Heart of the Matter

IF I HAD A HAMMER...

...I think I would use it to smash the equipment of the band that plays every night in the hotel bar here. They are truly awful. The band usually consists of two guys: one plays keyboard, while the other sings, often in falsetto and frequently off key. A female vocalist sometimes joins them, but she's equally bad. They do covers of famous French and American songs. Their version of the folk classic "I had a hammer," was one of the worst things I've ever heard. They make it rather unpleasant to go to the bar and yet every night many of the guests spend hours sitting there nursing drinks. (I make an occasional visit.) I guess there really isn't anywhere else to go. Some people even clap when the band finishes, but maybe this is more out of appreciation for the sudden silence than it is for the band's performance.

The clientele at the Novotel bar is overwhelmingly male. I think most of the guests here are probably businessmen. But at one corner of the bar, there is usually an African woman sitting alone. It's not always the same woman, but I am fairly certain that this bar stool is reserved for the resident prostitute. I came to this conclusion after recognizing one of the corner sitters as a member of the small group of "ladies of the evening" who hang out across the street from the hotel entrance each night. They wave and yell out to men getting out of cabs here. I don't think they get much business (but then again, they are there every night and I doubt they would be if there were never any takers.)

I find that I spend a lot of my time sitting around waiting for things to happen, which is frustrating. I wait for people to call me back so that I can arrange interviews. Then, when I have interviews, I go to their offices at the scheduled time and end up waiting for a long time even though I have an appointment. People never seem to apologize for keeping you waiting. Sometimes they even forget about the interview altogether. I think this is all pretty rude, but I've been told it's just the way things are here.

That said I have had some good interviews in the past couple of days. I met the head of one of the major political parties here. He seemed very slick. Ivorian politicians have definitely mastered the art of spin. I also had an interview with the guy who runs the Coffee and Cocao Bourse. He was a pretty colorful character, sort of like an Ivorian version of Juan Valdez. He is in charge of marketing Ivorian cocao beans. He was a short guy, who dressed in a bright red and blue patterned African tunic and matching pants. He wore an old farmer's hat even though we were inside. (The hat must be his signature. He was wearing it in every one of the numerous photos of him meeting with various politicians and celebrities that decorated his office.) The interview was in French. I'm not sure Fanny did that great a job with the translation. He seemed to have trouble understanding my questions, which involved some more economic and business terms.

By far the best interviews I have had so far have been with French officials. I have been struck by how frank they've been with me. They seem so different from many of the American officials I met when I was in Iraq. With a couple of notable exceptions, the Americans always felt obliged to say they were optimistic: Sure, things were tough, but they were making progress. For the most part they remained "on-message." Only rarely did anyone let their guard down and admit how terribly frustrated they were with the way things were going. (They usually told you these things off the record, in whispered tones, and none of them ever seemed despondent.) The French here, on the other hand, seem perfectly willing to admit they are in a terrible bind. "Mission Impossible," is how one of them described their predicament. There is a kind of existential fatalism to some of their comments. It's all very French. And it's all very true. I really feel sorry for the French here. They tried to do the right thing and, despite what many people suspect, I think they tried to do it for the right reasons. But the peace process they helped engineer is deadlocked, with no obvious solution in sight. Meanwhile, they are hated by all sides, even though the French are probably the only thing keeping the country from sliding back into outright civil war. They have 4,000 soldiers here and they will probably have to keep them here for a very long time.

On Monday, I met a French army colonel who is the current spokesman for the French forces in Cote d'Ivoire. (The French mission here is called "Licorne," which means "Unicorn.") We shared a drink in the hotel bar. He arrived in his fatigues, carrying a French-English dictionary under his arm (although his English was excellent.) You have to love French military officers - they have such ?lan. He told me he thinks the rebel military leaders are ready to disarm, but that their political representatives aren't ready to take that step. He said he had served two tours in Bosnia and one in Afghanistan and he said this was both easier and harder than those missions for exactly the same reason: because the people of Cote d'Ivoire were culturally French. (I think some Ivorians might beg to differ, but it was an interesting, and self-deprecating, answer.) He also acknowledged that although France would like to see a reunified Cote d'Ivoire, their peacekeeping operation is essentially having the opposite effect. By enforcing a demilitarized zone across the middle of the country (they call it a "zone of confidence") and keeping two opposing armies apart, they are helping to create a de facto partition of the country.

