Life in France

[damontucker]

Re: Life in France

Cute kids Susie

My mom left my abusive father when I was 3-4 with 2 suitcases and me to leave California to move back home with her parents in Washington.

She did this as a necessity... for not only herself...but for me.
She didn't get the paperwork finalized for her divorce until long after she got away from him... (and yes he did kidnap me also at one point during the whole divorce proceedings)

I hope you are able to find a way home with your kids soon enough...

No man is worth what it seems like you are being put through...Even though your kids may love him...the abuse that they see him put you through will be harmful in the long run.

Manoa

[blueyecicle]

Re: Life in France

How cute are your kids???? Susie...Beautiful! What a mess with your ex, I am sorry Kids deserve so much more than that...sometimes you just can't protect them from it all but they are blessed you are trying.
They are truly blessed.

[admin]

Re: Life in France

Just a friendly reminder that Susie has posted details about an ongoing legal dispute in another country, and is of course only presenting one side of the case. While we all sympathize with the stress and difficulties she's experienced, I hope we can refrain from demonizing or attacking her ex-husband or family... especially since heaven knows what French law would have to say about material published on the web.

Susie, we recognize that you are fearless and post under your real name. But I do encourage caution. If your children are still the subject of a custodial dispute, I'd be careful about oversharing or posting personal photos. If there's anything HawaiiThreads can teach you, it's that you never know what kind of nuts there are out there!

[SusieMisajon]

Re: Life in France

Thank you. What you say is true.

Actually, the only thing that concerns me is the kids...if they knew that I was telling their stories on the web....!!!

How cute are your kids???? Susie...Beautiful! What a mess with your ex, I am sorry Kids deserve so much more than that...sometimes you just can't protect them from it all but they are blessed you are trying.
They are truly blessed.

Some of those are mine, and some are members of the Aloha Shirt Solidarity Club.

[damontucker]

Re: Life in France

susie -

your kids can easily find HT by just typing in your name without a space...

Google it yourself... and kids are very intuitive and know more about computers then their parents often think.

[SusieMisajon]

Re: Life in France

susie -

your kids can easily find HT by just typing in your name without a space...

Google it yourself... and kids are very intuitive and know more about computers then their parents often think.

They are more interested in music and mopeds and their friends than what their old fut Mom does. They can't believe that I would actually communicate with strangers (even ones from Hawaii), and consider myself friends with people that I meet on the web. I guess that they've been taught the dangers better than I have.

But thanks for the advice. One day, when they have grown up and realize that Moms are not so dumbass uncool backwards as they seem, perhaps I'll show them this.

[SusieMisajon]

Re: Life in France

I have these neighbors, an older couple who I'll call Jules and Josette (the names have been changed to protect the guilty). They are in their seventies, and have been married for about fifty years. No kids, as Josette has had quite a few miscarriages, but Jules has an offspring, born to a mistress, from the time during the early years of his marriage.

Josette doesn't allow Jules to see or have contact with this person. Josette doesn't sleep in the same bed as Jules anymore, either...and hasn't for about forty years. How do I know this? Because Jules told me, many years ago, while sitting and chatting in the little park that's just in front of my house. I did think to myself, as he was speaking about it, "Why on earth do I want to know this?"...but then, I can be pretty naive, looking back, and the conversation took place about ten years ago.

This tiny little park used to be quite the place for neighborhood gossip. Back when I first came to the town, almost fifteen years ago, it was the place where the little old ladies of this part of town hung out. I called it 'La Club de l'Apres Midi'. They'd come each afternoon, after the lunch and their housework was done, to sit in the shade under the what was then a plum tree but has been replaced by a mulberry tree.

They would just sit on the bench and speak of ordinary things...Claudette would talk about the potatoes she's cooked for lunch, Josette would tell about things she found as she cleaning the cinema after a film, and Madeline would talk about, well...she'd just talk...at the time, she was beginning to suffer the effects of dementia, but nobody realized it back then.

Mostly it was the ladies that would sit and talk, but sometimes, if Josette wasn't there, Jules would come and have a chat, too. Josette wouldn't come on the days she had a black eye, so Jules replaced her on those days. Jules had been a Gendarme for the whole of his working life...that's our version of the cops, 'Gendarme' translates into 'armed men', and are a branch of the French Military. Back when Jules was on active duty, PC was an unknown term, and the Gendarmes had pretty much a free hand, to rule as they best could, or would. I guess that's where the Jules got it from. I guess, anyway.

I learned most of my French 'big words' (swear words) from Jules and Josette. Our houses are not all that far apart, on a small cobbled narrow lane, with three and four story houses made of stone lined up one next to another, sometimes with just teensy, shoulder-wide alleyways between them. Most of the houses are between two and three hundred years old, and the difference in ages and styles makes the lane look like a pretty, although grey, patchwork quilt. The canyons of the town serve to amplify sounds, especially during the summer when wooden shutters and windows are left open.

