MK254
JF-Expert Member
- May 11, 2013
- 32,238
- 50,413
Hii hapa ni taarifa kutoka kwa mwanahabari Mrundi, jinsi uhuni wa kila aina unavyoendelezwa Burundi.
As a Burundian who grew up outside my home country, never in my life had I experienced the level of violence I have recently seen in Bujumbura.
I was not in Burundi during the civil war, I only came back in 2007 after graduating from college to start my career as a journalist. And then last year I found myself in the middle of a political crisis, not as a player but as a impartial observer.
It all started with the Burundi parliament’s failure to amend the Constitution to bar President Pierre Nkurunziza from running for a third term, which set off efforts by the opposition and civil society organisations to try and stop him.
Civil society and the international community warned that the gains of the country’s 10 years of peace and stability could be reversed if the Arusha Accord were violated and President Nkurunziza vied for a third term.
I spoke with many of these organisations but I didn’t think much of their warnings. I was too naïve to foresee what is happening now in Burundi.
When the debate on the Arusha Accord and term limits started, I expected the ruling CNDD-FDD to provide guidance.
I remember the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Zeid Ra’ad Al Hussien on a visit to Bujumbura saying, “Innocent civilians will have to pay the price for any mistake politicians will make.”
On April 25, the CNDD-FDD congress took place. Security was beefed up in the capital and, on my way to the party headquarters, which is just 3km from my home, I saw dozens of ruling party youth wingers, known as Imbonerakure, dressed in white T-shirts and black pants patrolling the streets. I was stopped three times for security checks, as the presidential guards had blocked the roads.
Overloaded buses brought in hundreds of ruling party supporters from the provinces to the capital, making the party headquarters look like a pilgrimage site.
Journalists waited outside for the news of the party’s flag-bearer for almost five hours. Then we were invited inside and Pascal Nyabenda, the ruling party chairperson, declared the president the party’s candidate.
Celebrations started outside and the government issued a warning to whoever participated in protests that they would be severely dealt with.
Then Bujumbura erupted. Radio stations started live broadcasts. Correspondents were reporting from different Bujumbura suburbs: I was in Nyakabiga when the first group of protesters were dispersed by police using teargas. Then the picture of a young boy who was allegedly shot dead by the police flooded social media.
I thought that would strike fear among the protesters but it served as a rallying point for them, with the riots spreading to other parts of the town.
As the days passed, the protests became more and more violent and the ground became dangerous for reporters. We had to choose our sides carefully. When I went to cover the protests in Musaga, I had to stay with the police.
Protesters burnt car tyres and pelted the police with stones. The police responded with teargas and live bullets.
One of the police officers told me, “See those wearing police uniforms without service numbers? They are Imbonerakure.” They were young and lacked the expertise in quelling riots, so many were injured.
Many civilians lost their lives in the violence. Bujumbura became a hotspot of protests while other provinces were calm. But people started fleeing the countryside.
I visited Muyinga, a province in the north sharing a border with Rwanda, some of whose residents had fled to Rwanda for fear of being killed after leaflets attributed to the Imbonerakure warned that they would be attacked. I met the Imbonerakure leader in Muyinga, who denied that they were behind the leaflets.
Back in Bujumbura, things were at boiling point. The protesters and security forces always followed news updates from different media, and blacklisted some for alleged biased reporting.
I remember one protester asking me which media organisation I was from.
“Don’t tell me you are from the national broadcaster or France24,” he said menacingly.
There were places journalists from the national broadcaster would not set foot and others where private and international media representatives could not go so we had to keep a list of where to go and where not to venture.
On May 13, the failed coup happened. I consider it a media coup in Burundi. When General Godefroid Niyombare announced the ouster of President Nkurunziza, the next 24 hours were characterised by a media blackout.
When the coup was announced, Isanganiro FM and Bonesha FM were the only independent private radio stations after the Radio Publique Africaine (RPA) was shut down. The coup plotters reopened the station and went on air as the battle for control of the national broadcaster raged on.
That same evening, the Rema radio and TV stations, owned by the ruling party, were set on fire.
Local journalists panicked amid reports that Bonesha and Isanganiro had been ordered closed by the authorities after being accused of supporting the coup. Journalists started fleeing the country and I too was afraid.
My mother has lived in Uganda for more than 30 years. She kept calling, asking me to leave the country, but I thought it wasn’t a good idea. What I did was to visit and convince her that I was safe. It was an emotional meeting when I arrived in Kampala.
Since President Nkurunziza was re-elected in July, senior government officials, opposition supporters and leaders and ordinary citizens have been killed. As a Burundian, I feel sad that people are now getting used to the sounds of gunfire.
