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It all began in the afternoon of Saturday, July 12, 2008 at Barber "Africa Tiff. Of the 123 hairdressers in the city (for approximately 300 000 inhabitants) is definitely my favorite. Moreover, it is the only one where I realized since I'm here. Nothing more natural: there is only this one on the ground floor of my building ...
that day and like all other days, my presence seemed out a bit, at least in appearance. To be honest, I was the only white.
The "Africa Tiff" was one of those kinds of small islands community as it exists in both cities. One of these shelters for those nostalgic for their homeland or for the "explorers" as they liked to call them here. But if you see, I'm sure ... Those who try to build bridges between where they are and that from which they come, often limited to distant memories.
Y be the only white does not bother me. And then it was enough for me not to shave for 3-4 days that stood out - finally! - My Kabyle inherited some traits from my paternal grandfather! More seriously, the "Africa Tiff" was not the first place that put me in this situation.
When I arrived in this city, 3 years ago - to take just one recent example - the beginning of my studies, I experienced this on a different ground than the hair: a basketball court.
In the neighborhood where I was, this land was acting défouloir. He was at the French scale that can represent the "playgrounds" New York's Bronx or Harlem. Yes I swear, those only seen in movies. Precisely, the first Once I put the feet, the movies that I thought. Or worse in one of those nicks societal stories of "special envoy" or "Seven to Eight." You know what kind of issue that you are aware (for a few days no more, no exaggeration) that you're born in the right place, but you you've been spoiled by life.
However, whether the walls covered in tags or "moles" lying on the asphalt while it was indeed real. Nothing to do with the small land facing the house of my parents sheltered from wind, clean, scene of my exploits, and den my adolescence.
You so much doubt as to find my place in there it'll took time and patience! What an idea to come for the first time in jeans?! Levis jeans and more. As if I did not have enough petty bourgeois in their eyes. I who had come just to do some shooting history to identify the field, I'd do "grilling" of entry by the regulars. I had forgotten the main rule induced by this type of place: to enforce. And respect that is won, too - see above - for this kind of information ...
was fun to see face off on the cart in front at the other end of the field, dead ringers for Kobe, Jordan, Kidd and Carter (at least that's what was written on their shirts) while I multiplied the "bricks".
I do not use the lexical field of the building by chance ... "Brick" in terms basketballistique (Wow) is a shot does not even touching the circle, and instead of just hitting it pitifully panel ... the way a brick that scale on a wall. At the same time, I have rarely seen someone throw a brick on a wall like that, good morning to have some fun! Basically, the difference between symbolic firing and scored a brick could somehow akin to that between the artist painter painter ...
They pretended not to see me. Even when the ball got lost to me and I went their with a smile as if to say "oh hey I'm here guys! "I had no right to sign them. Nothing assuring me that they were well aware of my presence at twenty meters from them.
Thus, the first time, they would surely have preferred to play with their little sisters penguins rather than let me participate in a game with them.
And then, little by little, I think they took pity on me wander in this way on the other half of the field. Or - less naive version - I'd say they let me play a game in order to dissuade me from them, place, and even basketball! So I spread more quickly where I'm from. My
accumulations of "bricks" weekly had more convinced them that I was not a basketball player. For them, I was obviously devoid of all characteristics of the traditional white player. In this game, whites are the shooters. They are even better in this area, but they did it. Unlike blacks, whites, themselves, "Do not Jump!
As for me, the problem is I was neither white nor black. No, I left before everything ...! And that opponents hate. Probably lack usual. And as the school where the left is essentially the one it is hard to copy me, I did basketball figure of pure pain in the ass ... who ... who dribble and feint sham does it make ( no more basketball than they told me !)...
In any case how I earned the respect of others. That way I could settle permanently on the ground with them, playing with the same ball, pulling the same cart. And how we exceeded our prejudices black / white. Fortunately there is no racism anti-left ...!
that day and like all other days, my presence seemed out a bit, at least in appearance. To be honest, I was the only white.
The "Africa Tiff" was one of those kinds of small islands community as it exists in both cities. One of these shelters for those nostalgic for their homeland or for the "explorers" as they liked to call them here. But if you see, I'm sure ... Those who try to build bridges between where they are and that from which they come, often limited to distant memories.
Y be the only white does not bother me. And then it was enough for me not to shave for 3-4 days that stood out - finally! - My Kabyle inherited some traits from my paternal grandfather! More seriously, the "Africa Tiff" was not the first place that put me in this situation.
When I arrived in this city, 3 years ago - to take just one recent example - the beginning of my studies, I experienced this on a different ground than the hair: a basketball court.
In the neighborhood where I was, this land was acting défouloir. He was at the French scale that can represent the "playgrounds" New York's Bronx or Harlem. Yes I swear, those only seen in movies. Precisely, the first Once I put the feet, the movies that I thought. Or worse in one of those nicks societal stories of "special envoy" or "Seven to Eight." You know what kind of issue that you are aware (for a few days no more, no exaggeration) that you're born in the right place, but you you've been spoiled by life.
However, whether the walls covered in tags or "moles" lying on the asphalt while it was indeed real. Nothing to do with the small land facing the house of my parents sheltered from wind, clean, scene of my exploits, and den my adolescence.
You so much doubt as to find my place in there it'll took time and patience! What an idea to come for the first time in jeans?! Levis jeans and more. As if I did not have enough petty bourgeois in their eyes. I who had come just to do some shooting history to identify the field, I'd do "grilling" of entry by the regulars. I had forgotten the main rule induced by this type of place: to enforce. And respect that is won, too - see above - for this kind of information ...
was fun to see face off on the cart in front at the other end of the field, dead ringers for Kobe, Jordan, Kidd and Carter (at least that's what was written on their shirts) while I multiplied the "bricks".
I do not use the lexical field of the building by chance ... "Brick" in terms basketballistique (Wow) is a shot does not even touching the circle, and instead of just hitting it pitifully panel ... the way a brick that scale on a wall. At the same time, I have rarely seen someone throw a brick on a wall like that, good morning to have some fun! Basically, the difference between symbolic firing and scored a brick could somehow akin to that between the artist painter painter ...
They pretended not to see me. Even when the ball got lost to me and I went their with a smile as if to say "oh hey I'm here guys! "I had no right to sign them. Nothing assuring me that they were well aware of my presence at twenty meters from them.
Thus, the first time, they would surely have preferred to play with their little sisters penguins rather than let me participate in a game with them.
And then, little by little, I think they took pity on me wander in this way on the other half of the field. Or - less naive version - I'd say they let me play a game in order to dissuade me from them, place, and even basketball! So I spread more quickly where I'm from. My
accumulations of "bricks" weekly had more convinced them that I was not a basketball player. For them, I was obviously devoid of all characteristics of the traditional white player. In this game, whites are the shooters. They are even better in this area, but they did it. Unlike blacks, whites, themselves, "Do not Jump!
As for me, the problem is I was neither white nor black. No, I left before everything ...! And that opponents hate. Probably lack usual. And as the school where the left is essentially the one it is hard to copy me, I did basketball figure of pure pain in the ass ... who ... who dribble and feint sham does it make ( no more basketball than they told me !)...
In any case how I earned the respect of others. That way I could settle permanently on the ground with them, playing with the same ball, pulling the same cart. And how we exceeded our prejudices black / white. Fortunately there is no racism anti-left ...!
In the end, basketball is like life, right? A huge role playing game where everyone is stuck with that which others have reduced it, and that also has frequently talked ourselves. It's not our fault. We must constantly small checkboxes. Catalogs to browse. A need for benchmarks, that's all. Nothing more than yet another way to understand the universe around us.
(...)
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