Some time ago on the radio I heard someone say that we (the French) were farmers, not sailors, and that's why we weren't so adventurous or bold in our everyday lives... Is that it then? It could be an explanation. Farmers tend to be traditional and to lack curiosity for the outside of their world while sailors tend to be bold and keen to know about the outside world.
It triggered a couple of memories. I left home at the age of 19 with a rucksack and after a whole year living in Israel I returned to my parents house, in December 1964, for a stopover before proceeding to England. My head was full of stories. I had encountered another way of life, had met other kinds of people, had eaten other sorts of food and I wanted to tell. My parents weren't interested. After dinner the first night I remember pulling out a map and spreading it on the kitchen table. I wanted to tell. My mother said sharply that my brother and they were working the next day and that they had more important things to do than listening to my stories.
Ten years later, in 1974, I came back from living and working some eight years in Australia. As I registered at the employment office in Lyon, France, saying all my work experience was from Australia, the lady said coldly that it was of no interest to her, and why on earth did I go there in the first place.
Very recently at a family meal after my uncle's funeral, one of my cousins mentioned Australian wines. I ventured to say that I preferred wines from New Zealand because the climate in Australia made wines to taste more like stronger Algerian wines. My cousin retorted: 'oh you, it isn't because you've been to Australia that you know everything'. So, I shut up for the rest of the meal.
On the radio again the other day, I heard a man talk about his recent sailing trip around the world with his wife and five children.
At one stage the lady interviewer asked how the kids must feel now that they are back at school in France. What he replied was amazing. He said that one day he was summoned by the school teacher of one of his kids. Apparently the child was telling that she had been swimming with sea elephants. That could not be true and it was disturbing the other children at school. So, the family decided to keep their stories for themselves.
Those French children with a fabulous experience of a sailing life on the oceans could not share that experience with other French kids. Why? And the father added that, yes, he thought it was their duty to adapt to the local scene and not the other way around.
No, it isn't right. I find it very sad that my own people show no interest in what other more adventurous French folks do. In fact... it is the old story of Montcalm in Canada asking the king of France for help and the king replying that he was busy with his horse... or something like that. Are we all farmers then, bent by tradition and habitual thinking with no curiosity for the outside world?... except for the odd one out who is going to be rejected.
Incidentally the story of this man is reported on: http://petitsmousses.fr and he is selling his sailboat.
18 July 2008
1 July 2008
111. Plans
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Under the title of this blog called 'Threefoldtwenty', it says: Reminiscing a lifespan of adventures, managing the present, planning the future... Everyday on radio or on television here in France at the moment there seems to be a competition of life stories, all more gruesome, violent, horrid and awful one than the other. Telling my own little story of how lonely I was when I was a kid makes me feel unworthy and ridiculous. For my part I am not telling my past to impress anyone but to tell as a witness, to pass on this information to 'whoever it may concern', be it my own great great grandchildren or some odd bod, historian and ethnologist of the future centuries. This trend in horrible tales makes me feel inhibited and awkward. Maybe I won't tell about my past then!
Managing the present is no better. The present is managing me at the moment. It is a very soar subject... shall avoid that subject too!
It leaves me with 'planning the future'. Great. I love doing that. I always have numerous plans and projects in store. Dreams are vital and very human, aren't they? (Do cows, pigs and elephants dream of what they'll do next year?) Dreams are vital to me anyway. If I don't have one or two going in my head, I feel prisoner of the present, prisoner of a routine life, bogged in a marsh of habits and endless days repeating themselves.
So, to-day last day of June 2008, I dream and plan for next October when the summer weather will have gone and I'll have to move out of my un-insulated and unfinished loft.
Three possibilities!
a) Going to work as a language teacher in England or Germany
b) Driving to China with my car
c) Sailing as crew on an ocean crossing
For the first option I'd need to be recommended. At the age of 64 now and with the kind of haphazzard professional life I've had, my chances of getting a job in England or Germany are very slim. Who on earth would recommend me? And yet I know I can teach a foreign language! I have myself studied some seven languages and taught three.
