When war broke out in Côte d’Ivoire in 2002, Fio Omer Paterne, 41, was living in the village of Diéouzon in the western region of Bangolo. As his home village came under attack from the rebel Forces Nouvelles (FN), Omer fled into the bush, joining thousands of other displaced Ivorians. His destination was the economic capital, Abidjan.
“Under the trees, we walked all day long," Omer recalls. “Wherever we were when night fell, we slept there. We walked and walked and walked. From Bangolo to Duékoué, to Sassandra. And from Sassandra to Abidjan.
"Underneath all these clothes, I am scarred. These wounds here - if you don’t mind me removing my shirt - happened the night I fled. A rebel swung a machete, aiming to remove my head. I held up my arm and the machete cut down my arm, to my thigh. I was covered in blood and I fled like that.
“Some people were living like wild beasts with their children. We were in hell, it was a living death.
While Abidjan offered a refuge of sorts, life remained difficult.
“There were social centres receiving war victims, and that’s how I ended up here. The Ministry of Solidarity and War Victims would give us bags of rice – sometimes.
“In the last five years though, we’ve been left to fend for ourselves.
“We struggled so that today we’re in Abidjan, but we continue to live in hell. When Abidjan is not your home town, it’s hard. To eat, we have to beg. When you are a father and you have children, you do anything so that your children can eat.
“This country had not known war since independence. It really tore us apart. We just want peace so that all the things we’ve lost will come back.
“I pray that these elections [go peacefully]. It doesn’t matter who wins: may God choose the best person so that we have peace again.
“Once there is peace - as soon as I get enough money, I want to return home...I can't walk these days. Before the war, I was fit and strong because I worked. That’s how I was able to flee. Now they say there is peace, and I’m thin."
mm/cs/np
“Under the trees, we walked all day long," Omer recalls. “Wherever we were when night fell, we slept there. We walked and walked and walked. From Bangolo to Duékoué, to Sassandra. And from Sassandra to Abidjan.
"Underneath all these clothes, I am scarred. These wounds here - if you don’t mind me removing my shirt - happened the night I fled. A rebel swung a machete, aiming to remove my head. I held up my arm and the machete cut down my arm, to my thigh. I was covered in blood and I fled like that.
“Some people were living like wild beasts with their children. We were in hell, it was a living death.
While Abidjan offered a refuge of sorts, life remained difficult.
“There were social centres receiving war victims, and that’s how I ended up here. The Ministry of Solidarity and War Victims would give us bags of rice – sometimes.
“In the last five years though, we’ve been left to fend for ourselves.
“We struggled so that today we’re in Abidjan, but we continue to live in hell. When Abidjan is not your home town, it’s hard. To eat, we have to beg. When you are a father and you have children, you do anything so that your children can eat.
“This country had not known war since independence. It really tore us apart. We just want peace so that all the things we’ve lost will come back.
“I pray that these elections [go peacefully]. It doesn’t matter who wins: may God choose the best person so that we have peace again.
“Once there is peace - as soon as I get enough money, I want to return home...I can't walk these days. Before the war, I was fit and strong because I worked. That’s how I was able to flee. Now they say there is peace, and I’m thin."
mm/cs/np
This article was produced by IRIN News while it was part of the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. Please send queries on copyright or liability to the UN. For more information: https://shop.un.org/rights-permissions
Share this article
