Moi, un Noir (Moi, un noir)

Every day,

young people like the characters in this film

arrive in the cities of Africa.

They have left school

or work in the family fields

to try to find a place in the modern world.

Unskilled jacks of all trades,

they are one of the sicknesses of the new African cities:

Unemployed youth.

These young people are torn between tradition

and mechanization,

between Islam and alcohol.

They are faithful to their beliefs,

but idolize modern stars of boxing and cinema.

For six months, I followed a group of young immigrants from Niger

in Treichville, on the outskirts of Abidjan.

I suggested we make a film together.

They would play their own roles,

with no restrictions on what they wanted to do or say.

And so we improvised this film.

One of them, Eddie Constantine, was so faithful to his character,

Lemmy Caution, American FBI agent,

that he was sentenced to 3 months in prison during filming.

For the other, Edward G. Robinson,

the film became a mirror of self-discovery.

An ex-soldier in the Indochina war, thrown out by his father

for being on the losing side,

he is the hero of the film, I'll hand over to him.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I give you TREICHVILLE.

Let's go, Treichville!

Let's see what life in Treichville really is!

The true personality of Treichville!

The banks of the laguna

Sweet-smelling perfumes

Thousands of roses

Love soothes gently

Abidjan

When we say your name

Abidjan of the laguna, beautiful place to be

There are three districts in Abidjan:

The old African quarter of Adjame.

The industrial and business quarter known as the plateau

and, on the other side of the laguna,

the new quarter of Treichville.

Edward G. Robinson lives in Treichville.

Today, he has come across to the plateau

in the vain hope of finding work.

My name is not really Edward G. Robinson.

It's a nickname my friends gave me.

They call me Edward G. Robinson

because I look like a certain Edward G. Robinson

in films at the cinema.

I don't tell people my real name. I'm a foreigner.

I come from Niger, 2,000 kilometres from Abidjan.

My hometown is Niamey, capital of the colony of Niger.

Many of us have come to Abidjan looking for money.

There are at least a hundred of us, but we were misinformed

by people who told us

we would make money in Abidjan...

I've got 25 francs. Others have got millions.

Money...

I don't earn anything, I'm a day labourer right now.

All I do is wear myself out, labouring...

If I'd known what Abidjan was like, I wouldn't have come.

I've had enough.

Labouring, labouring all day long, nothing but work,

it's a bad life.

My God, if I'd known I'd be a day labourer,

Goddamn!

Oh yeah! Abidjan is great!

I've got to take the ferry,

which costs 5 francs out of my 25.

I'll have 20 francs left

to buy some avocado to eat.

My God! Life's complicated! Life is sad!

Some people have good food, nice homes,

nearer to God up on the 12th floor.

But me...

I live on the other side,

I live in Treichville.

Our homes are huts,

or houses,

but not houses like on the other side.

Our lives are different.

I'm getting off the ferry and going into Treichville.

This is Treichville.

Abidjan, when we speak your name

Abidjan of the laguna, beautiful place to be

And the market

The market at eight o'clock

Abidjan of the laguna, beautiful place to be

And the young girls

And love, cha cha cha

Abidjan of the laguna, beautiful place to be

My darling

Meet me tonight

For a date

Where all the young people go

There are accidents all the time in Treichville.

It doesn't matter. We're like the Americans,

our cars don't last longer than 2 months,

that's why there's all this mess.

Here are the "toutounes".

Toutounes are women who charge 200 francs to do it with a man

and 100 francs for children.

Good evening, Madam, I'll be back tonight.

Of course, I don't have money.

What can I do, as a poor man? Goddamn!

We can't even afford "toutounes".

Here we are at the fraternity house.

Twenty of us live here

in this shed. This is where we live,

in the Nigerien fraternity.

Every day of the week,

Robinson and his friends struggle to find work.

Porters, carrying anything for any price.

Hassling around the travellers at the bus station.

Door to door sales, selling fabrics from Ghana.

Tumblers, dockers, tropical wood handlers.

Or, like Robinson and Elite,

day labourers, "bozzoris"

at the mercy of the bosses.

Whatever the day brings, in the evening, the day's wages

will be won or lost at cards.

It's the same every day.

A new storey going up in Adjame.

There's always something new and marvellous,

but nothing new or marvellous for me, just the same sad life.

These are my friends, my buddies.

My dear friend, what a life!

It's always the same for us.

Tiring work, roadwork...

We're nearly all from the same country,

it's always guys from Niger.

Hi, Petit Jules! How are you?

Alright? That's good.

My buddy, Petit Jules, works the buses.

Hello, Tarzan.

My buddy Tarzan

is a taxi driver.

That's really something, especially in Treichville,

the Chicago of Africa.

Hello, Eddie Constantine.

As for my buddy, Eddie Constantine,

he's a salesman, he sells fabrics.

Apparently, negroes have it hard in Paris.

That doesn't matter.

With Eddie Constantine, the women here don't care.

He's a crafty one, always on top form.

Have you seen Adele...

Ah! Dorothy Lamour!

Do you want some lovely fabric from Kumasi?

It's not from the lvory Coast.

If you want to be in fashion, you need it,

- it's lovely cloth. - No money.

These are 2,000 francs for half a length,

but you're so pretty, you can have it

for just 1,500.

Look at that,

this cloth is the fashion this year, in 1957.

If you want to be in fashion when you go dancing,

if you want the boys to worship you,

to admire you, just buy this Kumasi cloth.

Dorothy Lamour, you are so beautiful!

Dorothy Lamour, I've got something to tell you later.

What I want to tell you...

it's the truth, I love you.

Tender melody winging its' way to you

My darling Spreading around you

My love

Abidjan, when we speak your name

Abidjan of the laguna

beautiful place to be

That's the end... Now, let's do some business,

Dorothy Lamour, let's go into the house...

we'll do our business in the house and I'll give you free cloth.

Eddie Constantine gets any woman he wants,

but, for my friend Facteur, it's another story.

Oh! My friend!

Too much work! No rest!

Always dragging around in the sea,

on the logs, we get injured, we bleed.

I just do day labour in the port.

That's my job.

Day labourers are called "bozzoris".

Elite, how are you, my dear friend?

I'm not too well, my dear Elite.

I tried to get work on the trucks,

but I didn't manage to get any.

Nothing at all, my dear friend.

Let's go, he's a pain in the ass.

People like that are a real pain in the ass.

Even if we didn't get any work, our friends will share their food.

Even so,

we do get work some days.

Unloading sacks of coffee for shipping to France.

Take it! Here! There you go! That's all we're good for.

Look at all that!

That's all we're good for!