SU_P_03

[i] Good morning!
[r] Hello [name]!
[i] Do you have anything you’d like to show me?
[r] Hey… This object. It’s my childhood, my education, it’s… Bah! Since 1998, I’ve nicknamed him Dad. Because he’s… my father’s companion.
[i] And what is this object? Can you introduce it to me?
[r] It’s the Holy Bible in the Sango language. It’s thanks to this medium that I speak Sango well.
[i] What is Sango?
[r] It’s a Central African language. It’s a language that’s widely spoken in the Central African Republic.
[i] Can you tell us about the history of this object?
[r] My father is Protestant, and The Bible in Sango was one of the first translations, so he bought it and it’s always his bedside book, his companion, and everything he passes on, he passes on thanks to… this Book. In short, for him it’s the book of knowledge.
[i] OK. But why is it important for you today?
[r] It’s important because it …, as I said, it’s my whole childhood: I lived it as a child. I left the family plot when I came back on holiday, and it was always next to my father. When Dad died, it was the only inheritance I claimed. The only inheritance I claimed was that Bible. Full stop. It never leaves me. When I leave the Paris region, I take it with me. When I travel, I always have it with me.
[i] How many years has it been?
[r] 20 years that we’ve been together. 20 years and a few months, because I’ve had it since May 1998.
[i] Can you introduce yourself?
[r] They call me [name] I’m Chadian. I arrived in France on 26 October 1978, for 2 years of training: I’ve been here for almost 40 years.
[i] OK. So you’re of Chadian origin, so you were born there?
[r] I was born in Chad. Born and bred in Chad. I worked as a teacher in Chad for 10 years.
[i] When were you born then?
[r] I was born on a morning in May 1947, thanks to modern technology I know that I was born on a Wednesday. I’m lucky in that my father is related to the pastor, so I even know what time I was born. Which is half past 9, because there was a big alarm clock to symbolise this moment.
[In what circumstances, then? Circumstance …
[r] Bah …, I … my maternity ward was a big kapok tree, I was born under a kapok tree… I have to tell you a little bit about myself. I’m a fraternal twin. There are two of us: a sister who didn’t survive. And that’s it. And my maternity is a big kapok tree that no longer exists.
[There were midwives?
[r] No, no, no. Back in the days when there were midwives, you say? That’s … Women midwives: Neighbours who I don’t consider to be midwives but women midwives with knowledge. And I’d like to digress for a moment because, as I was told, my birth: If I’d been born like…, if my mother had given birth to us like women do today. Well, I wouldn’t be alive. Because in those days, birth took place in a squatting position. Women didn’t lie on their backs. It was almost like defecating, she was supported, squatting. And that was it. That’s what got us out.
[i] Are you the eldest in the family?
[r] No. The youngest in a family of 8 girls already preceded by 8 daughters.
[They’re all still alive…
[Er, no. The last one just left at 77: Ha! I’m 71, so my eldest daughters, that’s it. The last one left at 77 in the month of …, coincidence or not, in the month of May as well
[i] Can you tell me a bit about your siblings?
[r] Mine?
[i] Yes, the father? The sisters? Mother?
[r] Well, my father arrived in Fort-Lamy in 1928. So he came from the south of Chad, from the village of Mangnebbô (Maïbo) in the S/prefecture which is now the Department of Moïssala. So he was an internal immigrant. He went up from Mangne-bbô to Fort-Lamy in and, as he says, he had a rainy season. He left after one harvest and arrived in Fort-Lamy after the next harvest, in other words a whole year and on foot. That’s a whole year on foot. And that’s where he met my uncle. As he was a young, hard-working man, my uncle said to him: ‘No, no, no. You’re not taking a wife here. You’re not taking a wife here, I’ve got my little sister . And that was it. So they got married in 1934 and the eldest of the family was born in 1936. In Abéché
[i] In the North?
[In the North. Oh yes! My father served as a méhariste and then afterwards. Well, he didn’t like the army profession. He chose to be a cook instead. He was the Commandant’s cook… of the town of Abéché. If we have time I’ll show you his work certificates that I’ve collected.
[i] OK. What about your sisters?
[r] There are 8 of my sisters, so there have been deaths: deaths by accident, deaths by drowning. We ended up with 3 sisters and me. They left one after the other.
[i] Did you live in Chad? For how long?
[r] Born in Chad. I left Chad when I was 31, I think, yes, 31 in 1978.
[i] Did you study there?
[r] I studied… Well, I said in the introduction that I worked as a teacher for about ten years. 10 years. Not for ten years, but for 10 years.
[i] What was life like in that country during the time you lived there?
[You’re making me nostalgic. Yes, life was … for a young civil servant with a regular salary and respect for the work we did. Oh no, for me, life was… Was good.
[How much did you earn? ¨To have an idea at the time.
[At the time it was good. I… I started at 47,000 francs. And then I finished at… No, let’s not be pretentious: I started at 33,000, and then when I was given tenure, I finished… yes, at 47,000 francs.
[i] 47000 was…
[r] Let’s say 470 old francs.
[i] So in € it’s about 80€.
[r] Yes, €80. A bit like €80. And €80 allowed me to… meet my needs, support my family, build. No, that’s it.
[Do you have any family?
[Yes, what’s left of one.
[In other words?
[r] That is, those of my generation, many of whom have left. When we were young, life expectancy for us was 45 years. So we all lived saying: If we reach 45, thank God. The ones I’ve left behind are my elders. Well, there’s only one left. No, there are several left. I can’t say that there’s just one left in the extended family and with those I’ve… Even this morning I’ve just phoned one or two
[i] OK. Did you have children before you came?
[Yes.
[How many?
[Officially. One.
[Is he still there or is he here?
[He’s here with me. He’s here too, he’s a father.
[How old is he? The first?
[Ah! He was born in 74, so he’s 44 now.
[i] Tell me, when did you arrive in France ? Alas, we’d brushed him off a bit…
[r] But… I came to France following a competition. Organised by the French Ministry of Cooperation. For training in school administration. This competition was open to all French-speaking countries and Madagascar. So I was successful in this competition, fortunately. That’s what enabled me to come.
[i] Where did you sit the exam? In N’Djaména or…
[r] In N’Djaména.
[i] How many of you were there? Many?
[r] Quite a lot… Oh yes! There were more than 50 of us… That’s funny, because I even took the competition with 2 of my former inspectors. Yes, yes, I took the exam with 2 of my former inspectors. When I was a teacher, I had them as inspectors.
[Did they pass?
[Ha no. Unfortunately not. It made the young man of the time a bit pretentious. Well, today I understand why they didn’t succeed because they had a load of responsibility that didn’t allow them to : As much to invest, to train… Because I was taking parallel courses, I was going to the CFOD and I was taking courses. At the time I didn’t understand, now I understand why they didn’t succeed.
[i] Was the competition difficult? The tests?
[r] Yes, the tests. They were organised by the embassy, under the sole responsibility of the embassy.
[i] Which embassy?
[The French embassy. The exams were supervised by the military. The papers were marked here in France. And that was also the first time I learnt that, well, Ha! The person who told me that said Ha! it’s near Arcueil, it’s in the care of the Maison des examens . Before I came here, it was to see what I was going through. And there, hope is given by the fact that the exam not being . Not being corrected on the spot. Well, we had hope.
[i] And what year was that?
[r] 78. In April 78.
[i] And how many of you came to France for the whole of Chad?
[r] In the intendance section. I chose, I think there were six of us. Yes, six.
[i] Out of 50. Can you tell me more about your arrival. Where did you get off…? How did it go…? Did you come by plane?
