Ce blog parle de villages dont on s'occupe peu dans les médias, parfois miniers comme Saint Florent sur Auzonnet, niché dans une vallée retirée, envaginé au creux de montagnes, Molières sur Cèze, Le Martinet, Saint Jean de Valériscles, La Grand Combe etc... Une vie poétique et dure à faire renaitre pour tous. Germinal. Ayant filé plus loin que prévu -grâce à Aliaa Elmahdy- il est à présent bilingue français-anglais. This blog speaks about Cevennes villages unknown in media, sometimes mining (coal), Saint Florent, nestled in a secluded valley, Molières, Le Martinet, St. Jean, La Grand Combe ... A poetic and hard life revives here. Germinal (Zola). Having spun further than expected, thanks to Aliaa Elmahdy, it is now bilingual. Note: if someone finds mistakes in english, I would be pleased if he corrects them ! Thanks. Hélène Larrivé

dimanche 17 juillet 2011

Vers Alès, à Servas. Le puits de Célas, partie 1 tout d'abord

Un village, c'est, mêlées, des histoires (ici, reliée à la résistance en 40) tragiques ou futiles, jolies ou sordides... il ne convient d'occulter ni les unes ni les autres, et, même dans le but (louable) de faire connaître la région, de la peindre en rose. Exemples ici, la guerre et ses conséquences encore actuelles (les victimes collatérales), des affaires rocambolesques (l'autre vidéo), des lieux, bords de rivière etc... accaparés (privatisés) sous prétexte de revalorisation... des thermes magiques.. bref tout ce qu'on nous a accoutumés à mésestimer afin parfois de nous en spolier pour le profit (lien). 

In Cévennes, around Alès, in 44, some resistance fighters, about 33, may be more, were thrown in a disused asphalt's mine (130 m) , to "Célas", then found and raised two months later (at the liberation). One of them, Gustave Nouvel, should have been my father because he was engaged with my mother. Recently I found letters of him in the attic of my family house. Before her death, my mother indicated me a place where I shall find something who would interest me. I writte a book about this story, "the letters to Lydie". Nobody had ever spoken to me about this drama, and however all knew it. I was born four years later. My father had never love me, I think because he had never consider me as her daugther. The father of a child is first those who imagine him in this mind, not only those who create it. When I understood, I was changed. With these letters, I was born a second time. The child of a man or a woman is first the one who was imagined and wanted in theirs minds and not his real parent. In this way, I was Gustau's daughter more than that of my father's without knowing it, what explains that he did not love me. It was certainly difficlt to him to get married with a widow of an hero who never forgotten. Dug up, gone back up(raised) appearance(mine) of 130 m of bottom, appearance(mine) of asphalt.


A la mémoire de ceux qui sont morts pour notre liberté. Les trois autres parties vont suivre sous peu.