Written piece
LES MOTS DE MON PÈRE/ THE WORDS OF MY FATHER
Eleanore Sonia Ngo Bassomo
Cameroon
About this piece
Original
« Les mots de mon père » raconte les moments partagés avec mon père, de mon adolescence jusqu’à l’âge adulte. Il me demandait souvent de l’accompagner lors de ses marches sportives. Je trouvais cela contraignant, mais j’acceptais toujours, l’écoutant parler et me transmettre ses
English translation
"The Words of My Father” tells the story of the moments I shared with my father, from my teenage years to adulthood. He often asked me to join him on his morning walks. I found it inconvenient, but I always agreed, listening to him talk and give me advice through simple conversations. It was only after his death that I understood he had, without realizing it, passed on to me a guiding thread made of wisdom and deep lessons.
C’était ainsi, chaque matin à l’aube, lorsque la rosée perlait encore sur les fleurs et que la brise fraîche balayait doucement le paysage. Je redoutais ces instants tout en essayant de savourer les dernières minutes de sommeil, espérant qu’il ne viendrait pas me réveiller. Ses petits coups malicieux à ma porte me tiraient brutalement de mon sommeil.
Depuis que j’avais atteint l’âge de raison et que j’étais capable de comprendre les premiers mystères de cette vie parfois rude, il me tirait de mon sommeil sans la moindre hésitation. Je râlais en silence, le cœur lourd, mais je finissais toujours par céder. C’était le rituel : la marche sportive du matin.
« C’est bon pour la santé! » répétait-il avec ce sourire discret qui semblait tout savoir de la vie. Je voyais dans ses yeux la joie de partager ces moments. Peu à peu, malgré mes réticences, je m’habituais au rythme de ses pas. Autour de nous, le vacarme des voitures finissait par disparaître, et il ne restait plus que nos voix.
Pendant nos longues marches, il me parlait. Il me racontait des histoires, des souvenirs, parfois des récits ancestraux qui ne signifiaient rien pour moi. Nous étions souvent d’accord, parfois non. Certains sujets revenaient le lendemain, comme des conversations jamais vraiment terminées. Et sans même m’en rendre compte, ses mots tissaient quelque chose en moi.
Aujourd’hui, cela fait treize ans que tu nous as quittés. Et c’est maintenant que je réalise. Ces marches matinales n’étaient pas un exercice pour le corps. Elles étaient une transmission, une manière de déposer en moi ta sagesse, tes valeurs, ta vision du monde.
Papa… tu ne me laissais pas des paroles, tu me transmettais un fil invisible, un fil de mémoire, d’amour, que je porte aujourd’hui et qui continuera à travers les générations futures.
English translation
It was like this every morning at dawn, when the dew was still on the flowers and the fresh breeze gently moved across the landscape. I dreaded those moments, while trying to enjoy the last minutes of sleep, hoping he would not come to wake me up. His small, playful knocks on my door would suddenly pull me out of my sleep.
Since I reached the age of understanding, and could begin to grasp the first mysteries of this sometimes harsh life, he would wake me without any hesitation. I would complain in silence, my heart heavy, but I always ended up giving in. It was our ritual: the morning walk.
“It's good for your health!” he often said with that quiet smile that seemed to know everything about life. I could see the joy in his eyes when we shared those moments. Little by little, despite my reluctance, I got used to his pace. Around us, the noise of cars would slowly fade away, and only our voices remained.
During our long walks, he would talk to me. He told me stories, memories, sometimes ancestral tales that meant nothing to me at the time. We often agreed, sometimes not. Some topics came back the next day, like conversations that were never truly finished. And without even realizing it, his words were building something inside me.
Today, it has been thirteen years since you left us. And only now do I understand. These morning walks were not just physical exercise. They were a transmission, a way of placing in me your wisdom, your values, your vision of the world.
Dad… you did not only give me words. You gave me an invisible thread, a thread of memory and love, that I still carry today, and that will continue through future generations.