Ramen broth for the soul

Idealism damaged in Afghanistan, enthusiasm rediscovered in Longueuil, a scientific victory that we already take for granted, an invisible hero and comfort at the back of a shop in Tokyo. Fragments of the year 2021.

The lost illusion

Not that I blindly believed in the concept of “Nation building”. Nor that I thought that a military offensive in 2001 against Al Qaeda would wipe out the Taliban regime. Still: the accelerated retreat of American troops and the instantaneous breakdown of Afghan law enforcement, 20 years later, are a lost illusion. That of believing that a more or less democratic regime can be installed from the outside. I believed for a time that a rule of law was in the process of replacing the Taliban, and that with the support of the NATO armies, this tree would grow as if with a guardian. Obscurantism seemed to recede, women regained their rights. What we saw last summer showed that this tree had hardly any roots.

The change of generation

Catherine Fournier had already achieved the feat of standing out during the pandemic, despite her simple status as an independent deputy (ex-PQ). Here she is, at the age of 29, mayor of Longueuil, the fifth largest city in Quebec (250,000 inhabitants). One of his first acts was to decree a pay cut. As if to say more clearly: I am here to serve, not to serve myself. In a political field largely deserted by voters, it is living proof of the emergence of a political succession, a renewal of personnel, enthusiasm and optimism.

The thing that I already forgot

There was a time when there wasn’t even a vaccine. It seems blurry, this time, already, right? Almost no one was vaccinated at the start of 2021. It all happened so fast, scientifically speaking, but it all seemed so long, humanly speaking.

The other thing that I forgot

Did the Canadian make the playoffs?

The hero

Mayfield, Kentucky. The guy’s name is Robert Miller. He is 28 years old. He absolutely wants to show me the halfway house he runs. Five guys lived with him. Ex-convicts, for all kinds of crimes. Like him. “When I was in Cincinnati, I got into trouble… that’s why I came to live here, a quiet little town. ”

“House rules: no whims, no whining, no hypocrisy,” reads a poster of what’s left of the house.

On December 10, when the tornado hit, he remembered the tornado shows he was listening to as a kid; he remembered what his mother said. He took three mattresses. He picked up the guys and dragged them from their beds to take them with him to a closet. They covered themselves with the mattresses. Two-thirds of the house was ripped off. They got out of there unscathed. Homeless, but alive.

A former drug addict who protects five ex-inmates, one tornado evening when so many people were to be saved, is not one who receives medals for bravery.

But that’s what he does in his life now: helping people live and survive. A heroism all the more discreet as it is in its definition of tasks. All natural.

Guilty pleasure

At the Tokyo Games, doubly vaccinated, doubly tested before leaving, tested at the airport, then every day at the beginning, and every two days thereafter, we were allowed to walk for fifteen minutes outside the hotel … before full release after 14 days.

But hey, while walking, we have temptations … Was it the 11th^e day ? I cannot swear it. But there was this stall in an alley where the smell of ramen broth overcame my resistance.

Yes, I admit, I slid the sliding door. The small room was empty. The chef came out from behind the vapors of his cauldrons. He showed me the photos on the wall. I wanted number four, but with two eggs, like in number five. I pointed to one, and the eggs in the second, I made a two with my fingers, believing that I could be understood by this bad sign language which was our only common language. Two minutes later, he presented me with two soups: twice the five.

I ate both.

I haven’t regretted anything.