The people of Zaire breathed a long sigh of relief when Mobutu Sese Seko snuck out the country's back door in 1997. For 32 years they had endured the dictator in the leopardskin hat who ruled with a fist of iron and the rapacity of a vulture.
Three years later, in what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo, the Mobutu era is regarded with wry nostalgia as others have arrived to impose their will and stock their coffers, seeking a slice of the heady cake of power, riches and influence.
At this moment six foreign armies and an assortment of nine militias and rebel groups are marching around the Congo. Some are intent on toppling governments, others on propping them up; some are after diamonds, others gold, while others still seem interested in killing as an end in itself. In all, they are estimated to number at least 100,000.
It is into this political and military quagmire, which has been called Africa's first World War, that the UN intends to send 5,000 troops and 500 ceasefire monitors later this year. The troops will be deployed to a handful of urban centres in a country the size of Western Europe. Experts say the intervention is on far too small a scale and might well never happen.
Troops from Zimbabwe, Angola, Namibia, Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi are currently in the Congo. They are joined by the three Congolese rebel factions and a host of militias. Tanzania plays host to thousands of refugees, while Zambia attempts the impossible role of honest broker.
Where did it all start? The fulcrum of the Congo conflict is the war between Congolese President Laurent Kabila and the rebel alliance, which in turn was born out of the 1994 Rwandan genocide.
For years a little-known guerrilla warlord stuck in the jungles of eastern Congo, Kabila was plucked from obscurity in 1997 by the Rwandan and Ugandan governments. They needed a Congolese face to lead their coup against Mobutu, who had been harbouring the Interahamwe Hutu extremists who perpetrated the 1994 genocide.
Once installed in Kinshasa, however, Kabila turned his back on his allies. The Rwandans, fearing another pact with the Interahamwe, looked around for new friends, found the Congolese Rally for Democracy (RCD) and started a fresh rebellion in August 1998.
Since then, the rebels have taken control of northern and eastern Congo, roughly half the country. The various rebel factions and supporting Rwandan and Ugandan troops are estimated at 45,000, while Kabila's army is estimated at 70,000. But both sides depend heavily on outside armies, with their own self-serving agendas.
Angola, Namibia and Zimbabwe have pitched in behind the Kabila government. Angola's main motivation is to finish off the rebel movement UNITA, which has been waging a 25-year war against the state, partly from bases in Congo. It has committed an estimated 2,000 troops, as has its ally Namibia.
Zimbabwe's President Robert Mugabe, who committed 10,000 troops, has few military interests in Congo but many economic ones. Since bailing out Kabila at the outset of the war, Zimbabwe has won several lucrative diamond-mining contracts, the proceeds of which appear to end up in the pockets of the Zimbabwean army.
ALSO on the government side is Sudan, which has carried out aerial bombings of rebel positions. Burundi has admitted to having troops in Congo, but claims to be interested only in pursuing its Hutu enemies based there. The rebel coalition of forces, once galvanised by a common purpose, has been plagued by infighting and accused of using the war to plunder Congo's massive natural wealth.
Less than a year into its existence, the RCD split into two factions last summer: RCD-Goma, controlled by Rwanda, and RCD-Kisangani, backed by Uganda. The rivalry reached its height last August when Rwandan and Ugandan troops fought each other for four days around Kisangani before agreeing a ceasefire.
There is also a third rebel group in the north-west, the Movement for the Liberation of Congo, headed by Jean-Pierre Bemba, a businessman who has lived most of his life in Brussels.
Just over 18 months into the war, the fighting has reached a stalemate. While the front line remains largely static, the Interahamwe continues to terrorise the population of eastern Congo with the help of Kabila, creating massive displacement of civilians. The Rwandan forces are hated by the Congolese population, which has seen the resurgence of the Mayi-Mayi militia, also supported by Kabila.
A third line of conflict is also emerging, in which the native Tutsi minority in eastern Congo is being scapegoated for the Rwandan-led war. Extremists are threatening to drive the Tutsis out of the Congo.
Uganda's involvement in the war, ostensibly for reasons of principle and solidarity, is increasingly being questioned. A booming gold and diamond trade has opened up in Ugandan-controlled towns in the north, while at home Ugandans are questioning the value of a war that is draining their meagre resources.
Things are little better on the government side. Under Kabila the economy has collapsed and both civilians and military are living in miserable conditions. Human rights are given scant regard as the unsophisticated administration clamps down on press freedom and carries out regular public executions.
Any hope of disentangling the web of Gordian knots lies with the Lusaka peace agreement, signed by both government and rebel forces last August 31st.
Lusaka is the foundation of the planned UN intervention, which was agreed by the Security Council in New York last January.
But the peace accords have been violated over and over again. And even if there was a real ceasefire among the conventional armies, the accord does not address issues such as the disarmament of the Interahamwe.
Combining aspects of the political complexity of Bosnia and the military terrain of Vietnam, the unhappy Congolese people could wait some time before they see the blue helmets of the UN.
Tomorrow: Declan Walsh reports from Goma in eastern Congo.