Violent crimes of the pro-Ouattara in Daloa, a poignant testimony of a Priest

 




Violent crimes of the pro-Ouattara  in Daloa, March 28, 2011: a poignant testimony of a Priest / fighters from Burkina Faso / The Priest gives his car under threatthe head of a detachment FRCI a vigil in Cocody districtHow I lived the rebels arrived in Daloa March 28, 2011 ". This is the title of the poignant story of a priest of the Catholic Mission of Daloa who lived with other refugees, hell in the City of Antelope taken by the pro-Ouattara. Composed of dozos, rebels and mercenaries from Burkina Faso etc.. Read more."Staying in Daloa during the post-election events, I relate to these lines through how I lived the rebels arrived in the city of antelopes, this Monday, March 28, 2011.As everyone in Daloa, several weeks before the rebels arrived, the rumor was covering all the streets, workplaces, schools, homes and bushland of the city as was the case in October 2002 at the capture of the city by the rebels of Guillaume Soro Kigbafori. They were often whispered, often noisy and braillardes. The city, meanwhile, was plunged into a large psychosis. The saber-rattling in Vavoua and Duékoué, two neighboring cities swelled the rumor and psychosis. To all this were added the often tragic events of students who stood out with a machete and often wounded themselves with stones because of their divergent political views.The day they arrived in the day, a terrible panic has gripped the city. In a period of time, all offices and shops closed, workers have returned home hurriedly by the means at their disposal. As a result, the streets were emptied of their usual environment and world. Taxis are also entered in the dance guarantor simply without thinking about their daily recipe different employers may require them properly. Everyone went to his stories and he held his information from "reliable sources": the fighting would rage in Duékoué, they would have stepped on the axis Daloa-Vavoua, our troops would be in trouble and the rebels would therefore the gates of Daloa they would take a few minutes. Hidden or sitting at home or in the bush, everyone was waiting, frightened and traumatized, the sequence of events. Phone calls during this time multiplied and all this made the course extremely deleterious atmosphere, moody and tense. All the rest of the day was lived in this sad and heavy atmosphere, this fear psychosis and generalized. It seemed an evil spirit Traversat Daloa that day.A 23h30min this Monday, March 28, 2011, the first detonation was heard. It was powerful, deafening and boring that stirred the whole city and houses. The few incorrigible night owls have had to crawl into hiding. Sitting at my desk at home, I was just surfing for the latest information and send a few emails to friends who wanted information source when, me too, I heard this terrible explosion. In fear, I lay down without trying my remains in my bed, not forgetting, however, to my prayer as usual. Trusting God in that moment was the only safe bodyguard.The explosions followed each other at an uncontrolled pace, as appalling as each other. It seemed that they rivaled in power to outdo; that from one moment to another, while Daloa would collapse like a house of cards. I asked myself the question as to where they came from: the camp of the Republic or the rebel? Of course, I could not have answers to my legitimate question that burned my mind yet. All night and was punctuated by these breathtaking shots.Slaughterhouse II living in the neighborhood, neighborhood infamous for its precariousness, I thought the whole night in these detonations came from. For the past few days, he told the rebels that there would be refugees with the help of Jula people, incorrigible supporters of Alassane Ouattara, acknowledged support of the armed rebellion. They have hidden weapons of war to attack when the time comes. The many police patrols have not been successful.The rebelspro-Ouattara take DaloaThus, I firmly believed that all night these sounds came from my neighborhood, so right next to me, above my head, as my position in my bed. Anyway, their proximity could not contradict my belief night, I convince myself left.Also, all my night and certainly that of all the inhabitants of Daloa was punctuated by the rhythmic clatter of weapons of war deliberately cruel and unusual. My sleep, when he came, was obviously disturbed.Laying in my bed and frightened like a child away from his mother kindly and protective, I began to think by asking me questions that shook my faith and my understanding at this point: why war? When was the first? Why men do they war? Why do they make men as deadly weapons to kill? For this present war which had just been declared again, I wondered why a simple electoral crisis that arises anywhere in the country itself civilized and developed, can it, with us taking such a murderous look? What were the true motives and past issues of our election? Was it an election to end the crisis or was it other issues we do not? Why have so many in this election to end up worse than before? I had no answers to my questions yet existential. Besides my goal by putting them at that moment, was not to find answers. But ask me already wonderfully soothed and comforted me. All night, weapons thundered, thundered and thundered incessantly as if all the demons of war had made an appointment with us to wage war on God and his angels as in fairy tales told us that our great -parents.The day came. It was 7am when I left my room, I would say from my stash. Unfortunately, my first contact with the outside made the encounter with the rebels! What a story! There were three men, armed to the teeth, as they say.