[r] It’s a bit folksy, because, well, we were the first passengers to inaugurate Roissy 1. The airport had just opened and we were among the first to set foot in it… and for us it was impressive. My first fear was arriving in front of a conveyor belt… I asked for my luggage, I asked for help and I asked for someone to explain to me how it worked. People laughed at me because… I said: No, I climb the stairs at home, and no road works. How am I going to move on this road? And the agent there told me to put my things on the mat, he explained, and to be on the safe side, he grouped us first-timers on a mat that he blocked off. We went upstairs and he threw the mat down, and when we got to the end he blocked it, so we thanked him, because on the other side we saw that there were people, first-time arrivals, who were falling off. Especially when it came to collecting their luggage, they were being thrown out. But this Mr Merci, we didn’t fall, that’s the first thing. And then we had to get to Paris. But the reception at the time was good, because there was someone with a sign to welcome us, all we had to do was go up to him. We were welcomed and taken to the CIES. It’s still somewhere on rue De La Grange aux Belles, not far from the Colonel Fabien metro station, but it’s changed its name. Then we moved to the FIAP in rue Cabanis. It’s funny, because as I was waking up very early I went out, I always wake up at 5.30am so at 5.30am I was outside I wanted to see a bit, I read Psychiatric Hospital. I wasn’t happy about being next door to crazy people. I didn’t understand why they left us next to the lunatics. What’s even funnier is that no one told us, so we didn’t have this information, so my colleague and I who were there got ready, as in Chad we knew that the offices officially opened at 7.30am, so we got ready and took a taxi to get to school as early as possible. The taxi driver didn’t tell us anything and dropped us off at the St-André metro station on rue Danton. As he was getting us off, he said: ‘But Mrs your school, it’s not open at this time of day’. We said to him: Oh really! Oh no! The offices here open at 9am. So our first welcome was a coffee. We spent over an hour in a café. It was autumn and too cold for us. Oh yes. The welcome here was the cold. The first thing was the cold: the weather was… There was a bit of drizzle. It wasn’t cold for the locals, but it was for us. I can still remember that like it was yesterday.
[i] How many degrees was it?
[r] Haaa. For me, who gets over 25° if it’s 6°, 7 or 10°: that’s cold! In Chad it’s…, the cold in Chad is 15°. In N’Djaména we were already shivering… Yes, it was 7°, I think at the time. But 7° was too cold for us at least. It was too cold. We had winter gloves on. We were fine, afterwards we realised it was ridiculous, but for us it wasn’t ridiculous at all. Yes, we were. We were dressed. We really were. The others said to us, but when it’s going to snow, what are you going to do? Well, we’ll see. But the body is… We adapted to it The body adapted very quickly, to my great surprise.
[i] Tell me, was it your first time getting on a plane to come here? And how did it go… from N’Djaména airport to…
[r] Well… Getting on a plane isn’t the first time. It’s not the first time you’ve been on a long trip just for tourism either. But to stay for a long time, yes. My first time was at Le Bourget, but Le Bourget is… Le Bourget airport wasn’t as different as N’Djaména airport at the time. But Roissy was huge for me, for us! The airport, the shops, everything was bustling. But hey, taking life, no, but coming to France, yes.
[i] How long have you lived in Paris?
[r] Since I arrived, with occasional trips to the provinces. The Paris region is my city – well, my region, at least.
[i] Can you tell me about your time in France?
[r] My arrival?
[i] Your arrival… The different arrondissements… Life, work? We’ll come to that.
[r] First in the 14th, rue Cabanis. Then studies in the 5th arrondissement. We were housed in the Massy hostel. So I did the Massy hostel, then the Cachan hostel. In the meantime I managed to go back to Chad to bring back my wife. Then the Second World War broke out, so I decided not to go back, so I looked for odd jobs. What was your first job like? It was in 79… There were problems with grants for all Chadians. And in the hostel where I worked, the night watchman wasn’t there. He had to be replaced and the deputy director called me to tell me: ‘You’re the only one of our residents who doesn’t drink, who behaves well. Would you agree to… Let me explain: You’re going to stay here. You’re going to stay here. To look after the night shift until the caretaker who’s off sick starts again or we find him a replacement. So I went from being a resident to a night watchman. And as I also had… I was offered the job because my rent was 2 months overdue. Why was that? Because we’d demanded it. Before, it was the CIES that paid directly, and we’d demanded that we get our scholarships paid for ourselves, that it was a bit more dignified. But after the events of 79 I decided not to pay but to save up to send to my parents in the refugee camp. Why did I do that? Because Chadian students, who were dependent on the Chadian state, didn’t get their grants either. So it was hypocritical, I told the management that it was out of solidarity, but in reality I wanted to put some money aside to send to my relatives in the refugee camps. That’s how I started working. Under the table. A black man working under the table.
[How does it feel?
[r] It’s a bit funny because in the past so much so that during the summer holidays I was offered the chance to replace the guards, not just on holidays, but to replace the guards at weekends in the Rolling hostels in Paris, in Rue Rolling, in La Motte-Piquet, another one not far from Montparnasse. Well, as it’s the same band, I was on tour. And I even did some weekly replacements,
[Are you well paid?
[r] Of course not: because the association that runs these hostels never declared me… I was paid by the… for me it was important at the time. At the end of the month, I was given a cheque for 1000 FF, 1500, 1200. It was a fortune for me and I was happy to have that money until I had to regularise my situation, which became critical because nobody wanted to accept me, so I asked them to regularise my situation and I also lost the job.
[i] It was the administration of the student residence that made you work illegally.
[r] At the time it was called the AFI. L’Association, Quoi comme çà, des étudiants et stagiaires. It was an old structure. Run by old hands. I make you laugh because I have this coat. In the meantime I’d gone back to university and this kind of job meant I could keep up with the courses. One day when I wanted to see the accountant. I got dressed and wore this because we had to go to the Musée de l’Homme to attend a seminar. And when I got there, the gentleman who was very rude to me at my place of work, on the way I said to myself: Hey, let him introduce me to Mr [name], I’ll give him my middle name which he doesn’t know, he’ll certainly write it down but he won’t remember it: [name] it’ll mean something to him. When I arrived, I was announced as Mr [name]. The secretary wrote and left, so he received me in his office and even made room for me to sit down. However, when I came to see him in the same office, he didn’t have a seat, he didn’t have time: I had to stand. I used to talk to him standing up. He made me sit down because I was all dressed up, tie… attaché case. So he received me very well. And when he found out it was me. I really wanted to have his image. That’s why I lost the job. I said to him: Mr, that’s not the man you respect. In the end, all I had to do was dress differently for you to respect me: when I used to come to your office more than 4 times, today you welcome me, even your secretary got up to greet me. She never moves from her desk. I said: ‘Well, maybe he’s a senior African official. It’s worth what I paid for it with the money you’re giving me. It’s as simple as that. Yes, I realised that, well, the clothes make the man. Those who say that the clothes don’t make the man. I don’t think they’ve experienced that reality. Clothes make the man in this country. For me, it does. My experience: Yes, clothes do make the man. I’ve played with it a lot: there are places where I’d go without an invitation or I’d go in because I was well dressed.
[i] And how did you manage to regularise your situation in the end, after working illegally? Was it a bit difficult?
[A friend told me: ‘You go to the ANPE in Massy-Palaiseau. There, it was run by 2 or 3 young people from the, those who worked there were from the Jeunesse… Jeunesse Communiste. He gave me a rough description of the people I should be talking to, and I went to talk to this man, who told me: ‘Listen, I understand. He was on first-name terms with me straight away, and said I understood you. But if you’re looking for work at the level of your training, you won’t get it. And the most urgent thing is for you to regularise your situation. So you go from being a student to being an employee. At the time, you needed 3 payslips and an employment contract lasting more than a year. He sent me to my first job as a warehouse assistant. I didn’t get the job. When I came back, he told me ‘No, no, you made a mistake, you’ve shown that you know, that you…, that you understand things’. Now I’m going to send you to a print shop, make you look illiterate. For 2 days, he trained me to copy my name in stick writing. He told me: ‘I beg you, do everything you can if you want to get this job.’ The important thing for you is this job, then you can do what you want. I went and got out my residence permit. I made an effort to draw my name in stick writing. It’s a printing company that makes cardboard, so I was at the end of my course. All the offcuts from the machines had to be baled and weighed. So the little secretary gave me… and I don’t know if the guy had already sent someone there, but he told me that if you’re given operations, don’t do them quickly, even if they’re good. The secretary gave me, I remember well, 5+4, so I counted my fingers and wrote 9. She was happy, and went off to tell her colleague to do something complicated with deductions to see if he could understand. I understood them, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t say anything. They came back, so she made things a bit more complicated, for her at least, so I ended up with 16 + 5 or more. Something like that where I had to get detentions. Well, I played the same game over and over again: I’ve got my fingers, so I put. In reality I had the result but I had to play the game. So I was good for the job. And for 3 months I spoke ‘Little Negro’. The funny thing was that when I arrived, the supervisor, who was a woman of Portuguese origin, came up to me and said, ‘What’s your first name? I said, ‘Me [name]’. She said ‘Oh no, no, that’s difficult, it’s [name]’. For 3 months I was called [name]. Why did they call you [name]? Because the guy who was there before, his first name was [name] I don’t know, he said to me: ‘It’s easy, he’s [name], you’re [name] too’. So for 3 months I was [name]. [name] not knowing how to read or write
[i] What level were you?
