DIA-21 janvier 2023 : Rayane, un créateur de contenu spécialisé en histoire, a publié une vidéo évoquant l’histoire du domaine Boukandoura, un grand domaine agricole et viticole de la plaine de la Mitidja près de la commune de l’Arba (plus de 800 hectares) sur lequel était construit le château de l’empereur français Napoléon III, lors de son voyage en Algérie en 1835. Un domaine et un château totalement abandonné aujourd’hui à son sort, ce qui a provoqué la colère des internautes algériens qui ont largement commenté cette vidéo.
Pour le situé dans le passé, il faut revenir en 1835, quand les premiers colons achètent et exploitent des fermes aux alentours tel le domaine de BOUKANDOURA. Trois ans plus tard en 1838 la route d‘Alger à Aumale par Sidi Moussa est aménagée et empierrée jusqu’à l’ARBA. Les voitures à chevaux arrivent maintenant facilement au marché.
Gustave de Lapeyrière, Clavé et Descroirilles (chef du 6° bataillon des Milices), qui arrivaient avec un capital de 400,000 fr, allèrent se fixer à l’haouch Boukandoura (ancienne ferme arabe) pour le compte de l’empereur Napoléon III. Ils avaient fait, dans de bonnes conditions, l’acquisition de ce beau domaine, d’une étendue de 600 hectares. Ils y installèrent des familles du midi de la France, qui, concurremment avec les Arabes de la localité, cultivèrent une bonne portion des terres. Après 1845 le domaine appartient à M.Lussac puis à la veuve Boutin en 1851. En 1865 Napoléon et l’impératrice Eugénie y résidèrent lors de leur voyage en Algérie. En 1868 Auguste Hardy prit la direction du domaine sur décision de l’Empereur. Celui-ci n’était pas un inconnu, car il avait créé à Alger le jardin d’acclimatation en 1842, plus connu sous le jardin d’Essai.
Le 15 juillet 1871, le domaine Boukandoura fut vendu à Michel-Louis Pelegri. Ce dernier part avec ses parents Cristobal, sa femme Martina en Algérie. En 1902 Pelegri, alors âgé de soixante-quatre ans, se porte acquéreur du domaine de Boukandoura (850 ha) pour une somme de 520.000 francs. Pelegri était devenu le roi de la vigne en Algérie. À la veille de la première guerre mondiale, son seul vignoble dépassait les 1 200 hectares. Il est mort en 1917. Il avait alors le plus grand domaine viticole d’Algérie : 1200 hectares. Les Grandou en devinrent propriétaires en 1930. En 1961, le 2e bataillon du 117/Régiment d’Infanterie est basé à Boukandoura et il participera à la guerre d’Algérie.
Après l’indépendance, il a été habité par quelques familles, mais sa réputation de domaine qui aurait servi à la torture durant la guerre de libération et le terrorisme dans la région a fait fuir les habitants, laissant ce magnifique domaine à l’abandon.
A tiny islet opposite the coast which could provide some shelter to their ships led the Carthaginians to found a small port. Inscriptions in the Punic consonantal alphabet mention it as Yksm which then became Roman Icosium. The town is recorded as a bishopric see until the Vth century, but after the Arab invasion at the end of the VIIth century it was abandoned until it was founded again in 944 as El Djazair, the island. A number of inscriptions, mosaics, reliefs and sections of walls concerning the Roman town have been found, but overall Algiers does not retain evidence of its ancient past.
Algiers seen from a terrace in the Old Town
Al Jezeire al Gazi or Algiers The Warlike, as the Turks are pleased to call It. This Place, which for several Ages hath braved the greatest Powers of Christendom, is not above a Mile and a half in Circuit, though computed to contain about 2,000 Christian Slaves, 15,000 Jews, and 100,000 Mahometans. It is situated upon the Declivity of a Hill, that faceth the North and North-East; whereby the Houses rise so gradually above each other, that there is scarce one in the whole City hath a full View of the Sea. (..) The Hills and Valleys round about Algiers are every where beautified with Gardens and Country Seats, whither the inhabitants of better Fashion retire, during the Summer-Season. The Country Seats are little white Houses, shaded by a Variety of Fruit Trees and Ever-Greens; whereby they afford a gay and delightful Prospect towards the Sea. Thomas Shaw - Travels, or, observations relating to several parts of Barbary and the Levant - 1738 Few cities have a more striking appearance than Algiers when approached from the sea. Situated on the western side of the bay the city is built on the steep slope of a hill, in the form of a triangle, the base of which rests on the Mediterranean; and when seen at such a distance that the eye cannot master the details, appears an immense cone of the whitest marble rising from the sea, and contrasting beautifully with the dark masses of the surrounding country. John Clark Kennedy - Algeria and Tunisia in 1845
(left) Walls of the Kasbah (Citadel); the image used as background for this page shows a detail of one of its gates; (right) Sea Bastion
