April 1, 2002
A Couple Cute Notes from the Training in Facobly
Strike Phenomena
Seems everyone is on strike here. It’s all the rage. I’m serious. This country is trying out civil disobedience. It’s a new thing for Ivorians. In the past, violence would have been the only answer…or complete passivity. Recently I’ve heard about the following strikes:
Students in the town of Facobly were on strike the week I was there giving my two training sessions (there is a posting on that). I talked to one high school student. A teacher had hit a child for arriving at school late, and the student ended up in the hospital. So the students were protesting this brutal behavior. I asked the girl what they hoped to accomplish…she wasn’t sure, but when pressed, she said she wants to have the teachers not hit students anymore. I asked her if there were other ways to achieve the same result…she didn’t think so. I asked her if she was punishing the teachers by not attending school, or if it hurt the students since they are the ones who will have to pass the proficiency tests at the end of the year. She hadn’t thought about that, but after more discussion, she decided that a strike was the only way to get the teachers to listen to the students.
Funny thing is, the next week the teachers in Facobly were on strike…protesting the fact that the students had been on strike the week before!
Women in an Abidjan suburb marched in the main business district last week. They were protesting the increases in the cost of food and charcoal. In Taabo, we haven’t had these price increases. The women were saying (according to BBC) that 50 kg of charcoal had increased from 2000 cfa to 8500 cfa in a period of months. BBC cited a similar increase in the price of rice. Both are staples in Cote d’Ivoire. I will have to ask my neighbors if prices here in Taabo have gone up that much.
BBC and the women seemed to agree that the increases were brought on by the increase in taxes on transportation. My opinion…if the state police (gendarmes) didn’t expect bribes at every traffic stop, the cost of transportation would diminish considerably. It is a well known fact that even if your papers are in good order (driver’s licence and resale authorization), the gendarmes expect at least a small bribe, or you will be delayed substantially (several hours) while your papers are "verified."
Taxi Drivers were also on strike last week in Abidjan. In the main bus area, Adjame, which is a neighborhood about 10 city blocks square, a gendarme tried to stop a taxi driver to check his papers. When the driver didn’t stop, the gendarme shot at the driver. The driver later died from the gunshot wound. Taxi drivers refused to go to Adjame or the two other large bus areas, Abobo and Youpogon.
This is a particularly scary situation because there are a lot of "baggage handlers" in the bus areas who will insist on helping you with your bags for a tip. It is almost impossible to resist the "baggage handlers" (bandits) and being white makes you an easy target…you’re easily identified as a stranger and a rich person. The idea is usually to get into a cab as quickly as you can once you get off your bus in Adjame.
The strike was made more violent by the bandits who saw it as an opportunity to get out some aggression. Can’t blame them really…the unemployment is about 40% in Abidjan, and these young men essentially fight for handouts all day long. It’s got to be frustrating. So, the reports were that groups of bandits were stopping cabs who were breaking the strike and robbing both the driver and the passengers.
Two volunteers arrived in Adjame during the strike. One paid an "extra" fare (about five times the normal fare) to get a cab driver to bring him to the Peace Corps hostel. The other called the Peace Corps office and waited for them to send a driver to pick her up.
What frustrated me most about this strike was that there was no reliable information…the embassy couldn’t provide info, the Peace Corps office couldn’t provide info, and BBC’s website didn’t have anything. The only information I could get was from taxi drivers themselves. Since they were not striking all over the city, just in a few areas, we had taxi service near the hostel and I could keep tabs on the strike that way.
Finally, I heard on BBC recently that the federal judges in Cote d’Ivoire were on strike, asking for better wages. BBC reported that the judges admit they are all being bribed, but that they are forced to take these bribes because the government doesn’t pay them enough to live comfortably without the bribes. (You gotta be kidding me!!) BBC reported that the judges’ salaries are around 600 dollars a month, or 10 times the average income in Cote d’Ivoire. The judges are demanding a pay increase to 1350 dollars a month. That works out to about 25 times the average income in this country.
Keep in mind that school teachers and most civil servants earn about 250 dollars a month; 4.5 times the average income in Cote d’Ivoire.
Besides the pay increase, the judges are demanding that cars come with their positions.
Because I believe most officials in this country are on the take, and that bribes are a way of doing business, I have to laugh at the reasoning of the judges. Am I really supposed to believe that if they receive this 125% increase in pay, they will stop taking bribes? Or will their desire to consume simply increase too, causing them to "need" additional bribes?
