I first met Eric Maitrejean at my A’level French oral examination. I remember being horrified that I was expected to converse with an actual Frenchman. I had secretly hoped my examiner would be a Trinidadian that spoke French. However, he passed me and would go on to be one of my main lecturers at UWI where I did a BA in French and Spanish. Eric, then known to me as M. Maitrejean, has always been one of my mentors as he personifies every language student’s dream. He speaks many languages, is a university lecturer, a professional translator, and the zenith, a conference interpreter.
Eric arrived in Trinidad for the first time in 1988 as a young visiting lecturer in his early twenties. He has therefore spent most of his adult life there. But for almost a year now he has been in his hometown Valence, France, due to his dad’s health and covid restrictions. I recently had a zoom call with him to chat about how re-integration into French life has been. I was expecting the Prodigal Frenchman story, but what I heard was a frustrated Trinidadian ready go home.
During our call I asked him if he believes in true bilingualism, or if one language is always stronger than the other. He responded that true bilingualism does exist, but it is extremely rare. Although he has spent over 30 years living in an English-speaking island, French is still his dominant language in interpreting. Similarly, in Trinidad, there is no denying that Eric is French by birth. He has kept his accent, though his English pronunciation is perfect, he is tall, always impeccably dressed, teaches in a shirt and jacket, has his signature groomed beard, and is forever sipping from a tall bottle of water. But, he is also very Trinidadian in many ways and is a huge Carnival fan. You can always find him on the road for j’ouvert covered in mud, and in a costume on Carnival Tuesday, although mercifully he has retired the speedos, and I think we have his wife Michele to thank for this.
Like Eric, I have lived outside of my birth country for most of my adult life. I know that as much as I keep up with what is happening in Trinidad, every year that passes is a year that I am pulled further away. It sometimes feels like my two feet are planted on separate pieces of paper and every year they slip a bit further from each other. My fear is that one day I will be in a complete split and going back will seem as scary as leaving home first did. Eric confirmed this fear on our call. He was happy at first to be back in his hometown eating the foods he cannot get in Trinidad and seeing his childhood friends. However, once winter arrived with its bone chilling winds, he was ready to go back home. He misses his shark and bake, trini mangoes with “real taste”, and his face lit up when I mentioned the poui trees around the savannah.
“I have outgrown France”, he said. I spent the past two days pondering this phrase. Many Trinidadians dream of living in France, and here was this French Trini dreaming of going back home to Trinidad. I suppose France was one stage in his life which he still cherishes but he is now at another stage which is rooted in Trinidad. When the French presidential elections next year came up in our conversation, he brushed it off hoping that by then he would be on Maracas Bay and the French would have to deal with that. It reminded me of Derek Walcott’s poem The Schooner Flight “so I leave it for them and their carnival—I taking a sea bath, I gone down the road.” Adios, Valence.
