Annales gratuites Bac L : Leaving Kenya?

The story takes place in Kenya in the early 1950s

     A postcard came airmail from London:

     Dear Vic and Deepa,
     We're having a wonderful time here!
     Hope you have a smashing holiday too. Say "jambo" to Njoroge.
 5   Kwa heri! See you soon!
     - Bill and Annie

          On the reverse side, Picadilly Circus in full colour, a city scene grander and infinitely more
     bustling than our own modest and quite somnolent King Street roundabout. Look, said Papa, who
     was holding up the postcard, the biggest city in the world.
 10       Where's the circus, Papa? I asked him, our self-styled expert on matters English.
          Maybe there was a circus there a long time ago, he said, trying to sound confident and unable
     to hide his uncertainty.
          Mother, Deepa, and I were gathered round Papa in the shop, poring with him over every detail
     of the glorious scene. The black taxis, a red double-bus carrying advertisements on its side, men
 15  and women in hats, a red mailbox, a newsagent, all the store and street signs. Papa turned a
     wistful eye to Mother, who acknowledged with a smile; it was his dearest wish to visit that centre of
     the universe once in his lifetime. It was his Mecca, his Varanasi, his Jerusalem. A visit there
     conferred status, moreover: you became one of the select group, the London-returned.
          He tacked the postcard on the upright behind the table, where it stayed for more than a year,
 20  proud reminder not only of his yearning but also of his European "friends".
          Bill and Annie had gone without their parents. To my parents, it was a sign of European
     irresponsibility that they could send their children on an expensive voyage and yet run up sizeable
     debts in town. Though Mother remembered graciously that Mrs. Bruce did have a wealthy family in
     England. But how could she allow herself to send the children by themselves, unescorted, on a
 25  voyage that took twenty-four hours, with stopovers in strange places? Suppose someone
     kidnapped them? Who'd hurt a British child, Papa snapped in reply, they'd have every policeman in
     the world looking for them. That privilege comes from ruling the world.
          It was mid July, a month and a half since they had gone. Six weeks was an eternity to a child in
     those days. Saturday playtime at our shopping centre became subdued¹ and lacking in adventure.
 30  I recall Deepa, Njoroge, and myself sitting on the cement floor of the veranda outside our shop,
     playing a game of imagining by turns all the exciting things our two friends must be up to in
     London: riding double-buses and taxis, visiting all those castles and palaces and bridges we had
     read about, shopping at wonderful stores spilling over with comic books, toffees and chocolates. If
     you ran out of something to say in this game, you were "out".
 35       That postcard clinched the case for my mother: her children too needed to visit places during
     their vacation. And so it was resolved in our home that all of us would go to Nairobi² and Mombasa
     for the August holidays.
          The train from Kisumu had come in late and so we left at a little before dawn from Nakuru,
     which was as well because we could see more, though the Kisumu passengers were irate for
 40  having to wake up from their rocking slumbers. We reached Naivasha as dawn was breaking
     beyond the mountains.
          How can I describe that feeling of looking out the sliding window above the little washbasin, as
     the small second-class cabin jostled and bumped along the rails, and taking in deep breaths of that
     cool, clean air and, simply, with wide hungry eyes absorbing my world. It was to become aware of
 45  one's world, physically, for the first time, in a manner I had never done before, whose universe had
     encompassed³ our housing estate and my school, the shop and my friends, the tree-Iined street
     outside that brought people in and out of our neighbourhood. That scene outside the train window I
     can conjure up at any time of the day or night; I would see, feel, and experience it in similar ways
     so frequently in my life; in some essential way it defines me. This was my country — how could it
 50  not be? Yes, there was that yearning for England, the land of Annie and Bill and the Queen, and
     for all the exciting, wonderful possibilities of the larger world out there. But this, all around me was
     mine, where I belonged with my heart and soul.

Adapted from M.G. Vassanji, The In-Between World of Vikram Lall, 2003

¹ subdued: quiet, lifeless
² Nairobi, Mombasa, Nakuru, Kisumu and Naivasha are all places in Kenya
³ to encompass: to include, to contain

Translate into French from line 28 to line 34.

Translate into French from line 28 to line 34.

Nous étions mi-juillet ; un mois et demi s’était écoulé depuis leur départ. A cette époque, pour un enfant, six semaines étaient interminables. Le samedi au centre commercial, nos jeux, devenus ternes, n’étaient plus animés par la même fougue. Je me souviens de Deepa, Njoroge et moi-même assis devant le magasin sur le sol en ciment de la véranda. Nous jouions à tour de rôle à imaginer toutes les choses passionnantes auxquelles nos deux amis devaient se livrer : promenades en bus à impériale et en taxi, visites de tous ces châteaux, palais et ponts sur lesquels nous avions tant lu, shopping dans des magasins merveilleux qui regorgeaient de bandes dessinées, de caramels mous et de chocolats. Si, lors de ce jeu, l’un d’entre nous n’avait plus d’idée à proposer, il était éliminé.