Elegantly dressed in an immaculate white kaftan, a matching square cap on his head, tirailleur Yoro Diao, 95, poses all smiles next to his great-grandson, whose Muslim baptism he has just officiated in the small Senegalese town. of Passy. “It is an immense joy. I never thought I would be here, at that age, near all my grandchildren,” he exults, his eyes sparkling.
Is it his optimism that gives him this energy? Almost a century of life, and here it is frolicking, from one room to another, voluble and radiant, inexhaustible. Former soldier of the French army in Indochina and Algeria, Yoro Diao returned permanently to Senegal on April 28, thanks to a derogatory measure from Paris which allows him, with some of his peers, to live permanently in his country. of origin, without losing his minimum old-age allowance of 950 euros per month.
"Thank you to France from the bottom of my heart," he said, not holding a grudge against the former colonial power for whom he had taken all the risks and who, willingly accused of being ungrateful to these African soldiers, had given him the opportunity from the return to the evening of his life. "When you go home, you have your children, your grandchildren, what do the people want? “, he shines, surrounded by his numerous descendants, who treat him as a model, and for which he partly ensures the subsistence.
" An example "
His family is gathered that day to celebrate the birth of Mohamed, born two days after Yoro Diao's return. In the main courtyard, the women, wrapped in brightly colored wax tunics, cut the vegetables and prepare the rice, protected from the sun by a tarpaulin. The sheep, immolated for the occasion, simmers in large pots heated with wood.
Life is concentrated within the confines of the home. Outside, everything is deserted. The temperature is around 40°C. From time to time, a cart passes in the street adjoining the house, which the mayor has decided to rename in the name of Yoro Diao. "This former Skirmisher is an example for us. We are very happy to have him back,” says Khalifa Ababacar Samb, 30, who came to shop at the shop across the street.
Passy is a small town in Sine Saloum, not far from the Gambian border, which lives mainly from agriculture and livestock. This is where Mr. Diao decided to take up residence, far from his home in Bondy, in the Paris region, where he lived in a 15 square meter studio.
Since he returned, between celebrations and tributes, Mr. Diao says he has been resting, taking walks, taking "lizard baths" in the sun. Sometimes he goes as far as his rice and corn fields. Sitting on a chair, he recounts at length his journey, his pride in having joined one of the best regiments of Senegalese skirmishers, his memories as a caregiver in Indochina and Algeria in the 1950s, the spirit of camaraderie that reigned between French and Africans.
While he has a deep respect for France, its army and its values, he regrets the hardships he and the other skirmishers faced to obtain the same rights as their French counterparts. “To receive our rights, we were asked for certificates that were impossible to obtain. And the French knew it well,” he said.
" Better late than never "
France only lifted the freeze measures in 2006 which blocked the pensions of colonial veterans, unlike those of French veterans who were revalued. They obtained French nationality in 2017.
In early 2023, after the release of the film Tirailleurs, the French government announced the measure that allows them to receive their allowance while living in their country of origin. After the return of nine of them at the end of April, there are still 28 skirmishers in France, all of Senegalese origin, several of whom are likely to return soon.
These victories towards equality, African veterans owe them in large part to Aïssata Seck, 43, granddaughter of a skirmisher and president of the Association for the memory and history of Senegalese skirmishers, "shocked" by their living conditions and the often "humiliating" experiences in their dealings. "Better late than never," says Samba Diao, Yoro's eldest son, who says he is "amazed" to see his father return and dreams that the skirmishers' families will also obtain French nationality.
Sitting in the middle of his family, Yoro Diao savors the moment. The griots – a caste of traveling musicians and poets in West Africa – circle around him and sing his praises. The feast can begin.
