Today feels like a good day for a protest. There’s no sun to cast shadows across my computer screen, just a washed-out gray sky bringing to mind the world of The Giver. It’s not really cold, but there’s a damp chill which creeps into my room, causing mold to sprout on the walls and sealing my envelopes before I have time to send them. My morning is spent in that strange world of translating computer science technicalities into English, and I feel like yelling at someone at the CAF for failing to give me subsidized housing for three straight months. Wanting a brisk stroll, I take my five flights of stairs three steps at time and head to where, normally, the CAF is located. I make it there in record time, passing an unusual number of policemen directing traffic away from la préfecture. Policemen make me nervous, so I give them a wide berth.
The CAF has a sign plastered on the front door, telling me that they’ve moved again. I assume that they are back where they were originally located, a few months ago, and that the interminable travaux have finally been completed. But I’m not too good with street names, so I’m taking a gamble. I gambol along and notice that a lot of the streets have been blocked off and that, again, there’s a lot of policemen. I pass in front of l’armurerie, which is the first I’ve seen here in France. I think of the gun debate that’s taking place in the United States and I shiver in spite of myself. I hear mute pops that sound like gunshots. There’s a group of people holding signs, marching down the main throughway, followed by a parade of large tractors, flanked by helicopters and motorcycle cops. I spot les CRS, the riot control forces. The banner reads, Les jeunes agriculteurs. Is this a protest? A show of pride? There’s currently a national taxi strike going on in the country. I snap a few photos and take a video, feeling slightly subversive.
I reach the CAF, right where I expected it to be located, only to find that on Thursday January 10, exclusively, it closes at 15h45. Five minutes before I arrive at its doors. Police officers are less suitable candidates for yelling at, so I film the manif’ as it progresses along the avenue.
I circle back to my apartment, feeling both rebellious and disappointed. I’ve just finished reading Everything in this Country Must. I think I’m reading too much about Irish revolutionaries for my own good. I’m channeling Enjolras from Les Miserables. I open my lovely Mac, its face neon in the dim grayness of my room, and discover that yes, I have indeed witnessed a manifestation in the works.
“150 agriculteurs manifestent ce jeudi à Amiens contre une directive européenne qui élargit le périmètre des zones vulnérables. Ces zones pollués ou susceptibles de l’être aux nitrates. Le principal syndicat agricole, la FNSEA estime que cette directive impose trop de contraintes pour un secteur déjà en difficultés.” france bleu
When in France, do as the French do. And that’s protest. For Everyone in this Country Must.