There passeth not a yeere, but the rovers and pirates of those parts, without graunting any league or respite to the Northren shore of the Mediterran sea, take great numbers of Christians from off the coasts of Spaine, Sardinia, Corsica, Sicilia, yea even from the very mouth of Tyber. It is generallie thought, that the number of slaves, which are in Alger amount to eighteene thousand. In Tunis, Bona, and Biserta there are great multitudes: but many more in Fez, and Maroco. (..) The estate surely of these distressed people is most woorthie of compassion, not so much for the miserie wherein they lead their lives, as for the danger whereto their soules are subiect. (..) These two religious orders gather every yeere mightie summes of money, wherewith they make speedie redemption of the forsaid captives. They send their Agents to Fez, and to Alger, who managing this affaire, with no lesse diligence, then loialtie, redeeme first all the religious, and priests, and after them those of the yoonger sort, first the king of Spaines subiects, and then others. They alwaies leave one religious man in Alger, and another in Fez, who informe themselves of the state and qualitie of the slaves, with their necessitie, to make the better way for their libertie the yeere following. Leo Africanus - The history and description of Africa: and of the notable things therein contained - 1526 - 1600 translation by John Pory Leo Africanus (ca 1494-1554) was an Arab diplomat captured by Spanish corsairs in 1518 and taken to Rome. He was later released by Pope Leo X and enjoyed papal patronage. His work describes the region of north Africa known as the Maghreb (Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia) and was considered the most authoritative account of the cultures, religions and politics of this region until the start of European exploration in the nineteenth century. From the Cambridge University Press introduction to the book. The city of Algiers can lay no claim to importance above any of the obscure cities of Barbary, before its conquest by (..) Barbarossa who placed his newly acquired dominions under the protection of the Grand Seignior (the Ottoman Sultan). (..) Hence the origin of the celebrated Regency of Algiers, which has been for three centuries the terror of Christendom, and the scourge of the civilized world. (..) The government of Algiers is peculiar in its fundamental character. (..) A small band of foreign adventurers seize upon the sovereign authority, and appropriate to themselves exclusively all the posts of honour, trust, or profit, under the government which they institute. Of this there are parallel cases enough; but that their institutions should deny, even to their own children born in the country, any share in the honours and emoluments of government; confining them exclusively to a corps of foreigners, constantly recruited from abroad, is truly extraordinary. Yet such is the fundamental principle of the Regency of Algiers. (..) The Turks in establishing their government in Algiers, appear to have counted upon the fruits of piracy as the main source of their revenues; and the mutual jealousies, imbecility, and interested policy of the Christian maritime world, have borne them out in their calculations; for until of late years, it has not only supplied all their wants, but through it a metallic treasury has been hoarded, that might probably sustain them for many years to come. William Shaler, American General Consul at Algiers in 1815-1828 - Sketches of Algiers - 1825
(left) A traditional door; (right) interior of a restored old house
The houses in Algiers are all built upon precisely the same plan; a description of that which I inhabit, will therefore give an accurate idea of the whole, as they differ only in size, and the value of the materials of which they are constructed. This house is a square of about sixty-four feet, with a depth, or elevation, of forty-two feet, one third of which is occupied by the basement story, consisting of a range of magazines, of cisterns, of stables, and of the solid arches necessary to support the superstructure. The remaining twenty-eight feet of elevation are divided into two habitable stories, surrounding an open court paved with marble, thirty feet square, around which is a covered gallery six feet wide, taken from the above thirty feet, and supported upon each floor by twelve very elegant columns of Italian marble, of the Ionic order, which serve on each as abutments to twelve elliptical arches, and thus form round the court a double colonnade of great elegance and beauty. (..) This house is entered by only one external door, which is solid and strong as that of a fortress, so that the family inhabiting it, have every thing within themselves, without fear of intrusion. Shaler
In 1991 UNESCO included the Old Town of Algiers in their World Heritage List on the basis that: The Kasbah is a unique kind of medina, or Islamic city. It stands in one of the finest coastal sites on the Mediterranean, overlooking the islands where a Carthaginian trading-post was established in the 4th century BC. There are the remains of the citadel, old mosques and Ottoman-style palaces as well as the remains of a traditional urban structure associated with a deep-rooted sense of community.
"Women of Algiers" by Eugène Delacroix (1834) - Louvre Museum in Paris
The inhabitants of Algiers are an amalgamation of the ancient Mauritanians, the various invaders subsequent to the above periods, the emigrants from Spain, and the Turks; and are now generally denominated Moors. This mixture appears to be a very happy one, for there are few people who surpass them in beauty of configuration; their features are remarkably expressive, and their complexions are hardly darker than those of the inhabitants of the south of Spain. Shaler French troops landed near Algiers on June 14, 1830 and on July 5 the Dey (Highest Officer) of the Regency capitulated and left the country. Ottoman Sultan Mahmut II who had nominal sovereignty over the Regency did not react because his fleet had been weakened by the defeat at Navarino and in general by the effects of the Greek Independence War. The French initiative began as a retaliation for offences made to the French consul, but it eventually led to the conquest of the whole of the Regency of Algiers, including inland territories which were ruled by local beys and tribe leaders. It was a very bloody affair with casualties in the region of 500,000. In December 1848 Algeria was formally annexed to the French Republic.
