The Eritrean Gulag 5

 April 7, 2005

Eritrea is the country with the longest coastline along the Red Sea, stretching from Djibouti in the south to the Sudanese border in the north. Administratively, it’s divided into two regions. The Northern Red Sea region is home to the Beni Amer tribes (referred to as Tigre), who extend into Sudan along the Red Sea mountain range.

The region’s largest cities are Massawa, Nakfa, and Afabet. The Sudanese Red Sea region, with its unique geography, topography, and population, played a critical role in the victories of the Eritrean People's Liberation Front (later the People’s Front for Democracy and Justice) over the Ethiopian army. The EPLF had a presence in that region and other parts of Sudan, protected by the Sudanese people, who supported it wholeheartedly, offering assistance, solidarity, and even fighting alongside it for Eritrea’s independence.

Despite political fluctuations, the Sudanese people’s support for Eritreans was neither random nor superficial. It was a stand for justice, built on historical and ethnocultural ties, not to mention the internal dynamics that govern relations between peoples, as we’ve discussed earlier (the same dynamics that allowed Sudan to host both Eritreans and Ethiopians simultaneously).

Eritrean citizens still express deep gratitude and love for Sudan and its people, trusting them more than they trust each other. Their homes, minds, and hearts are open to Sudanese without reservation, and they always say, “Sudanese people are generous, always inviting you in.” While simple, this statement speaks volumes about the emotional bonds that formed during Eritrea’s migration and refugee struggles, which continue to affect the Eritrean people.

If Nukrah prison, which I mentioned before, is located in the Southern Red Sea region, inhabited by the Afar people, with its major city Assab and its famous port, then the Northern Red Sea region has its own prison stories. Six siblings (three boys and three girls) from this area are a case in point. The oldest boy appears to be about twenty years old, while the youngest can’t be more than thirteen. The one in between might be sixteen, give or take. The girls range in age from seventeen to twenty-five.

These six siblings began their strange journey even before leaving their hometown of Asmara, seeking an escape from the dark tunnel they lived in, like many other Eritrean youths who saw no hope for the future and were determined to flee at any cost. Ironically, their thoughts aligned with that of Mohiuddin Shengeb, the favored son of the EPLF and head of the National Union of Eritrean Youth and Students, who later made a famous escape during an official trip abroad (in classic TV-ad style, "he left and never returned"). Shengeb had even been considered for a ministerial post in the EPLF’s future government.

The six siblings managed to slip into the coastal city of Massawa in groups, having paid a human trafficker, a profession now rampant in Eritrea, the sum of 180,000 nakfa in cash—a price of 30,000 nakfa per person. After successfully bypassing EPLF checkpoints along the road, they gathered in the coastal city, ready for the real journey.

On the northern outskirts of Massawa, six camels and a prized she-camel belonging to their trafficker awaited them to lead them to "freedom." The caravan set off on a half-moonlit night across the desert, bordered by the Red Sea to the east and the Red Sea mountains to the west. They were well-equipped to endure the hardships of the journey.

For three nights, they endured countless struggles, vomiting out every ounce of their attachment to their homeland. What kept their hope alive was the bright future that seemed to await them, as each new day’s dawn brought renewed optimism. They would rest between the sands and rocky outcrops, resuming their march as soon as the sun set.

On the second third of the fourth night, they passed "Mehmiemat," not far from the Sudanese border. Their guide instructed them to stop halfway between "Mehmiemat" and the Eritrean town of "Qarora" (only separated from the Sudanese side by a waterway that fills during the rainy season). He told them he would fetch a pickup truck (he had arranged for the driver, he said) to take them deeper into Sudan. Left in the wide, open space with no refuge, their eyes remained open, trying to pierce the unknown. The unknown, however, came on four wheels in the form of an Eritrean intelligence Land Cruiser pickup, loaded with heavily armed soldiers.

The dreams of these young people dissolved into nothing in the darkness of the night, despite the faint moonlight. They were taken to the Eritrean side of Qarora, to the headquarters of the Border Guard Intelligence. There, underground prisons run by intelligence officers Major Weldou and First Lieutenant Osman awaited them. One can only imagine what happened to the three girls above ground, let alone below it. They were also near the notorious "Arereb" area, where the EPLF had established one of its most infamous intelligence prisons since its liberation struggle days, still home to execution squads that now carry out extrajudicial killings of dissidents.

The six were transferred to the intelligence headquarters at "Mehmiemat" and stored like assets in the intelligence prison near the airport, which the Ethiopians had built to use for bombing Eritrean rebel positions. From there, their journey through hell began, leading them to "Trakbi" prison in Asmara, passing through the notorious "Teseney" prison along the way.

By midday, we were returning, utterly exhausted from another hard day's work. My back was killing me, not to mention my high blood pressure, and the prison administration had denied me my medication, which ran out on my second day here. Despite all this, my attention, like everyone else's, was drawn to the arrival of the six young people at that moment.