So, when Jules and Josette are going at it, with bangs and shrieks and china and furniture being thrown about, we can pretty much hear the whole show. Josette puts on her 'victim' voice and really goes to town...the muffled yells, with 'HELP!' escaping from between Jules' fingers, the big, big swear words, from both of them equally, the 'fight to the finish' noises coming from their house...even the tourists have been known to stop and stare, or go as far as to call the cops or run to the Mayors' office for help. Sometimes the man from the Mayors' office comes and tells them to tone it down, and it stays quieter for a time, but that never lasts.

They are pretty regular...each day at seven in the morning, then again at about eleven, and then sometimes, but not always, at around four in the afternoon. Year in and year out. Kalani, my youngest son, (the one with a very sharp sense of wit), was woken one morning by the goings-on, and said to me, "Mom, time to get up, tha alarm's ringing!". He is a very funny boy (but he hates when I repeat that story).

A while back, I was passing in front of their house when the Gendarmes were outside. The senior Gendarme asked me if I'd seen Jules recently. So I said to him that perhaps Josette had finally had enough and maybe they should check the freezer. haha! The look on the Gendarme's face was enough to keep me laughing to myself for days!

I did ask Jules, long ago, what the hell was it all about? He said that Josette was deaf. ?! Oh. Just last week, we were passing on the lane, him on his bike and me dragging groceries from the car, when we stopped to pass the time of day. I asked him again, and told him that my kids were wondering why they stayed together, and that I'd explained to the kids that back in those days, people got married for forever, and divorce wasn't just something to be taken lightly. Joe's response was that they were each waiting for the other one to die, as he'd actually been to a lawyer and had been told that he risked losing too much, were he to divorce after all these years.

So, as the old ones seem to last in this town, I guess we're in for a while more.

[SusieMisajon]

Re: Life in France

We used to have these other funny neighbors. That was Dominique and Pierre. They taught me how to kill and cut up a pig, and how to make bacon and ham from it. We had to do the pig on Friday evenings, though, as it's no longer allowed to kill large anmals at home, even for personnal consuption. You can still kill a rabbit or a chicken at home, but not a pig or a sheep or anything bigger than that.

Of course, everybody still does kill their animals at home...you just have to be careful of how you do it, hence the Friday evening time slot. The Gendarmes aren't going to come out and bust you on a Friday night, and they'll leave you be for the whole of the weekend job of butchering, too. And that does take some time...kill the pig, scrape the hair off, cut it open, hang it up high overnight from the lift of the tractor so that the cats won't nibble on it...or the rats. Scraping and washing out the poop in the guts, for use as sausage casings. Casings can be bought, clean and dry in salt and ready to be soaked and used, but why spend the money for that, when you have all the famiy, neighbors, and outlying relatives to help do the shitwork?

It depends on who you are as well, if you want to do home slaughter. The Gendarmes will turn a blind eye if you are local born and bred. And white. But, if you happen to be a Muslim planning a barbecue to celebrate the end of Ramadam, it might be better to buy your sheep already dead and ready for the coals. Because you can be sure that the Gendarmes will wait til the deed is done and the meat has been perfectly prepared before busting you, slapping you with a hefty fine, confiscating the meat, and then having their own barbecue. Gendarmes could give a hoot about whether the meat has been blessed before slaughter or stuck with a knife and bled to death, they'll enjoy each and every bite of your hard work, and make jokes besides.

Going over to Domi and Pierre's house was always interesting. If their daughter, Luci, was home from University, she could be found in a chair, sucking her thumb and cradleing a doll. Or rather, what was left of a doll. Mostly just a part of the skull was left, after years and years of being rubbed and fondled down to just the bit where the hair goes into those little holes in the skull. Remember those dolls? Rows and rows of tiny, evenl-spaced holes in hard plastic, with a few hairs stuck into each hole. They don't make em like that, anymore. Today's disturbed young person wouldn't have anything left of a doll by the time they were 21. Good thing thumbs are still well made.

Luci never said much, unless she was screaming at her mother. And her Mother never said much, either, unless she was screaming at Pierre. I only remember Pierre saying something one time. He said to Lucy, "Come and suck me off." At that time, I didn't speak or understand too much of the French language, but I did understand that phrase...I mean, I'd been a married woman and all.