Streets in the Old Town
We ascended to the Kasbah through a labyrinth of wretched streets, inhabited by the very dregs of the population, built without the slightest attempt at regularity, winding their devious course in almost inextricable confusion, the difficulty of threading them being increased by the numerous blind alleys, and the striking likeness each house bears to its next door neighbour. Clark Kennedy The French redesigned the layout of the area of Algiers near the harbour which was reserved to the growing European population and to private and state institutions. The description of the Old Town by Clark Kennedy, unlike those by Shaw and Shaler, shows the contempt by which officers of the colonial powers looked upon other cultures. Clark Kennedy visited Algiers after having served in the 18th Royal Irish Regiment in the First Opium War of 1840-1842.
Courtyard of the National Museum of Antiquities of Algiers
The French administration was keen on emphasizing the Roman presence in Algeria and French archaeologists extensively worked at the excavation, restoration and conservation of Roman sites and monuments. In a way they promoted a cultural association between the Roman and the French rule. In 1914 the novelist and historian Louis Bertrand observed when he visited the Roman ruins at Tipasa that he had rediscovered "the men who spoke his language and believed in his gods. He was no longer a lost Roumi in an Islamic land". Stephen L. Dyson - In Pursuit of Ancient Past - Yale University 2006 Notwithstanding this enthusiasm for the ancient ruins a very large number of archaeological sites and monuments were sacrificed to the development of modern towns (e.g. Cherchell) and infrastructures.
A still image from "The Battle of Algiers", a 1966 movie directed by Gillo Pontecorvo
In July 1962 Algeria was proclaimed an independent country at the end of eight years of a war without scruples. The Front de Libération Nationale, the organization which led the fight against the French became the backbone of the new nation and has since retained control of it. Without delving into details it can be said that today's Algeria is confronted with an institutional/cultural conflict between the supporters of a lay society and those of an Islamic one and with an ethnic/social conflict between the inhabitants of the big coastal cities and those of the poor eastern inland regions (Kabylia) who claim to descend from the ancient peoples of Numidia.
Courtyard of the National Museum of Antiquities of Algiers: (above) mosaic from Sula near Constantine depicting Scylla, a sea monster; (below) mosaic from Basilica of Bishop Alexander at Tipasa
After the independence of the country the Roman presence in Algeria was often regarded as that of a colonialist power and therefore as a negative one. A cursory visit to some archaeological sites and museums yielded mixed results: closed museums (Timgad) and abandoned sites (Lambaesis), but also well kept museums (Cherchell) and properly protected sites (Djemila).
LE LIVRE DE LA SEMAINE. A travers son héroïne, Safia, la romancière dresse le portrait d’une jeunesse privilégiée mais sans espoir, dans une société cadenassée.
EDITIONS BARZAKH
L’humeur sombre et le cœur à vif, la séduisante Safia est de retour à Alger après deux années à Paris. Elle renoue aussitôt avec ses connaissances, membres comme elle de la jeunesse huppée du pays, de ceux qui vivent à « Doré-land » et qui passent leur vie à écumer les restaurants, boîtes de nuit et autres soirées privées de la capitale.
Cette faune vit dans un entre-soi où les excès sont la règle : porter exclusivement des marques de luxe, conduire trop vite de grosses cylindrées étrangères, sortir chaque soir jusqu’au bout de la nuit, s’enivrer à outrance d’alcools forts, se shooter à la cocaïne afin de se sentir « prête à déchiqueter le monde », avoir non pas des relations amoureuses mais des « transactions sexuelles » en attendant le jour du mariage, où l’on se rangera. « Je veux me dissoudre, m’anéantir, succomber », assume Safia d’un ton bravache. « Je programme mon autodestruction machinalement, soir après soir. » Mais quelle réalité cachent vraiment ses incessantes virées nocturnes ?
Pour son premier roman, Minuit à Alger, la romancière Nihed El-Alia a choisi la forme du journal de bord afin de mieux narrer la vie dissolue de son héroïne. Safia s’y raconte, laissant affleurer malgré elle les chagrins qui l’habitent sous un cynisme et un détachement apparents. Ainsi supporte-t-elle le souvenir de sa très proche cousine Sarah, dont le suicide l’a profondément marquée et poussée à l’éloignement. De ses parents plus attentifs à leur carrière qu’à leur progéniture, elle ne reçoit que des lambeaux d’affection. Enfin lorsqu’un homme éveille sa curiosité – comme c’est le cas de M., rencontré lors d’un mariage, mais dont elle ne sait rien –, elle doit se contenter du faible espoir de le recroiser par hasard dans la ville.
De nuit, derrière son autodérision de façade, Safia dissimule une âme profondément meurtrie et le rêve soigneusement enterré d’une relation d’amour véritable. De jour, chaque nouveau matin la ramène plus violemment au réel, la poussant à constater l’inanité de sa vie et à se haïr elle-même : « Je me sens sale dehors et dedans. J’aimerais que l’eau brûlante qui coule sur ma peau me nettoie de l’intérieur, comme pour effacer toutes les ombres sur mon âme. »
Bas résille et haïk
Cependant, le roman ne se limite pas à décrire les atermoiements d’une pauvre petite fille riche. La romancière, on le comprend, pose un regard critique sur l’angoisse la plus profonde de son personnage : la détestation de sa propre société, dont elle observe les limites sans parvenir à lui trouver de sens. A travers Safia, symbole d’une jeunesse privilégiée mais perdue, Nihed El-Alia dénonce la rigidité de l’Algérie d’aujourd’hui, cadenassée par la classe politique et les potentats religieux.
