38 Jackie 1930–1962
“pataouète”, the language of the working classes in Algiers, espe-
cially the harbour fi shermen. His father’s offi ce was right on the
harbour, on one of the ramps leading down to it, and he must have
gone down that way many times.’ Being Jewish was no particular
problem, either: in a milieu such as Louis-le-Grand, in the immedi-
ate postwar years, it was a source of neither awkwardness nor of
prestige. Some pupils could fl aunt anti-Semitic opinions, but their
comments were vague and general, as if they did not in the least
apply to fellow pupils whom they knew to be Jewish.
As all ex-pupils acknowledge, living conditions for boarders were
unpleasant.
In 1949, the standard of living in France was still not very high,
and we were in an old-style boarding school: we slept in a huge
dormitory, with a little cupboard at the head of the bed, and a
few washbasins near the entrance. Lights out was at 9:30 p.m.
The food was so awful and the menus so repetitive that we
went on hunger strike several times in protest. Derrida suff ered
even more than most of the rest of us from this lifestyle, from
the constant proximity of our fellow pupils, not to mention
the fact that he had health problems that made the diet there
particularly bad for him.^7As for the discipline to which the boarders were subjected, it was
both strict and infantilizing. The surveillant général kept an eye
on all their comings and goings, even if it was just to buy a demi-
baguette at the baker’s on the corner of the rue Saint-Jacques and
the rue Souffl ot to try to stave off the pangs of hunger. More than
once, Derrida and his friends were put in detention for being a bit
late or going out without permission. As a result, they were fi lled
with fi erce hatred of the ‘pions’, sometimes of the same age as
themselves, who tended to exert their petty powers too energetically.
The enforced cohabitation and the harshness of living conditions
meant that boarders got to know each other quickly. When it was
time for an afternoon snack, the private study room smelled like a
cheap restaurant: provincial boys who received food parcels shared
them with their friends. After a few weeks, Jackie started to strike up
a friendship with several pupils, including Robert Abirached, who
had just arrived from Lebanon. As he recalls,
Derrida and I were both from the Mediterranean, with a sense
of humour a bit diff erent from the others. And we were rather
chatty, which brought us together. Also, we each had an uncle
in Paris and, by an amusing coincidence, these two uncles were
practically neighbours. They lived in the rue Félix-Ziem, right
near the Montmartre cemetery. We’d often go to theirs for