Tuesday, I spent some time over at the French Embassy meeting with the political officer there. Given the huge French economic influence and presence in Cote d'Ivoire, you would expect their embassy to have a kind of colonial grandeur. And it does in fact occupy a prime piece of real estate in Le Plateau with fantastic views of Lagoon Ebrie. But it wasn't really as impressive as I expected. The building is a rather plain example of uninspired modern architecture (probably from the 1960s or early 1970s). Inside, there is also a distinctly 70s-ish feel to the d?cor. The whole building, like so much in Abidjan, seemed a little run-down. Perhaps that's why they are currently doing major renovations - a fact that has left the building temporarily without air conditioning, much to the chagrin of the diplomats working here. The poor guy I met with seemed haggard, even though he's only been here a few months. He wore the obligatory tan, cotton suit. (At least this seemed properly colonial.) He was also very honest in saying that the French are out of answers: they can't figure out what they should do. Like everyone else, they would like to see the rebels rejoin the power-sharing government (the rebels have been boycotting for the past month). But they can't figure out what would entice them - or pressure them - into doing so. They had encouraged Gbagbo to offer certain concessions, which he did last week, and they were hopeful that this would be the breakthrough everyone had been looking for. It should have offered the rebels a face-saving way to climb down from their current position and rejoin the government. But the rebels didn't take the opportunity Gbagbo handed them. In fact, they simply ratcheted up their demands. The political officer told me he is going to conduct a policy review and brainstorming session next week to try to generate some new options. (I thought it was really surprising and wonderfully honest that he admitted all of this to me.) Oh, by the way, if you want to know where all the attractive young French women are in Abidjan (something I'd been wondering myself): they are at the French Embassy. Perhaps I shall make another appointment to see my friend the political officer again soon.

After my stop at the French Embassy, I went to look at some "residences" - cheaper hotels, some with self-catering, designed for longer term stays. I am thinking about moving out of the Novotel and going to one of these residences. I'm afraid the Novotel will bankrupt me. I saw one that was fairly nice. But I'm having trouble deciding whether I should move there.

On the drive back from this excursion, as twilight settled over the Lagoon, I saw an amazing thing: the sky was filled with thousands and thousands of tiny black dots moving diagonally across the sky. At first I thought I was watching a gigantic flock of migratory birds. Cote d'Ivoire is a great bird watching spot (or so my one bird-watching friend tells me.) But then I realized that these weren't birds at all: they were bats, thousands and thousands of bats leaving wherever it is they stay during the day and going out to hunt for the evening. Their progression across the lagoon took at least ten minutes.

Back at the hotel, I met a friend of Emma's named Timothy. Like Emma, he also studied English at university. He was working for Nestle for a time, but he is currently unemployed. Emma had suggested I might want to use him as a translator. I have to say his English is better than Fanny's. But, as with the hotel, I am having trouble deciding whether to switch. I hate the idea of having to fire Fanny, but I think Timothy might be better (and less expensive.) He is also a devout Protestant, which might have some pluses. For one thing, I probably wouldn't have to worry about him trying to find me an Ivorian girlfriend, which seems to be Fanny's number one preoccupation. (Fanny is Muslim, but apparently not that religious.) He keeps asking if he should call Solange and have her meet me. I have decided that the correct response to this question is to laugh. Then Fanny laughs too and we can move on to some other topic of conversation.

Some of you have asked me to say something about Internet access here. Well, currently I have a great Ethernet connection right in my hotel room. (I can even do instant messaging, as some of you have discovered.) But this wonderful luxury, like everything else at the Novotel, doesn't come cheap. It costs 7,500 CFA (or about $15) a day, although if I stay here for a whole month, I will only have to pay 90,000 CFA (or about $180) for the connection. That may sound like a lot - and it is -- but it compares favorably to my other in-room option, which is logging on through a dial-up connection. It turns out that AOL actually has dial-up access numbers here - mostly at 28,800 baud, although I think they have one faster modem. The problem is that they impose a ridiculous connection "surcharge" of $24 per session. I have also visited one of the local "cyber cafes." The one I've used is located in Galerie du Parc, a kind of mall on Boulevard de Republic here in Le Plateau. (I use the term mall loosely: the ground floor has a restaurant, a bakery and an ice cream parlour, as well as a furniture store and the cybercafe. Upstairs is a large clothing store. I think Lebanese immigrants own the whole place. Throughout much of Francophone West Africa, the Lebanese own many of the more successful retail businesses.) Internet usage at the cyber caf? cost 500 CFA per 15 minutes, unless you buy a pre-paid card that allows you 5 hours of access form 5,000 CFA. I like the staff at this cyber caf?, but the place's biggest drawback is that it isn't airconditioned and as a result it can be rather uncomfortable to work there. When I use up the rest of my time on my prepaid card there I think I will look for another place where the working conditions are a bit nicer. I have not yet explored any local dial-up options that might be cheaper than AOL.

Well, there is plenty more to say, but I this entry is getting long and it is late here. So I think that will be all for now.

Posted by Jeremy Kahn at October 22, 2003 04:50 AM