C. African Republic Town Roiled by Rebellion The gunfire starts here as soon as the sun rises, echoing across the town as women make their way to the well and the fortunate few children who still attend school head to class on rutted red paths lined by banana trees. One group of rebels is nestled in the forest on the outskirts of town; their longtime enemies are positioned within walking distance on the other. Sometimes they shoot simply to announce their presence to the other. Mostly, though, they terrify townspeople who already have endured years of upheaval and rebellion, and who are now confronting an increasingly complex and toxic array of armed fighters. Be brave! Be brave!" children aged 8 and 9 shout to reassure each other as the gunfire crackles in this town fatigued by the daily threat of stray bullets. The newest rebellion to roil Central African Republic is estimated to have forced some 173,000 people from their homes since December across the already deeply impoverished country in the heart of Africa. It also has put a country that is bordered by some of Africa's most troubled nations firmly in the hands of rebels who critics say are more consumed with controlling the country's natural resources than bringing development and prosperity. Most residents of Ndele fled into the surrounding countryside when rebels took the northern town of 13,000 in the far north in their first power grab before making their way south to Bangui, the capital, by March. Each day brings the threat of new uncertainty in Ndele as young fighters in camouflage and turbans continue to arrive in town. Every one has a Kalashnikov assault rifle. The sweet scent of mangoes ripening on the ground mixes with the smoke from freshly fired weapons. "Each day there is more gunfire and the government has not addressed the problem," says Jean-Jacques Lundi, a father of seven who repairs those abandoned motorcycles that haven't been commandeered by rebel groups. Until they disarm, life cannot return to normal. In announcing its formation in December, the rebel alliance known as Seleka said it wanted to redress decades of neglect by the federal government, particularly by longtime President Francois Bozize. For example, the road several hundred kilometers (miles) long between the provincial capitals of Ndele and Birao, for example, has not been repaved since this country the size of France, its former colonial ruler, gained independence in 1960. "During the Bozize regime, we were completely forgotten," says Khalil Rakess, the secretary-general of Seleka for the Ndele region, whose camp is in an old Department of Forestry building. "Seleka is going to improve life for the residents of Ndele," he says. His colleagues lounge in plastic lawn chairs, showing off their rocket-propelled grenades. They wear a mixture of stolen army uniforms and Adidas track suits, and take down notes with International Committee of the Red Cross pens. Yet four months after the rebels seized Ndele, most schools remain closed and unemployment has soared to around 70 percent. Public servants have not been paid, and light bulbs gather thick red dust without electricity. Residents like Jean-Bosco N'Dackouzou say the rebels too have profited at the expense of civilians. Over the course of several days, they took the computers he was using to train unemployed people in town, plus two generators, solar panels, even his kitchen utensils. They shot 37 of his goats for food, he said.