"Zimbabwe, We Love You"

As the rebels stream in from the bush, only scattered violence mars the truce

Slowly they emerged from their sanctuaries deep in the African bush. Some were barefoot local fighters, clad in ragged shirts and frayed pants, clutching worn, dusty AK-47 machine guns. Others were elite commandos, wearing crisp camouflage fatigues, polished combat boots and leather holsters, bandoleers of machine-gun bullets slung over their shoulders. A few even sported gleaming Soviet medals on their breast. Startled whites stared in anxious silence or menacingly shook their fists as they passed by. But in the villages and urban townships, thousands of Rhodesian blacks gleefully hailed their return with an exultant chant: "Zimbabwe, we love you!"

The "boys," as they were affectionately called by supporters, were the members of the ZIPRA and ZANLA guerrilla forces that constitute the Patriotic Front alliance. Their seven-year war for black home rule was ending as they trekked into 16 assembly points in accordance with the British-sponsored ceasefire plan signed last month at London's Lancaster House.

The plan, which took effect last week, would confine the guerrillas to their scattered assembly camps and the Rhodesian security forces to their 42 relatively central military bases until an independent Zimbabwe government is formed after February's majority-rule elections. Monitoring the truce, under the supervision of British Governor Lord Soames, are 1,200 Commonwealth troops, drawn from Britain, Australia, Fiji, New Zealand and Kenya.

Though the guerrillas arrived in alarmingly low numbers during the first few days, an eleventh-hour surge brought some 17,000 fighters--virtually all the guerrillas the British had estimated were in Rhodesia--into the assembly camps by the Jan. 4 deadline. The bulk of the returnees were members of Robert Mugabe's ZANLA forces; the others were ZIPRA troops loyal to Joshua Nkomo. Considering the great physical difficulties faced by the guerrillas, some of whom marched more than a hundred miles over difficult terrain, it was an extraordinarily impressive turnout. Governor Soames, while refusing a Patriotic Front request to extend the assembly deadline, indicated that he would take no immediate action against late-arriving guerrillas. Indeed, he could hardly condemn only the Front's few stragglers, since it was the Rhodesian security forces who seemed to be dragging their feet in returning to their bases, and some units continued to carry out unauthorized military missions in defiance of the truce.

Soames showed far less tolerance toward other, more serious cease-fire breaches last week. Reacting to the reported infiltration of 600 to 700 ZANLA insurgents from Mozambique, he ordered Rhodesian troops into action along the country's eastern border. In another flagrant cease-fire violation, ten guerrillas attacked a white farm near the northwestern town of Sinoia, precipitating a clash with Rhodesian paramilitary police that left seven insurgents dead. The Commonwealth monitoring force suffered its first combat-related casualties when a Land-Rover detonated a mine, injuring a British soldier and a senior Patriotic Front field commander. The precarious truce was also marred by some 180 scattered incidents of banditry and lawlessness, from murder and kidnaping to armed robbery and cattle rustling. Patriotic Front officials insisted they were the acts of armed thugs rather than bona fide guerrillas.

For all the difficulties, the week-old cease-fire had already accomplished what the white Salisbury government of Ian Smith and the biracial regime of Bishop Abel Muzorewa had spectacularly failed to do: scale down the bloodshed and bring large numbers of guerrillas peacefully out of the bush. Compared with a weekly average of about 200 deaths before the truce took effect, last week's total of twelve was an improvement that boosted the morale of many war-weary Rhodesians. "It's working!" exclaimed a jubilant African shopkeeper near the Mozambique border. "Everybody's happy. I'm even sleeping at night."

Perhaps the most significant test of the cease-fire was taking place at the assembly camps where the returning guerrillas were making their first nervous contacts with Commonwealth monitors. At Alpha Camp near the northeastern border, arriving ZANLA soldiers tended to huddle by themselves, smiling and joking, sometimes almost conspiratorially, always skittishly. Some bunked down in the 30-man tents supplied by the U.S. Army. Most preferred to move out of the unfenced camp quietly at night, sleeping deep in the covered bush where they still felt more secure.

Some continued to show open hostility toward their white hosts. Others worked actively to bring in more comrades, help remove land mines and defuse local confrontations. They even happily discussed the improbable prospect of future football matches between guerrillas and British officers. Explained British Major Christopher Lehardy, commander of Alpha Camp: "We're trying to be sympathetic and yet remain neutral. The guerrillas are still very unsure of things. They are not trained to live like soldiers in barracks, and having to rely on other people for even their food and water is a new experience. Ultimately somebody has to take his partner's hand."

Many camps reported predictable problems of adjustment to the ceasefire: guerrillas grumbling about insufficient rations or insisting on rambunctious "victory marches." One ZIPRA officer at the "Papa" assembly point briefly commandeered a local farmer's beat-up Datsun pickup as his "staff car." But most of the returning rebels showed a firm commitment to the orderly peace process endorsed by their leaders. Said John Muchapesa, a senior ZANLA liaison officer at Alpha Camp: "We are guerrilla orphans. Ending a war is very hard, but the British are now our commanders."

Encouraging signs from the field could not obscure the contentious political issues that will sorely test the cease-fire during the coming electoral campaign. No fewer than eleven African parties have registered for the February poll, and incidents of intimidation were already appearing in the townships: four supporters of Bishop Muzorewa, who will be the Front's mam rival, were ordered jailed for four years each last week for political violence, and eight others were sentenced to fines and suspended prison terms. In another apparent act of pre-election terrorism, the wife of a top Mugabe party official, James Bassapo-Moyo, was seriously wounded by a grenade fired into their house near Salisbury.

Fearing an escalation of political violence, Soames asked both Mugabe and Nkomo to delay their own arrivals into Salisbury. When the two leaders do return, under heavy security, they are almost certain to arouse huge popular demonstrations. Obviously Soames was not yet prepared to risk the possible hostility that might also greet them.

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