What a strange feeling it is to go out in the evening in a Paris that has become very quiet. As if there had suddenly been a debacle or an exodus. First of all, going to this appointment in front of the Grands Voisins closes when there is usually so much life here. Discover one, two, three, ten, fifteen people like you waiting in front of the closed door in this time of confinement. Quickly get to know Sabrina, Sachi and so many others who have been busy all afternoon preparing with the greatest care and attention, no less than 300 meals for those who don’t even have a place to stay confined. Receiving a mask, lovingly sewn by the seamstresses of an association, so that the marauders can both protect themselves and above all not contaminate those they are about to meet.

Pack the meals, well packed, with the seriousness required in these times of feeding other people. Then board the Clio d’Hacen and cross Paris, which has become very different in such a short time. To notice that the Seine is gradually regaining its colours, that distances are reduced without traffic jams, that all the shops are closed and that there are no more people even on the Boulevard St Michel. Sharpen your gaze to see where those who have no place to stay are confined and little by little enter the encounter. To discover that many people on the street have changed places. Observing that the arches towards the Canal St Martin, where there are usually so many people, are deserted. Discovering by being caught by a passer-by that they have migrated (again) to the streets where they can still hope to meet someone and find something to eat. Meeting a man in front of a bakery. Hearing that the people in line don’t even have change to give him anymore because in times of pandemic everyone pays by credit card. Ask him if he wants to eat, give him a meal that makes him happy and understand that he would like to have something to wash and change his clothes; « You understand, we have our dignity ». Exchange a few words, a little further on, in a small square, with a woman well buried in her duvet. She is also looking forward to a good meal, but she too would like to have clean clothes. Go a little further and talk for a few minutes with a man who is no longer in tune with the world. All he needs is food. Being caught in a street by the garbage men who tell us where there are people waiting for us. On the way, meeting two men who are set up in a gas station. They are hungry, need hygiene products, would like some toothpaste with the toothbrush. They thank us for being there and tell us that they are still there. Passing another passer-by who asks us if we are looking for people. It’s strange, just a fortnight ago, who could have asked us in the middle of Paris, if we were looking for people?

Decidedly, there’s a feeling of strangeness in this evening. Let’s go a little further. Talking with a man who says he doesn’t need anything but thanks us anyway. He tells us to take good care of ourselves. He tells us that two Indians live in front of an abandoned restaurant on the Boulevard. Going to meet them, we notice that one of them has his face devoured by an injury or illness. He asks to buy some cream to relieve himself. Give him some cream found in the hygiene kit delicately prepared by other volunteers. Meeting one, two, ten people until we realize that we have distributed the 50 meals we had taken away. Being caught once again, this time by a young person from Médecins du Monde who is riding her bike and checking whether a few people on the street are not in respiratory distress.

Because let’s not forget that while we are confined, complaining daily about being locked in our homes, others are still on the streets, the forgotten people of our time. Realise that we too are going to complain about this time of confinement while others have no place to go to protect themselves, no place to wash, no place to keep ties or even to charge their precious mobile phones. Going up the Boulevard de la Villette now and realizing that it is 8 p.m. when all the inhabitants stand at the windows, who to applaud the caretakers, who to bang their pots in protest against our rulers who are not up to the task. Getting back in the car, driving through neighbourhoods usually bursting with life and finding that everything is dead, while spring sends us here and there puffs of life through the flowering trees. Realizing together, like a punch in the face, that despite umpteenth promises that soon there would be no one left on the street, the situation has not improved in recent months. Realizing again, like a punch in the stomach, that even in times of pandemic, no measures are being taken to protect those who are probably most in need.

Finally join the other marauders in front of the Gare d’Austerlitz, empty of passengers and in which the announcements still resound. Wishing Sabrina a happy birthday and telling herself that it’s good to exchange with others.

Par Nathalie

Translated with http://www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)