A partir de cette microsociété algéroise qu’elle donne à voir, c’est non seulement un système à deux vitesses qu’elle met en évidence, mais aussi un monde où règne l’hypocrisie sociale et où les jeunes, bloqués dans leur élan, sans projets et sans espoir, se sentent pris au piège : « Le jour, Alger retire ses bas résille et enfile son haïk. Cette ville est atteinte d’une forme de trouble de la personnalité. Bipolaire, narcissique, Alger est malade. »
Jusqu’où ira Safia dans son dédoublement ? Parviendra-t-elle à se remettre du marasme de son existence, et pour prendre quelle voie ? « J’éprouve cette sensation vague que flotte sur la ville une menace diffuse, comme si quelque chose de grave allait se produire », dit encore la jeune femme, consciente de la pesanteur obsédante de la réalité.
Servi par une écriture forte, fiévreuse, aux formules souvent percutantes, et une forme qui laisse place à la surprise, Minuit à Alger embarque le lecteur dans les déambulations hallucinées de Safia. Tiré de l’expérience même de l’autrice (qui a préféré, par mesure de protection, signer son livre d’un pseudonyme), le roman trouve un écho bien au-delà de l’Algérie, partout où la jeunesse qu’elle soit d’Afrique ou d’ailleurs sur la planète, se sent au bord de l’implosion.
Minuit à Alger, de Nihed El-Alia, éditions Barzakh (Alger, mars 2022), 242 p., 800 dinars (5,53 euros).
I began writing this blog post looking back on all the good things about our three years in Algeria as Adam and I were minutes into our departure flight. Our plane — which, in addition to holding us and five large suitcases, also carried Gus and Boj, both of whom are really starting to showing their age — had just soared over the minaret (the tallest in Africa) of the Algiers mosque, which “opened” early in our stay, but somehow never really opened. We were leaving for America, where we haven’t really lived since we got married and moved to Yemen back in 2012. The past several difficult weeks in Algiers were still fresh in my mind: Me having a never-ending cold (allegedly not COVID, but I think it might have been, again), Adam being away in Ireland at an ultimate frisbee tournament for nearly two weeks, me packing up our beautiful Algiers house alone, finishing up work, saying goodbye to friends at nighttime parties and nursing the hangovers that resulted from those goodbyes, scrambling to throw an “Embassy Community Center Reveal” in the space I’d been designing for the past seven months. Those weeks were stressful and a little sad and culminated in several days spent with Adam in a nearly totally empty, echo-filled, filthy-from-packing house, sleeping on an embassy bed and sharing the single bath towel we’d left behind. So I was ready to get on the plane and fly on to the next part of life.
And now here I am in Princeton, New Jersey, putting final touches on this blog post in a coffee shop. An honest to goodness American coffee shop. I’m thrilled to be here and feeling like the cornucopia of American delights and conveniences are mine for the sampling. More on this soon! But for now, Algeria was a really great place to live for three years. I liked it much more more than I expected to. Here’s what I’ll miss the most:
The Grocery Shopping: Even as I fantasize about my first grocery trip back in America and what I’ll buy – Brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes, pre-washed bagged lettuce, coconut water – I know I’ll remember fondly for the rest of my life how I grocery shopped in Algeria.
Back when we arrived in 2019, how we’d feed ourselves was at first confounding. Not only were there seemingly no good restaurants, but the grocery stores appeared poorly-stocked and tiny. Our embassy organized a trip to a large grocery store and I was shocked at how big the store was in comparison to how little variety there was. There was an entire aisle of just one brand of bar soap! And the brand was ISIS. The produce section was pitiful. I had an Instagram post from July of 2019 that asked “Where are all the vegetables in Algeria?”
It took me a few weeks, but I realized all the vegetables are at Premier Mai, the huge everyday indoor/outdoor market housed in a giant Soviet-style concrete structure painted with in multi-color pastels. But for most Algiers folks, the produce is actually at the many small fruit and vegetable stores located every few blocks. And the quality is top-notch, the selection seasonal. Peach and nectarines season is resplendent, when the cherries come, boy to they come. The plump figs are a sight to behold for about three weeks. As almost everything is local, the variety is not huge but it’s sufficient for someone who loves to cook to make almost anything, or at least discover apt substitutes. (Did you know that purple cabbage, sautéd in butter and miso, finished with a little maple syrup, tastes almost exactly the same as the maple-miso Brussels sprouts I make when in the U.S.? Also: carrots, when roasted until nearly caramelized, very closely resemble a sweet potato fry in both appearance and taste). The guys at my vegetable stand came to know me well, and like me well enough, especially after I brought Adam and he spoke to them in Arabic. They were always throwing in a few treats – some plums, some oranges, some dates – probably mostly because I had to have been their best customer, regularly paying upwards of $20 for a few imported avocados.
