Lay of the Land: Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire

In transit 15 hours en avion!

I’m here, back in Cote d’Ivoire after a year and a half break, working for the International Rescue Committee (IRC), with their women’s empowerment division to design and implement a nationwide social marketing campaign to combat domestic violence. It turned out to be a longer break from design to implementation than expected, as a result of the conflict that arose right after my first visit in October of 2010. The national presidential elections were held shortly after I left, and after the votes were cast and counted, the incumbent president, Laurent Gbagbo refused to leave office.  After much bloodshed on both sides, Alassane Ouattara, the elected president, assumed office and Gbagbo awaits trial at the International Criminal Court (ICC) at The Hague.

That's Drogba, possibly the best soccer player in
the world, and me, the dork in the t-shirt.

It’s been 10 months since the upheaval, and the atmosphere here is much more relaxed if not cautiously optimistic. It’s the eve of the Africa Cup final match and with Cote d’Ivoire’s “Les Elephants” the favorite, it’s downright giddy.  As we speak I’m sporting the organge t-shirt, to show my allegiance, of course!  

3 blocks away?
Il faut prendre une voiture, bien sur!

Supermarche "Sococe" where you can
get everything but a local vegetable! 

Giddy would not be the word, however, to describe the operations and security team at the IRC.  We are under a “Level 2” security threat, according to my briefing, I’m basically not allowed to leave the hotel alone, take a taxi alone, buy vegetables from the local merchants, or go to markets not in the “Cocody” neighborhood where the office and hotel are located.  These two “sanctioned” markets are basically huge supermarkets akin to K-mart with overpriced European goods.  Luckily after a few days the rules were eased a bit and I was granted permission to walk the 3 blocks to work.  Ahem du le Allah!  This hyper-security is curious, given where I was delivered upon arrival, an apartment not far from the office but a far cry from where I had stayed during my previous visit.  If there is what thing that can be said about the IRC as a development organization, they don’t spend $ on needless perks and indulgences for their staff or contractors. Trying dutifully not to be a typical “whiney” American, I bit my lip rather than complain too heartily about the broken stove, lack of Wifi or working tv, moldy closet, or the cockroach that popped out onto my nose to greet me when I opened the bedside table to retrieve my reading glasses! 

 The view from the kitchen was a busy bidonville, and soon after discovering this “rear window”- look into another life, I was humbled.  Getting a look into a world so far removed from my plush life at home made even this roach motel seem like something to be thankful for. The sounds emanating from this little village were fascinating. One night I heard what sounded like whales underwater – a low, dull groan of an animal in heat.  But, after a few minutes of closer auditory observation, I realized it was someone—probably a child, making bold attempts to play a horn, probably retrieved out of some wealthy person’s trash.  Another night, as I lay staring at the ceiling in jet-lag induced homeostasis, I heard shouts and cries coming in waves from below—a few minutes apart.  I realized soon after that, that it was the finals match of the Africa Cup with CI vs. Morocco that I was hearing, but not seeing, due to my non-functioning TV–cum-oversized paperweight.  The final morning I was there, a Saturday, music blared across the bidonville from speakers on the periphery of community.  Starting with Bob Marley’s “Get up Stand Up,” and interrupted by the radio jock’s inspirational preacher-like rants, it would’ve been a horrible cliché in a movie had it not been followed by “House of the Rising Sun.” Huh?   My rear-window theater came to an end when the procurement office realized that maybe it was better to put me up in the old hotel, despite their $5,000 Franc ($11) per night rate increase, than trying to get all that fixed.  Even for the most patient of locals, it might’ve taken the entire month and a half that I’m here.  Sitting by the pool as I write this, I can’t say I miss the “character building” apartment much. : )