For the second option, I'd need to have sold my house with the pottery studio, a three bedroom stone house with a large workshop, partly renovated but with more space to turn into more bedrooms. Driving to China from here in France with my car is my favorite plan. I'll need money and crew too, someone else with another car. I see it as a six month trip with long stop-overs, perhaps spending the winter months near the Black Sea and crossing the long Siberian stretch in spring.
The last option is the last option. I'd love to sail again, for sure, but I know how hard it is to get on with other people on a sail boat. I would not just chance any crew job like I did before. I'd have to know the other people really well and I'd have my own demands. I don't want to be the only woman nor the only French on board. My best memory of an ocean crossing was when the crew was mixed, two men, two women, and half French-half English, with a captain skipper owner of the boat who did not take part in the actual handling of the sailboat. He gave us orders and trusted us. That's my best memory.
Whatever will be, will be.
In any case I shall not stay here.
28 February 2008
104. ELECTING A PARISH COUNCIL (2)
By now there are 13 names on the open list for the vote to form the next parish council.
By the way in French, 'parish' and 'commune' are definitely two different words.
A 'commune' is the smallest state administrative section of the territory around a village or a town or a city. Physically it is ruled from a 'mairie', i.e. its office= the town hall, by a 'maire', i.e. the commune's council chairman= the mayor. The words 'commune', 'mairie' and 'maire' are used for a small village or a large city alike.
A 'parish' is the smallest church administrative section around a church. The building at the centre of the parish is a church ruled or administered by a priest or a pastor.
Fine. Now, in France, in 1905 a bill was passed to separate state affairs from church affairs quite officially. And it has been done so ever since. For instance, when you get married, you first go to the 'mairie' to have your state wedding officiated by the 'maire'. Then, not necessarily on the same day, you go to the church and you are wed by a priest or a pastor. The state does not regard as legal a marriage at church and vice versa. Religious and laïc (lay, secular) are definitely two different categories. The French are used to that and find it great. I am saying all this because I personally have problems with the heading of this entry as electing a 'parish council'. In my eyes too, although I lived in countries where state and church are together, State and Church affairs should not be mixed. The head of State is not the head of any Church and certainly does not represent god on earth. After all Jesus said the other day, when he was asked if one should pay one's taxes: to Ceasar what goes to Ceasar and to God what goes to God (Matthew 22, 15-22).
So... we are going for local state elections and my story is about electing a 'conseil municipal' to run and manage the state affairs of the commune. Voila!
I have put my name down but I am only half hearted about it really. Three days ago when I checked the list at the mairie, there were only 9 names down. So I visited a guy who is a blacksmith to tell him that I was keen on the idea of developing horse riding for tourists but he was not interested in putting his name down. Then I asked a young lady. I don't know what she thought as she stayed very polite but did not give me any reply. A couple of days ago P, the guy who initiated the open list, came to see me. We exchanged our ideas of what we plan for the commune if we get elected. He said basically he wanted to manage it financially. That's what I got out of the conversation. Maybe he has other plans that he did not want me to know. I heard him say earlier that he'd dream the village to be closed to cars...
As for me, my dream would be to stir and wake this village up. In my childhood it was very active and busy, people working, walking, running everywhere. There must be ways to get a pretty rural village like this to come out of its present coma.
When I started my pottery studio in the next village in 2002, I used a website to attract people from afar. We are only three hours south of Paris and it is easy enough to travel our way from cities north of us. My idea is to do here what I did with my pottery studio there. I noticed that pottery fans usually came with someone else. For lack of activities in the area they mostly were bored stiff and complaining how quiet it was. From May to October we could develop sport and cultural activities and get the locals motivated to welcome tourists... Just a thought. My chances to be voted in are dim. Moreover I would not be able to achieve anything on my own and I don't see anyone around in favor of my views.
By the way in French, 'parish' and 'commune' are definitely two different words.
A 'commune' is the smallest state administrative section of the territory around a village or a town or a city. Physically it is ruled from a 'mairie', i.e. its office= the town hall, by a 'maire', i.e. the commune's council chairman= the mayor. The words 'commune', 'mairie' and 'maire' are used for a small village or a large city alike.
