Africa’s ‘gypsies’ flourish (illegally) on the Sudan-Eritrea border

TESSENEY, Eritrea, Feb 22 (AFP) — Under a blazing sun on the dusty road leading to the officially closed border between Eritrea and Sudan, Africa’s “gypsies,” Rashaida Muslims, are making a healthy, if illicit, living.

At this time of year, the Rashaida nomads, self-described smugglers of Saudi origin, have a virtual monopoly on trade in this region, south of the Eritrean town of Tesseney, just 20 kilometers (12 miles) from the Sudanese frontier.

Clearly unconcerned by the fact that the border was officially closed in October 2002, when Khartoum accused Asmara of supporting rebels in western Sudan, many in the community of about 34,000 Rashaidas are doing business here in hard-to-find staples.

Their tents hug the road over several hundred meters (yards) and, in front of each, are jerry cans full of fuel, packets of sugar and tea, soft drinks and other goods from Sudan — all for sale tax-free at just the right price.

“We know it’s not legal, but it’s an adventure,” laughs Rashaida vendor Saad Ahmed, as young children wave wildly at passing cars to attract attention to the wares on offer.

The camp is not luxurious, but judging by the number of Rashaida-owned pick-up trucks in the camp and the satellite dishes outside their tents, the nomads are not struggling to make ends meet.

The Rashaidas maintain the Eritrean government has turned a blind eye to their contraband commerce and doesn’t bother them.

Asmara’s official position, however, is different.

“It’s not legal to sell fuel, for example, like this,” Eritrean Information Minister Ali Abdu told AFP. “And they have to pay taxes to the government.”

The local office of UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) is not far from the Rashaida camp in Tesseney and officials there know them well and the role they play in the regional marketplace.

“They are a bit like the gypsies of Africa,” said Alphonse Munyaneza, who runs the office. “Their activity is essentially in the informal sector and meets important and sometimes vital local economic needs.”

Sugar, for example, is currently hard to find in Eritrea, making the local population grateful for Rashaida’s entrepreneurship and the tribe, though armed, is not considered a danger by the government.

“The Rashaidas are not a political threat for the Eritrean government, and that’s why Asmara leaves them alone,” said one aid worker in Tesseney, who asked to remain anonymous.

“Moreover, they’re armed,” the worker added, stressing, however, that: “Rashaidas want to do business and that’s all.”

Most of the Rashaidas near Tesseney have Eritrean nationality but have grown adept at avoiding at least some civic duties.

“We don’t do the military service,” smiled one of them, Hamed Hamid.

Here again, Information Minister Ali Abdu offered a contradictory account, noting that Rashaidas, like all Eritreans, are exempted from compulsory military service only if they are unfit or have another acceptable reason.

“Many Rashaidas are members of our armed forces and the rule is that every Eritrean has to do his military service,” he said.

Despite the apparent discrepancies in government policy and the situation on the ground in Tesseney, the Rashaidas appear more comfortable than the town locals.

Asked about their major problems, Eritrean villagers in the area, many of whom used to be refugees in Sudan, invariably describe a litany of complaints about lack of money, water and other difficult living conditions.

To the same question, Rashaida Saad Ahmed, their neighbor, replies:

“Our only challenge is not to get caught, especially in Sudan.

“If we manage, we can become rich,” he says. “It’s the adventure of life, we have been doing this for centuries.”

His gleeful expostulations are cut short, though, by an approaching vehicle. Saad Ahmed breaks off from his conversation to jump out of the shade and hasten toward the car to offer his wares.