This article is a repost from Collegian Times Spring – Summer 2023. Thank you Poupy Gaelle Nguetsop
By Poupy Gaelle Nguetsop
Beach resort and rainforests form a contrast to a skyline of high-rises in the financial district, in a place known for high-end fashion. Glamour and natural beauty a hallmark of the African city of one million people in Abidjan, in the Ivory Coast.
Retail spending and European and American luxury brands helped establish a stable economy. and brought a nickname to Abidjan, “the Paris of West Africa.” A lagoon encircles the city, and it sparkled like
a jewel as an African city of the future until the late 1990s.
The Ivory Coast won its independence from France in 1960, and it remained stable until a non-violent coup in 1999. There have always been religious tensions between the Muslim north and the Christian south.
War changes everything Civil war erupted after a disputed presidentialelection in 2008 and again in 2011. Weapons flowed into the Ivory Coast from neighboring Liberia. The election aftermath gave rise to
violence that claimed the lives of 3,000 people and included the rapes of hundreds of women
and girls. The violence that followed undercut the nation’s past stability and economic prosperity.
It upended the lives of Ivoriens from one side of the country to the other, like 25-year-old Zenta
Fogue who fled to America.
She says her first year in the U.S. was the extremely difficult because of the language barrier, the culture and most importantly her race. ” I feel a bit lost or disconnected,” Zenta told the Collegian Times. “I miss my home, my friends, my family. I have gotten to a new place which was welcoming to me. But I left everything that made me who I am behind, and it is hard.” In its most recent travel advisory for the Ivory
Coast on Oct. 4, 2022, the U.S. State Department encourages American travelers to “reconsider” any visit there because of civil unrest and terrorism.
“Crime continues to be a major public security concern in Côte d’Ivoire … Violent crime, such as carjacking, robbery, and home invasion, is common,” the advisory states. “Due to ongoing political tensions, demonstrations and protests are likely to occur and could become violent.” Zenta has applied for asylum in the U.S., but there are obstacles. Despite the fact she obtained her authorization employment card that allows her to work, she does not qualify for important public services such as housing, or federal financial aid to help pay for college tuition. A text worth saving Zenta says she became the victim of a housing discrimination. She found a place to live in downtown Los Angeles for $600-$650 per month. It was described as a shared rental apartment. Occupants share the living room and
the kitchen, but there were two bedrooms, one for each tenant.
The building management offered her a private room with the adjoining bathroom inside. She says it was peaceful and perfect for study. They rented the room to her for $750, one
hundred more than what was listed online, but they assured her there would only be two people
in the apartment. She was skeptical at first but signed the contract. She spent two years in the
property without a problem until the day she received a text message from the management
team. “Hey Zenta, I hope you are having a good day,” the text stated. “We are going to make
some improvements in the unit, so we are relocating you and your roommate temporarily
to another place. Please prepare your belongings for moving out, we will provide you
with transportation.’’
Zenta says the text was vague. It came from the building manager who was newly hired by
the management company. Zenta asked why she did not receive proper
notice, and they told her the company did not need to explain its business practices. Zenta was
mortified when the management team showed up the next morning to force her out of the
apartment.
There were no specifics. They did not provide any information as to how long she would be
out of her apartment or where she was going. Quick course in American justice She refused to move out without formal notice. They went upstairs to the unit where they demanded Zenta pack her belongings. She refused, and they pushed her to the side and threw her MacBook, camera, iPhone, school
supplies and other belongings to the floor. They even removed her mattress, but they did not
touch anything that belonged to her roommate. “Leave my stuff alone, leave my stuff alone,
you don’t have a right to touch anything here,” Zenta said. “I’m going to report you.’’
She cried because she was unable to stop them from destroying her property. Furious,
she went downstairs and called the police. They arrived four hours later and listened to her
story. “It’s a civil matter, and we can’t do anything
about it,” one of the policemen said. “So, get a lawyer.’’ Zenta found a lawyer online who asked for
her evidence. After she shared everything, he asked where she was from, and how she planned
to pay for the case. He said her immigration status would be a problem, and he immediately
dropped the case. Zenta tried again with a non-profit law office, but as soon as the lawyers
realized she was an immigrant asylum-seeker, rather than an American Citizen, they rejected her case. She says she cried all night. “I was in the room with my belongings on the floor, no bed, no mattress,” she said. “It was cold, so cold, that I doubled many dresses to finally
sleep on the floor for three days.’’ Zenta’s roommate was concerned as she watched Zenta sleep on the floor. She offered to take a picture to add to the evidence.
The management team returned on the fourth day and entered without so much as a knock on the door. Zenta’s roommate was at work. They set up a bunkbed in the two women’s room.
“[There were] two white guys, six feet tall, with one white girl helping them carry stuff,” she said.
“I was mortified.” Again, Zenta says they pushed her aside and said, “We don’t explain our business to you.’’ They left, and the room now had three beds. The rent was still $750 per month for Zenta but
$600 for her roommate and the third person. The lower payment for two roommates was a
“secret,” that came out when the management company raised the rent for one of the others by $50 per month, according to Zenta. It came out when one of the roommates complained. Zenta took a photo of the payment receipt for evidence. She did not give up and continued to look for a
lawyer. “The lawyer, Michael who saw all the evidence, photos [and] videos, said it was illegal what they
did and advised me to file a small claim against them,’’ she said. The lawyer also said it was illegal to evict
a tenant during that period of COVID-19, according to California law. Zenta filed a small
claims case for discrimination, emotional distress and abuse of tenant’s rights. She won the case
and a judgment in the amount of $7,115. The defendant appealed. At the second trial in Los Angeles Superior Court, there was a jury. The defendant arrived with their lawyers and offered to settle the case
for less than half. They intimidated Zenta by saying the case would go public with a jury and would not be
good for her immigration status or her record. Zenta did not have a lawyer for the second trial.
She looked directly at the lawyers. “We are all immigrants. You guys are from Ukraine, Turkey, and Russia,” Zenta said. “So, if this has to go public, we will all lose, not only me.” She won for the second time, but collecting the judgment would prove to be a challenge.
Four months later, she had only collected $3,000 of the court ordered settlement.
“It was a nightmare for me,’’ Zenta said. It was also an education that left her “confused and sad.” She says it bothers her that the management team is still out there working and “using their white privilege to hurt people.” She says there are other immigrants who are victims of the same kind of injustice she suffered. Zenta says it is not an immigrant problem, but a human problem.