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Standing straight

Timothy Mason

This is a reply to John McCreery, who asked me on Anthro-L why I believe that H is fundamentally honest.

We want the wall moved between the lavatory and the kitchen. This means displacing the kitchen window which, in any case, is too low down if we want to put the sink in beneath it. Which we do. L. says that's no problem, but we'll need a new window, and it'll have to be made to measure. He asks us for 4 thousand francs up front, just for the material. That seems a little excessive, but we don't really know the prices, and we're in a hurry.

When the work starts, L. is unreachable. It turns out he's gone on holiday, leaving H. to run the five or six sites they're working on. The work goes quickly at first, and the new window is soon in place. It's smaller than we had expected, and we're losing quite a lot of light. There's a trade sticker on it ; it comes from Lapeyre, which is a specialist firm which, after having mainly supplied the trade direct, has, over the last few years, opened up its doors to the housekeeper. Marie rings them, and asks if they've got a price for the reference on the window. The fellow at the other end slams down the phone ; he obviously feels that his first loyalty is towards the building firm, and he won't shop them. Marie tries again. "Listen', she says, 'before you put the phone down, I want you to know that we've brought both a kitchen and a bathroom from you, we're paying customers, and there's no reason why Lapeyre should give itself a reputation for backing cowboys.' It's not the same person on the other end, and he listens, then goes away and looks up the reference. He can't find it ; what he thinks happened is that this is old stock that they no longer carry.

And what we think happened is that H. had an old window hanging around from a past job, that he set it in our kitchen wall and pocketed the four thousand. Okay, so right now, H. seems to be ahead of the game. But that is to reckon without J., the boy plumber. J., as I said, can't stay in place for more than five minutes. If ever he learns to control himself and to stay on task, he might make a good plumber - I don't know. But he has no pride whatsover in his work. H. can't stay and keep an eye on him, because he has other sites to look after. When he comes back and sees the work, and when we take him round, showing a leak here, a crooked tile there, he is quite obviously uncomfortable. He tries to explain it away, but his heart isn't in it. But he has no leverage on J., because J. knows about the window.

When L. returns, he has to agree that the work has been badly done. We beat his price down from the original estimate - not enough, but by now we just want them to pack up and go. Later, we learn that he has simply docked the amount from H.'s and J.'s pay-packets. H. tells us this, but without rancour ; he knows he's screwed up. And H. is basically an honest person. He tries to tell himself that it's okay to rip off these rich westerners who are making so much more money than anyone back home can dream about. But it cuts against his grain. I don't know how I know this about him - I just do. When he avoids my eye in the bar, it is because he is ashamed.

But there's more to it than that. North African immigrants arrive in France in a context in which they are treated with contempt. Through a series of sociologically comprehensible mechanisms, arab youth in this country has been criminalized - rather as West Indian youth has been in the UK, and as - for over a hundred years now - blacks in the US have been. I don't mean that they are all criminal ; far from it - but any young beur male is looked upon as a potential delinquent. H. doesn't believe this, but I think his chances of having to bring his children up in France are pretty high. And one of the most common characteristics of those that are precipitated into crime is their contempt for their parents - and in particular for their fathers ; unless he is honest, straight-dealing and proud of himself, H. will lose his sons to the mill.

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