Global Policy Forum

By Norimitsu Onishi

In the last days leading up to Sierra Leone's first elections since its brutal civil war, ebullient crowds have filled the streets downtown, dancing, singing and sweating in the swelter that blankets Freetown just before the rains.

"Wu teh teh!" many cry. "Everything is plentiful!" Foday Sankoh, the rebel leader whose forces spread terror by slicing off people's hands, is a fading memory. The once mythic bush fighter has been reduced to a small imprisoned figure in dreadlocks who speaks incoherently and refuses to bathe. "Mentally imbalanced," as the current leader of his party put it.

To anyone who witnessed the invasion of Freetown in January 1999, which left thousands of bodies on these same streets, the jubilant throngs were a clear sign of how much things have changed in this West African nation. Only two years ago, Sierra Leone teetered on the edge as the rebels outsmarted a helpless and humiliated United Nations peacekeeping force.

But after huge investments from Western nations, peace was declared in January this year. The rebels have been vanquished; British-trained soldiers of the new army and United Nations troops are stationed across the land, including the diamond mines that fueled the conflict. The elections on Tuesday, if they go smoothly, are expected to lead to the phasing out over the next year of the United Nations force of 17,400.

Whether Sierra Leone can survive without that umbrella is the question that looms over the elections. Despite the governing party's campaign slogan -- "Wu teh teh!" -- the war has destroyed nearly everything in this country.

"The peace that we have achieved in the country remains fragile," said Margaret Novicki, spokeswoman for the United Nations mission, adding that former militia men have continued to dig for diamonds in the east.

Alan Doss, the United Nations deputy special representative for governance and stabilization, speaks of "fault lines" that were at the roots of the war and that could derail peace: corrupt government and diamonds, which enriched only an elite.

Despite a few skirmishes, the presidential and parliamentary campaign has been peaceful. In 1996, rebels reacted to losing by cutting off the hands of people who had voted against them. About 2.3 million people, perhaps half the population, have registered to vote, but there has been little voter education. "A lot of people don't know that elections are taking place," Johann van Hecke, the leader of the European Union's observation mission, said of rural areas. But here in the capital, political parties have held daily rallies in the last week.

"This time it's different -- it's not like 1996," said Sheku Bangura, 48, who was attending a rally last week. "No violence. No intimidation. No kidnapping. These are real elections for Sierra Leone's future."

President Ahmed Tejan Kabbah is expected to be re-elected. He has always depended on outsiders for survival, first the West African peacekeepers, led by Nigerians, then the United Nations and Britain. Most Sierra Leoneans, though, regard him as personally honest, unlike other members of his Sierra Leone People's Party.

Mr. Kabbah, like many of the eight other presidential candidates, portrays himself as best qualified to keep the peace. "This peace which we have -- are you ready to take chances with somebody who hasn't got the experience?" he said at a huge rally on Saturday. He pleaded for tolerance, particularly toward the former fighters. "All ex-combatants who have come forward begging for forgiveness," he said, "let us receive them as brothers and sisters."

With politics now leading to power, transformations have taken place, though how deep they are remains unclear.

Johnny Paul Koroma, a warlord who was an army officer, has undergone the most remarkable metamorphosis. He became unpopular after staging a coup in 1997, allying himself with the rebels and leading soldiers responsible for many atrocities. In May 2000 he switched sides and, in many people's eyes, saved Freetown from the rebels. Now he is back as a born-again Christian leader of his own Peace and Liberation Party. His rally last week was an often surreal mix. Cries of "Jesus!" mixed with less polite cries from former rebels visibly drunk or high on drugs. "Vote for the Angel. J. P. Koroma," read many T-shirts. "Flap for the angel!" cried one emotional supporter, flapping his arms. When Mr. Koroma arrived, it became clear that he had shed the most colorful reminders of his rebel past.

One regular bodyguard -- an always friendly man called Hiroshima Bomb, who usually wore a skirt and tank top over mountains of muscles and a necklace of ammunition rounds -- was nowhere in sight. Mr. Bomb lost his job to new bodyguards, who got into a shoving match with other supporters and were sweating heavily in their black leather jackets.

In an interview, Mr. Koroma said he alone could guarantee peace. "I'm a Christian," he said. "My running mate is a Muslim. We are men of God." He added he would provide full employment, medical care and free schooling.

A few blocks away, the rebel party's candidate, Pallo Bangura, brushed away such pledges, saying, "Most Sierra Leoneans know those are empty promises." He added that the only priority was peace, which, he said, only his party could secure. Mr. Bangura said he had been unaware of the rebels' atrocities but he acknowledged a problem, saying: "It's a fact that most fingers point at the R.U.F. in terms of atrocities and amputations. It's something we have to cope with."

The challenge in rebuilding Sierra Leone can be measured at a military camp on Freetown's outskirts, where former rebels and pro-government militiamen are being trained together for the new army.

About 2,300 troops have gone through a nine-week training course supervised by British officers. Maj. David Estyn-Jones listed their strengths ("fit," "enthusiastic," "tolerant") and their weaknesses ("lack of grit," "corrupt").

Last week, at an early voting day for the military, former enemies lined up together to cast ballots. "Peace will stay depending on how the government will rule," said Khalitalul Stevens, a former pro-government militiaman in his 30's. "If the government makes the same mistakes as before, there will be a problem." But, he said, "in Sierra Leone, our paramount expectation is peace."

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