Parisian Life in Abidjan

Near arrests aside, Côté d'Ivoire has been a pretty crazy experience after traveling through the Sahel region for six weeks. Even more so than Benin, Togo, and Ghana, which if you've been following this blog for a while (and if you have, barka!), Côté d'Ivoire seems to be the promised land. Any kind of fruit you want, you can find it here, being sold on the street by crinkly old Ivorian ladies. The streets are paved and generally goat-free. And then there's Abidjan. If I thought Yamoussoukro was a beacon of development, I can only say that Abidjan put it to shame.

I originally had very little desire to visit Côté d'Ivoire. The country went through a political crisis only a few years ago and seems on the verge of another if elections don't work out. The northern half of the country was reportedly off-limits and, like Niger, the north is where all the cool stuff seemed to be. But I was drawn to the country by Ms. Emilie Ross, the Volunteer who opened Tanka Lokoto, my village in Niger. I'd heard so much about her from my villagers that I felt I knew before I even met her. She's working in Abidjan for the moment, so it seemed pretty convenient to rendre a visit to see her and trade stories.

I wasn't ready for Abidjan. I can just say that outright. As I pulled into the Adjamé district, I thought it looked like every other capital city I'd been to in West Africa. That's because in Adjamé you can feel the crush of every other part of West Africa surging around you. It's where most of the immigrants live. People packed shoulder to shoulder, pressing through thronging masses swirling through the streets among animals, street vendors, and motos. The guy that picked me up, Charles, said that there were no Ivorians living in Adjamé. I don't know about that, but Adjamé is kind of unique in Abidjan, a little piece of Niamey, Bamako, or Ouagadougou thrown into the middle of a developed, cosmopolitan city.

After traveling throughout the Sahel, you can't help but be wowed by Abidjan. Coming across the lagoon, you get a look at Plateau, the business district, and you'd be forgiven if you thought you'd jumped through time and space to arrive in Miami in the late 70s. It seems seconds away from taking off and becoming a major player in the region. But then you realize that it already is a major player and has been for decades. Abidjan's high rises are unlike anything I've seen in the rest of Africa. The amount of money here from the port, the cocoa, the palm oil, lumber, rubber, etc probably surpasses all of Niger's GDP. This is definitely a city that, if I had the money, I could spend some time in. So many restaurants, hotels, clubs, shops. It's been called the Paris of West Africa, and I think this is appropriate. There's little African about large sections of the city. I felt my traveling wear and tear seeing men in tailored suits and women in nice Western-style outfits, hair in weaves or under stylish wigs, and "designer" handbags (most in West Africa are fake, but I'm sure there are plenty here that are real). Class is defined by whether you wear pagne fabric in the African style or if you ape Western culture and dress. I will be the first to admit that I looked lower class, but how else could I look after six weeks on the road?

But I didn't come to Abidjan to feel bad about my rugged, weathered exterior. I came to trade Tanka stories and that's what I did. Besides, my budget didn't work for a city like Abidjan. The cheapest, seediest hotels were outside my price range, and luckily I had a place to stay. Emilie was very open and friendly, but what struck me most about our time together was how unique our experiences were. Despite living in the same village for two years, we had different friends, different work, different lives. We served only a year apart from one another, but in that year, kids grew older, families moved in or out, children were born, older people died. My favorite kid in village, my little attakurmizo, was born while she served. His older brother Zedu was his carbon copy for her service. Children that she saw all the time weren't around much because they are now in school. And, of course, the biggest difference in predominately-Muslim Niger is our gender. Emilie spent most of her time with the women. I spent hardly any time with the women as it's just not done, and whereas a Western woman can break into men's circles, it's very very difficult for a man to do the same with women. If for no other reason than because they are always working. But despite our different experiences, we did have a mini-reunion with a villager who now lives in Côté d'Ivoire, bringing the experience full circle and reminding both of us of how great an impact Peace Corps has had on our lives.