See below an article I culled from the BBC. I thought it might interest some
of you. Of particular interest to me was the depiction of the hypocrites
that seem to survive the turmoil, so far. Since am not in Abidjan, I will
defer to Mr. Sanneh and others who seem to think that Gbagbo should be
allowed to benefit from this fiasco. The same shenanigans that led to the
demise of Bedie and Guei will also destroy Gbagbo. I hope I am wrong, for
the sake of the ordinary Ivorians. If we all agree that the October
elections are flawed, then the fair thing to do is to call a re-run.
Otherwise, we are just postponing the inevitable. I heard one of Gbagbo's
supporters on BBC the other day saying that the Outtarra myth was just
Western propaganda and that Ouattarra is not that popular in Ivory Coast. If
that is the case, Gbagbo should not fear elections.
KB
_______________________________________________________________________
By Barnaby Phillips in Abidjan
The very best and the very worst of humanity were so vividly on display in
the main Ivorian city, Abidjan, this past week that I shall never forget it.
When growing tensions finally exploded, I spent much of my time, crouched by
the window of the BBC office, so conveniently located in the very centre of
the city.
We watched in awe as the crowds marched towards the soldiers on the streets
below.
Sometimes the soldiers fired over their heads, but sometimes they fired
right into their ranks - live ammunition.
The crowds would fall as each volley was fired, wait a moment, and then rise
and carry on walking.
Except that we could see that after each volley, not everyone got up - a few
just lay still.
It was this courage that carried the crowds forward, right to the gates of
the presidential palace, and forced military leader General Robert Guei into
an ignominious and hurried departure.
Reality
The following day, with the general gone, and the real winner of the
elections, Laurent Gbagbo, ready to be sworn in as president, we were
confronted with a much uglier and more complicated reality.
Now we were out on the streets, driving through neighbourhoods devoid of all
signs of life except for the ominous sight of gangs of young men guarding
each junction ahead.
They carried clubs, and their faces were covered in war paint, and they
would order us to stop.
These were many of the same youths who had defied the bullets the day before
- now they were hunting down supporters of Laurent Gbagbo's great rival,
Alassane Ouattara, who had enraged them with his call for new elections.
"We are patriots and intellectuals, fighting a noble cause" one man said to
me, as he checked whether passing vehicles were carrying anyone from the
north of the country, which is Mr Ouattara's power-base.
Any northerner discovered was lucky to be stripped naked and beaten - dozens
were clubbed to death.
Africa's Milosevic?
Typically African you might say - that the heroism of a Belgrade-style
people's uprising should degenerate so rapidly into that grim but familiar
scenario of a vicious ethnic conflict.
Well, perhaps, although there are plenty of people in Africa who will argue
that if the Balkan wars weren't tribal, then what on earth were they?
I'm not quite sure whether General Robert Guei is Africa's Milosevic, as
some of the banners held up by the crowd suggested.
The two men share a lust for power, which made them utterly indifferent to
the disastrous consequences of their actions for their respective countries.
But General Guei never really seemed like a man in control.
The evening before he was overthrown, we gathered in the presidential palace
for an extraordinary press conference.
Just an hour earlier, the military had forcibly dissolved the electoral
commission, which was giving out results suggesting that General Guei had
lost.
Pushing his luck
This was more then he could take - he accused the commission of
incompetence, and produced his own set of results, which gave him victory.
It was outrageous, and the general had pushed his luck too far.
Outside the palace central Abidjan was already deserted, as people rushed
home, fearing the worst.
Across the river, in the poorer suburbs, the barricades were already going
up.
But in the palace, the General was thanking the people for their wise
selection, and promising to do the job to the best of his modest abilities.
The crowd of cronies and sycophants sang the national anthem, and the
General left the room.
He's not been seen in public since.
Plus ca change
I marvelled at the stupidity of his closest supporters, and wondered what
would happen to them in the tumultuous hours that were bound to follow.
In fact, it was me who was being naïve.
Two days later, in that same palace, the world had turned upside down, and
yet nothing had changed.
Laurent Gbagbo, for years seen as little more than a rabble-rouser off the
street, was being sworn in as the new president.
His wife could not hold back her tears.
And there, in the room, were many of the same men, their faces beaming with
smiles, who had stood beside General Guei two nights earlier.
The impossibly suave Armenian, who has somehow made himself indispensable to
everyone who rules Ivory Coast. And Brigadier-General Mattius Due, who had
quickly transformed himself from hard-man in the military junta, to army
chief-of-staff, serving a democratic government.
And perhaps that is the real lesson of all revolutions, be they in Africa or
in Yugoslavia.
For all the gun-shots, smoke and drama, the really powerful people remain
discreetly in the background, and, once the crowds have dispersed, quickly
pick up where they left off.
_________________________________________________________________________
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