Human : l’interview de Francine Human: Francine’s Interview

Je m’appelle Francine Christophe. Je suis née le 18 août 1933. 1933, c’est l’année où Hitler prend le pouvoir. Voilà. C’est mon étoile. Je la porte sur la poitrine, bien entendu, comme tous les Juïfs. C’est gros, n’est-ce pas ? Surtout sur une poitrine d’enfant, puisque j’ai 8 ans à ce moment-là. My name is Francine Christophe. I was born on 18 August 1933. 1933 is the year Hitler came to power. Here. This is my star. I wore it on the chest, of course, like all Jews. It’s big, isn’t it? Especially on a child’s chest, because I was 8 years old at the time. My name is Francine Christophe. I was born on 18 August 1933. 1933 is the year Hitler came to power. Here. This is my star. I wore it on the chest, of course, like all Jews. It’s big, isn’t it? Especially on a child’s chest, because I was 8 years old at the time.

Il s’est passé dans mon camp de Bergen-Belsen quelque chose de tout à fait extraordinaire. Je rappelle que nous étions des enfants de prisonniers de guerre, et à ce titre privilégiés. Donc nous avions eu le droit d’emporter de France un petit, un petit sac avec deux ou trois petites choses. Une femme, un petit bout de chocolat, une femme, un petit morceau de sucre, une femme, une petite poignée de riz. Maman avait emporté deux petits morceaux de chocolat. Elle me disait : On garde ça pour le jour où je te verrai vraiment, complètement par terre, fichue. Je te donnerai ce chocolat, il t’aidera peut-être à remonter. Something utterly extraordinary happened in my camp, Bergen-Belsen. I recall that we were children of prisoners of war, and therefore privileged. So we’d had the right to bring a little bag from France with two or three little things. One woman, a little piece of chocolat, one woman, a little sugar cube, one woman, a little handful of rice. Mama had brought two little pieces of chocolate. She’d tell me: "We’re keeping this for the day when I see that you’re really, completely flat on the ground, done for. I’ll give you this chocolate, and maybe it will help you get back up." Something utterly extraordinary happened in my camp, Bergen-Belsen. I recall that we were children of prisoners of war, and therefore privileged. So we’d had the right to bring a little bag from France with two or three little things. One woman, a little piece of chocolat, one woman, a little sugar cube, one woman, a little handful of rice. Mama had brought two little pieces of chocolate. She’d tell me: "We’re keeping this for the day when I see that you’re really, completely flat on the ground, done for. I’ll give you this chocolate, and maybe it will help you get back up."

Or, il y avait parmi nous une femme qui avait été déportée alors qu’elle était enceinte. Ça ne se voyait pas évidemment, elle était si maigre. Mais n’empêche que le jour de l’accouchement est arrivé, et elle est partie au revier accompagnée de ma mère, qui était notre chef de baraque. Et avant de partir, ma mère me dit : Tu te souviens je garde un morceau de chocolat ? – Oui, maman. – Comment te sens-tu ? – Bien, maman, ça peut aller. – Alors, si tu me le permets, ce morceau de chocolat, je l’apporterai à notre amie Hélène, parce qu’un accouchement ici… elle va peut-être mourir. Et si je lui donne le chocolat, ça l’aidera peut-être. – Oui, maman. Tu le prends. Now, there was a woman with us who’d been deported while she was pregnant. Obviously you couldn’t tell, she was so skinny. All the same, delivery day arrived and she went to the dispensary with my mother, who was our barracks head. And before leaving, my mother said to me, "Do you remember that I’m keeping a piece of chocolate?" "Yes, Mama." "How do you feel?" "Good, Mama. I’m ok." "Well, if you’ll allow me, this piece of chocolate, I’ll take it to our friend Hélène, because giving birth here… she might die. And if I give here the chocolate, it might help her." "Yes, Mama. Take it." Now, there was a woman with us who’d been deported while she was pregnant. Obviously you couldn’t tell, she was so skinny. All the same, delivery day arrived and she went to the dispensary with my mother, who was our barracks head. And before leaving, my mother said to me, "Do you remember that I’m keeping a piece of chocolate?" "Yes, Mama." "How do you feel?" "Good, Mama. I’m ok." "Well, if you’ll allow me, this piece of chocolate, I’ll take it to our friend Hélène, because giving birth here… she might die. And if I give here the chocolate, it might help her." "Yes, Mama. Take it."

