From the ruins of war, Eritreans are transforming their new nation into that rarity on the African continent: a country that works. Hundreds of exiles have returned from the United States and Europe, bringing cash and technological expertise to a land starved for both. Former freedom fighters are mending ruined roads and clinics. They show the same unity and self-sufficiency that sustained them during the war, when they built huge subterranean complexes and filled them with hospitals and schools. Fifty years after the great wave of African independence began, Eritrea could become the continent’s grandest success. “The incorruptibility and dedication of these people is extraordinary,” says U.S. Ambassador Robert Houdek.
Like South Africa’s Nelson Mandela, President Isais Afewerki has shed his wartime Marxist rhetoric, embraced privatization and opened the doors to foreign capital. So far the formula seems to be working: investors committed $250 million last year to ventures ranging from a Red Sea tourist resort to fisheries to apartment and office complexes. One American company, Anadarko, recently signed a $28 million deal to search for oil off Eritrea’s coast. After years of shunning the rebels, Western nations are rushing to aid the new government. Last year the United States gave $20 million, making Eritrea its biggest per capita aid recipient in Africa.
In the once somber capital, crowds of Eritreans stroll palm-lined Independence Avenue until late evening, passing newly opened cafes, restaurants and shops. Exiles like Ytbarek Cuddus, who built a success-ful oil-services business in Houston, have returned with their savings to work day and night launching new firms. “When I set foot on Eritrea’s soil I wept and kissed the ground,” he says. Tewelde Andu, a former rebel communications chief who helped smash the port, now is Massawa’s mayor. Seated on the floor of his office, he unfolds maps charting a $10 million rehabilitation effort that has already restored half of Massawa’s graceful Arab and Italianate houses. New hotels host European tourists eager to explore the coral reefs along the coast and its 300 unspoiled islands. “It’s a fantastic feeling,” he says. “We’re rebuilding the city block by block.”
Eritrea’s bright promise remains just that – a promise. The president has pledged to hold elections in 1997, but it’s an open question whether he, like so many other African leaders, will instead cling to power. Drought and erosion have tapped out many farms. Neighboring Sudan’s Islamic radicals want to enlist Eritrea’s 1.5 million Muslims. The younger generation, untested by battle, may prove weaker. But Eritreans seem determined not to debase the prize they fought for so long. “Our freedom was so expensive,” says Hagos Ghebrehiwet, a top official of the ruling People’s Front for Democracy and Justice. “If this isn’t going to be a country we can be proud of, then it was all a waste of time.”
