“Au coeur du giraumon” by Muriel Tramis
I love coming-of-age stories and this is exactly what Au coeur du giraumon (le couteau sait seul ce qui se passe) by Muriel Tramis is.
The title itself is the French translation for the Kreyol saying “sé kouto sèl ki sav ki sa ki an tjè jiromon” which means “only the knife knows what is in the pumpkin”. This metaphor is to convey the idea that no one knows better than you what you feel inside.
The story takes place in Martinique in the 1970’s. In these troubled times, people protested against French government, experiencied police brutality in return and just tried to survive. The society was divided into three main social and racial groups. At the top of the hierarchy, there are the Békés, the wealthy descendants of the White colonizers. Then there are the mulattos (1), the descendants of the White colonizers and enslaved Black women. And on the lowest step of this hierarchy, there are the Negroes (2), the descendants of the enslaved African people.
Séverine (Békée), Paola (Mulatto) and Eliette (Negro) are friends. They attend Catholic school together. Their interactions symbolize the complex and ambiguous dynamics ruling the Martinican society. These three teenage girls are torn between the desire to be free and the painful awareness of the limits being a woman from their caste they must fight against. Their awakening of love and sexuality happen among their quest to define their individual identity, the History of the world and their island.
When I was a teenager, I read a lot of coming-of-age romance stories. Although the first love feelings, the first kiss enthusiasm are universal, I felt disconnected because most of these stories featured White characters. The YA literature written by Gisèle Pineau and Maryse Condé I’ve read so far isn’t as straightforward as Muriel Tramis in “Au Coeur du Giraumon” when it comes to describing Caribbean identity, sexual pleasure and the women’s place in our society from a girl’s perspective. This book truly focuses on the Martinican youth. The young characters aren’t idle and lazy nor they are wealthy superficial teenagers. School and music erase the social and economical barriers built by their families. The political events in the background highlight the hopes, the ambitions, the fears of these teenagers who have philosophical discussions on the meaning of their existence and who analyze social issues.
I cannot say that I loved this novel. Some statements made by the characters, some situations left me puzzled. It might be because I read the story with my feminist lens from the 2010’s, but I just can’t take the absence of consent anymore. Especially when the characters are young. Nevertheless, as I’m craving for stories to give me a sense of what Afrocaribbean women I grew up with have experienced before me, Au Coeur du Giraumon was a journey into a colorful and deep Caribbean universe. This stoy isn’t about women hurt by men and with no future. This story isn’t just about the social revolt in the 1970’s. This story is about ordinary girls like Paola, Eliette and Severine fighting to create a space where they belong to. Their views on negritude, colorism and creolization keep changing and being redefined as they go through love and friendship hardships that turn these girls into women.
What does being a young Caribbean (wo)man mean today? How does one fully become the person they’re supposed to be? How do you define yourself when you know you’re the product of a history of violence? Au coeur du giraumon doesn’t intend to give us universal answers. It highlights these questions that are still relevant today.
(1) t/n: they would be called “biracial” or “mixed” today. I only use the word here because it’s used in the story.
(2) t/n: they would be called “Black” today. I only use the word here because it’s used in the story.
Check out the original French version of this review.