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Who Is Your Marabout? An Open Letter To Alassane Dramane Ouattara

March 12, 2011

Dear ADO: I hope this meets you well; especially as you usher us into this new season of the absurd, a reality in which you have become a symbol and protagonist. 

Dear ADO: I hope this meets you well; especially as you usher us into this new season of the absurd, a reality in which you have become a symbol and protagonist. 

In short, I am writing to first and foremost assure you that your place in history is already reserved; you have already been interred in that mausoleum of deeds with the likes of Savimbi and Mobutu.

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ADO, I am also writing to ask you a simple question:  Who is your marabout?
I do not mean to talk about these things in the open, you know, things that we ought to keep amongst ourselves and only talk about in the cover of darkness; things that could embarrass you and make you seem like any other native.  That is not my intention at all.  I know it is the kind of talk that only confirms what they—that is your friends and patrons—already believe about people like me and you that in turn embarrasses people like you.  But ADO, I am curious about your marabout.

I want you to settle this palaver once and for all; who is your marabout?  Because, what else but juju would convince your friends and patrons, from near and far, that you can somehow be imposed as president of the Ivory Coast. 
Who is really your jazzman/jazzwoman? Is he or she from Wanzerbe in the Burkina Faso-Niger border?  Is he or she from Baka land in the Equatorial rainforests of Gabon and Cameroon?  Is he or she from the swamps of the gulf of Guinea?  Is it an Oku man?  Is she a Bassa woman? Or, is he or she one of those rainmakers in Shona land? Tell us, ADO.

Because, when I look at you ADO, I see nothing remarkable.  I see an inanimate object. I see an imperial subject. I am sorry, but I do not see a father, an uncle, a big brother or even a friend.  I try hard as I can to imagine you at home or you in a Washington DC office suite, a draft of the latest Structural Adjustment Program on your desk, but I still can’t do that. I try to imagine you as the unelected Prime Minister of Houphouet Boigny who ruled Ivory Coast for almost four decades.  But I see nothing, absolutely nothing. I do not see a hint of conviction; none, whatsoever.  I see an inanimate object. 

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The only way I see you is as the kind of creation Malcolm [yes X] warned about in his Cairo musings. I see the traitors of which Fela sang so angrily about.  Like Femi, I feel sorry, so sorry for Africa.  I see the reason why Richard Wright saw a beguiling puzzle in the Franco-African relationship.

I see the reason why Lapiro de Mbanga is languishing in jail in Cameroon today.  I see coffins. I see a Sous-Préfet. I see greed. I see death.  I see slavery. I see hypocrisy.  I see neo-liberal zealots and born-again imperialists. I see treachery.  I see blood.  I see Patrice Lumumba being handed over to his killers by your allies. Yes, I do, ADO.   But, ADO, I also see an Africa waking up, and recognizing the likes of you, but most importantly what you are capable of doing.  I see them resisting, yes, resisting. 

Oh, let me confess:  I have already picked my side in this palaver too, and unfortunately it is not yours, which I am sure comes as no surprise to you either.  But that in itself is irrelevant because as you and I know, in these matters people like me do not matter.  And you know that even better than I do. In a way, I think that is why you are part of what you are part of, whatever that is, and above all, why you are doing what you are doing.

ADO, I will not even pretend to be an objective observer.  I am not.  I will not pass myself for an expert.  I am not and have no desire to be one.  But what I do know is that you did not win that election.  Ah swear!  You didn’t! 

For, if you really did, you would have agreed to a recount, period.  You would not have embarked on this tragi-comedy in which you, and only you, are the visible protagonist [though you and I know there are others in the shadows].  It is a tragi-comedy and should be called such, because you will fail, and fail woefully.

If you really won, you would not be punishing the Ivorian people the way you are doing.  You would not create the kind of exodus you have created.  You would not be encouraging your friends and patrons to impose sanctions on them, while your step-son makes a windfall in the cocoa industry.  Wuna no di shame!

Even if your wish of getting the incumbent killed or exiled is realized today [which your friends and patrons are very capable of and will not hesitate to carry out at any given opportunity], ADO, you will never rule Ivory Coast in peace.  You will not.

Even if they were to use all the mighty and deadly weapons they possess to complement their divine right to determine ‘legitimacy’ and dispose Ivory Coast of its rightful ruler to impose you, you will fail.  You will fail because the people have awoken.  You will fail, because you intend to perpetuate a system that denies the citizens of that country, including your supporters, the rightful share of their nation’s riches.

That is why I can only conclude it is the work of juju.

ADO, you and I know that only a marabout could entrust you with the kind of power which you possess.  For what else could it be but pure and unadulterated jaboo when even the Secretary General of the United Nations is willing to lie on your behalf? 