It wasn’t long before I discovered that grocery shopping in Algeria requires about three or four stops to get all your things. My standard route was the fruit and veg stand, then to Presque Isle Poissonerie where I’d buy a few filets of cod (if they had it), tuna, shrimp, swordfish chunks, sometimes a few pre-rolled shrimp bourek that I’d fry up later. Then, to Le Fournée Gourmond, the best boulangerie in Algiers where I’d get three rustic baguettes (a paltry number compared to how many baguettes Algerians buy in one go) and sometimes a few tiny molten lava cakes. Then, to the Superette Chetaouni, which is like a much smaller and less orderly American grocery store. It’s notoriously difficult to ship things in to Algeria — there are delays and there are rules on what one can ship (for instance, it’s currently against the law for importers to import certain things that are produced in Algeria already). So, much of what one can purchase at a superette arrived in Algeria via a suitcase. It’s not uncommon for Algerians arriving from trips abroad – from France and Spain, for instance – to be waiting at the baggage claim to collect their five, six, seven suitcases, bursting at the seams, from the belt. That means you might see a product in a grocery store one week and then not again for several months, and this was all exacerbated during COVID. But it also makes shopping at the Algerian superette rather exciting as you never know what you’ll find. (I’m such an optimist, aren’t I?). A few weeks ago, there was Schwepps ginger beer with chili and lime and I snapped up up a four-pack, and sometimes there is even feta cheese. The superette is also where I made some trial-and-error discoveries like that the local brand of creme fraiche is an apt stand-in for sour cream, the Algerian Ben Amour pasta is every bit as good as the pricier Barilla, and the red wax wrapped Holland-A brick of cheddar cheese is pretty good. (And I love me some cheddar cheese).
I could write entire blog posts on grocery stores in foreign countries (and I have! Several times!) but one final grocery shopping observation: In three years in Algeria, I never once witnessed an ornery or rude encounter in the shops. I never heard anyone say “Hey, I was in line!” or yell at a shopkeeper, or complain about a product not being in stock. In fact, people are so pleasant when shopping that I often think about Americans pushing their carts through big grocery stores, stressed, or pissed off, or reacting to toddlers throwing tantrums. It’s not like that in Algeria. I don’t want to pretend it’s Pleasantville or anything. There’s very limited parking, nowhere to bag your groceries, the stores are not accessible to people with disabilities, and the overuse of plastic would astonish you. But grocery shopping in Algeria actually is quite pleasant and I’ll miss it.
Youyous: There is a joyous sound of female celebration in Algeria (and in a number of Middle Eastern countries) that I think everyone should know about. It’s called the youyou and it goes like this: Women do a continuous trilling of “you-you-you-you-you-you-you-you” often with one hand cupped on the upper part of the lips and it ends with a high-pitched “you-eeeeeeeeeeeee.” It’s dramatic and uproarious and I just have an enormous smile every time I hear it. It’s a sound of celebration and kind of a “you go girl” so it’s done during weddings, graduations, and you’d do it any time someone, often another female, is accomplishing something. At an embassy awards ceremony a few weeks ago, there were a few youyous (including one when I won an award!) Every Algerian woman is capable of a youyou that is astounding in both its range and length, but my favorite youyouer is my friend Selma. Not only is Selma a total champion of other Algerians and so she often celebrates people, sometimes by youyouing, but she’s also got a great voice and is a skilled linguist in Arabic, French, and English. I asked her to record a youyou when we were in a ravine, cliffs rising on either side, in the Algerian Sahara desert, just so I could post it on this blog, but I cannot find the audio file! I’m sorry to deprive the wider world of Selma’s youyou, but perhaps it’s for the best, because the youyou is such an organic sound of celebration that I get the feeling you’re not supposed to ask your Algerian friends to do it on cue.
I know there were at least a few youyous unleashed at this June party on our Algiers patio.
Kind, Open, Calm People: Every diplomat says the best part of wherever they’re living is “the people” but I swear I mean it about Algeria. Right away, Algerians invited us to dinner and they meant it. A few months back, I was at my desk at the embassy when security called and told me that someone was at the front with my wallet. A look in my bag confirmed I was indeed walletless. My colleague Khaled, who is a social media guru who became a beloved celebrity in Algeria, followed me outside, saying “this could be good for a reel!” A young guy had found my wallet on the ground in the nearby neighborhood of Sidi Yahia and seen my vaccination card inside, which is stamped with U.S. Embassy logo. I thanked him and Khaled made us film a little video in which he explained the situation and I said how I wasn’t surprised because this is how Algerians are. (The video went a little viral and I was thereafter often recognized as the “girl who lost her wallet.”) A real highlight of my three years was getting to sit next to a dozen Algerian colleagues (when we weren’t working from home). Their openness and generosity with in sharing with me their time, stories, opinions, and knowledge about Algeria helped so much in my understanding of and appreciation for Algeria.
