The Darfur Peace Agreement reached its first anniversay last week, yet rebel groups have mushroomed, millions of displaced people fear they�ll never make it home alive and the Sudanese government stands in the way of a solution.
By Steve Bloomfield in Nyala, south Darfur

THERE was singing and dancing in Gereida yesterday. The largest camp for Darfur's displaced, a sprawling barren scrubland populated by some 120,000 people forced out of their homes by Arab militia and government soldiers, is not used to celebrations.

But for the faction of the rebel Sudan Liberation Army (SLA), which controls Gereida, yesterday's one-year anniversary of the signing of the Darfur Peace Agreement (DPA) was, they insisted, the perfect reason to put on a show.

The faction, led by Minni Menawi, was the only rebel group to sign the DPA. As such, they were richly rewarded. Menawi was made an adviser to President Omar al-Bashir and moved into a plush Khartoum residence next door to the British Embassy.

For his troops, a rag-tag bunch including suspiciously young-looking teenagers clutching Kalashnikovs, it was supposed to mean an end to the fighting that had plagued Darfur since the rebellion started in 2003.

And for Darfur's citizens there was the hope that they may finally be able to leave their makeshift camps and head home to the villages once burned to the ground by marauding janjaweed fighters.

International development secretary Hilary Benn heralded the deal as a "very significant agreement which means that the process of bringing peace to Darfur can now begin".

One year on, though, that process is yet to begin. Instead, the security situation across Darfur, a region twice the size of the UK, has worsened and the conflict has broadened.

The initial rebellion by Fur, Zaghawa and Masalit tribes against a government that ignored them, and the counter-insurgency, led by Arab militia backed by government troops and planes, has become unrecognisable.

Some former janjaweed fighters, who once fought alongside government troops burning and looting, raping and killing, have now joined the rebellion.

Some rebel factions, who once claimed to be fighting against a government that had marginalised their people, are now joining the government and attacking their former comrades. Some Arab tribes have taken up arms against other Arab tribes as they fight over land they helped to clear of Fur or Zaghawa.

The one constant is the government's arming of militia willing to do its backing. The continuous flow of heavy weaponry into Darfur - RPGs and mortars are now used all too regularly - has turned Darfur into a region where guns, not words, are used to settle arguments.

When the DPA was signed last year, diplomats, including Benn, talked optimistically of persuading the other two rebel factions to sign up. They are not so optimistic now. Within weeks, factions had splintered.

Within months, the splinters had fragmented. There are now, according to more conservative analysts, at least 15 rebel groups operating in Darfur. Some believe it could be more than 20.

The very nature of the peace agreement may have encouraged groups to take up arms, claim some analysts in Darfur. By rewarding armed groups with political power if they sign the agreement, starting a rebel group has become the surest way of climbing the greasy pole.

One diplomat described it thus: "Take your guns, grab some NGO vehicles, seize a small town, then declare you want peace."

With so many different rebel groups, all wary of dealing with each other, it has made it impossible for any headway to be made towards a political solution for Darfur.

The first steps towards such a solution took place last week. Following more than six months of planning between the various factions and with the assistance of a handful of key international players, including the EU and the US, commanders of nearly all the different factions of the SLA met in an undisclosed location in Um Rai, north Darfur.

Somebody disclosed the location to the Sudanese government though, who, according to eyewitnesses, bombed the site for several days. A planned delegation of international observers had to cancel their trip because their safety could not be guaranteed.

A lack of international leadership has also hampered peace efforts. The major western powers, the United Nations and the African Union (AU) are all, claim Sudan analysts, failing diplomatically.

Despite strong rhetoric from both the US and the UK, neither has covered itself in diplomatic glory. The US envoy to Sudan, Andrew Natsios, threatened President Bashir with "Plan B" if he didn't agree to let in a joint UN/AU peacekeeping force by January 1.

But Plan B didn't exist and January 1 came and went. Even now, Plan B has not been spelt out. US officials now threaten it will be implemented "within weeks" if their demands are not met.

Tony Blair has been pushing for a no-fly zone to be introduced - something that diplomats from other Western powers are keen to point out they do not support. Even the UK won't support it soon - the idea comes from Number 10 and is not backed by the Foreign Office.