I just pray for an end to the madness.
In the thick of things: A reporter’s dalliance with death in Bujumbura
As a Burundian who grew up outside my home country, never in my life had I experienced the level of violence I have recently seen in Bujumbura.
I was not in Burundi during the civil war, I only came back in 2007 after graduating from college to start my career as a journalist. And then last year I found myself in the middle of a political crisis, not as a player but as a impartial observer.
It all started with the Burundi parliament’s failure to amend the Constitution to bar President Pierre Nkurunziza from running for a third term, which set off efforts by the opposition and civil society organisations to try and stop him.
Civil society and the international community warned that the gains of the country’s 10 years of peace and stability could be reversed if the Arusha Accord were violated and President Nkurunziza vied for a third term.
I spoke with many of these organisations but I didn’t think much of their warnings. I was too naïve to foresee what is happening now in Burundi.
When the debate on the Arusha Accord and term limits started, I expected the ruling CNDD-FDD to provide guidance.
I remember the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Zeid Ra’ad Al Hussien on a visit to Bujumbura saying, “Innocent civilians will have to pay the price for any mistake politicians will make.”
On April 25, the CNDD-FDD congress took place. Security was beefed up in the capital and, on my way to the party headquarters, which is just 3km from my home, I saw dozens of ruling party youth wingers, known as Imbonerakure, dressed in white T-shirts and black pants patrolling the streets. I was stopped three times for security checks, as the presidential guards had blocked the roads.
Overloaded buses brought in hundreds of ruling party supporters from the provinces to the capital, making the party headquarters look like a pilgrimage site.
Journalists waited outside for the news of the party’s flag-bearer for almost five hours. Then we were invited inside and Pascal Nyabenda, the ruling party chairperson, declared the president the party’s candidate.
Celebrations started outside and the government issued a warning to whoever participated in protests that they would be severely dealt with.
Then Bujumbura erupted. Radio stations started live broadcasts. Correspondents were reporting from different Bujumbura suburbs: I was in Nyakabiga when the first group of protesters were dispersed by police using teargas. Then the picture of a young boy who was allegedly shot dead by the police flooded social media.
I thought that would strike fear among the protesters but it served as a rallying point for them, with the riots spreading to other parts of the town.
As the days passed, the protests became more and more violent and the ground became dangerous for reporters. We had to choose our sides carefully. When I went to cover the protests in Musaga, I had to stay with the police.
Protesters burnt car tyres and pelted the police with stones. The police responded with teargas and live bullets.
One of the police officers told me, “See those wearing police uniforms without service numbers? They are Imbonerakure.” They were young and lacked the expertise in quelling riots, so many were injured.
Many civilians lost their lives in the violence. Bujumbura became a hotspot of protests while other provinces were calm. But people started fleeing the countryside.
I visited Muyinga, a province in the north sharing a border with Rwanda, some of whose residents had fled to Rwanda for fear of being killed after leaflets attributed to the Imbonerakure warned that they would be attacked. I met the Imbonerakure leader in Muyinga, who denied that they were behind the leaflets.
Back in Bujumbura, things were at boiling point. The protesters and security forces always followed news updates from different media, and blacklisted some for alleged biased reporting.
I remember one protester asking me which media organisation I was from.
“Don’t tell me you are from the national broadcaster or France24,” he said menacingly.
There were places journalists from the national broadcaster would not set foot and others where private and international media representatives could not go so we had to keep a list of where to go and where not to venture.
On May 13, the failed coup happened. I consider it a media coup in Burundi. When General Godefroid Niyombare announced the ouster of President Nkurunziza, the next 24 hours were characterised by a media blackout.
When the coup was announced, Isanganiro FM and Bonesha FM were the only independent private radio stations after the Radio Publique Africaine (RPA) was shut down. The coup plotters reopened the station and went on air as the battle for control of the national broadcaster raged on.
That same evening, the Rema radio and TV stations, owned by the ruling party, were set on fire.
Local journalists panicked amid reports that Bonesha and Isanganiro had been ordered closed by the authorities after being accused of supporting the coup. Journalists started fleeing the country and I too was afraid.
My mother has lived in Uganda for more than 30 years. She kept calling, asking me to leave the country, but I thought it wasn’t a good idea. What I did was to visit and convince her that I was safe. It was an emotional meeting when I arrived in Kampala.
Since President Nkurunziza was re-elected in July, senior government officials, opposition supporters and leaders and ordinary citizens have been killed. As a Burundian, I feel sad that people are now getting used to the sounds of gunfire.
I just pray for an end to the madness.
In the thick of things: A reporter’s dalliance with death in Bujumbura
