Of riots, fried bananas and evacuations
So here we are in Ghana, recovering from what happened in Ivory coast.
What happened?
If you ask me, I'd say the president woke up on Thursday 4 November thinking 'to hell with that peace agreement, to hell with those rebels thatare occupying half my country. I want it back, all of it.'So next thing he ordered his pilots to start bombing those rebels.Then he ordered a clean up of the media (opposition papers were incidentally burned to the ground and for unknown reasons BBC went off air). And then the president announced on the only media left, the state radio and TV, that a great day had started, because he, the president, had started to liberate his country for the sake of his beloved people.
So it all started rather promising, till unfortunately a bomb went astray and landed on a French base, killing more than half a dozen. In response the French killed off the whole Ivorian air arsenal, including the president's two private jets.New announcement on state TV: your president has, for your sake,started bombing the rebels but now the French claim that a bomb was dropped on their base. They accuse us of dropping it, though we want a thorough investigation to make sure that it was not an act of the rebels, who are capable of all bad things and have no morals.
Next TV announcement: the French have bombed all our planes, hereby they declare war to us, so get up and react against those neo-colonialists who have no respect for us because we are poor and black, so stand up and let's rid our country from them. Remember that a true 'patriot' is willing to die for his country!From then on no one mentioned the rebels anymore. From then on it was war between Ivorians and the French. Or rather, between Ivorians and all white people, and we were told by our embassies to stay inside and not to show our face.
Outside on the street the 'get-rid-of-the-French' message was warmly applauded by the presidents' private gang of bandits, the Jeunes Patriotes, who immediately started bashing, looting and burning all French shops, schools and properties, grabbing thereby all those things they had always dreamt of, from mobile phones and microwaves to Nike shoes and air conditioners.This went on day and night; in our case right under our feet as the shop underneath our apartment, which a day earlier was still abustling Orange telephone shop, was now being reduced to rubble. The noise of continued hammering, right under our beds, made hardly for agood night's sleep and when they subsequently put the shop on fire, the fumes sifting through our air-conditioning did not improve things, nor the threat of the fire spreading throughout the apartmentbuilding. We stayed awake most of the night, listening to the sounds of gunfire, explosions and helicopters, ready to run when necessary.
When the morning broke with the birds singing as if nothing had ever happened, we imagined that there was nothing left to loot and we were hoping that things would get quieter. However, a new announcement wasmade on TV: French tanks are surrounding the presidents' palace, wanting to topple the government! So get out and form a human cordon around the presidents' palace! So off they went again, thousands of people, beating drums and shouting war slogans. On the way to the palace they passed our apartment and while hiding behind the curtains we could tell by the sounds of breaking glass and the banging of metals that they left a new trail of destruction (which I found highly remarkable because they had been looting and destroying for so long now that I was convinced that there was nothing to break or shatter left in the whole neighborhood. I later learned that the extensive hammering of the shop underneath us went on for days because the looters were trying to open the safe with their primitive means (hammers, axes, stones, sticks), and it was only days later when a police force showed up who helped them open it with a few well placed gunshots, in exchange for half themoney.
The French later announced that they had no intention of removing the president, but had been on their way to take over a big hotel (to have a place to safeguard their citizens), but that their tanks had lost their way and gone astray, coming very close to the president'shouse, thereby sparking the 'toppling' rumor.This announcement did not appease the angry crowd but made them all the angrier because they did not want the French to touch their HotelIvoire, the poshest of all West Africa. So another spate of violence ensued with more casualties and properties lost.
Meanwhile we were holed up in our apartment, the only whites in the whole building and therefore not an obvious target, till a 'patriot'spotted the UN car in the parking lot and started looking for the owners. Luckily we were tipped in time and could run to hide with neighbors, who served us fried bananas and explained that they did not approve of all the looting and violence that was taking place outside, even though they stressed that the French and the UN were indeed their enemies, but for us they made an exception - I guess because they liked the enthusiasm with which Niko claps her hands, swings her hips and shouts 'hallelujah!' and 'amen!' when she accompanies them to church on Sunday mornings.
Anyway, being holed up for seven days which seemed like seven weeks, I often wished I had dark make-up and an afro wig and a big boubou so that I could wander outside incognito and watch with my own eyes what was happening - the destruction, the crowds, the dancing in the street when they had found something new to plunder, and the long queues at the few still existing food shops (it certainly was a good week for dieting!)
During those days Remi, at four weeks, slept as a rose, unaware of what was happening around her, while Niko, at three, wondered why she had to keep quiet and was forbidden to play outside. She must have also wondered why we were all day on the phone - gathering information, keeping in touch with friends and embassies, getting calls from journalists, worried calls from friends and families overseas, as well as a rebuking call from my mother, telling me off for using slang and talking too quickly when giving interviews on national radio.
As the days went on, more and more foreigners started leavingAbidjan, even people who had lived there all their lives, but now had lost everything, their houses and businesses burnt to the ground, or if not, just scared to death because things had never been that bad before, certainly not with gang rapes and stuff like that.While everyone around us started making arrangements to leave the country (the French sent out helicopters to pick up people), I was left wondering 'should I stay or should I go?' Because often evacuations happen after the worst has already taken place, and then you find yourself stuck somewhere else and it takes ages before you can go back. So we waited and waited, till finally the UN decided to evacuate its personnel to Ghana.
So here we are, and wait, aware that the troubles in IvoryCoast are far from over, but hoping that somehow something will happen during the next few weeks that stabilizes the situation enough so that we can go back and resume our life.