[I was a steward. When I left, I had the rank of Intendant. The rank of Intendant was still. If it was submitted at the time Ah yes, the licence. The licence. Yes. Since I hadn’t confirmed it, if I had confirmed it. I had the level, here, of executive. A university steward. Academic and university. I graduated with the rank of School and University Bursar.
[i] And you never worked in this field?
[r] I’d gone into the private sector and applied for the job of Bursar, but they wouldn’t give it to me, because at the time it was a job with benefits. Benefits in kind. Not having French nationality, I applied more to public schools. Mr, we’ll call you, we’re interested in your file… But that’s all in the past.
[i] Did they call you back?
[r] If I never practised, it’s because they didn’t call me back.
[i] We could tell you that yes… We took such and such because…
[r] No, no, no. It’s even a language that we understood at the time, when we tell you that we’ll call you back: ‘It’s, get lost! We’re not interested in you.’ So I stopped looking in that area. And then I did one odd job after another
[i] Can you tell me how it’s possible to work and study at the same time? I think you were a caretaker, a supervisor… And studying at the same time? How did that work? Can you tell me about that?
[r] The advantage is that as a night watchman, I work at night or at weekends. So… I was lucky in that I could sleep in any situation, which allowed me to recover and at the same time I also benefited from… comfort: I could work, make my photocopies. And then I finish at 8 o’clock. I was enrolled at the Université de Vincennes in Saint-Denis. So we had classes until… We finished at 10pm, so that allowed me to plan and choose my credits in relation to my free time. In other words: classes starting early in the morning. Very rare. When I enrol, I negotiate to be there. Otherwise I took all the afternoon classes or the classes that started at 11am. But the teachers at the time were all militants, so they didn’t do their classes… They didn’t enrol at the same time during the year or the week, which meant we could come and catch the next session. Of course, they don’t come back, but you can miss every other session. I’m also lucky enough to have had one of the first Auto-reverse recorders. When I couldn’t come, I’d put on 2-hour cassettes and give them to someone who’d record the lessons for me so I could listen to them again. I worked a lot with that.
[i] Did you have time to go to the library at that pace? Or how did you work on your lessons outside university and your job? Well, the libraries did. But then there was La Documentation Française and the rue d’Ulm library. When I wasn’t working that day, especially during the day, I went to the library at the École Normale on rue d’Ulm. And then there’s the Centre Beaubourg! The Beaubourg Centre, where I used to come and then finish almost at closing time. And to be sure of finding my books, I’d put them back in the wrong place. I’d even change shelves: that way if I arrived late I’d be sure to find the book. And carry on reading. In those days it was all very pleasant: We looked at the bag. We didn’t take the books out. But we’d make arrangements with girlfriends who’d hide them under their dresses and we’d take them out. I could take the book home for the weekend, read it and go and put it back. And that was it. The great thing was: any document we took out we put back in We didn’t keep them. As for the girlfriends. No one would touch a girl. I used them, at least I didn’t say we did. Oh yes, I used several of them to…
[i] They trusted you that much to… be accomplices
[r] Ça-va, ça-va. Since we’re working, they’re not adventure friends! They were university friends, so we went out to work together. We often worked in workshops, it’s interesting that for me to move forward I need these books… But I returned them.
[i] Can you tell me about the Beaubourg library? Do you have any memories of it? What about that library?
[r] Yes. But these are memories from the 80s. That’s a long time ago. At the time it was quite revolutionary. We used to go to the library and have exhibitions. We could also. You could consult documents on microfiche. Here’s a whole thesis on a booklet; for us at the time… it wasn’t possible. We wondered how we could get one of these readers and be able to duplicate the microfiche so that we could have the document at home. Microfiche was the thing at the time. Then, er… Unfortunately I don’t have the time to go there any more. There’s the library of my time, which is well organised. Pleasant reading conditions. Because it’s so big, it’s crowded. And there was no place for noise: It was respected: It’s quiet. In Paris, there’s the Bibliothèque St Génévieve not far from the Panthéon. I also worked there.
[i] And how did you, coming from Chad, from Africa, adapt to life here? What are the differences? Can you tell me a bit about that? [I go from ‘You’ to ‘You’…]
[r] The first surprise is public transport. Because those of my generation like me. You arrive and you get on public transport. So it’s collective. I’ve said ‘Hello’ to people who were there before me. I got some funny looks and my 2nd surprise was to see that the people who were sitting on the edge of the seats didn’t move so that we could sit down. I’d just got off the bus we took to N’Djaména, and when you get on the 1st bus, you sit at the back. Whether you made room for the others or not, you warned them that ‘I’m going to get off’ if you went a bit further on. It was always… we customers negotiated. I’m sitting here because I’m going to get off, do you get off before or after? The guy said, no, no, I get off a bit further on, so we stood up. Then you get used to it. Saying hello is… Oh, and another thing, and this is with the old-timers… because when we saw our friends, we’d give them a pat on the back and then we’d take them by the hand or want to take them by the shoulders when we were walking, but the others told us: ‘no, no, no. You mustn’t take them’. Here we don’t hold hands. And why is that? We’re boys. That’s the point. If we hold hands here, people will think we’re… Oh really! He says no, no, you hold hands with your girlfriend. Friends walk side by side and that’s it, they don’t hold hands. So, I had photo albums from that time, when I did my 1st work placement in Nancy, and I laughed because when colleagues looked at them, they didn’t understand why… and they said who’s that? Well, that’s my wife. Then why are you putting your hand on the boy’s shoulder in the photo? I’m saying, he’s my friend, a close friend. I know where to lead them and I was having fun taking them a bit further to say… how your close friend is. But how does your wife put up with it? Close friend is not in the sense that you understand. He’s really a friend who, in my tradition, is more than a brother. Because a brother is not chosen: a friend is a choice. And this friend is like a close friend. If there’s my wife, she has no reason to be jealous or… In my time it’s a person who can defend me to my family, defend my home. And that’s it. They say Ha well but… why are you putting your hand there? I say ‘Shhh. We’re from two different cultures. And the proof that we’re ‘friends’, haven’t you noticed that we’re even wearing the same outfit? We’re almost in uniform. That’s why I came up with this expression in Mbaye that says ‘Mad krraï’, in other words: a friend with whom you have the same types of tattoos. If you go and get tattoos, in other words you have the same tattoos, you have the same stripes. You have the same stripes. In other words, when you go for a walk, no one asks: ‘Is that my brother? No. They know he’s a friend. Erm… I am. Mbaye so I draw a lot from my culture to speak
[i] From a cultural point of view… communication codes. Didn’t you find it difficult coming here because your French is understood by everyone?
[r] Even understood, people say to me: ‘You speak well, you speak well, you write well’ But only you have an accent. I say yes, like the people from Marseille. I say like the people from Marseille, like the people from Alsace Yes, I have an accent. There’s also the Parisian accent. And that’s why I’ve done everything I can to keep that accent, it’s my trademark today. I’m going to make you laugh. But my 1st work placement in Nancy, I was confronted with a difficulty but then when I did intercultural communication I understood why. Even though I was talking about holding hands with a best friend, I was shocked: so when I was invited by colleagues, I offered a packet of chocolate to the young people and a bouquet of flowers to the mother of the family. The bouquet of flowers was well received, but the packet of chocolate was unwrapped. I said it was for the children. They unwrapped it and handed it to me for 1st. And I understood with another reading, because we were in the middle of the civil war in N’Djaména in 79 when we knew that France was involved. I read it in Mbaye’s terms. Because when you give someone something and they tell you to use it, it’s to make sure that if you poison them and try to kill them with it, you’ll go first. I stupidly spent most of my time resenting this colleague: why doesn’t she trust me enough to… And then I learnt that no, no, no, it’s more… Here, that’s how it is. But I wasn’t well. I’m laughing about it, but at the time, I was phew… If I’d known the way, I’d have gone back. Unfortunately, we were in a village somewhere near Nancy, and I didn’t know my way around. I was taken hostage otherwise. That gesture, no, ha no! It’s an insult. Oh dear. But that’s interculturality.
[i] OK. What are your expectations when you come to France? Can you tell me about your expectations?
