In Darfur, a shared will to fight

MUHAJARA, Sudan -- Tarjab Jalab, a sinewy, bearded rebel commander in the Sudan Liberation Army militia, limped across this scarred and half-empty village on a bandaged foot. Dozens of leather pouches hung from his arms and legs, each containing Koranic verses.

The amulets had not saved Jalab from being shot by progovernment militiamen, but he was eager for battle.

''We will keep fighting," he vowed one recent morning, as young men clanking with guns and grenades listened to his combat instructions, then clambered into three pickups and roared off in clouds of dust. ''Darfur is not over."

Forty miles from Muhajara, in another charred village called Marla, Mussa Mohamed Hassab, a hulking tribal militia leader, sipped tea and surveyed Darfur's war from the other side. Hassab, 47, said his tribal security force had pledged its allegiance to the Sudanese government to keep fighting the rebels.

''It's a war," declared Hassab, who wore a billowing white robe and leopard-skin slippers. ''We were told to fight by the government. We also wish for this. Why would we stop now?"

In some ways, the towns of Muhajara and Marla are virtually identical. Both swarm with teenage soldiers, swimming in baggy camouflage outfits and lugging Kalashnikov assault rifles. Both are half-deserted, haunted by hungry, sick people who have been pushed off their land into sweltering camps. Both groups of inhabitants resent the combatants' presence and wish the fighting would end.

But neither militia, it became clear after visits of several days to each town, is in a hurry to put down its guns.

Although the International Criminal Court in The Hague is seeking to prosecute a number of Darfur's war crime suspects, including government officials and rebel leaders, there are few signs of change in this vast, ravaged region of western Sudan after more than two years of conflict, flight, and suffering.

Civilians remain trapped in camps and reliant on aid, and villages continue to be burned. Rebel groups have become fractured and more difficult to negotiate with, while officials are finding it tougher to rein in the government-allied Janjaweed militiamen. The small force of about 2,400 African Union peacekeepers has not been able to curb the violence.

Trying to persuade nearly 2 million people to return home has proved futile, according to aid officials. Permanent mud houses are being built in dozens of camps, replacing the flimsy shelters of sticks and plastic. Women collecting firewood are still raped so often that aid groups have introduced fuel-efficient stoves to discourage them from venturing outside the camps.

Now, there are growing fears that Darfur's struggle may join the list of long, intractable conflicts on the African continent, including northern Uganda's 19-year war and Burundi's 12-year civil war, in which sporadic fighting has continued despite several peace plans.

Sudanese officials have questioned the Hague process, suggesting that an international court could not understand the complexities of Sudanese society and that the trials might add to instability. Foreign observers agree that a court thousands of miles away will not be enough to make combatants relinquish their weapons.

''Court or no court, everyone is very scared here," said B.M. Anuwa, a Nigerian Army lieutenant on patrol near Muhajara. ''We have serious problems. This is not the season of peace for Darfur. Unless more is done, Darfur will keep suffering."

Under the scorching sun, slender boys follow herds of bony cattle and goats across the parched fields surrounding Marla. A semiautomatic rifle swinging from each boy's shoulder. These days, every male in the community must carry a weapon.

The town is under the control of the Janjaweed and government troops, but Hassab, the militia leader, said Sudan Liberation Army fighters recently killed a 24-year-old herder and stole 570 animals.

Marla, once a prosperous town of 5,000, was known for its production of gum arabic, a tree sap used in soft drinks, chewing gum, and other goods. Now it is a vacant, scarred vista of ruined huts and abandoned fields. The market is gutted, the mosque burned. The only civilians left are those who once worked in the market, were trapped by fighting, and stayed on to sell goods to Hassab's men and the soldiers.

Although Marla seems relatively calm, in some ways it is a militarized town. Late last year, residents and African Union officials said, Sudan Liberation Army forces were driven out of the area by Janjaweed and government troops.

Once the rebels left, militiamen began tearing down half-ruined huts and using the materials to build their own. When African Union troops tried to intervene, the Janjaweed resisted until they backed off.

The Janjaweed originally were enlisted by the Khartoum government to crush the rebel insurgency, which arose to protest the political and geographic marginalization of African tribes. Officials now assert that the militiamen have escaped their control and become an entrenched, autonomous force.

Hassab said his fighters had been given identification cards, weapons, and small amounts of grain or cash by government forces to attack rebels. He said they had come to feel like a permanent force.