Many people have never heard of the Ivory Coast. It is a vivacious country in my opinion, having lived there and experienced some greatly memorable along with not so pleasurable moments. This West-African Republic was once a French colony where my grandparents and parents lived and immensely appreciated the exquisite quality of life. Unfortunately, this did not remain for very long after 1994 and the death of the long standing President Houphouet- Boigny. Although the natural beauty of the vegetation and African spirit as a whole still remains to this day, the way of life, activities and richness of the country have all deteriorated. Political problems are the main reason for the decline and it became quite dangerous when the young local militia in Abidjan, the capital city where my family and I were living, turned against the French and other Europeans during November
2004.
At noon on Thursday 4th November I received a call at home from my teacher informing me of riots happening in a nearby district, blocking the route to School. Hence lessons would be cancelled until Monday. My first reaction was not that of real surprise for this was not the first time this had occurred. I had already been obliged to change from the French school to the International school following the second attempted putsch in Ivory Coast on 19th of September 2002 when the situation had also turned rather chaotic. The first coup d’état had been in December 1999, when President Bedié was ousted and fled to France. Demonstrations and riots were not unusual after that, meaning I occasionally missed one or two days of school. However, this time
was not quite the same.
I did not go back to school that afternoon or the next day, but enjoyed tranquilly swimming in the pool, given the terrific weather of that tropical region. It was on Saturday 6th November that severe happenings began to occur and for the following week we had to stay at home for safety, as did all other foreigners. There had been attacks in the Northern part of the country. Government aeroplanes had bombed the cities occupied by the current President’s political opponents’ (called ‘rebels’). Everything went downhill from there. The next thing, the Government aeroplanes were bombing the French military base killing nine French soldiers. France immediately retaliated and destroyed all the Ivorian aeroplanes, on the ground, causing no casualties but stopping further air attacks. This action infuriated the young local militia, in the capital city of Abidjan, and violent demonstrations started against the French.
My Mother, Father and I had been isolated in our House for a few days, luckily always being informed of events by phone calls from fiends, radio, television and internet. We felt quite safe being in a secure area with ambassadors and ministers living nearby having good security. We ourselves had a day guard and night guard, not forgetting the dog that could scare off any eventual attackers. Unfortunately we heard news of rioters entering homes and looting all possessions but even worse, attacking people and abusing them. When we were told that the looters were in our road and knocking on the doors of Europeans, we began to worry.
We had already taken the precaution to close the curtains upstairs to block the view from the outside, in case the sight of furnishings would tempt the rioters. All the iron gates around the house were shut and we took out our English passports. We had to be prepared to come face-to-face with the demonstrators if they decided to break into our house,and hopefully, by only talking in English and showing our passports, they would not harm us. My mother, who is French, used my current English passport, whilst I took my old one; we hoped that this would not be discovered. I was feeling tense as my parents and I sat downstairs in the lounge with closed curtains trying to remain as quiet as possible, attentively listening for any external noises. We did not dare turn on the air conditioning knowing that it would make a noise outside, and the last thing we wanted was to attract attention towards ourselves. I cannot recall exactly what was passing through my mind at that time but I know I was praying and hoping with all my might that we would be alright. I trusted my parents and what my father was telling us to do.
All of a sudden the dog began to bark and listening intently we could hear chatter and cheering coming nearer and nearer. It was certain that the rioters were now outside our house and it was so frustrating not to be able to see them or know what they were planning to do. My heart was throbbing; I tried to continue hoping optimistically that they would just move on down the road and not attempt to enter our house. We hardly dared breathe we were so afraid that the protestors would be aware of our presence. Time passed by, slowly, yet nothing happened. My father decided to go upstairs and look through the bedroom window to see out onto the road. The rioters, who were mainly young men and women, were emptying the house opposite of its entire contents, all the furniture and appliances. They were carrying out everything with no exception, even toilet seats, on their heads and taking things away by truck or foot. This lasted for a couple of hours, during which time my father took the opportunity to call an Ivorian friend whom he thought may be able to help us. In the space of an hour, 3 military police and my father’s friend were at our house. The minute they appeared in our road, the looters fled leaving debris all over the road and the scattered belongings of the opposite house. We immediately felt relieved that we were no longer in danger and were further protected by the soldiers staying with us for a few days until all had calmed down.
After that day we felt no more fear and were less targeted by the rioters. At the end of the week we were then evacuated from the country by the British Army and flew to Ghana on a RAF plane. Although it was quite frightening driving to the airport it was a huge relief to finally board the plane and fly off to neighboring Ghana and then back to the UK. It felt quite unreal being back in England when just a few days before we had been virtual prisoners in our own home. All the tension we had felt since the beginning of the problems was released as we arrived back in Woking one bitter morning. It suddenly dawned on us how fortunate we had been not to get attacked or be affected in any way. At last we could unwind and be grateful to be together as a family, safe.
Since November very few European families are living together in the Ivory Coast, given that many offices and the international schools have been damaged and are therefore closed. My father is still living there as are many other businessmen in order to keep their businesses running, but the political problems in the Ivory Coast are not yet
over.
Looking back at everything now, I have come to the conclusion that it is impossible to predict what tomorrow will bring, and it is for that reason that you should live every day with a smile, knowing that you are so lucky for what you have. This is certainly my lesson learnt
coming so close to what may have happened.
