A lively evening in the Parisian neighborhood of Chateau-Rouge, the meeting place for the semi-finals of the African Cup of Nations, Wednesday night, between Congolese fans invigorated by the journey of the Leopards and Ivorian supporters electrified by their “miraculous” team.
On a Paris scale, the African Cup of Nations semi-final match between Ivory Coast and the Democratic Republic of Congo can be summed up by two metro stops: Château-d’Eau (Xe) against Château-Rouge (XVIIIe). The first is a hub for the Ivorian diaspora, hosting the competition; the second for the Congolese diaspora.
At Château-Rouge, the streets are filled with supporters decked out in red and blue, the colors of the national flag. They all believe in their team’s qualification for the final. “2-0 for us,” predicts Zinga, 50. His age almost corresponds to the period of drought for the Congolese Leopards at the African Cup of Nations. The last victory of the country dates back to 1974. Galvanized by their team’s journey, the neighborhood of “Little Congo” starts to dream of an upset against the host country, announced as one of the favorites.
Leaning on the counter of a bar in the neighborhood, Baba refuses this label and prefers not to “jinx” his country: “It’s the African Cup of surprises,” humbly replies the Ivorian fan. Born in Grand-Bassam, a town located 40 kilometers east of the capital, Abidjan, Baba has lived there his whole life before joining France a few months ago. He is fully experiencing the competition despite the distance separating him from the excitement in Ivorian streets. The match begins. Football fans in the streets hurry to enter the bars.
A lackluster first act
“The two teams dare not engage,” summarizes the match commentator on television. The match is tight and reflects the difficulties of both teams since the beginning of the African Cup of Nations. The Ivory Coast’s Elephants are “miracle workers,” according to followers. Beaten in the group stage, the host country had long believed it would be eliminated from its own competition. Aided by a format that saves the best third placed teams in each group, they are now on the verge of the final. The start of the match wipes the smile off Baba’s face. Only the appearance on TV of the Ivorian legend Didier Drogba lifts his spirits.
The fifty-year-old still takes the time to respond to the provocations of his companions of the evening. “Chancel Mbemba is worthless,” he says insolently, referring to the captain and star defender of Congo, a former player for Olympique de Marseille. “Mbemba is Beckenbauer [former German defender and manager, died in January],” retorts a supporter firmly on the side of the Congo Leopards. Just before half time, the Ivorians launch attacks in the Congolese half. They are on the brink of opening the scoring, but fail to capitalize. Baba fears that his team has missed its chance.
Songs, dances, and chatter wake up the neighborhood dulled by a lackluster first act. In a bar on Rue des Poissonniers, about forty Congolese are waiting for the second half. All generations are represented, as are the outfits. From traditional attire to jerseys to flags covering their bodies, Gédéon has opted for a sticker in the shape of a heart in the colors of his country on his cheek. With their eyes fixed on the flat screen hanging on the wall, the family man grumbles at his team. The stakes seem too high for the Congolese players, who begin to be overwhelmed by their opponents.
“The party is ruined”
Gédéon demands change. Beside him, his more silent teenage daughter can see that Congo is struggling. Zinga feels that his team will eventually crack. He tries to put things into perspective: “If we lose, it’s not a big deal…” Before he can even finish his sentence, Ivory Coast opens the scoring. Striker Sébastien Haller, with a crossed volley, has just cast a chill over the bar. “Oh, Lord,” Gédéon exclaims. “We’re going to equalize, I believe,” Zinga reassures. Chatter ceases and gives way to tactical debates. The tension rises between Gédéon and a younger supporter.
As often happens, the coach becomes the scapegoat. “The coach has killed our team,” is heard. The Frenchman, Sébastien Desabre, receives his share of criticism. At the end of the match, the miracle awaited by the Congolese does not happen. The TV even malfunctions. The first supporters leave the businesses in the neighborhood to go home. The images of the incandescent atmosphere at the Alassane Ouattara stadium in Abidjan contrast with the atmosphere in the bar on Rue des Poissonniers.
The end of the evening is not what the Congolese community in Château-Rouge had imagined. Tonight, it’s Château-d’Eau that has won. “We’re back,” jubilates Baba. “The Cup needs to remain in West Africa.” The Ivorian supporter is already looking ahead to the final that will pit the Ivorian Elephants against Nigeria on Sunday, February 11. A good loser, Zinga congratulates the evening’s opponent and reasons with his compatriots: “The party is ruined, but it’s not a big deal, it’s football.” Before making plans to meet at the same place in a few days. He is determined to continue supporting his team in their quest for third place in the African Cup of Nations, on Saturday at 9 PM, when they will face South Africa.
