They are only a handful, but they seem well motivated: in the working-class district of Yopougon in Abidjan, the first voters showed up on Saturday morning under the engraved stone entrance porch of Segbe College.

"I came early to vote and then rush back to the village," says Olivier, wearing imposing Gucci sunglasses.

With their vests in the Ivorian national colors, the assessors of the electoral commission (CEI) give a surprisingly colorful tone to the dozen polling stations set up here in the early hours of the morning in the classrooms of the college, in the heart of the "Toit rouge" district.

In the immense and popular Yopougon, former stronghold of Laurent Gbagbo, excluded from the election, this "Toit rouge" district is reputed to still be in the camp of the "hardliners" totally won over to the former president.

In polling station number 2, the "office manager" Maryam Amara, along with her two assistants, finishes placing the electoral materials on the two school desks stuck under the blackboard: the voting list, the electronic tablet connected to the CEI central office, the inkwell, and the precious ballot papers, still in cellophane.

The five candidates, including President Alassane Ouattara, the clear favorite and candidate for a fourth term, are shown, some of them all smiles, as if to invite citizens to place a cross in the white square reserved for the elected official of their choice.

"The pen doesn't trace!"

The sealed, clear plastic ballot box sits in the middle of the classroom. The voting booth, a folded piece of cardboard with a pen already waiting for the voter, is installed at the very back in the corner usually reserved for dunces.

"We're ready, we're waiting for the green light," Maryam comments calmly, sweating slightly, her hair tied back under a black scarf. The signal is given shortly after 8:00 a.m. local time (and GMT).

Nearly 5,000 voters are registered here, the center's president said. "The candidates have done their job to mobilize, now we'll see how many people turn out."

Turnout is one of the issues at stake in the election, from which former President Laurent Gbagbo and international banker Tidjane Thiam, two political heavyweights, were excluded.

In recent weeks, their parties have encouraged Ivorians to protest this decision and demonstrate against a fourth term for Mr. Ouattara.

Wearing an elegant navy blue shirt and a solemn air, Losseni presents his voter registration card and his identity card.

Unfortunately, the tablet initially did not recognize the fingerprints on his two thumbs, much to the embarrassment of one of the assessors.

Losseni finally takes his ballot to the voting booth. "The pen doesn't mark!" It's impossible to engrave the precious cross. A change of pen, the ballot is finally marked and slipped into the ballot box. A signature, and a finger placed on the inkwell stamp as proof of voting, the matter is finally settled.

"I am very happy to participate in this vote, it is Côte d'Ivoire that comes out the winner," he recites in front of the camera.

"Where is my office?"

With a shy voice that contrasts with her determined demeanor, 27-year-old Marceline Aviet is voting for the first time. "I didn't want to miss out, and it's a duty for us Ivorians. We need change, and now is the time to say it," she says, smiling.

In the sandy courtyard of the school, a queue of voters, documents in hand, forms in front of the neighboring classroom. "Where is my polling station?" ask the newcomers, who arrive in dribs and drabs, after their various documents have been examined at the entrance by two police officers on duty.

"President" Bamba Mameri, the RHDP (the ruling party) delegate for the sector, came to observe the vote and was pleased to see that "everything is calm." "There is no noise despite the misinformation we hear here and there."

"It was tough here during the 2011 crisis, there were deaths," recalls a local taxi driver.

The crisis, however, seems a distant memory on this Saturday election morning, when everything is perfectly calm and as usual in the dusty alleys of the neighborhood.

"If there is peace, we are at peace," says Olivier.

A suspicious person remarks in a whisper that "the ink is not really indelible."

After the initial flurry of votes, the turnout at Segbe College is already beginning to decline. "We'll see if the voters will mobilize," wonders one observer, a member of "civil society," with a shrug.

AFP