Congo rebels announce cease-fire

GOMA, Congo — The exodus has begun.

Women with babies on their backs. Families crammed into cars with coolers and suitcases stuffed to the windows. U.N. trucks. Aid workers. Businessmen. Panicky government troops literally running for their lives.

Wednesday afternoon, countless people poured out of Goma, a strategic Congolese city on the border of Rwanda, fleeing the advancing rebel forces massing on the outskirts of town.

This was a place that was supposed to be safe, a city full of war-weary, displaced people who had come here for shelter, a city that U.N. peacekeepers had defended against the very same rebels before.

But this time may be different.

"The Congolese army has abandoned most of their positions," a U.N. spokesman, Madnodje Mounoubai, said. "The road to Goma is now open to the rebels."

Eastern Congo has been torn by conflict for more than a decade. But if Goma falls, it will be the first time in years that rebels have snatched a major city — and a particularly important one — because it is a staging ground for U.N. aid efforts that are helping keep millions alive.

Wednesday night, the rebels declared a unilateral cease-fire, saying they did not want to spread more fear in Goma. But gunfire continued to rattle across the hills, punctuated by the loud, deep bark of artillery.

"We are waiting and seeing," said Lt. Col. Samba Tall, a U.N. military commander. The rebels are not known for keeping their word, he said.

Congo is home to the largest U.N. peacekeeping mission, with 17,000 troops with tanks and helicopter gunships. But U.N. officials said it was not necessarily their job to beat back the rebels, who are led by a charismatic leader with unclear intentions.

Mounoubai said the peacekeepers' primary role was protecting civilians, though on Wednesday many people in Goma did not have much faith in that either.

"I'm going to Rwanda," said Safi Dayoo, a mother of six.

She crossed the border on foot as dusk sank over the city and the streets emptied.

Several residents said that vanquished Congolese soldiers were looting shops on their way out of town. Fleeing soldiers commandeered a car rented by a team of Western journalists and threatened them at gunpoint to drive them away from the rebels. At one Goma hotel, the manager demanded payment upfront.

A desperate, dangerous security vacuum seemed to be opening up. Congolese officials seemed dismayed, but not surprised.

"What can we do?" said Kikaya Bin Karubi, a member of parliament. "Our so-called army is a combination of different rebel militias, with a hundred from this group, a hundred from that group, and so on. They haven't even trained together for a year. How do they stand a chance?"

Their enemy is a relatively well-armed, cohesive force, led by Laurent Nkunda, a renegade Congolese general with impressive military acumen and a taste for crisp uniforms, dark sunglasses and power. He considers himself a protector of the Tutsi people. Many here call him a warlord.

Congolese officials, including Karubi, have accused Rwanda, which is led by Tutsi, of backing Nkunda in an attempt to turn eastern Congo into a buffer zone. Officials in Rwanda have denied this, though tensions along the border are steadily building. Wednesday, Rwanda and Congo blamed each other for gunfire along the border near Nkunda's territory.