Marie-Lou, a rock-solid centenarian

Marie-Lou celebrated her hundredth birthday on Friday February 24 at Furiani. A century of a life rich in upheavals, which she went through with unusual strength, and which she evokes with as much frankness as elegance.

“It was wonderful there, you know. It looked a bit like Corsica. The sea, the mountains, the warmth of the people… But in 1957, everything changed.” Marie-Louise Mercier, Marie-Lou, as everyone calls her here, spreads her arms, looking sorry. “We had no choice, you know. If we wanted to shelter the children, we had to leave Algeria”.

Marie-Lou puts her hand on our arm. “I was 34 at the time. And already four children! My husband was in education. He was a school principal. We loaded all our things in a boat, and we got on a plane. We were lucky. For others, it was much more complicated…” Marie-Lou pauses, lost in thought. She takes the time to adjust the colorful scarf that slides along her floral dress, before continuing: “We landed in Bordeaux. Hotel rooms had been reserved for us in a hotel. The White Bear, his name was”.

A resident of the Furiani nursing home approaches, apologizes for interrupting us, and leans towards Marie-Lou to kiss her, and wish her a happy birthday. “A hundred years, do you realize? Who could believe it? Look at how beautiful she is! She’s a star, Marie-Lou, you know!”

Through the door of the small living room where we have taken refuge to get acquainted, we hear, muffled, the sounds of chairs being installed, and the notes of an accordion being tuned. In a few minutes, the Macchjaghjoli will give a show in front of the residents, to celebrate the centenary.

I have never had a character to allow myself to be dominated by events

But Marie-Lou, for now, is hundreds of kilometers away from that. She is again the young mother who, with her family, has to face a brutal change of life, far from the surroundings of Algiers, where she had spent her whole life. “It was different, it’s true. But we adapted quickly. And then I don’t have a character to let myself be dominated by events”. By plunging into the lively and determined gaze of the centenarian, it is easy to believe her.

But Marie-Lou is quick to clarify: “for others, it was harder, I know that. There are some who still cry. My father, he died of grief. He smoked a pipe all day long, sitting at the window, thinking about what he left there”.

The director of the nursing home sticks her head through the half-open door to make sure everything is fine. And make us understand, delicately, that everything is ready to start the festivities. But the prom queen is inexhaustible. “What I missed, you know what it is? The family bond there was there, with the friends, the people around us….”

I was a high school student in Algiers when my high school was bombed during the 1942 landings

His face does not light up, remembering an anecdote: “One day, two Algerians came knocking on our door, in Lannemazan, where we lived. Do you know Lannemazan? It’s between Tarbes and Lourdes. They wanted to see my father, who was dead. They had been looking for us everywhere, since days, in the region, at the request of their father, who had asked them, on his deathbed, to come and repay the debt he had contracted with mine. My father, who was a postmaster, lent a lot money at the time, to help the natives… And this gentleman had set up a business, thanks to that, which had enabled him to raise his children, and to give them a situation”.

Marie-Lou pauses, before concluding, shaking her head: “There are honest people, you know…”

Before arriving in France, where she devoted herself to raising her four children, Marie-Lou worked at the Post Office in Algeria. She had little choice. It is the war, once again, which has come to put its grain of salt in the life of the young woman. “I was a high school student in Algiers when my high school was bombed during the 1942 landings. I was boarding, because the high school was several hundred kilometers from the family home. I had to return to my parents. C “I was done with my studies. So my father advised me to take the job competition, to get a job, and I was accepted”.

The first notes of “Happy birthday” reach us from the hall where the party will be held, but Marie-Lou, whose memory is prodigious, has not finished with her memories. She remembers with a childish laugh the pranks she used to pull at the time. “Mobile phones, at the time, were science fiction! At the Post Office, we had the hand-cranked device, and the plugs, to connect one interlocutor to another. And when someone called, to ask the town hall or an administration, for example, I passed him a coffee, or a random number! It caused lots of misunderstandings, and I listened while laughing!”

Here, everyone has a pain, a regret, a loss with which they have to live. And we support each other…

Marie-Lou is full of praise for the atmosphere at the Saint André residence, which concocted a spectacular birthday party for her. “They’re adorable here, you know.”

But it’s not easy, day to day, for this woman who has always been independent, and surrounded by her family. “I have a fairly strong character, but sometimes I cry like a madeleine at night. I think of my son, my brother who died because of the Covid, and whom I was unable to go to see … It’s a disaster, to see a son go before you. A disaster. But the other residents are so nice. Here, everyone has a pain, a regret, a loss with which they have to live. And we support each other…”

In 1992, when her husband died, Marie-Lou left the Pyrenees for Paris to be closer to her children. And she lived there until 2010, alone, in an apartment in the 13th arrondissement, near Tolbiac. At almost 90 years old, she did her shopping alone, in the neighborhood, without any problem.

“When my daughter’s husband died in 2010, we decided to live together, in the house she owns in Ile Rousse, rue Notre Dame. We had two apartments side by side, and then from day to next day, my daughter told me that she needed to live her life. She had met a gentleman in Saint-Jean de Luz, and she was afraid of leaving me alone at Ile Rousse. I understood that, she is 70 years old, she is a good, pretty girl, and I could never have demanded that she stay with me”.

Since then, Furiani’s residence has become his home, but his family surrounds him, calls him every day, visits him as often as possible, despite the long distances. This morning, she received huge bouquets of flowers from her grandchildren.

And tomorrow, she will head for Ile Rousse, where all generations will celebrate with dignity the hundred years of the oldest member of the family, who is delighted to be reunited with her loved ones.

In the meantime, Marie-Lou gets up, takes our arm and walks confidently towards the room where the other residents are waiting for her, camcorder in hand, and the musicians of the Macchjaghjoli. To hear the ovation reserved for her on her arrival, there is little doubt that the centenarian with a strong character, refreshing frankness and communicative energy has won a special place in the hearts of residents and Saint-André employees.