THE HEART OF DARKNESS

A corpse lay on a grass verge at the entrance to the village of Singa. It was the body of a middle-aged man, his limbs cut with gashes, his face swollen and discoloured by the hot African sun. One of his legs had been gnawed down to the bone by a dog or some wild animal.

We had heard about a massacre at Singa soon after our arrival at the parish of Katwe the night before. Indeed we had heard abundant stories of atrocities committed in eastern Zaire's violent ethnic conflict between Banyarwanda and other tribespeople. But they were difficult to verify. Roads and communications in Kivu province are appalling. News travels slowly and circuitously, often becoming distorted in the process.

We set off early. At the village of Kikuku we found a group of Bahunde men armed with spears and machetes sitting around the ashes of a camp fire. They said they had been attacked by Banyarwanda two days previously. Their women and children had fled and they were staying to defend their homes. Further along the dirt-track we came upon Banyarwanda fighters likewise carrying spears and machetes. They were jumpy and frightened.

Rounding a bend above the village of Nyanzale we could see flames and plumes of smoke rising from houses on both sides of the road. Some wooden buildings and thatched huts were smouldering, others blazing wildly. The place was deserted apart from a handful of people who scattered at the approach of our jeep.

As we entered Singa we could no longer doubt the rumours. The stench of death was almost overwhelming. Inside the door of a low white building, evidently the school, three bodies lay intertwined, their limbs hacked by knives or machetes.

Further down a path towards the village centre stood the church, a long stone building with steps leading up to the front door. Inside the entrance, as if casually tossed onto the floor, was the body of a baby.

The worst of the carnage was contained in the shuttered gloom of a small chapel opposite the church. The air was unbreathable and thick with the buzzing of flies. After the glare outside it took some seconds for the scene to reveal itself. In the corner to the right of the door lay a mound of bodies, bloody and disfigured. Men, women and children were piled obscenely, one on top of the other. In the centre of the room, among upturned benches and debris, a large woman reclined on her back, her domed stomach exposed and her arms stretched wide as if welcoming her terrible fate. I counted 15 bodies but perhaps there were more.

A group of armed Banyarwanda appeared as if from nowhere. They were nervous but, realising that a 'muzungu' (white person) posed no threat, they relaxed and led me through the village. Corpses were scattered everywhere, in the open and in the mud huts whose contents had been wrecked and pillaged. The man said 76 bodies had so far been counted though there were more in the forest. The attack had taken place a week before our arrival earlier this month. It seemed the neighbouring villagers had been too frightened or too preoccupied to bury the dead.

The attackers were a mixture of Bahunde and other tribespeople, said the men. Some were from Kikuku, the village through which we had just passed, others were from further away. They struck early in the morning, surprising the inhabitants and displaced people living in Singa. Many took refuge in the chapel thinking they would be safe there. But the killers were merciless and thorough, cutting the Banyarwanda down with spears, knives and machetes. Some of the Bahunde were armed with hunting rifles.

North Kivu is being torn apart by a vicious war between 'true' Zaireans or 'autochtones'. Some are economic migrants, others are the descendants of Rwandans who found themselves on Zairean territory after boundaries were redrawn during the colonial period when both Zaire and Rwanda were governed by Belgium.

The Banyarwanda have built up a reputation for hard work and have acquired large tracts of land in eastern Zaire for cultivation and cattle rearing. The lush hills and valleys of Banyrwanda areas are characterised by carefully tended fields and fertile pastures. But these farmers enjoy meagre status, often having to pay exacting taxes to their Bahunde and other tribal masters.

In late March, Banyarwanda in the small town of Walikale started to agitate for long-promised reform and appointed their own local representatives. The backlash from Bahunde and other 'native' tribespeople was immediate and increasingly violent, spreading like a flash flood through the region.

Two international aid agencies operating in Kivu, Oxfam and Médicins Sans Frontières (MSF), estimate that as many as 6,000 people have been killed and 200,000 been made homeless during the last three months. But accurate figures are impossible to assemble in such inaccessible terrain. Population centres are scattered, insecurity is extreme and many prefer to hide in the forest than to risk the open roads.

Fighting has degenerated into a vicious cycle of killing and counter-killing among these people who for years managed to cohabitate peacefully enough. In some areas Banyarwanda have turned on each other, with Hutus butchering the minority Tutsis.

Along a 500-kilometre route we passed through more than a hundred devastated villages - homes have been burned and looted, cattle have been stolen and crops abandoned. This is harvest time in Kivu, the food basket of Zaire, but people are too afraid to tend the fields. As if in the Middle Ages, thousands have taken refuge in remote monasteries and parish centres, bringing whatever few pathetic belongings they have been able to salvage.

Diseases, particularly malaria and meningitis, are widespread among the displaced people. The injured receive little or no treatment as most health centres have been looted and abandoned by their staff.

On a forest road we came upon a group of Banyanga carrying a young man on a stretcher, his leg badly infected from a spear wound. His name was Benjamin Busho and he said he was the only survivor from a group of nine men who had been attacked by Banyarwanda. He had escaped to the forest where he had hid for nearly two weeks, too afraid to venture out.

At last, some comrades decided he needed medical attention. We found a small health centre but the doctor was unable to treat him. He said his leg would probably have to be amputated. We were able to take the wounded man to a hospital in a village called Pinga but even there his fate was uncertain. Two days previously, two Banyrwanda patients had been murdered by hostile Bahunde villagers. The doctors, afraid to stay, said they were closing down the wards and evacuating all the patients.

We came across frequent evidence of atrocities being committed in Kivu. In one medical centre we found a middle-aged woman from the Bahunde tribe who had been raped and had pointed sticks inserted into her vagina. She had severe blood poisoning and the doctor feared she would not survive.

Despite the continuous killings and massive population displacement, the authorities are slow, even reluctant to act. The few military being dispatched to Kivu are virtually powerless, having no transport or radios. In some areas, soldiers and policemen have participated in the butchery. Local sources accuse the governor and deputy governor of Mivu of having connived in the purchase of arms for the Bahunde and other declared enemies of the Banyarwanda.

Many believe the violence is being encouraged by President Mobuto and his entourage to create insecurity and further undermine the authority of opposition Prime Minister, Etienne Tshisekedi. To allay such criticism, the deeply unpopular president recently visited the provincial capital, Goma, promising to send 140 members of his personal guard as well as financial aid to the region.

But in Kivu there is scepticism about Mr. Mobutu's commitment to resolving the situation. He is desperate to assert his authority over a divided government, a ruined economy and a restless military. Ongoing tribal unrest helps to reinforce his claim that only centralised presidential control can keep the country together.

In a small Red Cross office in north Kivu I saw a notice pinned to a door. It was headed, 'Six things which God detests'. Among them were: 'Hands which Kill' and 'Feet which run towards Evil'. A seventh had been added: 'The Man who spreads Discord among Brothers'.

The grieving and homeless can always hope for justice to be done in the next life. But in Zaire there seems little likelihood of the guilty being punished in this one.