A 'parish' is the smallest church administrative section around a church. The building at the centre of the parish is a church ruled or administered by a priest or a pastor.
Fine. Now, in France, in 1905 a bill was passed to separate state affairs from church affairs quite officially. And it has been done so ever since. For instance, when you get married, you first go to the 'mairie' to have your state wedding officiated by the 'maire'. Then, not necessarily on the same day, you go to the church and you are wed by a priest or a pastor. The state does not regard as legal a marriage at church and vice versa. Religious and laïc (lay, secular) are definitely two different categories. The French are used to that and find it great. I am saying all this because I personally have problems with the heading of this entry as electing a 'parish council'. In my eyes too, although I lived in countries where state and church are together, State and Church affairs should not be mixed. The head of State is not the head of any Church and certainly does not represent god on earth. After all Jesus said the other day, when he was asked if one should pay one's taxes: to Ceasar what goes to Ceasar and to God what goes to God (Matthew 22, 15-22).
So... we are going for local state elections and my story is about electing a 'conseil municipal' to run and manage the state affairs of the commune. Voila!
I have put my name down but I am only half hearted about it really. Three days ago when I checked the list at the mairie, there were only 9 names down. So I visited a guy who is a blacksmith to tell him that I was keen on the idea of developing horse riding for tourists but he was not interested in putting his name down. Then I asked a young lady. I don't know what she thought as she stayed very polite but did not give me any reply. A couple of days ago P, the guy who initiated the open list, came to see me. We exchanged our ideas of what we plan for the commune if we get elected. He said basically he wanted to manage it financially. That's what I got out of the conversation. Maybe he has other plans that he did not want me to know. I heard him say earlier that he'd dream the village to be closed to cars...
As for me, my dream would be to stir and wake this village up. In my childhood it was very active and busy, people working, walking, running everywhere. There must be ways to get a pretty rural village like this to come out of its present coma.
When I started my pottery studio in the next village in 2002, I used a website to attract people from afar. We are only three hours south of Paris and it is easy enough to travel our way from cities north of us. My idea is to do here what I did with my pottery studio there. I noticed that pottery fans usually came with someone else. For lack of activities in the area they mostly were bored stiff and complaining how quiet it was. From May to October we could develop sport and cultural activities and get the locals motivated to welcome tourists... Just a thought. My chances to be voted in are dim. Moreover I would not be able to achieve anything on my own and I don't see anyone around in favor of my views.
105. Ancestors and kinship
Talking about ancestors, when I arrived back in my native village in 2000 I had a phone call from an old school friend saying she had to see me for something. When I met her in a dark little office in the old part of Argenton, she was heavily involved in genealogy. Her table was loaded high with books and her computer was geared with the latest genealogy software. She said she had a colleague I simply had to meet...
The woman I eventually met was overjoyed at the idea of giving me a long roll of names showing that I actually descended from a Pierre Perussault born in 1535 in St Gaultier. And do you know, she said, that you are related to so-and-so and so-and-so and so-and-so.
I was taken by surprise, bewildered. It took time to sink in. I read the roll and found that there has been quite a number of Françoise Pérussault before me. Aren't I unique then, thought I. I was amazed to find that a guy called Pierre Pérussault lived in St Gaultier only 20 odd ks away some 500 years ago and that I had a drop of genes from him. Between him and me, five centuries of farmers, artisans, public servants, soldiers and priests. No great travelers though, apart from one young navy sub lieutenant who died in battle.
It felt strange. I could not cope with this heavy load of ancestors suddenly poured on me. I gave the long roll to my aunt next door. My uncle had drawn a tree with leaves representing names and he was happy to be able to correct some of his findings. I have kept the compact disc. Don't know where it is at the moment. I should look for it and have a look again. I should be thankful for this present. Why do I feel so strange about it?
