The
shrill blast of a whistle still makes Almaz Russom wince. “You’re
sleeping nicely, dreaming something, then it wakes you at 4.30am,” he
said, clenching his teeth and mimicking the pitch. “I still don’t like
the sound of that whistle.”
Russom, whose name has been changed here for his own protection, was giving a rare account of a military bootcamp in Eritrea, one of Africa’s most secretive totalitarian states. It forms part of a compulsory “national service” for young men and women, an indefinite purgatory that robs them of the best years of their lives and is the key to understanding why so many flee its borders.
Eritreans are now the third biggest group of people embarking on the risky Mediterranean crossing to Europe, with an estimated 5,000 leaving every month, behind only Syrians and Afghans. As the first British newspaper for a decade to gain access to this little-understood nation, the Guardian interviewed citizens, diplomats and government ministers about the motivating forces behind the mass exodus.
Most suggested that while poverty, joblessness and political repression are important, what sets Eritrea apart from many other African countries is the conscription that forces them to take on often interminable military and civilian work for the equivalent of less than $2 a day. Speaking in the capital, Asmara, Russom said: “If they told you national service would end, it would be bearable. But it is never-ending.”
He recalled being at a military training camp in the fierce heat of the Sahel which houses 20,000 conscripts at a time. A typical stint is six months, but he was lucky to spend only half that time there. The men were forced to sleep on the floor in tents and had to bring their own blankets, he continued. “There are guys lying all around you. The food is not for fit for dogs.
“You get a timetable showing what you’ll do today and tomorrow. Today might be running and political school, which is the history of the liberation struggle. Tomorrow might be shooting practice: most guys deliberately miss the target so they won’t be recruited by the army. But they never tell you anything beyond that. They can call your name at any time and make you gather your things and you have no idea where you’re going.
“If you’re not in position when they call, they will punish you. They might say ‘Go and lie in the sun for an hour.’ It is so hot, it is worse than a beating. They can also tie you up in ‘the eight’ – binding your arms and legs behind you – and make you lie in the sun for an hour. That is very painful because it’s like a stove: 55C. It’s like you’re close to the sun.”
The camps are run by military trainers who have the power to impose discipline. Russom continued: “You ask yourself, ‘Why am I here? What did I do to deserve this? The next time I see my trainer in Asmara, I’ll shoot him for making me lie in the sun.’ But when you see him in Asmara, you are friends: you buy a beer and tell your friend, ‘This is the guy who tortured me at the camp’ read more
Russom, whose name has been changed here for his own protection, was giving a rare account of a military bootcamp in Eritrea, one of Africa’s most secretive totalitarian states. It forms part of a compulsory “national service” for young men and women, an indefinite purgatory that robs them of the best years of their lives and is the key to understanding why so many flee its borders.
Eritreans are now the third biggest group of people embarking on the risky Mediterranean crossing to Europe, with an estimated 5,000 leaving every month, behind only Syrians and Afghans. As the first British newspaper for a decade to gain access to this little-understood nation, the Guardian interviewed citizens, diplomats and government ministers about the motivating forces behind the mass exodus.
Most suggested that while poverty, joblessness and political repression are important, what sets Eritrea apart from many other African countries is the conscription that forces them to take on often interminable military and civilian work for the equivalent of less than $2 a day. Speaking in the capital, Asmara, Russom said: “If they told you national service would end, it would be bearable. But it is never-ending.”
He recalled being at a military training camp in the fierce heat of the Sahel which houses 20,000 conscripts at a time. A typical stint is six months, but he was lucky to spend only half that time there. The men were forced to sleep on the floor in tents and had to bring their own blankets, he continued. “There are guys lying all around you. The food is not for fit for dogs.
“You get a timetable showing what you’ll do today and tomorrow. Today might be running and political school, which is the history of the liberation struggle. Tomorrow might be shooting practice: most guys deliberately miss the target so they won’t be recruited by the army. But they never tell you anything beyond that. They can call your name at any time and make you gather your things and you have no idea where you’re going.
“If you’re not in position when they call, they will punish you. They might say ‘Go and lie in the sun for an hour.’ It is so hot, it is worse than a beating. They can also tie you up in ‘the eight’ – binding your arms and legs behind you – and make you lie in the sun for an hour. That is very painful because it’s like a stove: 55C. It’s like you’re close to the sun.”
The camps are run by military trainers who have the power to impose discipline. Russom continued: “You ask yourself, ‘Why am I here? What did I do to deserve this? The next time I see my trainer in Asmara, I’ll shoot him for making me lie in the sun.’ But when you see him in Asmara, you are friends: you buy a beer and tell your friend, ‘This is the guy who tortured me at the camp’ read more
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