I have something to share about a piece of music that I really like. It tells the story of many Caribbean people who came to France through Bumidom. Bumidom (Bureau pour le développement des migrations dans les départements d’outre-mer; in English; Office for development of migrations within overseas departments, also known as Windrush in the UK) was a French governmental agency between 1963 and 1982 in charge of emigration of the inhabitants of French overseas departments to Metropolitan France.
The name of this song is “Mwen dòmi déwò”, “I slept outside”, by Super Combo. Super Combo is a Guadeloupean Salsa and Konpa band, probably the most popular one in the French West Indies in the 70s, and even elsewhere. The song mentions the disillusionment upon arriving in France: “Mwen té konprann lavi-Pari Sété « Pigalle », sété « Barbès ». Mwen rèsté pri douvan on gran désèpsyon.” – “I thought that Parisian life was Pigalle, Barbès, I was confronted with a huge deceptiveness”.
Life in France can be brutal. “Ay, ka fè fwèt, fwèt kon adan on frijidè. Mwen pa menm tin on vyé pilovè, mwen vini isi vrè mizè” – “God, the weather is so cold, cold like in a fridge, and I don’t even have an old pullover. I came here to meet misery.”
When they arrived, they had a problem of precariousness, homelessness, and the expectations and promises were completely different. There were no opportunities to study, and family reunification was also complicated. And it was a one-way ticket. This meant they couldn’t leave France. To combat this precariousness, some turned to crime, while others used other ways to manage.
“Mwen té aka on zanbèl, lè i vwè sa akòz dè frik i mété-mwen déhò” – “I slept at women’s homes, but when they understood that it was just about money, they kicked me out.” Some men turned to prostitution just to avoid sleeping outside and to get money. Caribbean men were exotic to French women, and they were often abused. The moment the women didn’t need them anymore or they noticed that their man would not fall in love, the men were returned to the streets, back to homeless life. “Sa ki pli bèl ankò, mwen ja ka fè klòch” – “The funniest part, I started again to be a hobo”.
In the last part of the song, the singer related how the French Caribbean feel after having discovered the reality.
“Mwen subi on désèpsyon ki té manké kyouyé-mwen, mwen subi on désèpsyon ki arété « cœur » an-mwen, mwen subi on désèpsyon, ki té ka dérayé-mwen, mwen subi on désèpsyon ki anki chouboulé-mwen” – “I faced a disappointment that almost killed me, I faced a disappointment that gave me a heart attack, I faced a disappointment that drove me crazy, I faced a disappointment that rattled me.”
When I listen to this song, it stirs up a lot of emotions in me, because it was my parents’ reality, and it is still the reality of many young people from the Caribbean who come to France to study, fail in their studies, and never return home out of shame, or pride, etc. You may not know this, but Guadeloupe and Martinique used to be rather poor countries. Today, conditions are improving, but mentalities remain unchanged. You don’t have the right to fail, because you are the pride of your family, sometimes the first in your family to pursue higher education. Failure is not an option. That’s one of the only things I dislike about my culture.
That was only a short story to explain the 1970s in France, seen through the eyes of Caribbean people, in music.
Terry Ruart
Sources:
VOICES 
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