Back in Canberra, Australia, in the late 1960's a friend of my husband's who was in charge of the Rare Books section of the newly built National Library had asked me if I was related to a Sylvain Pérussault. He had found a small book by a Jesuit minister who had been confessor to king Louis 15th. I had had the booklet in my hands, had read the old 18th century French, mainly sermons and prayers at the death of court princes. It had not impressed me greatly. Sure, I was related to this man. With my grandmother years back we had found out about him. But then, so what!
Well, he is on my roll of ancestors... I should go back to Canberra and read the book with more care.
An important information that came out of reading this roll was that people in that part of rural France were pretty 'endogamous'. They married within their relatives and often enough their own first cousins. I have an ancestor in the 19th century who married his aunt and they had kids.
Well, I really sent this tradition flying into pieces. My son has inherited genes from this long French lineage of rural France mixed with a similarly long Fula lineage of the Futa Djallon plateau in western Africa. They too are notoriously endogamous as, in their tradition, marrying your first cousin is highly recommended. As someone said the other day, it was about time to renew the stock of genes! Indeed.
In our culture we regard the paternal lineage as first and foremost. But I owe my genetic heritage to four grand-parents, eight great grand-parents, and so on. I have known my four grand-parents: Fernand Pérussault, Germaine Georget, Charles Lagarde, Henriette Yonnet. I have known only one of my eight great grand-parents. By memory I can only name four of them: Jean Georget and his wife Marie Momot, Paul Pérussault and his wife Marie Debois.
I remember Jean Georget very well. ('Jean' is French for John. It is not pronounced jean and it is not a girl's name). He died in his 90's when I was 12. A tall and thin guy who had come to the province of Berry as a young boy with his family from the province of Bourbonnais. Part of the family migrated further and even ended up farming in Argentina at the beginning of the 20th century. So, I presume I have relatives by the name of Georget somewhere in South America.
On my mother's side I have only known my two grand-parents. My mother moved from the province of Périgord to Berry when she married my father. That was quite a move from tradition already.
The woman I eventually met was overjoyed at the idea of giving me a long roll of names showing that I actually descended from a Pierre Perussault born in 1535 in St Gaultier. And do you know, she said, that you are related to so-and-so and so-and-so and so-and-so.
I was taken by surprise, bewildered. It took time to sink in. I read the roll and found that there has been quite a number of Françoise Pérussault before me. Aren't I unique then, thought I. I was amazed to find that a guy called Pierre Pérussault lived in St Gaultier only 20 odd ks away some 500 years ago and that I had a drop of genes from him. Between him and me, five centuries of farmers, artisans, public servants, soldiers and priests. No great travelers though, apart from one young navy sub lieutenant who died in battle.
It felt strange. I could not cope with this heavy load of ancestors suddenly poured on me. I gave the long roll to my aunt next door. My uncle had drawn a tree with leaves representing names and he was happy to be able to correct some of his findings. I have kept the compact disc. Don't know where it is at the moment. I should look for it and have a look again. I should be thankful for this present. Why do I feel so strange about it?
Back in Canberra, Australia, in the late 1960's a friend of my husband's who was in charge of the Rare Books section of the newly built National Library had asked me if I was related to a Sylvain Pérussault. He had found a small book by a Jesuit minister who had been confessor to king Louis 15th. I had had the booklet in my hands, had read the old 18th century French, mainly sermons and prayers at the death of court princes. It had not impressed me greatly. Sure, I was related to this man. With my grandmother years back we had found out about him. But then, so what!
Well, he is on my roll of ancestors... I should go back to Canberra and read the book with more care.
An important information that came out of reading this roll was that people in that part of rural France were pretty 'endogamous'. They married within their relatives and often enough their own first cousins. I have an ancestor in the 19th century who married his aunt and they had kids.
Well, I really sent this tradition flying into pieces. My son has inherited genes from this long French lineage of rural France mixed with a similarly long Fula lineage of the Futa Djallon plateau in western Africa. They too are notoriously endogamous as, in their tradition, marrying your first cousin is highly recommended. As someone said the other day, it was about time to renew the stock of genes! Indeed.