[r] When I came, it was about social advancement. I was a primary school teacher and then a teacher’s adviser, and I managed to get out. 2 years in France? In my day, coming to France was…! The fact that our names are spoken on the radio. It meant respect in the neighbourhoods. Immediately, it’s ‘Le français’ It also gave a certain success with the girls. ‘He’s going to France. He’s the Parisian, he’s…’ We weren’t like the others. We were… Voilà! Even if you’re not proud, you can feel it. The pride. So I came for 2 years of training. I’m leaving as a School Administrator. Mostly. In my mind, I chose the Bursar’s Office because I’ve had experience of Bursars, so I’m going to be a Bursar. And I’ll try to manage things differently. Because I saw how the bursar at the Ecole Normale. The 2 teacher training colleges I’d been to, they managed. For me it’s… That’s it. That you don’t have to live off the backs of students. And my dream was: when I go back to the school where I’ll be, people will say ‘Ha! it wasn’t like that before’. Ha! Back home, are we entitled to that? Are we entitled to that? Those were the days of the ‘Little Revolutionaries’. All we have to do is set an example. And that the others who don’t manage things well will certainly change. But a few months after I arrived in 78-79, the Chadian state shattered. The state I left shattered. I left again in December 79, I travelled around N’Djaména, I saw things. I left N’Djaména to see my parents in Moïssala. Right in the middle of it. I left that Chad, saying to myself, this is no longer… ‘If that Chad is no longer organised. It’s no longer mine. Because at the time, when I was in N’Djaména, diplomas were sold on the market. Everything was looted. 79 was it, so many… After the 79 war in N’Djaména, everything was negotiated. When you needed a document… I spent 10 days seeing this person who had his own little office and all the official stamps. And then to go back and be killed by Habré? No. So over there, on the spot, I was telling people that this was my last year. Some people said to me: ‘But why? So why are you coming back? But my wife, I’m still showing her something else and I’ve got a free ticket. It’ll be a holiday for her after what she’s been through. No, I didn’t tell them that… I told one person and one person only, may he rest in peace, a paternal uncle with whom I was staying, Malkor, Elie Malkor’s father, knew… He told me: I understand your choice. Even when I left Mosesala, my own father, I didn’t tell him. But since we were talking and I knew I could confide in him. He’ll know how to explain it to my father, how to get the message across to him. After all, he’s a Justice of the Peace in the church. So I entrusted it to him so that he could pass it on to my parents. That my journey is one of no return
[And what was their reaction?
[My parents?
[Yes.
[r] At the time we didn’t have enough means of communication. He said I understood you and I’ll make your father understand. My mother? No. My mother I could have told her and she would have understood me. That’s for sure. But… My father I was afraid of his reaction. I don’t know why.. And yet I was already 32. But hey! I was. And I’m still his son. It had to be a mediated relationship. You need a mediator to make it work. And he is… From the cost, he understood. No, he didn’t reproach me. My father got me used to it too. His silence is approval. When I say something to him, he looks at me but doesn’t answer. If he doesn’t agree, he gives me his opinion straight away: he says he doesn’t agree, and that’s what he says. For me, his silence is approval. It’s silly, but that’s how it is, that’s our code of communication.
[i] Is it with everyone at home? All your sisters?
[r] All my sisters is too much to say. I was in a system where the man is with the man. The girls are with them and the mothers. I was the male, so I was with the paternal girls. The girls would come and explain their situation to him, but when they came it was in the evening. There are two sides to it: when it’s a personal problem my father never involves me. She’s his daughter. But when it’s a problem that affects the couple, I’m there. Because he says that ‘the day I leave’ the conflict between your sisters and their husbands, you have to know the ins and outs because it’s going to be your responsibility. So much so that the eldest of the family. I hadn’t yet gone to school when she was endowed. My father made me count her dowry. I know exactly how much it was. When the dowry was brought in, my father put me in and told me to count it, so I counted the notes and it was only later that I was able to find out which notes were there. He said to me: Look at the notes carefully. I knew how to count to 10. He told me to look at the notes, so I looked at the notes I saw and counted the zeros on the back. He said to me: It doesn’t matter, count the zeros, there’s a 1, but count the zeros on the back. So I counted the notes and counted the zeros. I counted the number of notes and another one I saw was a number 5 with zeros too.
[i] How much was it? It was one thousand nine hundred and fifty… at the end of 54 it was the 1st time I was taken to school and I wasn’t accepted. So, 15500 francs cfa… It was madness. I have a maternal uncle who said to my father. ‘But you’ve sold it, isn’t that possible? It’s not a dowry, you sold her for 15500 francs, you think your daughter is a What?
[How much is that in euros?
[It’s barely €20, is it? 15000 is 21 or 22
[15,000 is about 25. I know that 10,000 is 15, 20€ Let’s take half, 7.60€ That’s 22€. That’s less than €23
[And who was giving this money?
[r] It’s the husband The suitor’s family. It’s not my father. The suitor’s family. It’s a dowry! In my day, it was also used to help the young bride put together her trousseau. Because she had to go to her husband’s house. A bed with everything on it, kitchen utensils, so the dowry also contributed to that. Financially, my father lived well, so he didn’t need that.
[i] In the end you were able to come with your wife?
[Yes, we arrived on 10 January 80.
[i] Was it difficult or was it easy to get the visa to leave?
[r] At the time we didn’t need a visa. The visa problem began under Giscard at the end of ‘80. After Operation Barracuda in the Central African Republic. Ah, after Habrè was driven out of N’Djaména by the GUNT. The visa was imposed on the Chadians after the GUNT at the end of ‘80 and the beginning of…
[i] What is the GUNT? Gouvernement d’Union Nationale de Tchad [Transitional] with Goukouni as President and Kamougué as Vice-President. No, there was no visa. However, when we got to the airport, the air police asked me what documents I needed to bring my wife and myself, and the Embassy Counsellor, Sahoulba, was there waiting for someone, so I called him and Sahoulba arrived. The policeman apologised. And it was settled quite quickly, it wasn’t complicated.
[i] All those who were born before independence know that they were born French, and that was your case too.
[r] Yes, I was born in ‘47 I was born French. I was born in Fort-Lamy: the very capital I was French.
[i] Didn’t that help you in your travels? When you come? Your family?
[Bah no! Because I chose not to take French nationality.
[i] At independence.
[At independence. No! I joined the Chadian administration, so I joined as a Chadian. That’s de facto. I didn’t take any steps whatsoever at the French embassy. Historically, I was born before independence. In my day, it took 45 days if I wanted to regain my French nationality, especially as I still had my birth certificates from that period with me: Afrique Equatoriale Française, Territoire du Tchad.
[i] The territory of Chad was a French colony?
[r] A French colony. The first capital of Free France: That’s where Leclerc’s troops left for Kouffra.
[i] Can you tell me a bit about your environment in France, what it was like when you arrived with your family or your wife… and your son? How did it go? How did you get on in life? Was it easy or how did it go?
[r] For me it’s easy because I’m lucky enough to be able to find work. After my little babysitting job, my papers were regularised. After 8 years I gave up this purely food job and looked for other avenues. But with my friend [name], he had a friend, [name], who told us, and at the time I was living in Paris, Ah, no! I’m skipping a sequence here. After I left that job. So I did a 15-day replacement job as a cleaner in a girls’ hostel in the 15th arrondissement, as I was between 2 shifts, more like on sabbatical. To my great surprise, when the incumbent arrived, the management sacked him and called me to ask if I still liked the job? Yes, I liked the job because I could organise myself as I wanted and I could continue my studies, I could even come in at the weekend to do repairs. I told the management that I’d only accept the job on the condition that I didn’t miss my lessons. So when there were emergency repairs, I could come at the weekend. I could come at night to do repairs, my amount of time and then that’s it. It’s funny, because I did this job, starting from an intellectual point of view, because I did my work placement in a multi-purpose building college. By working with BTS students, I saw how they did things and that’s what helped me. And then I bought a book that’s lying around here somewhere, I’ve put it away, I can’t find it, I bought this book that enabled me to… It was …, it’s written on the back ‘La clé ou la caisse à outils du bricoleur’. I bought this book, it was very expensive at the time, I bought it for 120FF, you can imagine, 120FF at the time.
[What’s that? 5€?
