Last week, I reconnected with Mauritius through two documentaries on African and Indian migration to the island. They are part of a series of four (the one on French and Chinese migration still in progress) titled Venus d'Ailleurs ... From so Far ..., produced by David Constantin and
Alain Gordon-Gentil, a prolific man who has written nine books, and won a prize at the Cannes Festival for a short film he produced on Gandhi.
Gordon-Gentil was in Toronto to present his documentaries. The first one I saw on October 22nd at
Alliance Française de Toronto was about how Africans came to Mauritius, a poignant account of their plight when they were sold as slaves to work on sugarcane plantations owned by French colonizers. The other presentation on October 23rd at
Bai'tul mosque in Maple was about the migration of Indians hired to work on sugarcane fields in Mauritius after slavery was abolished. The documentaries put us into the heart of the people through evocative writing, music, dramatic shots, interviews, and pertinent historical information. They stir compassion for the struggles and difficult living conditions of Africans and Indians who first arrived in Mauritius. At both events, guests were very moved, some to tears. For me, it was a journey that awakened long-dormant attachments to the rich, multicultural aspects of a country I left a long time ago.
It was also my first time in a mosque and I was touched by the atmosphere of tolerance it fostered in hosting the screening, welcoming guests of different ethnic and religious backgrounds, even treating us to a buffet dinner. After the presentation, Gordon-Gentil mingled with the crowd to answer their questions. His easy-going personality, unbound enthusiasm about his work, and interest in people made it a pleasant and inspiring evening for all.
I'd like to thank my good friend Paul Comarmond, Secretary General of
IOCP (International Organization of Creole People). He made possible Gordon-Gentil’s presentations in Toronto by including it in Creole Month, an event he helped establish to recognize the importance of Creole in the world.
I was in Quebec City during the Francophone summit with my dear friend Pam, the Washington correspondent for Weekend. Over 50 heads of states were there, among them the Prime Minister of Mauritius, but President Sarkozy was really the big buzz. Glad he didn't bring Carla with him. There would have been hordes to deal with. I was already overwhelmed by blocked streets, helicopters hovering above buildings, soldiers in army fatigues positioned around the Congress centre. Add to that a constant stream of black limos with official flags, followed by cars, vans equipped with security and it was enough to make you feel Quebec City had been transformed into a tense, scary place, a danger zone. Once you got past tightly-guarded Congress Centre, The Hilton and Chateau Frontenac, and walked along Rue St. Jean, the city was its usual self with restaurants and shopkeepers eager to please. Vieux Québec was charming as usual. Rue du Petit-Champlain's cute stores, their stonewalls covered with climbing plants, exuded a cozy atmosphere which made me want to stroll along lazily, listen to music, sit in a café and do absolutely nothing ... or well, perhaps flirt with those friendly Québécois. Passion Francophonie, a show at Palais Montcalm, treated us to talented francophone singers and musicians from Vietnam, Haiti, Madagascar, to name a few. Nightlife was fun. We listened to a Québécois singer strumming his guitar while singing ballads and country songs at Le Pape-Georges a cavernous space, so tight that people sit huddled against each other. This proximity allowed us to chat with the musician and even ask him to play songs for us. Jazz at The Clarendon Hotel was the opposite, the lounge expansive with plenty of distance between patrons, the music pleasantly mellow.
Fleuve St. Laurent shimmered as we walked along the boardwalk. 