In our culture we regard the paternal lineage as first and foremost. But I owe my genetic heritage to four grand-parents, eight great grand-parents, and so on. I have known my four grand-parents: Fernand Pérussault, Germaine Georget, Charles Lagarde, Henriette Yonnet. I have known only one of my eight great grand-parents. By memory I can only name four of them: Jean Georget and his wife Marie Momot, Paul Pérussault and his wife Marie Debois.
I remember Jean Georget very well. ('Jean' is French for John. It is not pronounced jean and it is not a girl's name). He died in his 90's when I was 12. A tall and thin guy who had come to the province of Berry as a young boy with his family from the province of Bourbonnais. Part of the family migrated further and even ended up farming in Argentina at the beginning of the 20th century. So, I presume I have relatives by the name of Georget somewhere in South America.
On my mother's side I have only known my two grand-parents. My mother moved from the province of Périgord to Berry when she married my father. That was quite a move from tradition already.
103. Electing a parish council
Local elections are coming up in March. The current parish council has been running for seven years. They are tired and no one is wishing to go on.
Here's what I found in my letter box a couple of days ago:
"A few people have taken the initiative to get an open list started which is to be politically neutral and with no chairman.
The principle is simple: Any one on the tax roll of the parish as at 1st January 2008 wishing to get involved in the running of the parish can put his/her name down. The names will then be printed out in alphabetical order starting with a letter drawn out. This list will have to have 11 names.
To put your name down on this list you can go the parish council office or phone on Tuesday or Friday mornings.
To vote, all you need to do is to cross out the names of those you do not wish to see in the next council in order to leave only 11 names.
Those elected will be the people with most votes. If two people are bracketed equal, the elder one will be elected.
So as to enable us to print and distribute the vote bulletins, the list will be closed down on Tuesday 4 March 2008.
A meeting (to inform, discuss, debate) will be held on Saturday 2 February 2008 at 2.30pm at the village 'mairie'.
This letter has been written out by a few dwellers of the village on 20 January 2008."
I went to the said meeting. About 25 people, men and women, turned up. It lasted over an hour. At the end of it an official sheet was produced where four people put their names down. I did. Others said they'll give it a thought first. There's a month to 'campaign' to get people listed!
Two days later I visited an English couple newly settled in a hamlet of the village 'commune' (parish). They said they were indeed interested in putting their names down. As European citizens and tax payers of the parish they are eligible to be members of the council.
On the Tuesday morning as we arrived at the 'mairie' the three others who had put their names down at the meeting were standing there seemingly waiting for something. I asked if there was to be a meeting. The reply was no. I asked again after a while and the reply was that the local television was going to be reporting on the village's election campaign. Wow! So, I stayed.
A young woman journalist and a young cameraman asked the leader of the group, the guy (P) who initiated the open list, to answer questions from the journalist. He explained how he came to this idea at the last parish council election years ago. Then they asked a lady (S) of the group, by then of five people, what made her join. She explained that the idea of a politically neutral open list appealed to her because she thought it would be great to have all sorts of people represented working together.
Then the television team asked the five of us to sit around the table and pretend we were running a council meeting. We soon forgot the camera and got talking of the issue of who was going to be the chairman. The 11 elected people would have to choose their chairman. Was any one of the 11 eligible to be the next chairman?... Only if you say you wish to be elected as chairman. I asked P if he was going to put his name forward. He said yes. I added: Me too.
Here we go. Now I am officially running to become the next 'maire' of my native village!
The report on the local television chanel that same night was very short. P, and then S, were seen talking for a couple of minutes. My face was shown three times for a split second each time. The church steeple and the 'mairie' was shown and last a few sentences were heard from the current council chairwoman who said she was happy about this open list initiative. And that was it. If you blinked during the report, you missed most of it...
