Sudan’s president appears nonchalant despite an international indictment looming over him for the horrendous tragedies of Darfur, writes JEFFREY GETTLEMAN

OMAR Hassan al-Bashir, the president of Sudan who has been accused of genocide, is not especially well known for his dancing moves.

But on Wednesday, in front of tens of thousands of people packed into what appeared to be a mandatory pep-rally in Darfur, the bespectacled, portly president jumped up on a desk and did a little jig. He jutted his cane. He rolled his hips. Shadows of sweat bloomed under his arms. But the crowd didn't seem to care. "Seer, seer, Bashir!" they screamed. "Go, go, Mr Bashir!"

With an international indictment looming over him on charges of genocide, Bashir returned to the scene of his alleged misdeeds in Darfur -- on an uncharacteristic charm offensive.

It was here in El Fasher, on the same airport tarmac where Bashir was blessed by a hundred elders leaning on canes on Wednesday morning, that rebels blew up government planes in 2003, kicking off a conflict that would claim 300,000 lives and perpetually threaten to destabilise an entire region in the heart of Africa.
Sudanese forces and government-sponsored militias swept the countryside. They burned down villages and raped countless women, all part of an effort to put down the rebellion, and the violence drove more than two million people off their land. The prosecutor for the International Criminal Court, Luis Moreno-Ocampo, has accused Bashir of being the "mastermind" of this entire strategy, the one with "absolute control".

But on Wednesday, Bashir didn't seem to be feeling too guilty. He was all about peace, development and pleasing the crowds. The minute he stepped off the plane in El Fasher, a white dove was thrust into his hands.

Bashir threw the bird towards the sky. It flapped a few times, but didn't really fly.

No bother. Bashir beamed on and strutted down the runway.

The roadshow, part of a whistle-stop tour of the three biggest cities in Darfur, seems to be part of Bashir's attempt to head off an arrest warrant that the prosecution is seeking and judges at The Hague are considering.

The United Nations Security Council can suspend the prosecution, and some Security Council members, like China and Russia, have already voiced hesitation, saying that the case against Bashir is complicating peace efforts. It seems that the Sudanese government is hoping that if it shows some goodwill -- and it needs to do this fast -- the United Nations will cut Bashir some slack.

He was decidedly not antagonistic at the rally on Wednesday, for instance, and didn't go on and on about evil America. He didn't mention any Zionist conspiracies. And this from a head of state who had threatened to launch a jihad against UN peacekeepers and turn Darfur into a "graveyard" of blue helmets. Thousands of peacekeepers are now here and more are on their way as part of a joint United Nations-African Union force.

Instead, Bashir's strategy seemed to be to paint himself, and his government, as the victim. "Whenever we take one step forward towards peace, our outside enemies pull us back," he said.

He also admitted, which was unusual for him, that "there had been problems in Darfur and injustices". "And we're working on them," he reassured his people.

He talked of all the wells he would drill and schools he would build and how he would reach out to rebel groups to stabilise the war-ravaged region in western Sudan. "We are with you, Darfur!" Bashir said.

The whole event was carefully orchestrated, as government rallies often are in Sudan, and literally choreographed, down to the halting dances the women did for Bashir's pleasure.

The heat was stupefying, and two elderly women fainted while Bashir, 64, was dancing on the desk, which had been set up on a podium in the middle of the rally. Still, it was harder finding a Bashir detractor than a patch of shade. Everyone seemed to have gotten the memo.

"If Bashir is so bad, how could he have been president for 19 years?" asked one woman, Asia Ibrahim.

The crowd was packed with turbaned elders, school girls in deconstructed camouflage uniforms, boys on donkeys, men on camels with their faces wrapped against the desert dust, cracking their whips in the air. And there were soldiers -- in green uniforms, red uniforms, blue uniforms, brown uniforms -- making sure everyone was celebrating appropriately.

Clearly, Bashir was saying the right things, though he was short on specifics and his track record is hardly the best.

"It was vaguely positive," said a Western diplomat who travelled with Bashir to observe the speeches. "He's not nearly as confrontational as he has been. But the question is: where's the substance?" -- NYT