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Liberia's child soldiers dream of return to normal life
Feature 25 September 2003


We’ve been stopped. A teenage boy approaches, AK-47 in hand. We smile and roll down the window. “Where you going?”, he asks. “We’re going to Buchanan. We’re from UNICEF. We’re going to help the children over there.”

“UNICEF”, he says slowly, his eyes checking over the front seat. Not in any systematic way, but in a slow, uncaring sort of way. “UNICEF”, he repeats. “UN-I-CEF”. He keeps looking, not saying anything more, making no motion for us to leave or stay. His fingers are curled over the rolled-down window. He seems a bit lost, a bit lonely and quite bored. After a few moments of awkward silence and no indication whether we should stay or go, we ask, “How are you doing out here?” He seems to come out of the fog for a moment. “Me? How I am doing? I’m too tired. Me want to eat. I’m hungry. We got no food.”

We’re at the MODEL Rebel Gate 3-Checkpoint, manned by the 10 boys of Company C. They prefer to be known by their war-names: Two Tons of Trouble; General Lucifer; Prince; MODEL Baby, etc. But after awhile, they also answer to their real, apparently more mundane names: Patrick, Michael, Albert, James …

“We are MODEL Special Forces: Fire Reply Fire!”, declares Prince, the commander of Company C. “We been fighting for over a year now. Fighting to get rid of that gangster Taylor!”

“But you’ve won, then”, we say. “Taylor’s left Liberia. You can stop fighting.”

“Well, maybe that so”, replies Prince, after a few moments silence and a glance to the right. He seems a bit confused by the logic. “But, anyway, we got orders to stay here until war is over. We goin’ liberate Liberia and the Liberian people from that gangster Taylor and the bad government soldiers!”

By this time, we’ve got out of the vehicle because the rest of Company C has gathered around and they want to rap for a bit and forget the monotony of manning the thin, ragged cord that serves as their forlorn checkpoint ‘barrier’ across the twolane asphalt highway. They’ve also seen my camera and they all want their pictures taken.

“How old are you guys?”, we say. “We big men!”, says Two Tons of Trouble, brandishing his AK-47 – although it seems more an act of self-assurance than of aggression. “I know you’re big men, but how old are you?” A few moments of silence again and then the numbers come tumbling out: 26; 22; 21; 20; etc. In fact, they look to be between 14-17 years of age, although their eyes seem to be both more hardened, and more desperate, than their years. Only MODEL Baby gives what seems to be an honest answer. “I will be 17 this year”, he says. “I was in school 2 years ago, but then the war came and I was taken to fight.”

There are approximately 15,000 children like Patrick, Michael, Albert and James in Liberia. They are Liberia’s child soldiers – fighting for government forces and the LURD and MODEL rebel groups. The vast majority has been forcibly recruited to fight, by all parties to the conflict. They often come from poor families, from the displaced, many are uneducated or school dropouts, others are captured in their villages or they and their families are simply threatened with death if they don’t join up. Often, they are drugged to make them brave and dull them into submission. The drugs also help quell their fear and loneliness as well as firing them up to do the unspeakable.

“What’s it like to be fighting in the bush?”, we ask. “How’s it in the bush? Fighting? Man, you crazy. It’s tough!”, says Prince. “It’s no fun to be sleeping on the dirty ground in the bush, tired and wet, sometimes sick. But we got no choice. We either live or we die. We big men – we not scared!”

“It’s tough in the bush”, says the ‘General’, who, despite his rank, is still ruled over by Prince. “They always be shooting at us.” His eyes are infected, red, crusty with pus. “We’ve been fighting our way through the bush, all the way from River Gee, Sinoe, Maryland, River Cess and other counties. Now we here and we still ready to fight to save Liberia.” He wipes at his nearly swollen-shut, eyes with his dirty t-shirt sleeve.

“We seen plenty of battles”, says Two Tons of Trouble. “Lots of fighting. We all lost friends in our fighting. They got shot and died. I feel too, too bad when my friends get killed, but we got to move on, man.” Bandanas, ball-caps (and in one case, a woman’s wig), on the head are de rigeur, as are t-shirts (Detroit Red Wings, Kentucky Wildcats, Bob Marley), and bullets, crosses, teeth and other amulets worn around the neck. “The bullet here around my neck repels all enemy bullets”, says MODEL Baby quietly. He looks serious, fingering the bullet-amulet as he speaks. But his voice doesn’t sound entirely convincing, not even to himself. Perhaps he’s thinking of a friend who was wearing the same amulets and got hit anyway.