Pretty Things
The kids in the neighborhood comment about how pretty my things are. I thought that was odd, so I started looking around at how my things are different from theirs. First, I put all the cards and photos I receive on my kitchen wall. The kids are allowed in my kitchen (but no further…they touch everything!!) and just gawk at how bright and pretty everything is. Their houses don’t have pictures and things on the walls. If anything, they have a clock or a picture of Jesus on the walls and that is it.
I notice that my neighbor kids cannot identify pictures of animals the way kids in the US can. A picture of a teddy bear will be guessed as a dog or cat. No one will believe it’s a bear. (I’m not sure how to describe a teddy bear in French…culturally, it wouldn’t translate…kids here don’t have stuffed animals). A picture of the very darling Elizabeth Boerner feeding pigs was guessed as a child with cows. A snowman was described over and over again as Pere Noel (Santa Claus).
The girl next door told me my pasta strainer was really pretty. I asked her to show me her strainer - hers is silver aluminium. Mine is blue plastic.
Laila sent me a little Christmas tree with a string of garland to put on it. I put the garland (red stars) across my doorway. The kids have never seen anything like it. They just go on and on about how pretty it is.
I guess, now that I’ve started to notice, that there aren’t really pretty things around here. It’s not that my neighbors can’t afford decorations or bright plastic strainers…I think it’s a matter of personal taste. I specifically choose things because they are bright or sunny. I hang photos on the wall. My neighbors just don’t decorate that way. In fact, I don’t think they decorate at all… maybe that’s the difference?
Trouble with the Mason
It is hard to explain why working in this culture is so difficult and sometimes disheartening. I think this story explains it well.
My friends Kim and Megan are site partners in western Cote d’Ivoire in the commune of Facobly. Facobly is where I just taught two business trainings for some cooperatives they work with (see posting on that topic).
Last year, Kim did a latrine project. She found 30 families in Facobly who wanted latrines. The families dug the holes and the Peace Corps paid for the cement to make the platform and line the holes with bricks.
Kim hired a mason who was recommended to her by a friend. The friend had used the mason before and said his work was good.
Turns out the mason completely ripped Kim off. He used only half the cement Kim had planned for her project (meaning the platforms will be weak, and one day someone might fall into the hole). The mason stole the other half of the cement. He also told the families that Kim had asked him to collect money for the project (completely untrue – their part was to dig the holes, no money was involved). Each family paid the mason between 5 and 10 dollars for him to build their latrines.
By the time Kim found out what was going on, the mason had disappeared with the money and cement. Kim put the word out that if anyone saw him, they should come tell her immediately. After a couple weeks, someone tipped Kim off that the mason was living in a nearby village.
Kim went to the gendarmes (national police) in Facobly. She had previously reported the crime, but the gendarmes didn’t know where the mason was, so they said they couldn’t do anything. When Kim returned to the gendarmes with the mason’s location, the gendarmes said they had no money for gasoline to go arrest the mason. Kim asked how far the village was and how much gas it would take. Estimates started high and continued to increase until Kim agreed to buy 20 liters (about five gallons) of gasoline. The gendarmes went to the village and arrested the mason.
When the gendarmes returned with the mason, they asked Kim, "Aren’t you going to say ‘thank you’?" Their hands were extended while they said this. Kim’s take on the body language was that they were expecting more money for delivering the criminal.
The mason was tried, convicted, and sent to prison. No money or cement was returned to Kim or the families involved with the project.
On January 1, 2002, three weeks after the mason was sent to prison, he was released in a New Year’s Day "good behavior" program.
Kim wrote a nice article about this situation for the Peace Corps newsletter with a list of lessons learned so that we would not make the same mistakes. Several of her points were:
Insist that all conversations take place in French. Since the families and the mason all spoke the local language, Wobe, Kim let the mason explain the project to the families in Wobe, even when everyone present could speak French. Knowing that we are more comfortable speaking English, Kim figured they were more comfortable in Wobe. Kim didn’t have a problem with that, until she realized that his translation was not accurate. The families knew his translation was inaccurate also, but since he was "one of them" and Kim is the "foreigner," they didn’t tell Kim that he was translating incorrectly. Have all used cement bags returned to you, so you can count them. The mason was using one bag where he should have used two, then taking the second bag home to use on another project. If Kim had received all the empty bags, she would have noticed this earlier. Explicitly tell the families involved how much material they are getting (for example, two bags of cement per household) and that no additional payment is required. When the mason told the families that Kim’s budget was inaccurate and everyone had to kick in more money, they believed him. After all, he was "one of them." I appreciate Kim passing on her lessons. But frankly, the other lesson I get out of her experience is how to work effectively with my local gendarmes. It’s too bad, isn’t it?
