The clandestine life of these exiles hiding in France – Liberation

The old building posed somewhere in the city center of Saint-Denis foust the tokens. His wooden staircases that lead to Sidi threaten to collapse with each step. « Toc toc » On a falsely armored door. Sidi appears. The long very fine type of shaved skull makes a gesture of the hand which invites to cross the doormat. A two-piece for four men. Malians. A banal story of immigration : They left sun, drought, family and native land for a life they hoped for more. Sidi plays the guide. He sleeps there, on the floor, in the living room on a small mattress at the foot of the TV. The thirty -something does not complain about anything. At rest, « Like every Monday », The kitchen clerk, in a brasserie in the capital, is undocumented. He left Kayes, in western Mali, on the shores of the Senegal river, for the Seine-Saint-Denis. A long journey made in 2017, « Three days after Macron's victory » to the presidential election.

Sidi tells himself, smiling. However, over the discussion, he uses a word that is not funny: « Hard. » The Malian is preparing tea in Riquiqui cuisine. « We are rarely all at the same time at home, he said. Everyone works a lot, days and nights. ” The kitchen clerk has done everything, or almost, from its arrival