As is the case almost everywhere in France and throughout the world, at this time, we are the first generation of humans to live in such confinement. Even if what is happening at the level of our governments, behind the walls of hospitals, at the level of our social rights, in the hearts of families with a sick loved one, leaves us speechless, there are still small pearls of humanity, small jewels of the future that I would like to share with you. My street, like many others in Paris and elsewhere, like yours no doubt, has gradually become like a small village again. Less noise, more birds and above all new little signs of attention spontaneously bloom here and there. In the morning, only a few caretakers or people with professions that require them to go to work still venture outside. For the rest of the inhabitants, most of us are teleworking or on sick leave. The rest of the time, there is only Pierre’s cat to roam the pavement and enjoy the view. Sometimes he sits in the middle of the road, sometimes he lies down, stretched out to enjoy the first rays of the spring sun.

So little by little, we learn to take care of each other from our windows and with our means of communication. Around noon on some days, there is a lot of animation; it is the passage of the postman. Familiar faces appear at the windows. Peter goes out on his doorstep and everyone goes to tell his little news. It reminds me of the postman’s visit to my grandmother’s house in a small village. He usually came by, also around noon. He would honk his horn and all the inhabitants of the neighbourhood would gather around the little yellow 4L to exchange the latest gossip. A pure moment of conviviality, a moment of happiness. This morning, there was suddenly a lot more noise in the street. As is now unusual, we all pointed our noses out of the window. It was an organic market gardener making his rounds in the neighborhood. Pierre went out first, his house is on the ground floor. Our neighbour offered to come down for everyone. She stocked up on crates of apples, vegetables and fruit juice. Our neighbour then undertook to leave a small parcel in front of each of our doors, which she decided to offer us generously. It reminded me that a few days ago, when we had sent some money to one of our Indian friends because he had nothing left to eat, he had decided to make six parcels for the neighbouring families to offer them something to eat for the week. We had already been very moved when they had sent us the pictures of the small parcels he had made.

And here, too, we are beginning to see the signs of a humanity that cares for others whenever necessary. And here too, I am all moved, all turned around and have tears in my eyes. No, not tears of rage or distress as these last few days when I hear our rulers, but tears of joy, of humanity. The bottle of organic apple juice sits enthroned in the middle of my teleworking tools. It is there proudly, as a victory of humanity over the soulless world that our rulers want us to accept.

So, yes, I think this confinement invites us to invent another world for tomorrow. Yes, I believe we can do something good together. Yes, humans are capable of being bearers of hope, surprises, reversal. And yes, it’s true that, here as in India, we are capable of remaining human, supportive and caring even in the worst of situations. Yes, our humanity is always there, just waiting to be revealed and it wakes up just like nature itself, and how good that is! It has the taste of childhood, of uncalculated relationships, the taste of love. It has a taste for simplicity, with no Excel sheet to control everything, no smartphone to compare everything and make the best choice. It just has a taste for the present moment, for common sense, for helping each other and what good does it do. And new memories come to my mind, like the one of the truck from La Ruche that used to pass by my grandmother’s house once a week, bringing with its fruits and vegetables so many other things and bringing in its wake so many human encounters.

Par Nathalie

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