Hélène a accouché, elle a accouché d’un bébé, une toute petite chose malingre. Elle a mangé le chocolat, elle n’est pas morte et elle est revenue dans la baraque. Le bébé n’a jamais pleuré. Jamais ! Pas même geint. Au bout de six mois, la Libération est arrivée. On a défait tous ces chiffons, le bébé a crié ! C’était là sa naissance. Nous l’avons ramené en France. Tout petit truc de six mois, minuscule. Hélène gave birth to a baby, a tiny, sickly thing. She ate the chocolate, she didn’t die, and she came back to the barracks. The baby never cried! Never! Didn’t even moan. After six months, the Liberation came. We undid all of those rags, the baby screamed! That was its birth. We brought it back to France. This tiny little thing, six months old, miniscule. Hélène gave birth to a baby, a tiny, sickly thing. She ate the chocolate, she didn’t die, and she came back to the barracks. The baby never cried! Never! Didn’t even moan. After six months, the Liberation came. We undid all of those rags, the baby screamed! That was its birth. We brought it back to France. This tiny little thing, six months old, miniscule.

Il y a quelques années, ma fille me dit : Maman, si vous aviez eu des psychologues ou des psychiatres à votre retour, ça se serait mieux passé pour vous. Je lui dis : Sûrement, mais il n’y en avait pas. Puis personne n’y aurait pensé, même s’il y en avait eu. Mais tu me donnes une bonne idée. On va faire une conférence là-dessus. J’ai organisé une conférence sur le thème : Et s’il y avait eu des psys en 1945 à notre retour des camps, comment est-ce que ça se serait passé ? J’ai eu beaucoup de monde : des anciens, des survivants, des curieux, et puis beaucoup de psychologues, psychiatres, psychothérapeutes, tout ce monde y intervenait. Très intéressant. Chacun avait son idée, c’était très bien. A few years ago, my daughter said to me, "Mama, if you’d had psychologists or psychiatrists when you got back, it would have gone better for you." I said to here, "Certainly, but there weren’t any. And no one would have thought of it, even if there had been. But you’ve given me a good idea. We’ll do a conference about it." I organized a conference with the theme, "What if there’d been shrinks in 1945 when we got back from the camps, how would that have gone?" I had a lot of people: veterans, survivors, people who were curious, and then lots of psychologists, psychiatrists, psychotherapists, all of these people participated. Very interesting. Everyone had their ideas, it was very good. A few years ago, my daughter said to me, "Mama, if you’d had psychologists or psychiatrists when you got back, it would have gone better for you." I said to here, "Certainly, but there weren’t any. And no one would have thought of it, even if there had been. But you’ve given me a good idea. We’ll do a conference about it." I organized a conference with the theme, "What if there’d been shrinks in 1945 when we got back from the camps, how would that have gone?" I had a lot of people: veterans, survivors, people who were curious, and then lots of psychologists, psychiatrists, psychotherapists, all of these people participated. Very interesting. Everyone had their ideas, it was very good.

Et puis il y a une femme qui est arrivée, et qui a dit : Moi, j’habite Marseille. Je suis médecin psychiatre. Et avant de vous faire ma communication, j’ai quelque chose à donner à Francine Christophe. C’est-à-dire, à moi. Elle fouille dans sa poche, elle sort un morceau de chocolat, elle me le donne et elle me dit : Je suis le bébé. And then a woman arrived, and said, "I live in Marseille. I’m a doctor of psychiatry. And before doing my presentation, I have something to give to Francine Christophe. That is, me. She digs in her pocket, she pulls out a piece of chocolate, she gives it to me, and she says, "I’m the baby." And then a woman arrived, and said, "I live in Marseille. I’m a doctor of psychiatry. And before doing my presentation, I have something to give to Francine Christophe. That is, me. She digs in her pocket, she pulls out a piece of chocolate, she gives it to me, and she says, "I’m the baby."