Ivory Coast’s small capital, Yamoussoukro, is one of the most bizarre capitals I’ve ever visited. “Yakro”, for short (thankfully), is the administrative and political capital of the country, but at around 350,000 people it’s nowhere close to the size of Abidjan, the country’s de facto nerve centre which bursts its seams officially at 5 million. Abidjan is chaotic and hard to navigate, with endless neighbourhoods and frantic streets. Not so with Yakro. Wide, evenly spaced boulevards and countless empty plots of land and peaceful ponds and tree-lined residential districts give the place an almost rural feel.

Ivory Coast’s first president, the “founding father” Félix Houphouët-Boigny came to power in 1960 after independence from France and ruled until 1993. Like a lot of the African rulers we’ve read about, Houphouët-Boigny didn’t want to leave office but did want to leave his mark. As the 1980s drew to a close he decided to spend some of the country’s wealth (from cocoa exports mainly) on monuments, mostly in honour of himself, so in 1983 he rechristened what was mostly just a little village into his nation’s new capital. There is a grand presidential palace complete with a crocodile-filled moat, a fancy (though fading) hotel (which at one time had the only ice skating rink in West Africa), a rarely-used marble-floored convention centre,  and wide grand avenues. It’s still mucky and developing, but it’s calm and organized for an African capital, which makes it even more bizzare.

The most unusual thing in Yakro, though, is the basilica.

The Basilica Notre-Dame de la Paix rises 158 meters above the bush out in the middle of nowhere some kilometers from town. There’s standing room for 11,000 and seats (each with individual air-conditioning) for 7,000.

The stained glass is unbelievable and fantastical, one large pane depicting Houphouët-Boigny kneeling in front of Jesus. Loosely modelled after St Peter’s basilica in the Vatican, Pope John Paul II asked that the cupola be lower so as not to surpass the papal one. Houphouët-Boigny agreed, but instead topped it with a giant golden cross, making his the world’s tallest church. All this while people in the rest of the country dust themselves off from multiple bouts of civil war and look for food and jobs.

When I visited there were fewer than a dozen people in the basilica and I had the run of the place to myself. It was one of the most bizarre things I’ve seen in years of travel. The contrast between the quiet, calm sumptuous splendour of the church, out in the middle of nowhere and the hot, crowded chaos of most of the cities in West Africa was hard to figure.

Wandering around Yakro was really interesting. There were countless wide streets with nearly nothing on them at all, and others with bustling neighborhoods and lively evening outdoor maquis for a beer or glass of wine.

The food in town is good too, a welcome change from the monotony (and stodge) of Ghana.

Next week – I travel down to the coast and visit Grand-Bassam and the small villages along the Gulf of Guinea and…get a new dose of malaria.

Stay tuned!