Griet, Ghana, December 2004
What happened?
If you ask me, I'd say the president woke up on Thursday 4 November thinking 'to hell with that peace agreement, to hell with those rebels thatare occupying half my country. I want it back, all of it.'So next thing he ordered his pilots to start bombing those rebels.Then he ordered a clean up of the media (opposition papers were incidentally burned to the ground and for unknown reasons BBC went off air). And then the president announced on the only media left, the state radio and TV, that a great day had started, because he, the president, had started to liberate his country for the sake of his beloved people.
So it all started rather promising, till unfortunately a bomb went astray and landed on a French base, killing more than half a dozen. In response the French killed off the whole Ivorian air arsenal, including the president's two private jets.New announcement on state TV: your president has, for your sake,started bombing the rebels but now the French claim that a bomb was dropped on their base. They accuse us of dropping it, though we want a thorough investigation to make sure that it was not an act of the rebels, who are capable of all bad things and have no morals.
Next TV announcement: the French have bombed all our planes, hereby they declare war to us, so get up and react against those neo-colonialists who have no respect for us because we are poor and black, so stand up and let's rid our country from them. Remember that a true 'patriot' is willing to die for his country!From then on no one mentioned the rebels anymore. From then on it was war between Ivorians and the French. Or rather, between Ivorians and all white people, and we were told by our embassies to stay inside and not to show our face.
Outside on the street the 'get-rid-of-the-French' message was warmly applauded by the presidents' private gang of bandits, the Jeunes Patriotes, who immediately started bashing, looting and burning all French shops, schools and properties, grabbing thereby all those things they had always dreamt of, from mobile phones and microwaves to Nike shoes and air conditioners.This went on day and night; in our case right under our feet as the shop underneath our apartment, which a day earlier was still abustling Orange telephone shop, was now being reduced to rubble. The noise of continued hammering, right under our beds, made hardly for agood night's sleep and when they subsequently put the shop on fire, the fumes sifting through our air-conditioning did not improve things, nor the threat of the fire spreading throughout the apartmentbuilding. We stayed awake most of the night, listening to the sounds of gunfire, explosions and helicopters, ready to run when necessary.
When the morning broke with the birds singing as if nothing had ever happened, we imagined that there was nothing left to loot and we were hoping that things would get quieter. However, a new announcement wasmade on TV: French tanks are surrounding the presidents' palace, wanting to topple the government! So get out and form a human cordon around the presidents' palace! So off they went again, thousands of people, beating drums and shouting war slogans. On the way to the palace they passed our apartment and while hiding behind the curtains we could tell by the sounds of breaking glass and the banging of metals that they left a new trail of destruction (which I found highly remarkable because they had been looting and destroying for so long now that I was convinced that there was nothing to break or shatter left in the whole neighborhood. I later learned that the extensive hammering of the shop underneath us went on for days because the looters were trying to open the safe with their primitive means (hammers, axes, stones, sticks), and it was only days later when a police force showed up who helped them open it with a few well placed gunshots, in exchange for half themoney.
The French later announced that they had no intention of removing the president, but had been on their way to take over a big hotel (to have a place to safeguard their citizens), but that their tanks had lost their way and gone astray, coming very close to the president'shouse, thereby sparking the 'toppling' rumor.This announcement did not appease the angry crowd but made them all the angrier because they did not want the French to touch their HotelIvoire, the poshest of all West Africa. So another spate of violence ensued with more casualties and properties lost.
Meanwhile we were holed up in our apartment, the only whites in the whole building and therefore not an obvious target, till a 'patriot'spotted the UN car in the parking lot and started looking for the owners. Luckily we were tipped in time and could run to hide with neighbors, who served us fried bananas and explained that they did not approve of all the looting and violence that was taking place outside, even though they stressed that the French and the UN were indeed their enemies, but for us they made an exception - I guess because they liked the enthusiasm with which Niko claps her hands, swings her hips and shouts 'hallelujah!' and 'amen!' when she accompanies them to church on Sunday mornings.
Anyway, being holed up for seven days which seemed like seven weeks, I often wished I had dark make-up and an afro wig and a big boubou so that I could wander outside incognito and watch with my own eyes what was happening - the destruction, the crowds, the dancing in the street when they had found something new to plunder, and the long queues at the few still existing food shops (it certainly was a good week for dieting!)
During those days Remi, at four weeks, slept as a rose, unaware of what was happening around her, while Niko, at three, wondered why she had to keep quiet and was forbidden to play outside. She must have also wondered why we were all day on the phone - gathering information, keeping in touch with friends and embassies, getting calls from journalists, worried calls from friends and families overseas, as well as a rebuking call from my mother, telling me off for using slang and talking too quickly when giving interviews on national radio.
As the days went on, more and more foreigners started leavingAbidjan, even people who had lived there all their lives, but now had lost everything, their houses and businesses burnt to the ground, or if not, just scared to death because things had never been that bad before, certainly not with gang rapes and stuff like that.While everyone around us started making arrangements to leave the country (the French sent out helicopters to pick up people), I was left wondering 'should I stay or should I go?' Because often evacuations happen after the worst has already taken place, and then you find yourself stuck somewhere else and it takes ages before you can go back. So we waited and waited, till finally the UN decided to evacuate its personnel to Ghana.
So here we are, and wait, aware that the troubles in IvoryCoast are far from over, but hoping that somehow something will happen during the next few weeks that stabilizes the situation enough so that we can go back and resume our life.
Griet, Ghana, December 2004
posted by Griet at 4:09 PM
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