This same sort of calm and generous vibe is also what makes the driving — which, to an untrained eye appears frenzied and lawless — actually quite manageable. Yes, there are packed little streets, no stop lights, signs, functional crosswalks, or written rules on the roads of Algiers. But the constant foot patrol police presence coupled with nice people makes driving if not easy, then at least a lot easier than it looks. Having to back up my car into a little nook to let other cars pass about a million times in the past three years was manageable because it was a rare day where someone made a rude or impatient gesture. You just do this time-consuming dance of shimmying your vehicle into whatever nook you can find to let a car squeak by with a neutral expression on your face and a little wave or nod to the other driver at the end. Often a pedestrian will come out and help direct the squeak-by. Each conflict-free time I did this – like five times each day – I’d think how such an interaction in the U.S. could go — drivers would probably make terrible faces, hand motions like “Go, you idiot!”, and swear a few times. Maybe even get in fights.
Most profound for me though, and probably most surprising, is how warm and open Algerians are. Algeria, especially the city of Algiers, experienced terrible violence at the hands of Islamic extremists in the 1990s, a time Algerians refer to as the Dark Decade. I’ve heard stories of a friend narrowly escaping being shot on the street. His childhood friend died. Women, intellectuals, artists were shot point-blank in the streets, one in the halls of the fine arts college. I figured that such a scary and sad past, from not too long ago, would have lingering effects of making the everyday Algerian closed, hesitant to talk to outsiders, not so willing to open up. But I’ve found the exact opposite to be true. One evening I was at a party in the home of an Algerian who owns a boutique. I’ll never forget eating Tipaza oysters in their backyard while they shared memories of going to clubs wearing whatever clothes they wanted as an act of resistance in the ’90s. Although I wasn’t cracking up along with them – I was more mouth agape, trying not to get stuck on French words I didn’t know – I recognized the way in which they told their side-splitting stories as way to process that oppressive and violent time.
I know family stories, embarrassments, achievements, fears, goals, cultural values, and more from many Algerians, and I feel so honored by that as someone who is interested in the interior lives of others and as a writer. Never before have we had so many local friends when we lived in a place: Certainly not Spain (where we never step foot in a Spanish person’s house), not Jerusalem, not Morocco. And it’s because Algerians are hospitable, generous, warm, and open. Algerian people are absolutely what I’ll miss the most about Algeria.
So those are the big three, but honorable mentions must go to our spacious, beautiful home; the excellent seafood in Algiers; the gorgeous colonial architecture of Centre Ville; the way Algiers – the White City – ascends from the Bay of Algiers; the many wonderful artists, musicians, designers, and creatives in Algeria who produce such beauty and are trying so hard to establish a thriving and professional cultural scene; the hilly little streets with dripping bougainvillea and wisteria; bathroom hoses; blue and grey stripped curtains hanging over balcony railings; Mount Chenoua rising from the Mediterranean Sea in Tipaza; crispy fried bourek; all the cats (so many cats!); handpainted tiles; the sweetness of Algerians being so close with their families (if they don’t live with their parents, they are speaking to their parents and siblings and maybe even cousins on the phone daily); the world class travel destination of Djanet; the gentle curves of the mosque domes, of the arched doorways, of the keyhole windows; monochromatic desert buildings; the languid daily calls to prayer.
Despite not living in Algeria any longer, I can’t quit it just yet. In the upcoming months, I’ll be doing blog posts on a few spots I traveled to included Constantine, the city of bridges; Ghardaia, home to an insular religious community and vintage rugs at low, low prices; Tlemcen, home to one of the world’s largest caves; and an incredible musical desert adventure of a lifetime in Taghit. And a post on how North African design has really influenced my own design aesthetic. And I’m already excited about writing Emily’s Guide to Algiers, with all my favorite shops, artisans, and things to eat. And, while I always prefer to focus on the positive, it’s also important to be to be honest and balanced, so there is a “What I Won’t Miss About Algeria” post in the works.
Soixante ans après son indépendance, l’histoire de l’Algérie demeure marquée par de multiples interrogations auxquelles l’historien Pierre Vermeren entend répondre. Comment ce pays est-il devenu une nation ? Quelles synergies au fil du temps entre régence ottomane, colonie française et État souverain à partir de 1962 ? Quelle place tient l’armée dans le système politique ? Comment caractériser l’économie du pays, qui donne une impression d’immobilisme ? Quelle est la réalité de la société algérienne et comment a-t-elle évolué ? L’approche est documentée et assez exhaustive, l’ouvrage allant de l’époque des corsaires au Hirak, en passant par la résistance constante face à l’occupation coloniale. Certains ne partageront pas ce qui leur apparaîtra comme des partis pris : qualifier le Front de libération nationale (FLN) d’organisation totalitaire avec accent marqué sur les violences intra-algériennes par rapport aux tortures et exactions de l’armée française, ou une certaine méfiance à l’égard du fait religieux. Mais ce livre offre une perspective historique bienvenue.