- "Open! You hide soldiers and gendarmes in your home. We will kill you, kill you ... We, we came for peace, for justice. Gbagbo hogwash. He lost and he does not give power to our brother Alassane ... We will kill you all if there are weapons and military home ... Cafris () that you are ... ". I did not know how I found myself face to face with one of them, the weapon well oriented in the direction of my chest and finger on the trigger ... to boot! That is to say the wrong place for me. My breath stopped. I remembered at this time that I had not said my prayers when I woke up this morning: "What a mistake!" I said to myself internally. He spat in my direction as well: "You, you're a policeman Gbagbo. Besides, you look like a policeman. Let me see your fingers. Why you're not dressed like the others? If you do not answer I'll kill you right away. We, we came to kill. We love men but has no pity. "My brothers who understood my drama came to understand the rebel that I was not a policeman, but a priest. Without being convinced, and he entered into my room, weapon in hand although not without telling me: "If I ever find a military Gbagbo in your room, I kill you. We, we came for peace and justice. Gbagbo has crap on us ... ". He sacked my room and rushed out. "Where are the others you live with now and then? They only need to get out. You hide the military Gbagbo. We'll kill you all. We, we came for peace and justice ... "On these facts, as if an evil genius embraced it with all his might hammered on the door of the room next to mine. Y were hidden a few men and women. They came to take refuge with us, some since yesterday. They came from a village on the axis where Daloa-Vavoua, it seems, the battles raged, while others from the first shots of the night. "Open, you boys and then you're afraid. Open quickly or I shoot you. I'm called Terminator, I have no pity. I shoot everything that moves. " Addressing a well-built refugee, he said: "You, who are you? You're a policeman. Watch your fingers. Points out your pants and show your legs. " The poor man was executed without smiling, trembling all along. - "What are you doing?" - "I am Baoule" (sic). - "I say what do you do?" - "I am planter" - "where?" - "There" - "There where?" - "On the road to Vavoua" - "Why are you here ? What are you doing here? You're planter or military? "Without waiting for this time of response, he turned to the other. By swirling the tip of his weapon around his head, he revealed net: - "You, you look like my enemy. What are you doing? "-" I am a mechanic. " He hurriedly left this world and joined the other rebels without warning.Fighters from Burkina FasoHe seemed to be their leader told us they are here on indications. They were indeed accompanied by two young men in civilian dress who acted as indicators of current elements of the Defence Forces and Security (FDS). We also learned that they were very rushed. They came, most of them, Burkina Faso. They have a mission a few days and therefore we should not lose their precious time. We still hammered insistently and violence: "We, we want Gbagbo. Gbagbo hogwash. For four months he does not want our leader Alassane be president. We come from Korhogo and Burkina Faso to release the Ivory Coast. Gbagbo should stay there. We'll kill him. He who does not agree with it or is it going to kill him too. And even if death does not want to kill Gbagbo, we're going to kill herself (!) We, we are ruthless. " Traumatized and frightened, we stayed at the bec watch and listen to debit their visceral hatred against Gbagbo and his supporters. Before we release, one of them threw a glance at the car and threw at the location of its owner: "Hey Dja! viet Mogo car then I will come to take it after my weekends. You're giving me no! I bring you back after that. Trust me! It did not come to do evil. We're not thieves. We are saviors. " The owner nodded his head shyly. "What time can I come to that, huh?" The owner showed the wristwatch worn by the rebel visibly more excited than others. He showed him the time on his watch without telling time. But it seemed to rebel could not read his own watch. "What time?", He sounded. "At 6 am," replied the frightened owner.Meanwhile, bullets were flying over and over on the rest of the city and less frightening