On one side an improvised army of young warriors from black communities involved in a rebellion asking to share the wealth of Darfur with the population. On the other side, the central government, the only authority power dominated by Arab tribes. Its answer to rebellion: strength and the arming of the « jenjaweeds » militias, « the cavalrymen of the devil ». Vulnerable, weak, the civilians of Darfur were forced to flee, to give up everything. Today, more than two millions of people were hit by those attacks. They cram in camps in hundreds of thousands. Nobody can see how to resolve the crisis in order to avoid them settling down and by doing so starting to build ghetto cities and playing in the Sudanese government hands.
Having lost everything, even their families, the young boys of Darfur have joined in mass one of the fives bases of their elder rebels, spread out in the area. They are called th SLA, the Soldiers of the Liberation Army of Darfur. They are between 15 and 25 years old they have made their choice: « save the country. And take back from the government their meal ». They are students, teenagers in their home, they became rebels for the sake of an ideal of equality. So they patrol in villages, take in hand their territory make their voices and arms heard. Never in the same place every night. They move the camp every two or three days as soon as they feel some impending danger. For them war means to wait. To wait for the stumble, the mistakes of the enemy. And attack the police stations in order, to loot, to plunder its ammunitions and overrun the strategic towns. They travel or move without drawing attention to themselves, without being noticed, carrying their makeshift camping equipments to avoid being spotted. Those rebels have taken up the strategy of “ghost soldiers” waiting in ambush, armed observers, ready to dash… When they aren’t on patrol they pitch their tents which are worn black, spot a ground, they use it as a sport or training ground. Their out of date patched up arms such as some rocket launchers dating back to the fifties are their answer of revolutionary men, backed by the villagers and their chadian brothers.
In the heart of Darfur, which is put to fire and the sword, drown in confusion of fighting, the younger generation commits itself. Into a deadlock? For what future? When those young men gather, hidden away in the forest, they reload the batteries of the satellite phone, play with a movie digital camera that we don’t know where it comes from and have for breakfast, lunch and dinner tea with rice. The slips often happen when one of them lit up a joint rolled in a piece of newspaper.
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