A la Mostra de Venise, 23 films briguent cette année le Lion d’or, mais la Mostra, ce sont aussi des dizaines de films hors compétition et dans les sections parallèles, qui privilégient les jeunes cinéastes. C’est le cas des Journées des Auteurs, qui mettent en lumière un magnifique premier film algérien : El Akhira, la dernière reine, un long-métrage signé Damien Ounouri et Adila Bendimerad.
1516. La légende dit que le roi d’Alger avait une femme nommée Zaphira. Quand le pirate Aroudj Barberousse arrive pour « libérer » la ville des Espagnols, il est déterminé à conquérir Zaphira ainsi que le royaume lui-même. Mais Zaphira est-elle prête à le laisser faire ou complote-t-elle pour elle-même ?
El Akhira nous entraîne à Alger, à l’époque du pirate Barberousse. Au XVIe siècle, celui-ci libère la ville du joug des Espagnols et prend le pouvoir. Une femme va alors lui tenir tête, la reine Zaphira.
Damien Ounouri et Adila Bendimerad reconstituent la cour, fastueuse et raffinée, de cette reine berbèro-arabe, méconnue en Algérie.
« Ça paraît évident pour les Européens ou pour les pays de grand cinéma d’avoir des images, des repères, explique Adila Bendimerad au micro de RFI, nous on n’en a pas. On a une espèce de trou noir… on n’a jamais vu, par exemple, un film aussi ancien parlé avec notre langue. Ça, c’était très excitant de montrer aux Algériens et à nous-mêmes, des costumes de l’époque, de parler notre langue, c’est très important. »
Adila Bendimerad, comédienne et scénariste que l’on a déjà pu voir dans Normal ! ou Les Terrasses de Merzak Allouache, joue Zaphira, reine combattante, bravant les interdits pour défendre son royaume. Entre combats sanglants, histoires d’amour et intrigues de cour, El Akhira premier long métrage de fiction de Damien Ounouri, contient tous les ingrédients d’un grand film, populaire et romanesque.
Il y a 30 ans, la Casbah d’Alger entrait au patrimoine mondial de l’UNESCO. Malgré les millions de dollars engloutis pour sa restauration, la vieille ville s’effrite chaque jour un peu plus, malgré des opérations de restauration ponctuelles décidées par les autorités.
Un immeuble, dont une des façades était recouverte de mosaïque, tombe en ruines, dans la Casbah d’Alger (AFP/Ryad Kramdi)
Classée au patrimoine mondial de l’humanité en 1992 par l’UNESCO, la Casbah d’Alger voit ses habitations, construites pour la majorité durant la présence ottomane, tomber en ruine l’une après l’autre malgré les tentatives déployées par les autorités pour restaurer quelques édifices.
Debout face à une porte fermée, Mohamed regarde le temps passer. Employé d’une entreprise publique qui ne le paie plus depuis neuf mois, cet homme de 56 ans garde le palais Hassan-Pacha, l’un des plus prestigieux édifices historiques que compte la Casbah.
Entouré de sacs de détritus, d’amas de gravier et de déchets de chantier, il tue le temps en discutant avec des voisins. Il veille sur un chantier fantôme, car depuis plus de neuf mois, les travaux de restauration de ce monument, classé monument national protégé, sont tout simplement à l’arrêt.
La Casbah d’Alger, une cité à l’agonie que plus rien ne peut réanimer
L’entreprise de réalisation des travaux n’est plus en mesure d’honorer ses engagements, notamment vis-à-vis de ses employés, qui ne sont plus rémunérés depuis quatorze mois.
Aujourd’hui, les ouvriers et autres ingénieurs « pointent ici chaque matin et repartent », rapporte-t-il calmement à Middle East Eye, devant la porte d’entrée en bois massif ramené d’Alep, impeccablement sculptée, aux ornements en fer forgé et en marbre.
Pourtant, la restauration de ce palais de deux étages avec patio intérieur construit au XVIIIe siècle par Hassan Pacha, le dernier dey d’Alger avant la colonisation française, est achevée à hauteur de 65 %, selon un employé trouvé sur place. La façade extérieure est désormais totalement refaite à la chaux.
Pour réhabiliter les murs, exposés à l’usure du temps et aux éléments, les responsables n’ont pas lésiné sur les moyens : de la chaux et du sable ont été acheminés du Sahara pour reproduire le ravalement d’origine. Mais aujourd’hui, le chantier est à l’abandon.
Éviter l’effondrement
À quelques pas de là, quelques édifices ont été restaurés : c’est le cas de la mosquée Ketchaoua, construite au XVIe siècle et mitoyenne du palais. Elle a été totalement réhabilitée grâce à des financements turcs. En face, le palais Dar Aziza a également retrouvé sa belle allure, tout comme un autre édifice situé à proximité, sur la rue Mohamed-Akli-Mellah.
Des bâtiments faisant partie de la citadelle d’Alger, située sur les hauteurs de la vieille ville, sont également en pleine restauration, tout comme la mosquée Ali-Bitchin, bâtie à la lisière de la ville coloniale.
Des ouvriers restaurent le toit de la mosquée Ketchaoua dans le cadre d’une réhabilitation financée par la Turquie, à Alger, le 15 octobre 2017 (AFP/Ryad Kramdi)
Mais à quelques encâblures de là, le décor est tout autre.