Rather than being politically neutral it would be more accurate to say it is a potical medley. P is of the green party, S perhaps a socialist, M more like a communist, and I claim to be a liberal, in favor of the President, and a christian... My chances are dim. I have no political ambition, would only love to revive this village, give it some life and a future. We are not supposed to go campaining, they said. People will come and put their names down spontaneously. I don't believe that. I actually asked the local English couple if they would join. They would never have done it spontaneously. I said we should ask the owner of village castle, a businessman who lives in Paris. They went up in arms saying he had other things to do and he is not interested. How about asking him directly and hearing his own answer? Finally days later I went to the 'mairie' and asked the secretary there to give me his address. This is legal. No one could prevent me from doing that. So I sent him a card mentioning that it would be wise and interesting to have the castle represented at the next parish council. See what happens next.
Here's what I found in my letter box a couple of days ago:
"A few people have taken the initiative to get an open list started which is to be politically neutral and with no chairman.
The principle is simple: Any one on the tax roll of the parish as at 1st January 2008 wishing to get involved in the running of the parish can put his/her name down. The names will then be printed out in alphabetical order starting with a letter drawn out. This list will have to have 11 names.
To put your name down on this list you can go the parish council office or phone on Tuesday or Friday mornings.
To vote, all you need to do is to cross out the names of those you do not wish to see in the next council in order to leave only 11 names.
Those elected will be the people with most votes. If two people are bracketed equal, the elder one will be elected.
So as to enable us to print and distribute the vote bulletins, the list will be closed down on Tuesday 4 March 2008.
A meeting (to inform, discuss, debate) will be held on Saturday 2 February 2008 at 2.30pm at the village 'mairie'.
This letter has been written out by a few dwellers of the village on 20 January 2008."
I went to the said meeting. About 25 people, men and women, turned up. It lasted over an hour. At the end of it an official sheet was produced where four people put their names down. I did. Others said they'll give it a thought first. There's a month to 'campaign' to get people listed!
Two days later I visited an English couple newly settled in a hamlet of the village 'commune' (parish). They said they were indeed interested in putting their names down. As European citizens and tax payers of the parish they are eligible to be members of the council.
On the Tuesday morning as we arrived at the 'mairie' the three others who had put their names down at the meeting were standing there seemingly waiting for something. I asked if there was to be a meeting. The reply was no. I asked again after a while and the reply was that the local television was going to be reporting on the village's election campaign. Wow! So, I stayed.
A young woman journalist and a young cameraman asked the leader of the group, the guy (P) who initiated the open list, to answer questions from the journalist. He explained how he came to this idea at the last parish council election years ago. Then they asked a lady (S) of the group, by then of five people, what made her join. She explained that the idea of a politically neutral open list appealed to her because she thought it would be great to have all sorts of people represented working together.
Then the television team asked the five of us to sit around the table and pretend we were running a council meeting. We soon forgot the camera and got talking of the issue of who was going to be the chairman. The 11 elected people would have to choose their chairman. Was any one of the 11 eligible to be the next chairman?... Only if you say you wish to be elected as chairman. I asked P if he was going to put his name forward. He said yes. I added: Me too.
Here we go. Now I am officially running to become the next 'maire' of my native village!
The report on the local television chanel that same night was very short. P, and then S, were seen talking for a couple of minutes. My face was shown three times for a split second each time. The church steeple and the 'mairie' was shown and last a few sentences were heard from the current council chairwoman who said she was happy about this open list initiative. And that was it. If you blinked during the report, you missed most of it...
Rather than being politically neutral it would be more accurate to say it is a potical medley. P is of the green party, S perhaps a socialist, M more like a communist, and I claim to be a liberal, in favor of the President, and a christian... My chances are dim. I have no political ambition, would only love to revive this village, give it some life and a future. We are not supposed to go campaining, they said. People will come and put their names down spontaneously. I don't believe that. I actually asked the local English couple if they would join. They would never have done it spontaneously. I said we should ask the owner of village castle, a businessman who lives in Paris. They went up in arms saying he had other things to do and he is not interested. How about asking him directly and hearing his own answer? Finally days later I went to the 'mairie' and asked the secretary there to give me his address. This is legal. No one could prevent me from doing that. So I sent him a card mentioning that it would be wise and interesting to have the castle represented at the next parish council. See what happens next.
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