The Petit System
One of the things I like best about living here is the "petit system." All kids between the ages of about 6 and 18 know that it is their job to do whatever an adult asks them to do. This adult could be a complete stranger, but they still have to do it. How beautiful is that? If you feel like paying the kid a little bit, you can, but it’s not required.
For example, I was in a large market buying my refrigerator. The vendor had plugged it in and we were waiting for it to get cold so I could tell it worked. I was thirsty. A kid walked by. I called him over, gave him a little money, and asked him to find me a bottle of water. He returned in two minutes with water and my change. There is no way on earth the kid would steal the money and not return with the water. He knows other adults would catch him and beat the daylights out of him. (The beating of children is one of the difficult things about living here, but that’s another posting.)
Another day, I was in a little store to buy coke. They were sold out. There is another store about a block away. The owner called to a kid on the street, gave her my money and bottles, and made her go to the next store to buy the coke.
One final example, perhaps my favorite…every night at 6pm, the bread is hot and fresh in Taabo at the bakery. I go outside with a towel and 20 cents, and send the 6th grader next door for bread. I sit and chat with the neighbors until she returns.
When you nab a kid to run an errand for you, there is no griping or complaining from them. That would be disrespectful and they would be in big trouble with the other adults around.
The petit system is one idea I’m hoping to bring home to the US with me!
No Mail Delivery
Did you know there’s no mail delivery door-to-door in Cote d’Ivoire? If you don’t have a PO box, you don’t get mail. So how are things delivered?
Well, letters are often delivered by hand. You write the person’s name and village on the envelope and take the envelope to the bus station. One of the driver’s assistants gives the envelope to someone on the other end. If that city is not the destination (perhaps there’s a connection to a smaller bus or different route), the assistant will take the envelope to the next bus and so on until it arrives at the right village. Once the letter is in the village, it is passed around until someone who knows you delivers it to you. Amazing, huh?
As for the electric and water bills, they are delivered door to door by the electric or water company. If you aren’t home, they give it to your neighbor to pass along. When you want to pay the bill, you go to the company in person and pay in cash. Very few people have checking accounts.
It’s not efficient, but it is kind of charming and quaint in its own way…
A Couple Cute Notes from the Training in Facobly
I’ve written another posting about the content of the cooperative trainings in Facobly, but two funny things happened while I was out there that didn’t have to do with the class. I was teaching in an empty school room. There were about six other rooms in the school that were in use.
Schools in Cote d’Ivoire (same design for all of them) sort of look like a single story motel to me. Each classroom has one door that opens onto the school yard, and several windows to allow for light and air circulation. The windows don’t have glass, they are made with decorative brick. The schools are built without electricity or running water.
Of course, having two white women come to the school was a very big deal to the kids. I’m used to being called "la blanche," the white woman, but I don’t let kids get away with it anymore. I normally stop and say, "It’s not ‘la blanche,’ it’s madame or auntie." If they don’t respond, I say, "Tell me, ‘good morning, auntie’." That greeting is the absolute normal greeting that a student gives to women every day all day, so I’m not asking them to do anything special. In fact, I’m asking them to treat me like they would anyone else.
While I was teaching in Facobly, I reminded many kids that they should call me auntie and not la blanche. They all responded appropriately and then asked me questions about where I’m from, etc.
As Megan and I approached the school both days, one class was outside in the schoolyard for gym class. Both days the kids stopped paying attention to the teacher so they could stare at these two weird looking white women approaching. And both days the teacher screamed at them, "Why are you stopping to stare at les blanches? Stop staring at les blanches!!"
So much for me teaching the kids not to call me la blanche...
After gym class, the kids were sent to a field to … um … relieve themselves. I’ve told you this is entirely normal here, right? So the kids go about five feet away from the school, drop their drawers, and start peeing. The teacher starts yelling at them. I can’t quite get what he is saying, but I am just sure it’s something about using the latrine, or washing their hands afterwards, or going behind the school instead of in front of it. I mean after all, he’s the teacher, right?
Turns out, he was yelling at them because they were all mixed up, boys and girls together. Once the girls were on one side and the boys on the other (two feet away), all was well.
I always have to laugh at my expectations versus the reality of life here!