Free Blood Diamonds by Greg Campbell Page A

1960s. 8 Although the war has prevented experts from forecasting Sierra Leone’s diamond reserves, it’s undisputed
that annual output is much higher than the official export numbers indicate. When the embargo was placed on Sierra Leone diamonds, all it truly meant was that the traders who legally exported the 9,320 carats 9 recorded in 1999 would have to smuggle their goods instead to Liberia or Guinea, which had no restrictions or certification requirements. During the period when the embargo was in place, everyone mining diamonds in Sierra Leone became a smuggler.
    The problem, even under the new official arrangement, is that the RUF has Kono and Tongo Field, which have the best stones and the best prices. Anyone wishing to buy them in the bush can do so, even requesting a forged “receipt” to show to customs officials. There’s no guarantee just because someone has a license that the diamonds presented to the GGDO in Freetown were mined by his employees instead of bought from rebels in Tongo Field. In the end, it’s just easier to smuggle them; smugglers don’t pay any license fees or the 3 percent export tax.
    Most of my meetings with Singer were cut short, usually by someone appearing in the shadows beyond the dim light cast from the bar, motioning for him to follow.
    â€œRight,” he’d say with a Father Christmas smile. “Gotta go meet some people. You’ll be around right? Goodonya.”
    He and Valdy would be swallowed by the night.
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    A FEW DAYS LATER, Singer and I were engaged in our usual sunset activity: smoking, drinking, talking diamonds, and watching the news at the bar. At the time, the news was mostly coverage of America’s war on terrorism in the wake of the September 11 Al Qaeda attacks. We were fortunate to watch even that; the bartenders had long tired of the coverage and had begun to play a cartoon
videotape featuring Alvin and the Chipmunks in protest. After the initial shock of the attacks had worn off, the locals began to look forward to watching the tape instead of the repetitive reports on CNN; earlier I had asked to watch the news and was resoundingly voted down, twelve Sierra Leoneans to one American. But on this night, the foreigners outnumbered the locals and CNN reigned, even though we were as bored of the coverage as they were.
    As usual, Valdy was off to the side by himself. Singer was complaining about the unreliability of most RUF salesmen. “There’s no such thing as an office or a phone number you can call to get a hold of them, you know,” he said.
    On top of that, many “salesmen” were con artists trying to hawk glass to rich fools. The scam was simple, but bold: You’d pay your $100 for what you were told was a 2.5-carat diamond from a mine in Bo and think that you were going to make your girlfriend the happiest woman in town once you had the thing cut, polished, and set in jewelry. And just as you were thinking about how much money you could make doing this for a living, there would be a knock on the door and a phalanx of blue-suited Sierra Leone police would have you on your face on the floor of the guest house. You’d be dragged off as a smuggler captured thanks to a tip from an “informant” and jerked out of the hotel in front of the friendly people at the front desk. As you’re half-carried through the lobby you yell at them to please take care of your luggage, your return plane tickets, and your passport, which are all laying in a huge mess in the room, which, of course, hadn’t been paid for yet since you planned to spend a few more days there. You’d be shoved into one of their white-yellow-and-blue Range Rovers and taken to a sweat-tank at the station, and there subjected to threatening grilling from
customs and the Ministry of Mines and Natural Resources. Your demands to talk to someone at the embassy are ignored and you’re given a few good whacks to the face.