May 1998, after a series of border incidents, Eritrean soldiers marched into the town of Badme, wresting it from the Ethiopian administration. Ethiopia declared war. On the surface, the battles were over Badme, but they were fueled by long tensions over trade and how to live in the same region as equals. In the peace plan, diplomats say each side wins something. But many Eritreans say Ethiopia comes out on top because Eritrea must withdraw first from the parts of Badme it still holds, a tacit admission that it was first to use the might of its military to settle a border question. Ethiopia can also administer areas it once held while the borders are drawn up. "It's the most suitable compromise, especially for Ethiopia," said one Eritrean soldier, Girmay Ogbu, 35, here at the front. "If they don't sign this, the world will realize that Ethiopia doesn't want peace." Still Ethiopia has not signed off on the plan.

Selome Taddesse, a spokeswoman for Ethiopia, noted that her nation had accepted the bulk of the plan last year, when Eritrea had not. She said Ethiopia was "100 percent committed" to the plan but had questions that must be answered by the Organization for African Unity. "Our questions are very specific," she said. "Our opinion is, the more we are specific, the more there is a guarantee for peace." Diplomats say two major issues concern whether Ethiopian authorities may carry guns when their administration returns to Badme while the border is being drawn, and what power the outside observers will have to act on complaints by Eritreans living, at least temporarily, under Ethiopian control. Many people in Eritrea, a proud nation of fighters, believe, though, that Ethiopia's objections mask an intention to reignite the fighting once the rainy season ends in September.

For 30 years, Eritreans battled against Ethiopia to win independence. They beat the former dictator, Mengistu Haile Mariam, in 1991 alongside a group of Ethiopian rebels who are who now in power in Addis Ababa. But Eritrea's departure left Ethiopia landlocked, and there is still is some sentiment in Ethiopia that Eritrea should not have been allowed its independence. Eritreans believe that Ethiopia may want to either reclaim Eritrea or replace its current Government, led by President Isaias Afwerki , with one friendlier to Ethiopia. "What's wrong with Ethiopia is they think they can easily disintegrate Eritrea," said Mehretu Ghebretensae, an Eritrean journalist and former fighter. "They think that by changing the Government they can recolonize Eritrea. That's impossible. Eritrea is in the blood of every Eritrean."

Ethiopia denies that it wants either to take territory or to topple Afwerki. The goal, officials there say, is to prove that Eritrea cannot use force to settle political problems, such as who owns Badme. Along the front here -- where soldiers still skirmish at night from trenches only 50 or so yards apart -- the Eritreans say they are skeptical that Ethiopia really wants peace. Some say Ethiopia will not stop until it captures Asmara, Eritrea's capital. As gunfire blasted between the trenches, Capt. Gebrehiwet Abebe, 39, said Ethiopia's leaders fear peace because that means they will have to explain to the people the enormous number of soldiers killed.

Neither side will release figures, but many analysts here and in Ethiopia estimate that at least 40,000 people have died in the war -- and most believe that Ethiopia suffered by far the higher casualties because it was largely on the offensive. One diplomat here estimated that Ethiopia had lost three soldiers for every Eritrean who died. "They don't want to answer that question," Captain Abebe said. "That's why they don't want peace. But with pressure from the outside world, it's possible." But Eritrea's leaders may too have to answer to their people once the war is over. Its losses on the battlefield may not be as high, but many Eritreans have died fighting for a piece of land that may, in fact, end up belonging to Ethiopia. That could mean trouble for Afwerki. And it is a possibility many soldiers here, who have watched friends die for Badme, do not like to contemplate. "We know it's our land," Captain Abebe said tightly. "Don't ask that question."