Trying to Heal the Wounds of War

"The wounds of war take time to heal," said an Angolan government spokesman in Luanda last week. "A bit of bad blood is bound to persist." That is quite an understatement. Nearly four months after it won the ferocious civil war for control of Angola, with the vital help of 12,000 Cuban soldiers and $300 million in Soviet military aid, Agostinho Neto's Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA) is still having trouble consolidating its control over the country, which is roughly twice the size of France. The cities, the Atlantic coastline and most of the central interior are secure, reports TIME Nairobi Bureau Chief Lee Griggs, who flew to Luanda last week to cover the political show trial of 13 whites, including two Americans, charged with mercenary activities. But officials in the capital concede that resistance continues in the oil-rich northern enclave in Cabinda and in the populous Central Highlands primarily along the Benguela railroad, which is still closed to copper exports from neighboring Zambia and Zaire. Griggs' report:

In Cabinda, Cuban troops have spearheaded an air and ground action against local separatists of the Front for the Liberation of the Enclave of Cabinda (F.L.E.C.) and diehard remnants of the defeated National Front for the Liberation of Angola (F.N.L.A.). They have apparently been successful in quieting the area--especially since Zaire President Mobutu Sese Seko closed his border with Cabinda after Luanda protested that supplies were being funneled to the rebels. The rebel problem is more persistent in the south, where Cubans are also guarding the Benguela railway. Running clear across central Angola, the railway is difficult to defend against sabotage. The line has been blown up in a dozen places in recent weeks; three locomotives have been destroyed by saboteurs of Jonas Savimbi's National Union for the Total Independence of Angola (UNITA) who simply loosened rail bolts and let the trains derail by their own weight.

In addition to fighting continued resistance from a so-called handful of enemies, the Neto government faces huge problems in trying to rebuild war-shattered Angola. Coffee production from devastated fazendas (plantations) in the north will be only 500,000 bags this year, down from the normal 3.5 million bags. The industrial diamond concession in northeastern Angola will produce less than half its prewar output of 2 million carats this year. Internal transport is a shambles: dozens of key bridges and roads have been destroyed. Perhaps the most hopeful note for Neto is that production of crude at Gulf Oil's refinery in Cabinda has been resumed; the $500 million annual royalties from the facility now account for 80% of Angola's foreign exchange earnings.

Peeling Paint. Because of the traffic disruption, the food-rich Central Highlands are short of flour, sugar and salt, while fresh fruit, meat and vegetables are on sale in Luanda (pop. 400,000) only three days a week. Long lines form for everything from bread and cigarettes to beer and bottled cooking gas. Three of every four buses in Luanda have been sidelined for lack of spare parts, and only about 20 taxis (of a prewar fleet of 600) are still operating.

Luanda is a pretty seaside town of red-roofed buildings with typically Portuguese pastel-colored walls in soft hues of pink, blue, green and yellow. But the paint is peeling badly, and the broad, tree-shaded boulevards are developing potholes and are littered with derelict cars. Huge shells of buildings started by the Portuguese now stand idle and abandoned. Most stores, cafes and restaurants are shuttered. The language of the capital remains Portuguese, but otherwise, reminders of the departed colonialists are fast being removed.

Before independence last November, most of the 400,000 or so Portuguese and Angolan whites fled the country. The administrative and technical gap has only partly been filled by a few trained Angolan blacks, the few whites who stayed behind and an influx of Communist helpers (mostly Cubans, Yugoslavs and East Germans). They have helped Luanda to limp along, but nonetheless most restaurants have closed for lack of food and fuel, mountains of uncollected garbage pile up, and street crime is on the increase--more because of desperation than avarice. Almost every day, the government paper Diario de Luanda rages against "reactionary elements whose antisocial behavior is sabotaging our revolution."

The Cubans are destined to play a major role in Angola's reconstruction. In addition to patrol duties, Castro's troops are slowly shaping up the M.P.L.A. army of 35,000 men, instilling a much-needed dose of discipline. Angolan soldiers complain that the men from Havana work them too hard and sometimes steal their women. But relations are good at officer level, and many M.P.L.A. soldiers now wear Che Guevara-style beards and berets.

Cubans are also training a civilian militia, teaching in schools and serving as agricultural advisers to farming cooperatives formed from nationalized estates, manning many of Angola's hospitals, and helping to rebuild the country's shattered road systems. These civilian advisers seem to be well liked. Posters salute them as OUR BLOOD BROTHERS, and a reciprocal sign in a Cuban billet proclaims: WE ARE LATIN AFRICANS. Generally, the visitors keep a low profile in Luanda; they are seldom seen in great numbers except on weekends, when they congregate on a beach reserved for them to play their guitars, sing songs, play soccer or volleyball. Says one Portuguese resident of the capital: "The Cubans have been a force for moderation and restraint since independence. I hate to think what might have happened without them. I hope they stay a long time."

No Pressure. Apparently, they will. Some combat units have reportedly been withdrawn from the south, but there are no signs of any mass exodus. Castro promised to pull out his combat troops at the rate of 200 a week, but one Cuban officer said that he did not expect them to be removed before "the end of the year and maybe not even then. We are in no hurry and under no great pressure." Thousands of technicians and civilian advisers, however, will remain.

On a visit to Cabinda last month, Angolan Prime Minister Lopo do Nascimento had high praise for Cuba and criticism for the U.S.: "The Cubans do not have any concession in Angola--no oil, no mines, no forests. They are here with clean hands. It is the Americans who have concessions in our country" --a reference to Gulf Oil, which must soon renegotiate its Cabinda contract with the new state oil company, Sonangol. Last month Nascimento also visited Moscow, where he declared that "without Soviet help victory would have been impossible." The Russians have promised help for Angola's fishing and shipping industries. There are said to be several hundred Soviet advisers in Angola, mostly civilian, but they are a virtually invisible presence.

For all the socialist sounds emanating from Luanda, there is no visible anti-Americanism in the capital, and some reason to believe Nascimento when he insists that "our policy is one of non-alignment." Clearly, the Neto government wants to establish some ties with the West--and particularly with the U.S.--after the civil war bitterness has died down. For that reason, it is probable that the government will not execute the two Americans who went on trial last week as mercenaries.

As another token of its good will, the government postponed the trial for three days to allow the Americans --Daniel Gearhart, 34, of Kensington, Md. and Gary Acker, 21, of Sacramento, Calif.--to consult with their U.S. defense attorneys. Court-appointed Angolan lawyers are defending the other mercenaries--ten British and one Argentine. Western journalists were allowed back into Angola for the first time since the civil war to cover the trial; nearly 100 of them showed up. The mercenaries are accused, among other crimes, of murdering Angolan civilians and destroying both military and civilian property. Late last week the most notorious of the men on trial, the Greek-born Briton Tony Collon, who is accused of ordering the massacre of 14 fellow mercenaries, stunned the court by taking responsibility for all the crimes committed by the accused. Nonetheless, despite Collon's gesture, the odds remained heavy on guilty verdicts for all.

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