The boys of Company C have been quite polite in answering the questions so far, but they still want their photos taken. “I’m the commander, so I should be in all the photos”, says Prince, arranging his bright red bandana over his head. “The three of us, first” he orders. “You two next – then the rest.” We take the photos and being a digital camera, there’s a complete breakdown of discipline and order as they are immediately shown their image on the screen. “That be me! That be me!”, fingers pushing into the camera’s tiny screen. Everyone’s laughing and no one is going to miss out on his picture being taken. Hearing the commotion, a tough, bad-talking, rebel girl appears out from the bush and insists that her picture is taken too.

Suddenly there’s a loud shout from behind. They’ve completely forgotten their loosely-hung, cord checkpoint for the past 10-15 minutes and the 10th member of Company C - the Deputy Commander - has just arrived. On a broken down bicycle. Two of the younger boys run over quickly at Prince’s order and let the rope down so the Deputy Commander can pass. He quickly joins the group and asks that his picture be taken, too.

Prior to the recent escalation of this summer’s June, July and August hostilities (known in Liberia as World War I, World War II and World War III), UNICEF estimated that there were about 15,000 children involved in the conflict, as either child soldiers or sex slaves to combatants. Rapid assessments in June 2003 identified an escalation in the forced recruitment of children and the levels of rape and sexual violence. Some fighting groups are believed to be comprised of up to 70% children and that up to 80% of them are armed.

“What if your commanders tell you it’s all over and there’s peace. What will you do?” There’s a long silence, finally broken by Prince. “What will I do?” he says. “I want to go to school. I want to be a teacher.” The others burst out laughing, slapping each other on the backs, and for the first time, Prince seems to have lost some respect – lost some ‘bush-cred’.

“It’s not funny!”, shouts Prince, quickly reasserting his authority over Company C. “It’s smart people become teachers!” The rest listen up. Perhaps Prince is right. Out of the 10 boys, 9 say they want to go back to school. Only General Lucifer says he wants to stay on to be a soldier. Why do they want to go to school? “To learn to be a mechanic … to be a driver … to be in the Government … to be a teacher … to be Minister of Defense … to be an NGO and develop Liberia!”, they say.

UNICEF Liberia chairs the Liberia Child Protection Working Group, which brings together all government, UN and NGO organizations that are working on child protection issues in Liberia to ensure a coordinated, effective approach. At the forefront of UNICEF Liberia’s protection strategy is advocacy for the immediate, unconditional disarmament of children, as a first step to a more comprehensive demobilization and reintegration of children associated with fighting forces. The demobilization and reintegration program is planned in a phased process that will link children with an appropriate response, including life-skills training for former child soldiers, to help facilitate their return and acceptance back into their communities. The demobilization and reintegration program will also provide ex-child soldiers with access to psychosocial support, vocational training, health care and education.

“I was in school up to last year”, says MODEL Baby, slowly and quietly. “I liked school but then I had to join MODEL and fight for my country. But now, I hope the war is over and that we can go back home. I want to go back to school. It was better when I was in school, than being in the bush.” No-one laughs at MODEL Baby. “We don’t have any radio here. We don’t know what’s really going on”, says Prince finally. “Maybe our authorities will come and tell us that the war’s finally all over.”

There’s quiet, some uneasiness and most of the boys of Company C are looking down at the ground, at their plastic beach sandals and torn running shoes. But not MODEL Baby - also known as James. James is looking faraway, over his shoulder, his eyes concentrated down the empty highway that might take him home one day. To a new future: away from the bush and maybe even back to school. After all, James wants to be a teacher too – just like Prince.

Information For Donors:

UNICEF Liberia is currently seeking immediate funding for the demobilization and re-integration program for exchild soldiers. The program will help ensure that ex-child soldiers have a bright future that lies beyond the desperation of being forced to fight in the bush. UNICEF Liberia is also supporting the upcoming launch of the Back to School Campaign in Liberia on 3 November 2003. The Back to School Campaign will help an estimated 750,000 Liberian children realize their dreams of becoming a teacher, a mechanic, a driver or a civil servant. UNICEF Liberia is urgently seeking US$2,500,000 for the Back to School Campaign.

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For further information, contact the UNICEF UK Media Office on 0207 430 0162 or media@unicef.org.uk