The EconomistNovember 30th 2019 Middle East & Africa 432 time both sides are serious,” says a unoffi-
cial. Rebel leaders have been invited back
from exile. And the government has mark-
edly improved access for humanitarian or-
ganisations and journalists.
Jeremiah Mamabolo, who heads the
un’s operation in Darfur, reckons a peace
deal between the government and the re-
bels will be signed by early next year. But to
have any chance of success it needs the
support of Abdel Wahid al-Nur, the most
influential but least compromising Darfuri
rebel leader, who may soon return to the re-
gion after more than a decade in Paris. His
faction of the Sudanese Liberation Army
has, by some estimates, 2,000 fighters who
are holed up in Darfur’s Jebel Marra.
Resolving some of the issues fuelling
the fighting will be tougher still. When the
new prime minister visited a camp for dis-
placed people in November, angry victims
demanded their land and compensation.
They also want to see the perpetrators of
the attacks—in particular Mr Bashir—held
to account.
Whether any of these demands will be
met depends on the balance of power be-
tween generals and civilians in the transi-
tional government. Although Mr Hamdok
runs a largely civilian administration, it is
overseen by an 11-member Sovereign Coun-
cil currently led by Lieutenant-General
Abdel Fattah al-Burhan. The general is un-
willing to hand Mr Bashir over to the icc.
Also on the council is Muhammad
Hamdan Dagalo (known as Hemedti), an
Arab Darfuri who controls the rsf, which
added to its many crimes by slaughtering
more than 100 protesters in Khartoum in
June. The former camel-rustler has been
steadily extending his influence over the
peace process. When the two sides met in
Juba, South Sudan’s capital, in October, Mr
Dagalo led the government’s delegation.
Diplomats note wryly that its two civilian
representatives were not even introduced
at the table. It is hard to see how Mr Dagalo
would benefit from a peace agreement that
might reduce the influence of the rsf,
which he has recently been expanding, and
could lead to scrutiny of his business inter-
ests—such as gold mines, an industry that
has fuelled the conflict.
Even if the talks lead to a lasting peace
in Darfur, Sudan will need to address an is-
sue that contributes to wider instability:
little of the country’s wealth gets spread
very far beyond Khartoum. Under Mr Ba-
shir some 65-70% of state spending went
on security. Almost nothing went to pro-
viding services such as schools in remote
areas. “People in Khartoum don’t know
anything about the rest of the country,”
sniffs Said Shareef, a rebel commander.In recent months protesters in Darfur
have begun demanding everything from
free education to better public transport.
“Until now we haven’t felt the change that
has come to the rest of Sudan,” complains
Haroun Nemir, a local leader.
Each of Sudan’s previous uprisings
against military dictatorships—in 1964 and
1985—failed either to produce stable de-
mocracy or to solve the problem of govern-
ing distant, unruly places whose inhabit-
ants resent the rulers in Khartoum. Now
the country has a chance to do things dif-
ferently. But it is a slender one. 7SUDANC A REGYPTCONGOETHIOPIAERITREACHADLIBYASOUTH
SUDANSAUDI
ARABIAel-Fasher
JebelMarra400 kmKhartoum
DarfurJubaWhite
NileBlue
NileRed
SeaNile“T
his is wherethemagichappens,”
says Carl Lokko, a boxing coach.
His gym in Accra, the capital of Ghana,
has two punchbags, a weights machine
and a tin roof. A dozen young men, all
sweat and sinew, are shadow-boxing or
skipping furiously. “Everybody wants to
be a boxer,” says one, fists thudding into
an invisible opponent. He calls himself
“Rich Man” Ashiley, a name which be-
trays his ambition. He says he fights for
money and the chance “to go outside”, to
Europe or America.
The gym is one of about 30 in Bukom,
a fishing district in Accra that is known
as a cradle of champions. David Kotei,
better known as dkPoison, fought his
way off these streets; in 1975 he became
the first Ghanaian to conquer the world.
Another local boy, Azumah Nelson, is
revered as the greatest African boxer of
all time. The holder of the International
Boxing Federation’s lightweight belt,
Richard Commey, is one of Mr Lokko’s
protégés. Most of Ghana’s ten world
champions have passed through Bukom.
The stars of today come from a
“bloodline of warriors”, says Ekow As-
mah, a sports journalist. In the early 20th
century, boys from Bukom organised
bare-knuckle brawls on beaches and
moonlit streets. This asafo atwele(“group
fighting”) helped to anchor the identity
of the local Ga people in the fast-growing
city. When colonial administrators
cracked down, Ga fighters embraced
Queensberry rules. From the traditional
scuffles they inherited a whirling-fisted
style and pugilistic pride. Mothers gave
smaller dinner portions to sons who
came home defeated and crying. Locals
still boast that no one will separate two
boys who start to fight.
Aspiring champions rise at dawn,
running past the fishing boats on thebeach.Inthemuggyevenings they spar
on street corners or train in open-air
gyms. Some first pulled on the gloves
when they were six years old. Bukom is
one of the poorer parts of town, and
boxing offers a route out of its congested
alleys. “Most Ghanaian boxers come
from adverse circumstances,” says Mr
Asmah. “These are the real-life oppo-
nents that you must conquer.”
Aficionados worry that Ghana is
squandering its fighting talent. Although
the previous government opened a
4,000-seat boxing arena in Bukom, a
longstanding “soccer bias” crimps fund-
ing, complains Peter Zwennes, who
heads the Ghana Boxing Authority. Pro-
moters lack the means to stage big fights
regularly. But Mr Lokko is not worried
about the future. He points to the corner
of his gym, where a posse of children
watch with wide-eyed awe, their hands
clenched into tiny fists.Streetfighters
Ghana’s Bukom boxersACCRA
A community that churns out boxing championsPunching out of poverty