detonations more. The situation seemed under control by the rebels, who certainly were now looking to watch their backs.At the parish where we now refugees, other refugees began streaming backpacks and other necessities on the head or heavily worn hands. Most small to meet their parents who do not understand what was happening to them and frightened entered the courtyard of the mission with them. It was total amazement in the mission and in the neighborhood. The silence had made an appointment with men.However, our brothers Dioula, neighboring district, exulted with joy. They did not seem worried or threatened by this event yet dramatic unfolding before our eyes. Why? Anyway, I do not know. However, before the rebels arrived, I heard that our brothers Dioula wanted revenge for all injustices we and other Cafris Boussoumanis they had caused. It was an opportunity for them all dreamed of settling scores with others who were not like them, the wicked son of the devil which must burn in the merciless fire of hell. Is it justified that they are so happy, young and old, while the bullets that crackle and the general public is frightened and holed or seek refuge in a place as reassuring the mission? I have no answer to this question. My concern now is to know what will happen next and how to escape if the worst occurred.Around 10am, we received another visit to the Mission. Certainly did not understand the time of appointment that the owner has set, our rebellious, flanked by a new companion that refugees of the Mission and the surrounding neighbors have identified as a young Dioula district, vendor phones in Black (trade area), came for "his" car. Without resistance, the owner, who happens to be the cure, he "offered" after taking care to extract the parts and other accessories.- "Vié Mogo è thank you, what you are good! I'm sending it right away, at 6. You have not understood? We're not to come to harm the population. We are here for security. This is only one vee Gbagbo. He has too much crap mogo this one. But he'll see ...! "He opened the gate. He found it hard to get his booty of the court of the Mission.The priest gives his car under threatWhen he manages to do it, it goes clear to the dismay of his new owner. "Hey viet Mogo, your car does not start or vee?" For a long time, he had trouble turning it on again. Finally he succeeded. But the move was another ordeal. The car was completely immobilized. Inwardly, I was very happy with the turn which took the car business became spoils of war. I saw the rebel sweating profusely and wiping his face with both palms strangely black. Someone took the risk to say at this rate, it may damage his car booty. But he paid no heed to this wise warning. Suddenly, as if by magic, the car, after a roar which was not far from the detonation of the day, accompanied by strong shaking back and forward, started in a huge cloud of dust to the relief of our two rebels and of course our discontent. Expected to return a few hours after we had never seen "our" car to date.The Mission, meanwhile, is still met its refugees. The news they gave us the city were not shining and reassuring. The rebels had begun to attack the pro-Gbagbo. The SDS would be identified and tracked in all neighborhoods of young Dioula indications that accompanied the rebels even the homes of FDS and leaders of PML. I conclude that if this information were true, the situation could get bogged down. Regardless, he had to manage now that we are a fait accompli. They also learned that the houses were already visited by armed rebels and looters who were only waiting for this golden opportunity.Another visit to rebel. As always, she was preceded by gunfire. The priest opened the gate safely. Their leader introduced himself: "My name is bandit leader. We came to liberate the city ... We have been notified that you are hiding weapons and military here. We came to check. "The father had no time to tell them to go they were already in the courtyard, guns in hand, ready to pull the trigger. Total amazement in the yard. How the court of the Mission, our safest refuge, can it become a military camp? Excited, the rebels asked us why there are so many displaced people in the yard? The priest replied their leader that they are there because they were scared of fire and not knowing where to go right now, they came to take refuge in the court of God. The latter, stung by a strong anger, replied very quickly: - "Oh, it's us that you are afraid? When the Liberian militia and Angolan Gbagbo were there, you have not been afraid. Why it is that you suddenly we fear, we who are here to liberate and protect? Besides all the boys who are all out here we'll go with you. "One of the rebels went to designate a gentleman of a certain age all scared and sitting under one of the courtyards of the Mission as a policeman.By Father John K. (NB: the title is the writing of Our Way

Please all we asking you is to help us get the truth out there so we can avoid the another genecide