COTE D'IVOIRE: Ex-combatant street youths demand payment
The young men - one in a gendarme’s uniform, another in riot-police garb, his bare feet in boat shoes - recognize me from when I was in Côte d’Ivoire’s main city Abidjan in 2009 reporting on youths living in the streets. They were street youth then, hustling at a city bus depot; today they are among the fighters who helped push out former president Laurent Gbagbo and his militia.
In many police stations where FRCI are still posted, neighbourhood families often bring in meals
They are still essentially street youth - unemployed, many of them homeless from a young age. These days some sleep in cars or on benches - only now at a military base instead of the bus station.
They say they have not been paid for backing up the Forces Républicaines de Côte d’Ivoire (FRCI) who in March moved into Abidjan. In many cases they provided vital local information on shortcuts and pro-Gbagbo forces’ movements.
“These are our neighbourhoods...We played a huge role,” said Salif*, who joined FRCI fighters early on. “Now some commanders say they’re going to compensate us and help us find work, either in the army or elsewhere.”
Cissé*, a 22-year-old father of three, said he and other volunteers receive meals but no pay, aside from an occasional few coins from superiors passing through. “We hear, 'at the end of this week', then that week passes. We hear, 'at the end of this month', then that month passes. Well, we’ll see at the end of July.”
“When I'm in fatigues and I've got the weapon in my hands it’s as if I’m intoxicated”
He was troubled by the effect the gun and uniform had on him
Moussa*, 22, has lived in the streets since he was seven. He joined pro-Alassane Ouattara forces when they moved into Abidjan in March to force out Laurent Gbagbo and his fighters. After the conflict he decided to turn in his weapon and uniform and look for work, not wanting a life in the military. He told IRIN about his brief experience as a combatant.
"In two months of training we learned how to protect ourselves - from a grenade, say - and to help a brother hit by a grenade or bullet. We learned how to use the Kalashnikov, including while lying on the ground.
"It was the first time I touched a Kalashnikov. The first time I shot with it my heart was pounding, but after shooting for two or three days I was used to it.
"When I've got the Kalash in my hands, if anyone talks to me, even an elder, I've got zero respect for the person. Even just wearing the military uniform, if you address me I've got no respect for you. When I'm in fatigues and I've got the weapon in my hands it’s as if I’m intoxicated; I’m not afraid of anything. I'm capable of anything.
"No respect whatsoever. If I'm in civilian clothing and I see you, I'll acknowledge and greet you. But if I'm in military uniform, I'm there waiting for you to come and greet me.
"For me this is no way to live - it’s no good at all. That’s why I put down the weapon and left. No one told me to leave; it was my own decision."
*not his real name
“If the higher-ups do not do something for us by end of this month,” said Moussa*, another FRCI volunteer, “we’re going to revolt.”
The government recently named new heads of the army and police and called on military personnel in exile to return, in an effort to put the security forces in order. An ongoing profiling process by the National Reinsertion and Rehabilitation Programme (PNRRC) is part of an effort to help demobilized youth through livelihood assistance, according to a PNRRC statement.
FRCI youths showed receipts they have received as part of an identification process.
But much remains to be done and volunteers with little training - who for now are part of FRCI, the current name for the national army - continue to occupy some Abidjan police stations and intersections.
Since mid-July police and gendarmes have been far more visible in Abidjan’s streets, but for now their holsters are empty; FRCI members - dressed in all sorts of uniforms - bear arms.
Racketeering
The government has called for an end to illegal FRCI roadblocks and racketeering but it continues in some areas. On a recent Friday afternoon just before Muslim prayers, young FRCI members stopped cars in the Adjamé District purportedly to inspect papers.
“Yes there’s been a call to stop the racketeering, but these youth have got nothing - they’ve got no choice,” one FRCI member said. “Many have rent to pay and families to feed.” Some have left jobs they had to join FRCI, others said.
A chauffeur in Abidjan said FRCI youth throughout the city commonly stop him pleading for some change. “On a recent morning one stopped me and said, ‘Papa, please. I’ve got nothing.’
“At least these are honest and just ask,” the chauffeur said. “Others are out robbing people. But in a way it’s understandable. The government has called for an end to the racketeering, but what have the authorities put in place to really apply that?”
FRCI youth acknowledged some members are committing crimes. Another way some get money, Cissé said, is this: When sent out to go after a suspected offender, FRCI volunteers make a deal with the would-be detainee, taking cash and returning to report they did not find the person.
Another rebellion?
Moussa has turned in his uniform and gun. He does not want a life in the military or in crime, but is expecting some compensation. He said after two months' training, he is now at ease with an automatic weapon.
“If we are not paid and helped in finding work soon I'm telling you right now there will be another rebellion in Côte d'Ivoire - the rebellions will never finish. I now know how to manipulate a gun, dismantle a gun and put it back together.”
In their former work soliciting passengers for bus companies and demanding – often forcing – compensation for the service, each group had its turf, and disputes were often settled with machetes.
Moussa showed a deep scar on his leg. “Someone tried to cut off my feet to put me out of commission. It’s survival of the fittest here.”
Source: IRIN
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