[No! 120FF is more than 120FF, it’s still 17-18€. So, in this book there was everything, everything was detailed. Mrs [name] laughed, because I said: When I was called for this job, the first 3-4 days I was doing, I was preparing my reading notes. And I’d come and say what I could do. But when I had the 1st case, it was very simple: I saw the fault and as I had the pass, I was going to open the next room to see how the one that was working was. So I was troubleshooting and, as a result, I’m a bit of a do-it-yourselfer, I don’t know, but DIY is instinctive, so it didn’t take me long to get the hang of it and I think that the man I was working for took his place because there was a room that was closed and I asked for the plumber and I was told: ‘There are problems, we haven’t got him yet. I opened the door, looked around and noted the breakdowns I had, and at the time I was at the BHV, not far from the Town Hall, in the basement, where there were advisers. In DIY and I explained as if it was a personal breakdown. I was a poor student, so they said, ‘OK, they’ve helped me to sort myself out’. They gave me money, I bought products and equipment: because I said to myself: If it works, so much the better. If it doesn’t work, too bad for my money. But at least I learned. What’s the story? The previous tenant was rude, so we sacked her and to get back at her she bought some Saint-Doux which she heated up and poured down the bidet, clogging the drain. I was told how to heat it up…, as it’s oil, heat it up and put this product in, heat up the soldering iron like that and it’ll run, so I sorted it out, I cleaned it all up. That’s when I discovered the Saint-Marc product. I cleaned everything. And when I said that the room was free, I told the assistant. The room is free. Available for what? I fixed the bidet and everything’s fine. She left. She saw and phoned straight away because there was a waiting list. That’s when I found out that the man I’d replaced knew the breakdown list. He’d phone the plumber, the con sors, so we waited for the plumber to come and sort it out. When he came back, we told him we’d been losing money for 6 months because: ‘You call yourself a cleaner, but we’ve hired a real cleaner. He let us go. And that’s how I got his job. It served me well afterwards. I did that job for 5 years. I’m sorry, but it’s a boring job. It’s a hostel that houses 180 girls plus the director. The headmistress and I got the passes… It was in the 15th arrondissement, rue Blomet. And then, when I gave up the job… I never picked up a chick. Don’t look at me funny. As soon as I start talking about girls, you start looking at me. No, I’m not! I don’t mix things up in my work. It’s lucky for me that being a teacher, at the time that’s what saved me, I didn’t have any conflicts. Because in CM2 we had big girls. In my day? Yes, they were big girls. But they weren’t. When you leave and ‘You’re in a bar’ as we say back home. Yes, yes, you’re a customer and I’m a customer like everyone else. But never my pupil. And that’s also thanks to my father and the Jesuits: Because when you have responsibilities, these are the things that make you no longer respected. Or are you a lover? Or you’re a teacher? Or you’re in charge? But you can’t be in charge and have a boyfriend. It’s embarrassing. No, no, they taught me how to deal with that. So that’s another problem altogether. I put another compatriot in my place and then we found a job with… No. It was Sou that I replaced, because he was going to Gabon, to work in a factory making paint and all the related products. In La Courneuve. It was a bit folkloric but it didn’t take me long to get there because the behaviour of the people in charge pissed me off so much that, well, I left. It was my friend, the late Djass, who stayed but I left.
[i] Where did you go after that?
[After that I put on my teaching hat. I’d like to digress for a moment, because at one point I said no. ‘I’m never going to do anything in the music business. ‘I’m never going to do anything in this field. Then I knocked on the door of training centres. For 6 months I worked as a trainer. Then I was taken on by another organisation as a teaching advisor in charge of producing teaching materials. It was an association that no longer exists: Accueil et Promotion. So I worked for these organisations. And they were also the ones who gave me the desire to train. I deepened my knowledge of psychoeducation and more particularly of people in difficulty. I worked with them until I retired.
[i] How many years did that last?
[r] I started there in 1988. Until my accident in 2006.
[i] 18 years.
[I left the business with a bit of regret. A little regret because during our discussions I met a very strong, very good guy, [name]. He trained as a clinician. He’s someone we used to talk to about what was missing. And then I sketched out a project and showed it to him: Given the discussion, given what we’d said, what do you think of this? He went for it. So we finalised this project, which allowed us to train – and this is the 1st training course to exist here in the Paris region – Integration Officers. In other words, all those who…, the staff of the Missions Locale. So we set this up in Chanteloup. Now this training is provided by the AFPA.
[i] What did this project consist of?
[r] This project is about training integration officers. Socio-Professional Integration Officers. The Missions Locales took in young people, but when we talked to the people who worked there, they learned on the job. They were learning on the job. Sometimes it’s the town hall that seconded staff to do a job for which they hadn’t been trained. So these discussions started at a meeting in ‘91. We had a little meal. I listened to [name] and I felt the same way. So I did a project with… I made a statement of opportunity. He ran AIDE, which was an inter-communal structure. That’s how we got the project off the ground. It was well received. One of the first people to be trained was Raninga. Raninga was one of the first and then there were
[i] Raninga is Chadian?
[r] Yes. The late [name]. And then another one too. But it’s not just the Chadians. Chadians because, excuse me, but when there’s a request I don’t refuse. And then we put them through tests, it’s not just by co-optation. It’s not just by co-optation. And then once they’re out of there, they’re in. We were also in the process of having this training validated by a university. After that, there was a conflict: staff, the mayor of Chanteloup, staff being made redundant all the time. But I was working as a temporary employee.
[Is that after you’ve retired?
[No, no, we. What’s funny about my retirement is that I was training integration officers. I was self-employed. As soon as I got into the world of training up to the position of Training Manager, I was paid by organisations. And at the Ministry of Labour, I negotiated to be independent, so I worked as a temporary employee.
[i] Freelance.
[Independent. That was fine. But con trayant : Because in those days it was either the telephone or the fax. And then you always had to have your suitcase ready to jump on the train and go from left to right. But it was good.
[i] Was it in those cases that you were able to get some French people to come to Chad? Or was it something else?
[r] It’s in that context and I was talking about… So as not to shock the audience . I called my talk ‘The Prerequisites of Learning’. But it allowed us to tackle all the psychological difficulties, to be able to have an interview, to work on complexes, to work on certain personal difficulties and to accept them. But in the end, the public accepted it. Because they were prerequisites: you have to resolve these prerequisites first. So it’s called Les Préalables À l’apprentissage or Les Préalables 1a l’apprentissage à l’insertion. That’s what we were working on. And that’s why I got these people back, who instead of going out and doing something, spending 3 months walking or building something that will later be demolished because: Every project is just a pretext for rebuilding yourself. And the project that enabled me to bring these people to Chad. It’s the Cases, really those on the edge. Some of them were negotiating with the law. They had to choose: accept the project or go to prison. But the project was to get them out of their environment for 3 months, to experience life. Managing a project from A to Z. We started by… We got together here in Chanteloup [Les Yvelines] Then we went to Cavillon [Vaucluse] for a month to teach them about Stabilised Earth Construction. Then we : Looking for funding. Passport procedures. All these prerequisites. And spending 3 months in Chad. Because it’s a 6-month cycle. In Chad, it’s now time to carry out the project. But it’s rewarding. Rewarding for them. I’ve met some of them, who have even become fathers. It’s an experience that has left its mark on them. It’s even changed the way they see themselves. Because when they arrived in Chad, they were considered. They were considered. In the families where they stayed, they had an existence. Here’s a little story that’ll make you laugh: They arrived at night and in the morning we went to the market to do some shopping. And because it was a group of white people, all the shopkeepers, everyone was after them. And a police brigade arrived. And one of them, once we got inside, said: ‘But when I saw the cops I said where am I going to hide? Because as far as he was concerned, the police had come for him. And when we got home, he said: Fuck! We weren’t chased. They came to protect us. The police came to protect us. It was a surprise for them to say: We, who are usually chased by the police. We are so important. They were interviewed on TV. It’s something that’s done them a lot of good, a lot of good… Well… Since it’s my baby, I can only speak positively about it. It’s been good. Because they ran the project. We arrived in February. They left Chad in May. It was hot. One of them I didn’t want to bring along because during the group bonding moments, I found him too fragile. This individual surprised me. When he arrived in Chad, he bought himself some flip-flops. The only thing that happened to him was that he cut his finger while trying to cut a slice of mango. That’s the only thing that’s happened to him. His mother, who lives with his sisters here in Con flans Sainte Honorine, says to me: But my son, he’s going to die. Why does he want to go? He’s going to commit suicide. We even have to serve him in bed. We give him everything. He can’t… His mother came to see me and said: ‘But, sir, it’s better for him to go to prison. Because he’s not capable. He can’t… he can’t… You know, how old was he? 27. And this is the guy who, when he arrived, exploded: Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt. He was the first to arrive at the site, the last to leave. He nearly got me into trouble, because he said there was no way he was going back to France. Yes, but the contract, you have to… He said to me: I’m respected here. I told him: Go home and do good things. You’re an orphan, you’ve got 2 sisters and a mother, and you’re playing at being a baby. Here, people respect you because, well, they see in you what you refuse to show. One, the same, a young man, we were at lunch. Lunchtime. He arrives, a taxi, he gets out with a child. From where he’s standing, the child is sick. I don’t know: he had a malaria attack, and came to tell me: ‘[name], he needs treatment’. I’m not a doctor! You should have taken him straight to hospital! You bring him to me. But we brought back some medicine. I always call in doctors and nurses, I don’t know, I can’t take medicine and give it to a child. You see, you’re so white. You’re so white. You go up with another. Go straight to the hospital. I’ll give you some money. Ah! Yes, yes. They’re off to Central Hospital, it’s… With the child in their arms: The nurses. All the medical staff. They took very good care of the child and that, for them, is something else. But I’m telling you, they’re delinquents with records like that. Which is what made me say that. Another anecdote. We were in a school. It was the Lycée Félix Eboué. We were welcomed. Young people were asking questions. And one said: I hear that in France, there are students who burn down schools? Is that true, sir? I pointed to one because I know he led a commando to burn down his neighbourhood. I said, ‘He’s going to answer that question. He was bad.’ Bad. Because: :In the testimonies they gave, they say: no, when the children were brought up, the classes were doubled, they took the time to count. The teacher had a turn 117 pupils, but he has time to receive the parents.