À trois bâtisses de cette mosquée, éclatante de peinture blanche, un bâtiment ne tient que grâce aux étais et madriers posés depuis plus de vingt ans pour éviter son effondrement.
Sous ces appuis de fortune, un groupe d’hommes fait la queue pour acheter des gâteaux traditionnels.
À quelques mètres, au 10 impasse Askri-Ali, le bruit des casseroles et des discussions de femmes préparant le repas sortent d’une maisonnette soutenue par de grosses poutres en bois posées par les autorités pour éviter davantage de dégâts sur des maisons construites en briques rouges, cimentées par de l’argile et portées par des poutres en bois massif pourri.
Sur le toit de cette maison, flotte le drapeau algérien qui orne la terrasse du Musée des arts et traditions populaires, dont la bâtisse est partiellement restaurée.
Rénovation de la Casbah d'Alger : sous les pavés, la polémique
Quelques jours plus tôt, nous nous sommes rendus sur les hauteurs de la vieille ville. Rue Mokrane-Yacef, le musée Ali-la-Pointe, du nom d’un combattant tué en octobre 1957 dans ce même endroit, est désert. Debout face à une vieille maison bien entretenue, Abderrahmane, sexagénaire, fait partie d’une des familles les plus connues du quartier.
Il est le cousin de Yacef Saadi, le dirigeant du Front de libération nationale (FLN) dans la Casbah durant la « bataille d’Alger » en 1957.
La maison familiale a été restaurée par « nos moyens », affirme-t-il à MEE. Il en serait de même pour les quelques maisons encore habitables dans le quartier.
« Je ne vois pas de chantier dans les environs », répond-il spontanément lorsqu’on lui demande où se trouvent les maisonnettes typiques de la Casbah en reconstruction.
« Illusion »
En remontant les rues de la vieille ville, on croise de jeunes touristes en train de prendre des selfies dans la rue des Frères-Boudries.
Au-delà de ces ruelles qui ne captent les rayons du soleil que quelques heures par jour, c’est la désolation. La rue Mohamed-Amokrane est désormais fermée par l’amas de briques tombées après l’effondrement d’une maison.
C’est au n°10 qu’habite Amar. Ce sexagénaire, artiste décorateur avant de prendre sa retraite, se plaint de devoir monter de la basse ville jusqu’à ses hauteurs – ce qui représente beaucoup de marches – parce que contrairement à la majorité de ses anciens voisins, il n’a pu obtenir un nouveau logement.
« Il n’y a aucune restauration », affirme-t-il à MEE en esquissant un sourire moqueur.
Dans la Casbah d’Alger, un jeune Algérien monte les marches d’une ruelle avec son bélier (AFP/Farouk Batiche)
En effet, la rue Saïd-Kadri, située à une dizaine de mètres de chez lui, offre un triste tableau de maisons en ruine. D’autres habitations sont réduites à de simples blocs en brique rouge, témoins d’une vie passée, tandis que les plus chanceuses sont soutenues par des madriers.
Mais contrairement à la Basse-Casbah, la majorité des habitants de ces maisons sont quasiment tous partis. Seules quelques familles et des squatteurs restent encore sous des toits souvent fragiles.
Face à cette situation, les militants et les scientifiques s’alarment. « La Casbah s’effrite sous nos yeux », se désole Nourreddine Louhal, journaliste spécialiste de la vieille ville. Pour lui, « il est impossible que la cité ottomane retrouve son lustre d’antan ».
« Restaurer la médina abîmée par les incivilités de l’homme et les affres du temps relève maintenant de l’illusion », dit-il, résigné, à MEE.
« Quand on déambule à l’intérieur du site de la Casbah, on est effarés par le nombre impressionnant de maisons dont les murs sont fissurés et qui menacent de tomber en ruine. On ne parle plus de travaux sur l’ensemble du site historique », se désole l’historien Abderrahmane Khelifa dans une récente interview au quotidien Liberté.
Pour lui, « le nombre de maisons diminue inexorablement » et « le site historique se dégrade à vue d’œil ».
Malgré ce constat, les officiels continuent d’affirmer que le projet de restauration de la Casbah se déroule normalement. Un responsable de la wilaya (préfecture) d’Alger, en charge de la restauration de la ville ottomane, s’est félicité d’avoir « atteint 65 % de taux de restauration » de ce secteur conservé qui s’étend sur 105 hectares.
Les responsables ont même énuméré les chantiers déjà achevés, le taux d’avancement d’autres travaux et des « études techniques » portant sur d’autres projets de restauration.
Le projet de restauration « permanente » de la Casbah a démarré initialement en 2008 avec un budget annuel de près de 40 millions de dinars (environs 300 000 dollars), entre études et travaux d’urgence. En 2012, un Plan permanent de sauvegarde et de valorisation (PPSMV) a été approuvé par le gouvernement, avec une enveloppe financière initiale de 26 milliards de dinars (environ 2 millions de dollars).
Depuis, des opérations ponctuelles sont ordonnées, notamment par la wilaya d’Alger.
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