As all tourists are supposed to do, we went to the Treicherville Market while we were in Abidjan, the principal city of Cote d'Ivoire. One guidebook called it "a tropical version of an oriental bazaar, exotic, colorful, and over crowded. . . .The whole point of the visit is to pick one's way within the maze and the displays ¾ and especially to bargain, since there is a different price for every customer, who is first and foremost a friend."

The description does not fit the market I saw. It seemed to me to be block after endless block of disarray, of filth, of common unexciting merchandise, of squalor and poverty, of nauseating smells and sickening sights.

I wanted another African mask for my small but growing collection. We could not find any stall that sold masks and we stopped and asked one vendor. He had his young son escort us to a shop a few blocks down that street. I looked at the outside and seeing nothing that impressed me, I led my colleagues down a different street. But a young man from the shop caught up with us, asked what we were looking for, and when told he replied there were masks inside; all we had to do was go inside to look. We followed him.

There were, indeed, masks of all kinds in the dimly lit shop. Some were very old, others somewhat old. Many were eerie; all were interesting. I looked at several and asked the price. They ranged from 100,000 CFAs ($170) upward. One I looked at was 250,000 CFAs ($340). I handled several, shaking off the price of each. I settled on one that was quoted at a price of 150,000 CFAs ($250).

"Too high," I said, replacing the mask on the shelf.

"How much are you willing to pay?" asked the young man.

"25,000," I said.

"Oh, too little," the young man said. "How about 40,000?"

"25,000," I said, and I moved to the exit. I had to ask Chad and Sabine to give me room so I could head for the door.

"40,000," he said.

"25,000," I answered and I was in the doorway on my way out.

"Wait," he said. He conferred with a woman sitting in front of the shop. Sabine heard him explain that I didn't speak French and had to negotiate through Sabine and, therefore, could not negotiate for myself. Also, I wasn't budging from my figure.

"Sold, at 25,000," he finally said.

I paid. He sacked the mask, we shook hands, and Chad, Sabine, and I left. As we walked down the street the young man ran up to Sabine to explain that I got "a good price," but I should have taken much more time, an hour or longer, to get into the culture. We probably would have ended at the same price, but I was too quick and too willing to leave. I was supposed to "make friends." But in Dakar, "friendships" had been formed more quickly, and I am, after all, an impatient man.

Abidjan was not the experience that Dakar was¾at least, not on the city streets. Abidjan is more like a European city with broad boulevards, upscale neighborhoods, towering glass structures of offices, and modern architectural gems. There were few beggars, far fewer street peddlers, and it was possible to walk the streets unhustled and unhassled. There were relatively few pockets of obvious poverty and one was not, as in Dakar, face to face constantly with leprosy, polio, and other stark signs of despair. But one is not faced either by the warmth and genuine hospitality of Dakar.

The universities, the business appointments we kept, were different. There was hospitality, and there were genuine welcomes. Even as walk-ins or drop-ins, we were greeted with enthusiasm and in our discussions we had a feeling of great interest and sincerity.

The city, however, was just that¾a city of bricks and stones and mortar, busy streets, a city of people on the move, cold and impersonal. There was an inner city market area that might have been interesting, but it had its hustlers and one kept Chad and me from really seeing what we wanted to see. He followed us the length of one side of the market, and as we turned to see another length, he continued to follow us, hassling Chad to buy a chain or a belt or something from him. We escaped by stepping inside a version of a discount store. We walked through the store looking at products, but I learned something more.

Chad was walking ahead of me by about 10-12 feet. Women he passed stopped and stared after him, commenting on his whiteness. A female clerk stopped what she was doing, followed him with her eyes and made a low trilling sound to indicate her pleasure. Chad did not have the vantage point I had, so he was, again, oblivious to what was happening.

Our escape successful, we left and made our way to an art gallery which accepted cash only, despite credit card signs in the window.

While Chad and I had the opportunity to walk around the city a great deal, to embassies, St. Paul's Cathedral, and in the business heart of Cote d'Ivoire, my memories of that country will be of our colleagues in higher education. We were treated like royalty. A professor of philosophy, Kouadio Augustin Dibi, became our host and guide on Saturday for a day-long drive to villages southeast of Abidjan. Gerard Lezou Dago, the director of international cooperation between universities, granted us precious time to assure us he would forward an agreement to us for a partnership between our institutions. Regina Traore Serie, assistant director of the university's science and research division of the communications area, became an ally in our quest for collaboration among international student journalists. She hopes to visit us in the fall, and Dago was going to check into making arrangements for such a visit. She would be featured in our Africa Semester programs.

We discussed with educators their concerns, and we were astonished by some of their problems. On a campus of 45,000 students, for example, only six computers have access to Internet and that access is available only from 9 a.m. until noon, Mondays through Fridays. The Institute of the Science and Techniques of Communication (ISTC) where we visited with Koudougnon Balet, director, had no Internet access at all at the present time, but it does have digital television and radio equipment and is building a multi-media center and remodeling one building for a highly developed newspaper program. Balet also wishes to come to visit us in the fall, if he is able, and to participate in The Africa Semester.

Everywhere, despite the lack of equipment in general and aspects of physical facilities which cannot really begin to compare with ours, there is a stress on quality in all that is done. There is pride in the products which result.

The possibilities for future cooperative programs between Missouri Southern and the universities and institutes in Abidjan are quite strong.

In both Senegal and Cote d'Ivoire there are exciting opportunities for true international journalism.

Back to top of page

Return to Institute of International Studies Home Page