[i] In N’Djaména?
[r] Yes, in N’Djaména, in the Atrone school, the teacher had 117 pupils, but she has time to see the parents and talk to them. Here, with 25-30 pupils, the teachers say that they are overloaded, that they don’t have time to see the parents. And they are struck by the attendance of the pupils. How do the pupils with the slate or notebook on their lap? Listen, he says, but it’s not true. Qui 100, they’ve seen how crowded it is. And when the teacher speaks, the pupils work. I said to some of them, many of whom were immigrants, ‘Look at how lucky you are’. The chance you have to be something else. And among these young people you’ll find some who… I told them: I studied like them. I wasn’t a minister’s son. I’m a gardener. And when they come over there, you’ll think they’re the children of ministers.
[i] Does the project still exist? Or…
[r] Unfortunately not. Because local management has been catastrophic. We came across things where, things where people got confused. They thought it was like the projects of the organisations. I relied on a local association which was convinced that it was money like the organisations had and that they were making it available, so malicious writings came to light and things got out of hand because in these writings there was talk of embezzlement. Everyone wrote to the young people they hosted. They had to find out the truth because the money was being misused. This caused me problems with the funders. In the days when we had francs, you had to justify all the funding. It took a long time I was living on my own, so as I no longer had any projects while I was waiting for the surveys to be completed, I wrote my CV and then I did the… I took a job as an integration officer. I used to train integration officers, but then I went to work as an officer myself in a Mission Locale. Until I retired. Until my accident. That’s it.
[i] Can you tell me about the major events, the key moments in your life in France, in Paris?
[r] Key in what sense?
[i] Major, that have had the biggest impact on you.
[r] Positively? Negatively?
[i] Yes.
[r] Positively, my 1st dream was that…, in my day. We believed, coming from French-speaking countries, that if the Left came to power domestic politics in Africa would change. I was one of those who campaigned at the time of the 81 elections for young people to sign up. Fortunately for Mitterrand, unfortunately for Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, he lowered the age of majority to 18. So everyone we knew who was 18 was asked to register to vote, and it was this population that enabled François Mitterrand to be elected. I was one of those who danced at La Bastille ‘We’ve won, we’ve won’. It’s stupid, because I danced all night on Sunday, but on Monday I had to work – at the time I still could, so I went to work. Completely speechless. Because we believed in it. Cooperation was entrusted to Anicet LE PORS [it was Jean-Pierre COT. In disagreement with France’s African policy, he resigned in 1982] We believed in a change in French policy. That was one of the events that marked me. Yes. When I also managed to get my son to come to France in ‘86. I was still in Paris. That’s quite important. Then the most painful moment was when I got divorced. So painful that well! I was what? 41. I developed high blood pressure. I’ve had high blood pressure ever since. That’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. As no amicable settlement was possible : It’s painful. Then it’s… It’s the birth of my daughter that you saw there. She was born in 92, so I was almost… 45 years old. It was a powerful moment. I’d like to digress for a moment because the wife I brought along, we lived together for 15 years. It turned out that Nature hadn’t given her the chance, so mechanically she couldn’t have children. Even though she has all the external assets of a woman, Nature forgot to give her one of the little parts that made things happen. No. What I call… What do you call this screw? Platinum screw. Very important. It’s very small but it’s very important in the engine. So there you have it. Nature didn’t give it a platinum screw. But it’s one thing that, loving it and knowing it’s not its fault, I didn’t make a problem of it. The solution is that: Well, the solution is that, well, she has children of her own, and so do I in my family, we have… I have cousins and nephews who have children. We recognise them. And then, well. Being a parent doesn’t necessarily mean being a father. So we brought in 4 other kids as well as my son. That’s how we make a family. And then… Well …! Everyone makes their own choices and maybe that’s what allowed me to have what I call ‘My last carrots’!
[Did you remarry afterwards ?
[r] Er !!! Since Chad, I’ve never been in favour of marriage. Because I don’t understand the point of it. As for her, I made the situation official at the Town Hall…
[Her who?
[My ex. I made the situation official when I left here so that, well, we could be legally married. Administratively. But no, marriage before a mayor was never my thing. So I didn’t get married here. Yes, you did. I’m going to make you laugh, but… I got married in the 17th arrondissement of Marseille or the 21st arrondissement of Paris. It was the Mayor of the 21st arrondissement who married us.
[i] Did you have children afterwards?
[r] Ban! She’s here, [nom]. Well, she works. But you know her, don’t you?
[Absolutely.
[We’ve been together 28 years.
[How many children have you had?
[Two children.
[Which ones?
[My daughter that you saw. The boy [name] Between the 2 of them at the time of my divorce and at the time of meeting them, I also have a stray bullet somewhere near Mantes.
[i] Mantes La Jolie ?
[r] Yes, yes. She was born on 1 October 90. So here in France, that makes 4 children.
[i] Do they all know each other?
[r] The 1st No. Given her mother’s behaviour, I don’t want to.
[i] So the one from 1990?
[Yes.
[i] His mother, is she French?
[Yes, she’s French but of Polish origin.
[i] And the last 2?
[French too. Yes, she’s French. I call them ‘nègres Delavés’. So that means what it means.
[Is that an insult?
[r] It’s not an insult. It’s a way of telling them that you belong to 2 civilisations so you accept it. Accept yourselves as you are. Full stop. My children are not shocked by the word ‘half-breed’. I, their Father, call them Métis. You are in-between, you don’t have to choose. Saying I’m going to be whiter than white or Negro than Negro. You are both on my side and on your Mother’s side. So, if you accept the Two, you manage them. Full stop.
[i] What about cultural mixing?
[r] Absolutely, the proof: we speak French. I’m Mbaye by birth, Mbaye by culture. But I’m French because I live in France. I’ve lived more in France than at home in Chad. Soon, 10 years more: I know the Paris region better than, not the region of Ndjaména, the whole city of Ndjaména: I get lost there.
[i] Ndjaména in Chad – Paris in France?
[r] Yes. I know Paris better, I get around better in Paris, which is my home town. I express myself, although often for very profound things I think first in my culture even if I express it in French.
[i] Culture Mbaye? And what is ‘Mbaye Culture’? And what is Mbaye?
[r] Mbaye is a linguistic group located in the extreme south of Chad and the north of the Central African Republic. The north of the Central African Republic, for those who know it. After the Mandoul region and the Bahe-Sara, we are on both sides. Part of it is in the Central African Republic. One part is Central African and the other part is Chadian. But I was born in Fort-Lamy, so I’m an immigrant. I didn’t grow up in Mbaye country, but I’ve worked there: my good fortune is that my first job came about by chance. I was posted to Moïssala. I started my career as a teacher in the region where my parents came from. Even better, I spent 2 years in Dilingala, my father’s adopted village. So I’m a very happy man. OK, then. Mbaye is only written, in my day it was a written language but only for denominational reasons. It was taught in Sunday school. But nobody opened a school in Mbaye. Not even a private one. Unfortunately. For a long time now, when I go back home and try to speak Mbaye, my parents, the younger ones, tell me: ‘No! Speak to us in French, we want to improve our French, don’t speak to us in that language. Mbaye is an outdated language. I’m sorry, this may shock you, but it’s what I call the Negro Complex. But it’s a language I love because I’ve worked with, I’ve listened to eminent psychologists in social psychology: I say but that, my old aunt, these, the advice she’s always given me it’s not written, on the behavioural level. I had a young man, who had just left school, who wasn’t a teacher, who didn’t know anything about the social world, and who’d just finished his 1st placement as an Integration Officer. He was panicking. As he’s African, I told him to come into my office. I said to him ‘You know, the young people you’re going to meet’, do you remember what it was like growing up back home? He said, ‘Yes. I said to him: Remember what your father and all the elders used to tell you. These young people, you just change places. When you go to see them, you take your father’s place and talk to them the way your father talks to you about the others, these are tools, these are texts that you’re going to learn, that you’re going to adapt to their situation. But when you want to talk to them about their behaviour in society. You adapt your father’s language to the local environment. That’s all there is to it. And he came back very happy. So, yes, the Mbaye is very important to me. When I say the Mbaye, I’m not saying that it’s a predominant ethnic group, but I believe that every ethnic group, every African group has this value.
