Finbarr O'Reilly, Reuters chief photographer for West and Central Africa, was born in Swansea, Wales in 1971 and started as an Arts correspondent. He joined Reuters in 2001, turning to photography in 2005 and winning the World Press Photo Award for picture of the year in 2006. In the following story, he describes a recent encounter with rebels in eastern Chad.
By Finbarr O'Reilly
GOZ-BEIDA, Chad (Reuters) - Harsh light and shiftingshadows in the windblown desert of eastern Chad can conjurestrange images, but this was no mirage.
Lurking in the shade of a thorn tree was the dark outlineof a pick-up truck carrying a dozen men brandishing weapons.
In this lawless corner of Africa, the shapes under the treemeant trouble. As our battered Suzuki Samurai accelerated away,kicking up sand, the sharp "crack-crack-crack" of gunshotssplit the air.
We had stumbled upon a mobile column of anti-governmentrebels, on their way to raid Goz-Beida -- a sandy town ringedby hills and camps housing tens of thousands of refugees.
In the conflict stemming from Darfur and now destabilisingChad and Sudan, many raids are blamed on "Janjaweed", Arabmilitiamen who roam the borderlands on horseback, raping andpillaging.
The oil-producing rivals accuse each other of backing rebelfighters to topple their respective governments.
But these gunmen were too numerous and too heavily armed tobe Janjaweed. They rode in 100 or so mud-smeared Toyotapick-ups known as "technicals", without windscreens, with roofscut off and replaced by heavy machine guns, anti-aircraftweapons and artillery.
Each battle wagon carried up to a dozen rag-tag fightersarmed with AK-47s or Rocket Propelled Grenade (RPG) launchers.
Fingers on triggers and itching for a fight, these wereChad's rebels. They made a lightning strike on N'Djamena inFebruary, besieging Chadian President Idriss Deby's palaceduring days of heavy street battles, but failed to topple thegovernment.
Now, they were targeting isolated lightly defended bordertowns where a European Union force is protecting Sudanese andChadian refugees. They were raiding and retreating before therains swelled rivers and blocked their movements.
We stopped our vehicle.
Seconds later hordes of sweaty gunmen swathed in turbansand "magical" leather amulets swarmed around us, shouting andshoving their weapons in our faces, pulling us from the car,banging their fists on the roof.
Grabbing our driver's mobile phone, documents andcigarettes, and a satellite phone belonging to my travellingpartner, an American human rights researcher, the gunmenordered us to follow them back into the desert.
Fearing abduction or worse, I said I was a journalist, heldup my cameras and gestured I wanted to take their picture.
Even a dust-covered rebel knows the value of goodpublicity. The hostility evaporated and rebels posed with theirweapons.
"COKE, PLEASE"
Then the battle cry went out and the cheering rebels roaredoff to attack Goz-Beida. Within minutes, we heard explosionsand heavy gunfire. Black smoke rose above the town.
In the town itself, as we were later to learn, terrifiedaid workers were hiding inside their compounds as rebelssmashed down doors and stormed over walls.
At Concern, they burst in, hijacked several vehicles,looted personal belongings -- and raided the fridge.
One wild-eyed rebel charged into a room where aid workerswere cowering. He clutched a beer in one hand and a stolenelectric iron in the other, his rifle slung over his shoulder.
He handed over the iron, saying it was no use in thedesert.
He apologised for interrupting their game of Scrabble andpolitely asked for a can of Coke from the table, saying: "I'mthirsty."
The rebels ransacked the town. Two people, a civilian and agovernment soldier, were killed and dozens were injured bystray bullets and shrapnel during two hours of fighting.
Irish European Union troops deployed to protect a nearbyrefugee camp came under fire and shot back. Four unexplodedRPGs landed inside the camp, one of them in a school.
After the rebels left town with their loot, we beganinching back through the bush, until EU troops sent word thatChadian warplanes were looking for targets to bomb.
We abandoned the car and set off on foot, scanning the sky.Taking shelter in a riverbed, we waited for EU troops to pickus up, using GPS coordinates sent by satellite phone.
Fighting continued for another week before the rebelsslipped back across the border.
On my last night in eastern Chad, shooting erupted outsidethe house and continued for 30 minutes. A stray bullet crashedthrough the ceiling, landing a few feet away.
In the morning, a kitchen worker was asked if the shootinghad scared her. She laughed.
"C'est la musique Chadienne" -- It's Chadian music, thesoundtrack by which people live their lives.
(For full Reuters Africa coverage and to have your say onthe top issues, visit: http://africa.reuters.com)
(Editing by Alistair Thomson and Sara Ledwith)