The UN has failed to appoint a new head of mission in Sudan since the expulsion of Dutch diplomat Jan Pronk. Pronk had annoyed Sudanese authorities with a lively weblog detailing the casualties of the Sudanese Armed Forces. But six months after he was kicked out, his replacement is yet to be named by UN secretary-general Ban Ki-Moon.

The UN has managed to appoint a special envoy to Sudan, tasked with leading peace negotiations alongside the African Union. But Jan Eliasson is based in Stockholm, spends less than half his time in Sudan, and his contract is up at the end of June.

As for the AU, their mission in Sudan (Amis), has been without a head since August, while the force commander - himself only recently appointed - is now heading for the exit.

International efforts have mainly been focused on sending a peacekeeping force to Darfur to bolster Amis. Just 7000 AU personnel are in Darfur, struggling to protect themselves, let alone civilians.

Ten AU soldiers were killed in April, the mission's deadliest month so far. Under-resourced - most staff have not been paid in four months - and increasingly under fire, Amis has cut back on the number of patrols it carries out across Darfur.

From a high of 50 a day it is now down to as few as three. A UN Security Council resolution passed last August authorised the deployment of a 22,000-strong force. But Sudan simply refused to allow the force to enter and the idea of Western troops shooting their way into a Muslim Arab country was never seriously considered. Sudan agreed to a so-called AU/UN "hybrid force" last November but has since stalled at every stage of its three-phase deployment.

Phase two, the "heavy support package" of 3000 UN personnel and equipment such as attack helicopters, was "re-agreed" by Khartoum last month. Even so, it will still take at least six months before it is all in place.

Throughout it all, the international aid effort struggles to keep Darfur's displaced alive. There are more than 80 international aid agencies employing 14,000 people, but, despite such a large operation, around 900,000 people cannot access any humanitarian assistance.

Insecurity has increased dramatically since the signing of the DPA and the humanitarian relief effort is coming under attack. Carjackings have become an almost daily occurrence, food convoys are frequently ambushed and increasing numbers of aid workers are being assaulted and even shot.

The complete breakdown in law and order has allowed armed bandits to act with impunity. The fragmentation of the rebel groups has also hampered aid efforts. "We don't know who is in control of which areas," said Oxfam's Alun McDonald. "That is part of the reason it has become increasingly lawless. There are so many different groups and so many different commanders.

"We used to have a set person in the rebel groups whom we could phone up and tell we were coming through their area. Now, we don't know who to call or if the person who says they are in charge really is. The fragmentation is making it increasingly difficult to operate."

The Sudanese authorities also like to make things tricky. The Humanitarian Affairs Council (HAC) is a source of never-ending frustration for aid workers. Despite promises to issue visas and permits to those working in Darfur, there are often delays and refusals. Each attempt to carry out a programme becomes a battle of wills between HAC officials and aid agencies.

Working in such hostile conditions takes its toll. Most agencies try to ensure their international employees get a week's R'n'R outside Sudan every two or three months. HAC's latest ploy, claim some agencies, has been to delay the granting of exit and re-entry visas in Khartoum, forcing aid workers to choose between spending weeks in Sudan's capital waiting for the visa to be granted or simply leave the country altogether with no promise they will be able to return.

Across Darfur more than 2.5 million people are stuck in camps and reliant on aid. The camps are beginning to display an air of permanence. In Kalma, a camp 15km east of south Darfur's capital, Nyala, people talk of their dream to return home but few believe they will get the chance.

"Of course we want to return," said Gibril Ahmed Mohammed, the camp's general secretary, "but there is no way we can. The janjaweed are outside and they have guns. If the women go home, they will rape them. If the men go home, they will kill them. We are in a prison now inside this camp." Elections are due in Sudan in 2009 - the first in a generation. President Bashir's National Congress Party, which came to power in a 1989 coup, is desperate to achieve legitimacy - and hold on to the country's growing oil wealth.

"This government has always had a crisis," said Dr Madawi Ibrahim, a Darfurian expert trying to encourage rebel groups to unite. "You keep people busy with a crisis." Darfur has become a war without end. Some argue the Sudanese regime is happy to keep it that way.