[i] And to come back to cultural mixing, what does it mean to you? In a nutshell: We were on this path and then… Cultural mixing is… When you say ‘you have to accept’ when you mix things up. If you’ve accepted the mix: It’s consumed. I don’t know about me, when you make yourself a kir. But if you want to drink your white wine, you drink it, if you make the kir, it’s the kir. And cultural mixing is about being yourself, while accepting that you have something of the Other in the Other you come into contact with, and that I accept that the Other is him. Me, it’s me. But we have to reach a consensus that I call cultural cross-fertilisation if we are to move towards a common goal. As I was saying, my initial suffering was that I could function in certain situations in Mbaye or Chadian. But that’s not possible. I’m really Chadian, but I’m in an environment with its own codes, and I have to accept those codes. And I have to adapt to them. Cultural mixing for me in the public environment: Once I leave home, I’m in France. I’m in France and it’s the law of the French Republic that applies. I’m a legalist If I want to challenge this law, I’ll challenge it legally, but I can’t afford to say: ‘That’s not the way things are in my country. That’s how I see my form of cultural mixing. When I enter my home, yes. When I enter my home, I close that door. Sometimes I say to my children: France is out there. Here, there’s a certain way of behaving: Your mother is your mother, you can disagree with her but there’s no question of yelling at her. You can challenge her. You can disagree with me. But there’s no question of a power struggle. Because we don’t have to bring the law into our human relationship. You are our children, we have a duty to you. And it’s reciprocal: you too have a duty to respect. The right to make demands if we don’t give you things. The right to protest, but anything that is rude, or what we call incivility, is not. When they were a bit younger, I don’t know if it was the girl or the boy who said: ‘Yes, but why am I clearing the table and doing the cleaning? We’re not paying you because you paid us for the time we spent buying and cooking. When you go to a restaurant you pay, that’s why people clear the tables. But when you sit down at the table, you pay for what you eat. How do you expect people to pay you when you have to clear the table? I’m prepared to pay you if you pay me before you eat. Finally, when you agree to be in a country, you have to do this work. In other words, you have to accept that you are half and half. I don’t know if I’ve answered your question?
[Absolutely. Yes, you have. Generally speaking, how do you see social and health issues in France?
[r] For me, the… When we arrived, we were young, so we were involved in the social struggle, in the trade union struggle, so we were dreaming of Equality. Unfortunately, the disappointment came afterwards when… the trade union forces… The union is a force that I appreciate, but sometimes I don’t understand some of its decisions. Let me explain: the 1st company I worked for had a very well established book trade union. There was a problem with a pay rise. The manager said: ‘OK, I’ve got a cash flow problem. I accept your demands: Increases, yes, but you won’t get them on your pay slips for another 3 months. For the time being… I could read, and he gave us his assessment, so 3 days later… The book trade union decided to go on strike and blockade the factory. I found myself doing all the shifts with another guy, because we were working 3×8 to dissuade the workers from going on strike: Because it’s a family business. Because it’s a danger to their jobs. We told them: ‘We don’t care, we’re students. We’re here temporarily, but at least we’re leaving. But what about you? I thought that was because at the time people didn’t have the means to get information and we could negotiate. In other words, the union has its raison d’être, but you have to get to the point of conflict. So far I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you have to come to a conflict with consequences, with losses, in order to move forward. I don’t understand that between the bosses’ union and the union… I don’t understand. I don’t understand how they can do it. And then we can go on strike. Show that you’re not unhappy. But you can still do your job. I take the case of the public service: that it’s not happy. Yes, when the SNCF goes on strike. I don’t understand? They can be happy and say, we’re on strike. We’re working. But the users don’t pay anything. We say: We’re doing our job. Our job is to move you, to bring you back. But we’re offering you something. Today is our strike day: No control, Yes. I think the union … Also talking about social struggle. Social life… I’ve always worked. If it came from me. I said: Here in France, you have to appear unhappy to convince people. When you arrive, you have a certain presence and you pose your problems. It doesn’t go down well. But you have to know how to show off… put on an act of suffering. Unfortunately, it’s a mentality. There’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t know if that answers your question?
[Yes. And from a health point of view, is the service? Have you been confronted with these types of situations or not?
[Yes, and that’s compared to what I’ve seen.
[i] I said ‘You’ but not as…
[r] No, no! You, meaning my family My family? Yes. I had to leave my daughter, she wasn’t even 2 years old yet. She was just 1 year old. Sick, hospitalised at the Hôpital Robert Débré [Paris] and coming back to sleep in Cergy. Something that would never have occurred to me in my own country, Chad. I have good medical cover. The medical profession is doing its job. Even if it’s in quite difficult situations. My wife is a nurse, so I know what she has to deal with. But the work is done. The nurse doesn’t let me or the doctor tell me to pay a bit more to look after myself. Doctors respect their Hyporate oath A very personal example: Today if I were in Chad, I’d be in a wheelchair or maybe dead. Because I had a fall. I injured my lumbar vertebrae from L3 to L5. It didn’t show, so 45 days later inflammation set in. I was sitting at this table. I couldn’t get up. I went to see my doctor, who did all the tests. Nothing showed up on either the X-ray or the scintigraphy. He sent me to see his colleague as a matter of urgency. A rheumatologist. He saw me urgently the next day, Saturday. Who, after consulting me, said: ‘Sir, if we don’t operate within 48 hours, you’ll be a quadriplegic. You’ll be a quadriplegic. I’m going to send you to hospital. I left the children, who were minors. Their mother was working. I went for a consultation. And this gentleman sent for the fire brigade. I told him no, but a taxi could take me: Because if it was a taxi, I was going to go home. He has…, and this is the 1st time I’ve seen him, he called the fire brigade. Because the fire brigade is like the army. So he called the chief and explained the situation. At first, I said I could walk. No. They brought the stretcher and I was taken there. From there, he ordered some tests. He finished his consultation. And he left to meet me at the hospital in Pontoise. As he was in neurosurgery, there are only hospitals on call at weekends. It was the hospital in Clichy [93]. And from there by ambulance. He left his private practice and met me at the hospital where he sent me. I don’t know what I can reproach him for in terms of medical care. Was I just a customer?
[A patient.
[Not a patient but a client. When I came to see him in his private practice, he called me a patient but I was a client. I pay where social security pays. Nothing obliges him to follow me. I paid the specialist rates. Full stop. No ? He followed me. From there he contacted the hospital on duty, which was Clichy Hospital. As luck would have it, he bumped into a university friend with whom he’d lost touch. He came up to me and said, ‘Ah, Maus, he’s a student and he came back smiling. Because of all the memories… as a student. And this friend was waiting for me at the emergency room. When I arrived. I got there around 5-6pm, because it still took me a while. This man asks me if I’ve eaten. No, I told him. And I was operated on. At 9am, I was taken to the operating theatre at around 10pm. I found myself in the recovery room with my eyes open, it was 3 o’clock and a bit. The operation lasted 3 hours 17 minutes. Oh, no! If I can walk today, even with the help of a cane, I’m a happy man. I’m a happy man: that’s why I say I’m Le Beau Gosse. When I walk, it’s always Coupé Décalé. A Beau Gosse walk I tell you about my life
[i] Another question is, what is your perception of… What perception do you have of Paris now or of France, in a way… After everything we’ve said, do you have a particular perception of the city? Of France?
[France as a country and its inhabitants. Or France as a political centre?
[i] Country and its inhabitants.
