Between Captivity and Mobility: Bahia

1In June 2018, after a few texts by phone, a meeting was set for 2:30 pm Thursday, in front of the kiosk located near the city hall of Givors. This 20-year-old woman, Bahia, is currently studying psychology at university. She was born in Vienne, but she grew up in Givors, with many family displacements during her childhood. Bahia has indeed lived in several districts of the city, which no doubt explains the richness of her city narrative, which spans over a dozen kilometers, as well as her knowledge of the territory. The story of the city began in the city center, within the neighborhood in which she currently lives in an apartment, along with her mother and her little sister. It was also in this neighborhood that her maternal grandmother, who died two months ago, lived. The latter was very close to the young woman. Then, we headed towards the Etoiles district, an architectural ensemble created by Jean Renaudie between the end of the 1970s and the beginning of the 1980s, which Bahia described as “a kind of labyrinth with lots of streets that meet all the time.” But the neighborhood is mostly described as a “playground,” especially during the young woman’s adolescence with what she calls “her gang.” Bahia pointed out that the district, whose architectural structure is made of nooks, crannies, narrow passages, and discreet staircases, lends itself well to the followers of the discipline of “parkour” or “the art of movement,” well illustrated in the film Yamakasi. Our stroll led us to the ascent of Château Saint-Gérald. This thirteenth-century building offers a panorama of Givors, even if the eye is undeniably drawn to the square, located in front of the town hall. This place is essential in the discourse of Bahia because it is there that “everything takes place” but also where everything is observed, is said, is known. The young woman explained that she believes that Givors is a “problematic city,” one where all the inhabitants, all the families know each other, watch each other, and criticize each other.

2We descended from the Château Saint-Gérald. The more we dove into the narrowness of the passages and stairs of the Étoiles district, the more we approached the “scum” very present in Bahia’s speech, the more her voice decreased in volume, and the more her pace accelerated. She tried to draw up a definition, one insisting on style, attitude, and behavior, but also the role in drug trafficking, selling, being on a mission, or being a client. We passed the square. Then we headed towards the Maison du Fleuve (the “House of the River”) to reach the quays of the Rhône river. Bahia continued to stress the need to adapt to survive, especially as a young woman who goes out at night. This means changing her behavior according to her relationships or interactions.

3We walked along the banks of the Rhône river, then into the park where the town festival is held every year. It is a festive moment that brings together a good portion of the inhabitants of the city, and one toward which the young woman holds ambivalent feelings: the joyful and carefree childhood memories of Bahia are thus mixed with “muddles” where “girlfriends of mine got reputations,” as she claimed. As soon as we moved away from the city center and headed towards the station district, Bahia evoked its nightlife with her gang, their various gathering places, such as the railway bridge or the old parking lot of a building. The night seems favorable to the group of young people, who can then appropriate places, appropriate the city for themselves, far from glances, words, and gossip. The disused factory that was standing in front of us, just after we crossed the station through the underground, very close to the old glassworks’ sites, is one of the places “squatted” in by Bahia and her gang. The young woman gave us a tour of what she calls “their house,” and she showed us the different traces of artistic activity, such as an owl sprawling on two sides of walls and whose artist’s identity is shrouded in mystery. Bahia also pointed out that there were, in the places where songs were being composed, meetings held between young artists, and lively discussions taking place. After walking through many rooms, we returned to the old parking lot located in front of the main building, looking for the fence opening cut with pruning shears. We were heading towards the Freydière district, which is made up of small, individual houses wedged between the railway and the Gier river and which opens onto the surrounding countryside. This district, considered a “rich” one, represents the best period of adolescence for Bahia, characterized by sentiments of freedom, carefree feelings, and budding friendships. Later, we walked on the promenade recently built on the banks of the Gier that joins to the center of Givors. The walls of the old factories are covered with graffiti, some of which were made by the town’s MJC-Maison des Jeunes et de la Culture (Center of Youth and Culture). A footbridge provides access to the Carrefour shopping center. This shopping mall remains one of Bahia and her gang’s favorite places to “squat,” especially during the Ramadan period, “because it is air-conditioned.” The young woman again evoked the “French,” the “Arabs,” and the “Maghrebians” by speaking of the Givordine population. According to her, the distinction is quite clear between the “French” and the “Maghrebians.” It is a difference between those who “get by financially” and those who “struggle.” Bahia positions herself “between the two,” since she has both Algerian and Spanish origins. After leaving Carrefour shopping mall, we crossed the footbridge again, and we continued walking towards the center, next to graffiti along the Gier river. We went in the direction of the Casanova and Yves Farge districts, located in the Plaines priority district. For the young woman, Givors is like a village where everything is known. It is for this reason, moreover, that she does not wish to start a love affair with a young person from here, a young person with the “Givordine mentality.” We found ourselves on Yves Farge street, which draws a border between the two districts: on one side is Yves Farge, and on the other is Casanova, nicknamed “Casa” by the young Givordins. The buildings on both sides are identical, and the streets are similar. Yet the distinction seems to be very clear: they have what Bahia calls rivalries. The traffic in this district again highlights the ambivalence of her relationship with the city. She evoked with nostalgia and a certain tenderness her memories of childhood in this district, solidarity between families, the feeling of freedom. Yet, this clearly expresses her need to flee. Fleeing would be not only the dream of all the youth, but also the solution for succeeding in life, far from this prison that is Givors. At the end of the street we found ourselves on one of the main arteries of Givors, a few dozen meters from a traffic node. This is indeed where the highway crosses the city, passing below the avenue on which we are standing. Relatively short motorway exits lead directly to this intersection, which is already heavily congested with traffic on the avenue. The highway that links Saint-Étienne to Lyon seems to pierce the city in a noisy and polluting bustle. We left the avenue and then entered the Thorez district, recognizable by three relatively high towers located at the edge of the highway. If this district is different from the Plains by the height of its buildings, we could also observe other elements: the noise, but also the absence of green spaces. Bahia seemed to be stepping up the pace, and she spoke much lower, even though paradoxically, the sound of the nearby highway would normally lead to an increase in tone. The young woman recalled the story of one of her distant cousins who was forced to leave the city, the victim of a painful attack on her reputation.

4We left “Les Tours” (“the towers”) and took the quays of the Rhône river, where Bahia and her gang were supposed to meet on the same day because “we are adults and we have cars,” and we headed back to the city center. After quickly crossing the “infamous” street, known and recognized as a place of significant traffic, we stopped for a moment in front of the Music Conservatory, a place that the young woman has been frequenting for 10 years. Then we arrived at the headquarters of a Givordine Association. The association had been losing momentum and seeing its membership drop sharply. Bahia said she had recently joined this association to try to remobilize the “Spanish community of Givors,” wishing to maintain a sense of belonging. She wanted us to visit the premises: the dance hall where she learned flamenco, the class where she took Spanish lessons every Friday evening, the room where students used to hold parties. And finally, she wanted us to see the main room, on the ground floor, where the walls are covered with somewhat yellowed photography, testifying to the association’s glorious past. Then, we left the premises for the nearby town hall square, exactly where the city narrative began a few hours earlier.