He now runs his own production company, Pamplemousses Éditions. “If I go away for too long, I feel lost!” As a young adult, after spending some time in the United States to study journalism, then in the south of France, where he wrote for the daily Midi Libre, Alain settled with his wife, from Aveyron, in Baiedu-Tombeau in the Pamplemousses district. Faithful to the place (as he is to its people and to his characters), he still lives there. “The real question is not why we leave, but why we choose to come back– or don’t. For my part, the common thread of my life, of my work, is woven in and around one question: Who is homo mauricianus? It is him that I seek to grasp, in all of his complexity. We are the result of a truly unique story. Mauritius is a bustling, multi-ethnic, multicultural, multi-religious, multilingual island, in which each community strives to live in dignity. It’s an ethnologist’s dream!” A BRIEF ETERNITY We walk on, through the Garden and its many natural and memorial treasures. Alexa Gordon-Gentil, 34, based in Paris, is here on a family visit, to her father’s uncontained joy. Time seems suspended, catching its breath around the large pool of giant water lilies. The ghosts of Governor Mahé de La Bourdonnais and botanist Pierre Poivre dissipate in the clear water. What remains is the joy of reunions, the magic of the place, and the dance of the water lilies, more generous than ever. At the end of Avenue Paul et Virginie, the writer grimaces upon reaching a prominent bare stone. “The so-called tomb of Paul and Virginie! It’s astonishing to me that someone would invent a tomb for fictional characters!” As if to give substance to the myth of Bernardin de SaintPierre, so prevalent in the village, a sculpture of the two young people has also been erected near the St Francis of Assisi church. Alain Gordon-Gentil does not linger inside the church – “I prefer to speak to God directly, no intermediary” – except to take a look at the church’s impressive framework, shaped like an overturned boat hull. Little by little the pace slows down, and history rises to meet us. Once a capital of the slave trade, Pamplemousses still shows remains of its slave-trading past, almost two centuries after abolition. The “slave pond” where, “like animals”, they were washed before being taken to the neighbouring platform to be sold. The “slave market”. Further away, the “Black cemetery”, featuring rudimentary graves, and the “Catholic cemetery”, overrun by weeds. Alain pauses by the family vault, then in front of Delcour Chasle’s tomb. Delcourt? “Yes. My father’s friend was a being in love with the absolute – just like my character,” smiles the writer. Thus, the fictional Delcourt is buried in the Pamplemousses cemetery and forever burns with desire for Marika in Alain GordonGentil’s last novel, Où vont les ombres quand la nuit vient (Where do shadows go when the night comes, Hervé Chopin, 2023). It’s mealtime at Aunt Athalie’s house. Marilyne, the restaurant’s head, watches over each of the guests. On the menu, an unforgettable aubergine fish curry and breadfruit fritters. Set outside of time, the great book of Pamplemousses is in no danger of ever reaching its end. A collection of vintage English cars under an awning, including the white Wolseley that belonged to his father Antoine. Sous un auvent, une collection de voitures anglaises anciennes, dont la Wolseley blanche de son père, Antoine.
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