أحمد بوفاريك
2013-08-21, 14:17
My grandpa's tales !
by Ahmed Boufarik
Paris, 1942 … it was spring season. I guess April month. My grandpa was just a 22 years old, he was working in the aspect of Paris, the capital of bourgeoisie. He was a simple grazer (sheep-run) from the mountain, who never went to school, he had a modest French, he understood what others say, but he can not replay appropriately.
He was a hard worker who worked in paving roads, he had some friends from work, one of them was French and he was Jewish, who used to chat with my grandpa, and most of his stories was about his divorce and how his wife took his son from him, and how he miss them and ... My grandpa was just listening, he couldn't say much, because he don't speak French that much to give advice, in addition that he have not experience with marriage, but he was a good listener. Sometimes that what people need, they don't need advice, they just need someone who listen to them, and that French Jewish guy was lucky, because he found my grandpa.
One weekend, the French guy asked my grandpa a question, he said :”Hey Moamed do you want to have a tour in Paris” so my grandpa answered him positively with much of joy.
The tour started the early morning, they visited almost of the sightseeing and beautiful places of the city, until they enter to the Champs-Elysées, my grandpa was amazed he never saw such a beautiful classy sophisticated street. It was midday that's mean launch time, so the French guy invite my grandpa to lunch he said :“ Come on Moamed, I'll take you to a special place, a great restaurant ” my grandpa said quickly :“ Noway Sir, I can't enter to such classy elegant restaurant, I'm sorry Sir, ... Look Sir, I'll pay ... Just take us from here ... no...no...no ”.
The French Jewish guy look at my grandpa and said with a smile in his face :” Moamed you have to be proud that you're an arabic, come let's enter “ so they came in to a beautiful restaurant at the Champs-Elysées, it was designed with an arabic style, the walls, the paints, the spoons everything was arabic, and when the server comes, the French gay asked for two plates of couscous.
Well, that Jewish guy gave my grandpa such important lesson, that never never detract from your value, and you must be proud of yourself and your origin.
See you next time with a new tale of my grandpa
Salam
by Ahmed Boufarik
Paris, 1942 … it was spring season. I guess April month. My grandpa was just a 22 years old, he was working in the aspect of Paris, the capital of bourgeoisie. He was a simple grazer (sheep-run) from the mountain, who never went to school, he had a modest French, he understood what others say, but he can not replay appropriately.
He was a hard worker who worked in paving roads, he had some friends from work, one of them was French and he was Jewish, who used to chat with my grandpa, and most of his stories was about his divorce and how his wife took his son from him, and how he miss them and ... My grandpa was just listening, he couldn't say much, because he don't speak French that much to give advice, in addition that he have not experience with marriage, but he was a good listener. Sometimes that what people need, they don't need advice, they just need someone who listen to them, and that French Jewish guy was lucky, because he found my grandpa.
One weekend, the French guy asked my grandpa a question, he said :”Hey Moamed do you want to have a tour in Paris” so my grandpa answered him positively with much of joy.
The tour started the early morning, they visited almost of the sightseeing and beautiful places of the city, until they enter to the Champs-Elysées, my grandpa was amazed he never saw such a beautiful classy sophisticated street. It was midday that's mean launch time, so the French guy invite my grandpa to lunch he said :“ Come on Moamed, I'll take you to a special place, a great restaurant ” my grandpa said quickly :“ Noway Sir, I can't enter to such classy elegant restaurant, I'm sorry Sir, ... Look Sir, I'll pay ... Just take us from here ... no...no...no ”.
The French Jewish guy look at my grandpa and said with a smile in his face :” Moamed you have to be proud that you're an arabic, come let's enter “ so they came in to a beautiful restaurant at the Champs-Elysées, it was designed with an arabic style, the walls, the paints, the spoons everything was arabic, and when the server comes, the French gay asked for two plates of couscous.
Well, that Jewish guy gave my grandpa such important lesson, that never never detract from your value, and you must be proud of yourself and your origin.
See you next time with a new tale of my grandpa
Salam