Discretion being the better part of valor, I though to just play the villiage idiot, and pretend that I hadn't heard or understood. What else could I have done? But my head was in a spin, I can tell you! And I understood perfectly well the screaming and the fighting that Pierre's remark caused, too. What an uproar! Domi screamed that they'd all be in hot water if that sort of stuff left the house. Luci screamed at Domi. Pierre went upstairs and slammed all the doors along the way. Then Domi went back to serving me a cup of coffee and all was as calm as before. I drank the coffee, made my excuses, and left as soon as I could.

After that Domi never came around for about a month. She'd been coming by every day. She must have been scared, or suffering, or both...because for her to not come by to see what she could borrow or beg or steal was unusual. Domi is a kleptomaniac. I figure that it's a sick, and has come to her from stress, as she has one daughter who is a streetwalker, one son who'd been killed by a hit-and-run while he was in the army...it seems that the driver was looking to kill a soldier, any soldier, Luci and her problems, one other wierd son, and one son who married a girl like good ole' Mom... she sucks her thumb. Did I tell you that Domi sucks her thumb, too? And wets the bed...but I don't know if any of the others do.

Domi couldn't stay away forever, so things got back to somewhat normal. She'd come by and I'd watch her like a hawk. If she borrowed something I'd have to make a sure that she dodn't 'forget' to return it. The doors would have to be secured each time I went out. If I was at the quiltshop teaching patchwork and Domi 'happened' to pass by the window, I'd have to excuse myself and rush home to chase her off of my property, where she'd be, thinking that I was otherwise occupied.

Christmastime came by, and we decorated our tree. In our family, we have a tradition, we make our own ornaments, adding new ones each year. Ivana, Domi's granddaughter, who lived with Domi and Pierre because her mom was too busy being a streetwalker to take care of her, came by to join in the fun. And then we were invited back to their house to help them set up their tree...I guess that Domi had thought enough time had passed after the 'suck me off' incident to be safe. I did, too.

Their family had a fake tree, made of plastic with a metal frame. It had been stored in it's narrow box for the year, and had to be set up and the branches pulled and tugged into shape so that it would look more like a tree and less like a squished bunch of plastic rolled up. Domi took the thing out of the box and set it on the stand and began to work on the branches. Ivana chimed in, "It's me, it's me that gets to spread the legs of the Christmas tree!".

Now...I ask you...is this the normal expression of speech for what we were doing to that Christmas tree? Is this a normal thing for a seven year old to say? Especially in that house with those people? I might have given her the benefit of the doubt...except for the darting glance that I got from Domi. It was all in the look in Domi's eyes. Was Ivana going to be doomed to the same fate as the others? For me, it was not a very merry Christmas.

I never saw very much of Domi after that, except for the occasional times that I had to chase her out of the barn. She'd actually worn a path through the woods going there the back way so often. That's okay, it's only stuff.

My standing in town suffered for awhile, because of some strange stories that were told about my lifestle. That's okay, consider the source. The people that take the time to know me know who I am. And I see Ivana sometimes, going into the Children's Mental Health Unit, so I guess that she's getting some help.

[SusieMisajon]

Re: Life in France

In case you're wondering about those two last posts...somebody had asked me to write about life over here, so I did. I didn' want to re-write the stories, but I did want to share them with you. I hope that this copying was the PC thing to do.

[Pua'i Mana'o]

Re: Life in France

I have an ignorant question to ask, but allow me it, ok?

How much of a democratic country is France? Is the countryside besotted with country justice? Does the local media have any power to report corruptive practices? Is there a good enough layer of govt/social services? Because your last two posts were as criminal as anything is. I am wigged out.

[SusieMisajon]

Re: Life in France

I have an ignorant question to ask, but allow me it, ok?

How much of a democratic country is France? Is the countryside besotted with country justice? Does the local media have any power to report corruptive practices? Is there a good enough layer of govt/social services? Because your last two posts were as criminal as anything is. I am wigged out.

Country justice? Is that the kind where it depends on your surname or a cousin or strings to get justice? Cause that's how it is.

There is no local media. Well...maybe there is, but their bread is buttered by the 'country justice' system, and the're not gonna bite the hand that feeds them.

Social services can help, as I'm sure that they have for Ivana...but only stupid Haoles like me rock the boat.

Sometimes I need all my sense of humour and perspective running at full speed to keep sane.

[Leo Lakio]

Re: Life in France

How much of a democratic country is France? Is the countryside besotted with country justice? Does the local media have any power to report corruptive practices? Is there a good enough layer of govt/social services? Because your last two posts were as criminal as anything is. I am wigged out.

Keep in mind, however, that "country justice" is quite different than what many of us are used to. Are there not places in Hawai`i where locals take care of troublemakers in a fashion where it is not necessary to involve the police (by totally non-criminal means, of course)?