That morning, before IRIN [the UN press organ] broke the news of those attack helicopters, you and Ban Ki Moon knew that Belarus had made no such delivery to the Ivorian government, but because you have been cooked right with the good stuff, this man, I mean the Secretary General of the UN—under your spell

I presume, was willing to conjure up the name of the first country to come to mind, and lie to the world.  Belarus seemed like a convenient enough pick. It surprised many, and shocked others, but not me.  But he did lie, and it is on record.  And he did it for you. 

 If it isn’t jaboo, then how come your rebels—the New Forces—the same ones who attempted a coup in 2002, and failed, are virtually being protected by the United Nations and France.  ADO, how is that possible?

How is it that your ambassadors are being recognized even though those governments recognizing them know very well that those visas are invalid? Last week, I read somewhere that not even Air France would accept passengers with visas issued by your ambassador in France.  But ADO, the irony doesn’t stop there.

Now that Compaore, Idriss Derby and Kikwete have decided to bless you on behalf of that feeble organ called the African Union, I am sure you will continue this charade with vigor and a sense of duty.   Yes, ADO, it is a charade.  Because you and I understand that you, your friends and patrons—from near and far—do not have a monopoly of virtue, or vice for that matter. 

As you have surely seen or been briefed, CNN, BBC, RFI and others are already doing their part.  Now that the Africans themselves have validated your position, they will repeat your name in between images of the Tsunami in Japan and the civil war in Libya so the entire humankind will recognize you as the rightful president of a country you want to rule at all cost. 

I heard you were recently at Aso Rock thanking Jonathan. He could use some of that juju as his own judgment day approaches.  I see you everywhere looking presidential, sounding presidential, and I can’t help but laugh.  Where else but in Africa?  

Anyways, I am sure you visit to Abuja will be followed by invitations to the Élysées, breakfast at the Rose Garden, and tea on Downing Street.  There might even be a congressional hearing on your behalf just to have your name and struggle for democracy on the congressional record—now you know how significant that is.  For now, we shall wait and see.  Or as Fela said, we shall ‘looku and laughu.’

But ADO, abeg tell us the secret to this juju now.  We could use it in Yaoundé, Abuja, Malabo, Libreville, Ndjamena, Ouagadougou, and even Tripoli.  I know a few leaders who could use the goodwill with which even the likes of Katherine Ashton shower on you.  Na wa oh!

Let me repeat myself, who is your marabout? I am serious. 

I mean, you are the first ‘opposition’ presidential contender in our part of the world that has actually lost an election, declared himself winner, and was immediately recognized by the UN, US, EU, France, Canada and all their satellites in our part of the world and elsewhere.  If no bi jazz, then na wetin?

In 1992, in my home country of Cameroon, the opposition is supposed to have won the presidential election, but, man when they tried to pull the stunt you have just pulled, did they kick the shit out of their asses, that is those who happened to have won the election.  No one gave a shit!

ADO, it has to be juju…I am sorry.

The following year, MKO Abiola won in Nigeria, and despite his wealth and connections look at what happened to him.  His spent his tenure in a jail cell until he decided to break his hunger strike at the urging of some October guests.  We all know what happened thereafter. 

ADO, we can’t be talking ironies without citing the former terrorist and current saint, Madiba.  It is a well-chronicled story, which I know you are familiar with so why waste time.

You know, a few years ago, let me say five years ago, I for one would never have guessed you would become the pioneer that you are today.  The kind of living metaphor of which Nkrumah warned about.  And this is someone who barely existed. Ugh! And even if you did, you were too ordinary: A former IMF official and unelected prime-minister cum neo-African democrat who will take Ivory Coast where Houphouet Boigny did not. Who would have thought you will become the face of this absurdity.

It could only be the power of your jaboo, which would have the entire global media squealing on your behalf.  You have even made self-proclaimed ‘progressive pan-Africanists’ to go digging for state department press releases to quote as justifications to your claim to power.  Chei ADO, you strong oh!
International civil servants were even dispatched on your behalf to argue your case in the local press in their native countries as soon as this palaver began.  Chei ADO, you strong oh!

It must be juju.

How else can you explain when the global media suddenly go blind when the Invisible Commandoes—your comrades in arms—terrorize Abidjan at night, killing citizens and soldiers of the Ivory Defense Forces?  How else can you explain that all these organs—though it is understood are in the service of certain deep-seated interests—are all engaged in this chorus to create a monster out of man, which you know, and I know, fought to make political pluralism in Ivory Coast possible. And, ADO, I use ‘political pluralism’ intentionally because personas of your ilk have desecrated certain words and concepts for me—words that they throw to justify their disrespect for an African nations institutions.  To use them is to be part of this absurdity.

ADO, it has to be the work of a marabout.  Or, is it that the governments of those countries whose sense of entitlement know no boundary have become so brash and shameless in their quest for control of every resource on this planet?
ADO, your role in this new approach, this new trick in the imperial bag, has been recorded.    And, even though I know your role in this is despicable, I still want to employ the services of your marabout.

Sincerely,
Kangsen Feka Wakai
 

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