News channels around the world beamed images of riots in the outskirts of Paris in 2005-6. The rioters were predominantly second and third generation Arab immigrants, who were frustrated with what they felt was blatant racism and social exclusion. One can assume that the ethnic Moroccans and Algerians are looked upon in France with the same fear and distrust that some across the Atlantic Ocean feel for African-Americans.
The only French person of Arab descent I have ever met is a wonderful French teacher, who was in Bombay for 6 months. She never wore a burka and was essentially French in all respects. Add to that, her immense beauty, and it was no surprise to me when she said she never ever faced any discrimination in France.
Then again, Charef's book was written in 1983, when Mumbai/Rio type shanytowns existed in the outskirts of Paris. The author describes the slums of Nanterre as being like those in Rio minus the sun and warm weather.
"The children seem happy enough as they play in among the mud and the poverty and the thick smoke from people's stoves:" This is not a description of Dharavi but a place within a half an hour car ride from the city of love!
The protagonist of the book Majid lives in a housing project in a not-so nice suburb of the French capital and is basically stuck between 2 worlds. He moved to France at a young age and found the French education system above his level of understanding. His younger siblings, however, seemed to be doing well in school.
Majid and his gang of friends get drunk, solicit prostitutes, use drugs and indulge in petty crime like pick-pocketing. The author describes the contempt that many French people had at that time towards Arabs, looking at them as thieves and low-lives. There is a strong yearning among the Arab youth in France to break free from this prison of a life in the estates, which have nice names like Acacia but are crime infested and neglected.
"Somehow the night seems darker here than in other parts of town, as if it feels at home," the author says about the area around the housing projects. "The estate dies, and the footsetps of passers-by sound like echoing drum-beats. It feels like being stuck behind a wall in a cemetery in a strange village in the middle of nowhere, trying to find your way home."
This book was hard to put down and while it was neutral, helped the reader see things from the point of view of Arabs in France.
The only French person of Arab descent I have ever met is a wonderful French teacher, who was in Bombay for 6 months. She never wore a burka and was essentially French in all respects. Add to that, her immense beauty, and it was no surprise to me when she said she never ever faced any discrimination in France.
Then again, Charef's book was written in 1983, when Mumbai/Rio type shanytowns existed in the outskirts of Paris. The author describes the slums of Nanterre as being like those in Rio minus the sun and warm weather.
"The children seem happy enough as they play in among the mud and the poverty and the thick smoke from people's stoves:" This is not a description of Dharavi but a place within a half an hour car ride from the city of love!
The protagonist of the book Majid lives in a housing project in a not-so nice suburb of the French capital and is basically stuck between 2 worlds. He moved to France at a young age and found the French education system above his level of understanding. His younger siblings, however, seemed to be doing well in school.
Majid and his gang of friends get drunk, solicit prostitutes, use drugs and indulge in petty crime like pick-pocketing. The author describes the contempt that many French people had at that time towards Arabs, looking at them as thieves and low-lives. There is a strong yearning among the Arab youth in France to break free from this prison of a life in the estates, which have nice names like Acacia but are crime infested and neglected.
"Somehow the night seems darker here than in other parts of town, as if it feels at home," the author says about the area around the housing projects. "The estate dies, and the footsetps of passers-by sound like echoing drum-beats. It feels like being stuck behind a wall in a cemetery in a strange village in the middle of nowhere, trying to find your way home."
This book was hard to put down and while it was neutral, helped the reader see things from the point of view of Arabs in France.
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