Not to justify what sounds like some mighty unhealthy behaviors, but remember that we are viewing these tales though our own filters of morality, and just as we can take the "don't tell us how we should do things here in Hawai`i" tack with some postings, it could be argued that we have no place telling them how to do things in a French country village. Despite all her time and efforts, there is only so much Susie can do, because she will always be an outsider - malihini, if you like - to those folks; and as such, is limited in her influence and power to affect change. Depending on how much she sticks her neck out to help someone she feels is being wronged, she (and her children) have to live with the consequences.

[Pua'i Mana'o]

Re: Life in France

I get that Leo. Mahalo, however, for the reminder about ethnocentrism, because it was good to read it.

[damontucker]

Re: Life in France

some things I've learned in just the last few minutes:

Research indicates that at least 7 percent of the 30.1 million women living in France are victims of domestic violence each year. This is likely a conservative estimate, however, as many women feel they cannot come forward and thus do not report the violence they experience. The national domestic violence hotline is one of the only sources of statistics on violence within the immigrant population. More than 20 percent of the women who called this toll-free number in 1999 were foreign-born

Certain socioeconomic conditions render immigrant women particularly vulnerable to domestic violence. First, many immigrants in France come from Islamic countries, particularly Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia. Gender inequalities in these countries are institutionalized through Muslim tradition and personal
status laws. Domestic violence has been explained as the manifestation of unequal power relationships between men and women: thus, patriarchal relationships are directly linked to violence. One should not expect that immigrants would leave all of their cultural mores and traditions behind when they enter France. The belief that women provoke violence and deserve to be beaten is transmitted across generations, as women themselves come to believe they are at fault.

Additionally, immigrant women in France are often extremely isolated. The majority lack competency in the French language: 57 percent of Algerian women (versus 16 percent of Algerian men) and 65 percent of Moroccan and Tunisian women (versus 40 percent of Moroccan and Tunisian men) do not speak French.
Immigrant women also suffer disproportionately high rates of unemployment: 42.1 percent of Maghrebi women are unemployed (in contrast to only 21.9 percent of Maghrebi men). These factors play a significant role with respect to domestic violence. Unemployed women who speak little French are less likely to leave
abusive husbands, because their conditions render independence difficult.

and much more
http://www.sosfemmes.com/english_dom...rant_women.htm

[SusieMisajon]

Re: Life in France

Keep in mind, however, that "country justice" is quite different than what many of us are used to. Are there not places in Hawai`i where locals take care of troublemakers in a fashion where it is not necessary to involve the police (by totally non-criminal means, of course)?

Not to justify what sounds like some mighty unhealthy behaviors, but remember that we are viewing these tales though our own filters of morality, and just as we can take the "don't tell us how we should do things here in Hawai`i" tack with some postings, it could be argued that we have no place telling them how to do things in a French country village. Despite all her time and efforts, there is only so much Susie can do, because she will always be an outsider - malihini, if you like - to those folks; and as such, is limited in her influence and power to affect change. Depending on how much she sticks her neck out to help someone she feels is being wronged, she (and her children) have to live with the consequences.

You said a mouthful, Leo. In towns such as this one, you have to live with the consequences of your actions....especially if you are a dumb Haole Malihini.

There are times when I see that places in Hawaii are kind of the same...like in Hilo, where you can't get into the ginger root selling 'club' unless you're part of the gang. And the story about a poor Haole celery grower, with perfect bunches of celery that were never passed by the inspectors...nevermind, that was twenty years ago...we all have cousins and uncles and friends that have helped us, right?

But the locals here do not 'take care' of troublemakers. Ain't no beeg Samoans that 'help out' with some ToughLoveLessons over here. It just doesn't happen, even within the family units. It's as if it were an open secret. Nothing can be hidden in this place, but nothing is ever done. Rather than try to help or solve a problem, the problem just ...is. And going to the authorities about anything is a BIG no-no.

I've often wondered about why that is.

Going to the authorities isn't done because the authorities are not from here, not local-kine. This place is kind of like the Hatfields and McCoys, or the hillbillies in the woods. All feuds and inbreeding. Each man for himself, and damned be anyone else. The Gendarmes here had a hell of a time trying to figure out who trashed and burned my house a few years back. In the end it was me that did the snooping and it was the kids and I who came up with the culrpits...cause my kids are from here, and people talked.

I'm wondering how much the trials and tribulation of the second world war, and after, had to do with it. This town was split in half during WW2..half occupied by the Germans, and half Free France....and loads of horror stories to go with the occupation. Maybe it was back then that they learned to keep silent? I haven't quite got my finger on it, yet.

I'll never figure these people out, and I am ever feeling like the square peg in the round hole, but the stories are there, and they help me to see the flow and continuation of society and life here. I try to see them from an objective angle, or at leat a human one...being as I'm not from here and sometimes don't see the depths of the undercurrents.