Playing a part in the Ivory Coast’s progress

Lieutenant Colonel Adrian Ó Murchú is a native of Hermitage, Ennis but has been a member of the Defence Forces for 29 years with extensive overseas service, including tours of duty to the Middle East, Somalia, Western Sahara and Chad. Lt Col Ó Murchú is currently deployed as a military observer with the United Nations Operation in Côte d’Ivoire (UNOCI). He tells The Clare Champion about his experience since he has been there.

THERE’S a full moon in Bouna tonight. It’s just as well, as there are only a handful of streetlights in a town of 20,000 people, bustling in the relative cool of the evening (30oC). A man could be easily run over by one of the many motorcyclists that speed around the dark streets, with little more than a good memory for potholes to guide them. The newer bikes have lights but in the top North-Eastern corner of the Ivory Coast, if something like a headlamp bulb goes on the blink, it can be many moons before the owner gets either the inclination or the funds to replace it.
To own a motorcycle in these parts means you are, relatively speaking, doing well for yourself. Shank’s mare is still the most common form of transport and in the remote areas to which our UN military observer (UNMO) work takes us, you will meet locals covering long distances on foot, sometimes in over 40oC heat. The women seem capable of carrying impossibly heavy and awkward loads on their heads, finely balanced on a small cloth that is rolled into a circular pad. It’s probably the best way to carry a heavy load, as by definition your neck and back have to be straight for it to work. It also has the advantage that the load helps to shelter you from the sun, although I’d hate to have to test the theory on a long walk.
I arrived in Teamsite Bouna following 11 days of ‘in-processing’ and a 10-hour drive from Abidjan, the largest Ivorian city, about 300 miles south. We’re so far north that it’s a relatively handy hop of 90 miles to the border with Burkina Faso, while a similar drive east will take you into Ghana.
This proved useful last winter when one of my predecessors found himself stranded in Bondoukou (another UN teamsite two hours south), with no means of getting to Abidjan, due to the minor matter of an ongoing civil war.
He organised a lift over the Ghanaian border, took an overnight bus to Accra and flew home from there. Initiative will generally be rewarded, when Christmas leave is in the balance. As it happens, my only other Irish colleague, Comdt Ned Broughall from Athlone, is currently working in Bondoukou.
Back to Bouna. I’ve just returned from a casual stroll around the streets of my new hometown, having left my ‘hotel’ as the sun was setting. While many of the market stalls were shutting up shop (and there are literally hundreds, with dozens of ramshackle wooden stands on each street), the town was still buzzing. Goats mooched around within sight of their young minders, while hens pecked and pot-belly pigs grazed on street-side rubbish.
The evening perambulations were underway, a nocturnal ritual that stretches from Capetown to Chad, all the way west to Casablanca in Morocco and east as far as Cairo and the Arab countries. Some of the faithful make their way to the mosques for evening prayers. Numerous groups of men and women of varying ages gossip as they take the air at a pleasantly slow pace, while younger children continue to play in the filthy streets until the last rays of the sun have faded.
At this time of night, Ivorian women are still doing reasonable trade selling takeaway food – deep fried bananas, deep fried yam… in fact, you name it and they’ll deep fry it for you over a charcoal fire. Fruit stalls also abound, where the proprietors always have a few peeled oranges ready on the top of the fruit pyramid, just to tempt you. Other stalls sell petrol by the wine bottle to the boy racers on two wheels. You can have everything from your tailoring done to your puncture fixed, to your hair braided, right on the side of the street.
Both stall-keepers and strollers seemed to regard the pale Irish man with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement, as I was, literally, the only white man in town tonight. While there’s a Russian and a Romanian on the UNMO team, neither they nor my other colleagues (from Jordan, Yemen, Guinea, Benin, Uganda, Nepal and Bolivia) were interested in a stroll this evening.
This is my fourth tour of duty to Africa and while some countries were considerably more hostile than the Ivory Coast (Somalia in 1994 was a particular case in point), the practice of evening perambulation is something I have always enjoyed about Africa.
In general, the Ivorians are a friendly lot and even after dark I feel relatively safe. Certainly, you get a great reaction and French-style courtesy if you stop to buy some fruit or a bottle of water. It’s a great help to speak the language as, while each region has its own tribal tongue, French is the official language here. It is generally understood even in the remotest areas, even when spoken with an Ennis accent.
My earlier mention of a ‘hotel’ may have given you the wrong idea. The members of teamsite ‘BOUNA’ live together in a large, basic house on the outskirts of town. The Russian major that I’m replacing leaves next Monday, so until then I am parked in the local inn, which goes by the fanciful name of ‘Hôtel de la Reserve’. The tagline under the title on the street sign adds, ‘Une autre manière de voir la vie’ (‘A different way at looking at life’ – never a truer word).
Its big selling point is its functioning air conditioning, highly desirable at night, unless you are born to this level of heat and humidity. Apart from the comfort factor, aircon helps to keep the mosquitoes at bay and with ‘mossie’ nets and repellent spray, it plays an important part in avoiding the dreaded malaria, which is endemic in this part of West Africa.
Apart from a small bedroom, I have the use of a small store room in which I cook my own meals on a ‘Trangia’ camping stove and a spartan bathroom that is surely palatial by local standards. By western norms it is bleak but for me it is perfectly habitable, especially when you consider the alternatives. I will probably miss it when I relocate to Vladimir’s room next week.
Work has settled down to the usual overseas routine surprisingly quickly – early morning PT, patrols, lunch, continue patrols or compile the associated reports, evening meal and early to bed. Our teamsite offices are based in the local UN military post, a Ghanbatt (Ghanaian Battalion) camp. Regular stints as duty officer and participation in helicopter patrols help to vary the roster. Each day the teamsite carries out about half a dozen patrols of various types, all around the Bouna area.
The going can be slow, as our ground patrols are generally travelling on dirt roads, deeply rutted after the rainy season. This morning I was on the weekly weapons inspection duty, during which we visited Government forces’ positions to monitor their weapons and munitions.Thankfully, the security situation here has stabilised considerably since the serious conflict that took place late in 2010 and earlier this year, and armed parties are no longer visible on the streets.
Today, we logged the sum total of two rifles, a submachine gun, one mortar and a few spare boxes of ammo, a paltry tally that augurs well for the overall security situation. All of this belonged to Government troops manning checkpoints on the main axis routes to the town, several of which are now unarmed checkpoints.
We were able to cast our postal votes for the Presidential election before we deployed and here in Bouna, all eyes were firmly fixed on the national elections of Sunday last. Though we are only a small Irish contingent in this mission, Ned Broughall and I are here to bear witness and to play Ireland’s part in this progress.

*Votes were still being counted at the time of going to press but Ivory Coast President Alassane Ouattara’s Rassemblement des Republicains party had built up a sizable lead, with Parti Democratique de la Cote d’Ivoire second.