New prisoners arrive at Adar Sar every day, but it's usually the strange-looking "Fiat" truck, loaded with prisoners from Teseney prison, that the inmates expect. It comes twice a week, bringing news from beyond the prison walls. This time, however, the six youths arrived at Adar Sar in a Land Cruiser pickup. Three girls were added to the women’s cell, joining the four already there, all awaiting their fate—likely a transfer to the military training camp in Sawa.

Because Adar Sar prison cannot hold more than its capacity, it is periodically emptied. Recently, a number of inmates, particularly young men, were summoned and transferred to Sawa training camp. Some were happy to be leaving the underground prison, while others saw no difference between Sawa and the intelligence prisons. As for girls like Semret and Fatima, their fate was Sawa, the very place they had tried to escape from in the first place.

The presence of young women in detention in this part of the world is strange, explained only by the warped mindset that governs the EPLF's approach to all matters. The peculiarity of the situation stems from the fact that women have special needs. There are no designated toilets; they relieve themselves in the open, under the watchful eyes of armed guards. I can’t imagine how they manage in these conditions, which even we men find unbearable.

 

April 12, 2004...

 Today, I feel that my health is in its worst state, but how can I check my blood pressure when the prison administration has refused to transfer me to the Border Guard Hospital? They even denied my urgent request for propranolol pills, which I take daily but ran out of some time ago. Despite the support of the prison's medical officer, our brother "Nasser," I have put my trust in the Ever-Living One and relied on garlic cloves, which one of the guards brings me. I don't know why he's concerned about me, but he was part of the team that accompanied us from "Trakabi" prison to this one. He is one of the "Beni Amer" people from the Tigre tribe and is named "Amara."

Many Beni Amer are held in Eritrean intelligence prisons. Although there are detainees from all Eritrean ethnicities, the Beni Amer are the most suspected by the intelligence, especially in the lowlands and Red Sea regions. They are the indigenous people of areas near Sudan, with their presence extending deep into Sudan. They are both Sudanese and Eritrean, like other border tribes along Sudan's periphery. One particularly saddening situation is the presence of our elder, Sheikh Idris, and his son in this place. It is an inhumane situation, representing the pinnacle of human contempt.

Sheikh Idris, who is barely able to move at over seventy years old, lives in the village of "Ali Gidir," near the city of Tessenei. Like other Beni Amer, he has extended family ties inside Sudan. He has brothers, cousins, and married daughters in various cities across Sudan. Before the People's Front for Democracy and Justice turned its back on Sudan and its people, cross-border movements were routine and uncomplicated. People could easily move between Sudan and Eritrea with no formal complications. It was common for a man's family to live in Kassala while he worked in Tessenei, just as if he were working in any other Sudanese city.

What happened to Sheikh Idris and his son is nothing but a desperate attempt by the regime to drive a wedge between the people—essentially one people. Sheikh Idris's son decided to marry one of his cousins who lived in a village near Kassala. He had previously snuck into the village to present his engagement gift, which he did, then returned to his village of "Ali Gidir" to continue working until the wedding date was set. When the wedding day came, he once again crossed the border in secret to complete the ceremonies. Everything went as planned, but upon his return, both he and his father were arrested by Eritrean intelligence. The son was accused of espionage for the Eritrean opposition, with his repeated travels to the village seen as part of his intelligence duties. His father was accused of helping his son cross the border and hiding information from the state.

They were immediately transferred to the city of Tessenei and placed in the intelligence prison there. As Sheikh Idris warmly told me in Sudanese dialect, "You haven't seen anything yet." Two days ago, they were transferred to join us. I gazed at Sheikh Idris and his son, trying to uncover the secret of their alleged espionage for the opposition, but to no avail. The man is so old that he can barely hear or see properly. Moreover, his concerns have nothing to do with either the opposition or the ruling regime.

"It's the paranoia that has taken hold of the People's Front for Democracy and Justice, and the fear they've developed of their opponents. That's why they arrested our Sheikh Idris," said one of my fellow detainees beside me, looking at Sheikh Idris before pointing to our brother Mohammed Al-Amin, the forty-something shepherd. The intelligence arrested him while he was herding his sheep near the village of Kaluge, which is openly connected to Sudan's Qirqaf area. His only crime was that someone, previously detained by intelligence, had informed them under torture that Mohammed had once shown him the way to Qirqaf. When I asked Mohammed Al-Amin about it, he said he had been herding as usual in the area when someone he didn't know approached him and asked for directions to Qirqaf, so he pointed him in the right direction.

It is indeed a paranoid fear that causes a state’s intelligence service to act so chaotically, especially if that state’s regime suffers from political "Parkinson's disease." But treating political Parkinson's is simpler. The People's Front for Democracy and Justice only needs to be just and democratic, to recognize others, and abandon its exclusionary approach, even if it means losing power democratically. Right now, it is unfit to fulfill the aspirations of its people, and even if it loses power democratically, this will not change that outcome.