[r] I would have spoken like any old ‘In my day’ ‘Before then’. When we arrived in France, it was a land of welcome. Even if there are fascists. And racists, just like everywhere else. The French Communist Party was still strong. We aspired to equality. I don’t have any particular problem with what I call the Indigènes. I’ve rarely had any problems with the indigenous French, for nearly 40 years now. Not even problems with neighbours. On the other hand, I’ve had problems with the French who have papers. Yes, even in the administration: they’re the ones who piss me off. That’s the paper French. Them! They’re… When I walk into an administration office and I see them, and I have to be a certain age… I train myself to do everything and accept anything that might upset me. I don’t have any particular difficulties, but what I do have is this country, or not the town or region in which I’ve lived, has undergone a metamorphosis. I was even going to say it’s a mutation 1st shock was when I saw men with guns at the Gare du Nord 1st shock was also, I think it was in the ‘86, the 1st attack in a public place: the Tati market not far from the Tour Montparnasse, there was a Tati market. Tati had a shop where bombs were planted. And there! And it goes on and on. And I understand that, as an immigrant, the natives look at me with suspicion. I remember that before, we used to invite each other to wedding receptions and nobody liked that. Because we created a good atmosphere, because we danced. When you were bored and you knew there was a wedding in the area. We’d go, young people, we’d get ready, we weren’t invited but we’d put on a good show. We danced. We could bring our records or cassettes and the DJ would play them. Instead of doing the duck dance. We’d put on some entertainment. Today, I don’t know if we can afford that. Because fear. Fear, well. And that’s it. And it’s mixing up the decision-makers and those who are also affected by their decisions. It’s the absurdity of the behaviour of people of immigrant background who engage in extreme actions. Because where they commit extreme actions, the decision-makers never do. That’s what we went out shouting about in 86, we thought. Well… But also, you have to see that, that’s my point of view, it’s just me. If decision-makers could just realise that respecting the rules, the terms of the law, only makes sense if you have someone in front of you who also knows how to respect the rule de jure. When someone says to me, ‘You can’t do that, it’s illegal’, I say, ‘Yes! Well, yes, but the guy who did that was illegal, and from time to time you have to let him know that you can also break the law. I was in favour of Jospin’s decision [President Hollande]. What do you call it: a state of emergency?
[i] Or what was it? The state of emergency. Yes.
[r] I worked in difficult neighbourhoods. I even hoped that in certain neighbourhoods… In meetings I used to say: ‘By the way, why are you sending police officers into these neighbourhoods? You know, the nests, where the dealers are. Why don’t you send… Send in the Legion. They cordon off this area at night. And you just search. You show people that the state is there. Full stop. Full stop. And this. We were in the 90s. Because we let it happen. And I’m not from the extreme right. I’m just saying that at some point you have to apply what we Mbaye say: When someone is strong and slaps you. Kick him in the balls and you’ll see. It’s low but it hurts just as much. If he throws you a good punch. In your fall, kick him in the balls. You’ll see Nda kôti yé i bba guir kamman al kitô ddi? You can do it. They say: You have to accept that in certain situations. Tap below the belt. Be a bit lower. I was one of those who said: ‘In difficult neighbourhoods. Young people who break all the public furniture. When you identify them, hit their parents in the wallet. We can’t put him in prison, because you can buy this light bulb, but we’ll take it out of your child benefit to replace it. When something breaks in my house, I replace it. When the kids are always breaking things. I have to dip into another budget. For. If we do that. If we had that back in the 90s. But we don’t. That’s what I don’t understand. I don’t understand people who say: We can’t do that because it’s not part of our culture. That’s where cultural mixing has to come in. From time to time, you have to go into the other person’s culture and say: ‘In your culture, that’s how things are done. So, speak their language. In the social environment, I deplore this. I deplore it because it’s… Not victimising everyone. Don’t make yourself feel guilty. I’m lucky. When I was working, I used to say: I’m not French, I have a residence permit. I was telling French people of immigrant origin the truth about their behaviour and what they shouldn’t do. When you go out in our city, there are dustbins on every street corner. You can’t go 100 paces without finding a bin. Despite this, we still find rubbish on the ground. We don’t think the council is doing its job. When the council pays people and raises their taxes, we complain.
[i] Why didn’t you apply for naturalisation?
[Is it out of pride? Because it wouldn’t have caused any professional problems. And also, I think that leaving was a way, perhaps unconsciously, but I have the impression that by asking for it I was betraying my father’s struggle. Because my father was a PPT/RADA activist. I saw how, as a child, he used to take me with him to meetings where the colonial governor would send the guards against us. He fought for independence because they believed in independence. And to be able to manage the country. Unfortunately, he didn’t read De Gaulle’s memoirs like I did. And then my analysis of France’s involvement in the suffering of the events of 1979. I’ve done some reading. I had sources. Which made me say to myself that… I’ll have the impression of being one of those who did it. And then professionally, I had no problem with it. I’ve always worked if I wanted to be a quartermaster. Yes: I could have done that for purely material reasons. Because being a steward means putting aside at least 2/3 of your salary. Not to say 3/4. Because there are quite a few material advantages. But when all these opportunities passed me by, my divorce also followed. So I didn’t have time to file. And that was that. On the other hand, my children, even the one I brought from Chad, I encouraged them to be French because for them, France is all they know. I brought up my children to be French first. I am Chadian. You are French. If you go to Chad, you are French of Chadian origin. But you are French. First and foremost. Here again, I’m going to appeal to the Mbaye culture. Mbaye culture says: Your land. Your country. It’s the land where you bury your Negative Double, in other words your placenta. In Mbaye culture, the placenta is not thrown away. It is buried: because it is considered as. You have to bury this double negative so that it goes away. So that the child is viable and can reappropriate it. I tell them, in my culture this is the land. Your placenta is here. Your first blood fell: this land belongs to you. Just like me, I was brought up to say N’Djaména is your land. If you leave Moïssala and want to talk about Moïssala, respect all those from elsewhere who were born in Moïssala. For you, it’s the land of your ancestors. You will only claim the land of your ancestors. It’s not your land. You can’t say it’s my land. That’s Papa’s culture. Bé lo kâmg . But all those from other horizons who were born there. They’ll say this is my land. You were born in Moïssala? This is your land. You can pick it up and say: I was born on that land. This is my land. But I can’t. I’ll say Yes, it’s mine too because my grandparents were born there. In other words, I’m under cover of… And that’s… In my studies of interculturality. The Nego-African world shares all this. And that’s what I don’t understand about all my parents or the children of immigrants who dare to say: Fuck France. You can’t fuck with your land. You can’t fuck with your country. All we parents had to do was go back to our roots and teach them that: this is their land. All these children from immigrant families, the black-African culture… It’s not the land of their ancestors: that’s for sure. But it is their land. And they have the right and the duty to protect it: because it’s their land. This is where I say that ‘I don’t understand things’.
[i] What are your plans for the future? I don’t know if you intend to spend the rest of your time in France or if you intend one day to go to Chad to finish the rest of your days?
[r] My intention is the intention of every immigrant. We pack our suitcases at night to leave again, but in the morning we open them to get back into our overalls. So I’ve been back to Chad several times. And that’s even my intention. Despite my condition, I can go and come back. One thing is certain. The ancestors would trap me if they didn’t allow me to finish my life on Chadian soil. That’s one of the things that’s particularly close to my heart. As I said, this land is not my land. I don’t want my remains to soil this land. That’s me. I know it’s selfish of my children to deprive them of a place of remembrance. But I dare to hope that I can make them accept it. And I admit it to you too. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a way of saying to myself: perhaps it would also be an excuse for them not to forget the country. Even if they go there once a year to put flowers on Dad’s grave. It would be an excuse to go back. But going back home is Yes. I was prepared for it. Maybe not properly prepared. But yes, yes: I dare to hope that Dad will help me.
[Do you still have family there?
[Yes. As I told you, I have family. Er… As you’re not going to broadcast here: At the time I was building the school there. I’ve got a stray bullet: I’ve got a daughter who’s about to turn 18. Over there. I gave her the name [name], it’s my mother’s name, my mother. That’s part of senile delinquency.
[i] Thank you very much, we’ve gone through almost all the questions, I don’t know if there’s anything to add to what we’ve said. Any final words?
[r] My final word is this: people of my generation have failed. For the simple reason that we don’t have the courage to tell young people certain truths. This truth is that of the so-called wars of liberation that have long plagued and continue to plague Africa. I’m talking about French-speaking Africa. Because it’s more a massacre of Negroes by Negroes, which doesn’t solve any problems. If we have an ounce of intelligence, because we understand that the guy or the clan in power is only there by delegation. And that taking up arms to kill each other does not solve the problem. And then I say to young people: You are more intelligent than we are. You have access to knowledge. Invent other relationships, other futures rather than clinging to things that make no sense. I may shock some people. I respect my Father in his choice. I respect the books of knowledge. But let these books of knowledge not be a pretext for Negroes to tear each other apart in the name of this or that book.
[i] What is The Book of Knowledge?
[r] The book of knowledge is the Bible. The Koran. The Thorah. Whether a Negro is a Muslim or a Christian. Is that a reason to kill each other? If you’ve really read them: I don’t think there’s any reason to want to kill each other.
[i] Thank you, once again, thank you.