Rural – Jersey Country Life Magazine

EUNE FROUQU’THÉE D’JÈRRIAIS – (A FORKFUL OF JÈRRIAIS)

We continue our series of article in Jèrriais – Jersey’s own traditional native language. The ‘frouque’ in question is a digging fork, rather than a table fork. An English translation follows. This contribution comes from François Le Maistre

MÉMOUAITHES DÉ L’OTCHUPÂTION

Né v’là bein vite l’Annivèrsaithe dé la Libéthâtion eune autre fais, et ch’est la 76ième ch’t année. Pouortchi, j’ai pensé dé vos donner deux’- trais pensées dé chein qué j’mé rappelle dé l’Otchupâtion quand j’tais qu’un mousse.

Ma preunmié mémouaithe est d’eune pronm’nade dé la maiethon tchi ‘tait nommée, Florida Villa à St. Ouën, pas bein liain dé Portînfé.       Pus souvent, la hêmie à la route ‘tait freunmée, mais chu jour-là, mes pathents l’avaient laissi ouverte et, comme j’tais tchuthieux, mé v’là hors en ava d’la route pouor visiter ma Grand Tante Vîne et Papa Ph’lippe à lus fèrme au Carrefour dé Portînfé. Mais, j’tais pon à marchi, j’tais dans ma p’tite avion à trais reues, tch’avait les rondelles du RAF, peintes sus les ailes et lé ventre dé l’avion.

Quand j‘arrivis au carrefour, bon, i’ y avait deux soudards Allemands à lus entre pâler dans l’mitan d’la route. Tout d’un co, né v’là iun d’ieux tchi s’êboufli à rithe et pointit dans ma direction. Jé n’savais pon pouortchi qui ‘tait à rithe, mais ch’tait san doute dé chu p’tchiot auve sén avion du RAF tchi s‘n allait tither touos l’s Allemands. Mé v’la èrentré dans l’bel dé ma tante et j’lus d’mandit pouortchi qui ‘taient à rithe, mais i’ m’ fitent la minne d rein et ch’tait bein d’s années auprès qué j’découvris la raîson.

Et pis, quand j’tions à d’meuther à La Frontièthe à Ste. Mathie, j’m’en rappelle qué ’Douard et mé, j’taîmes endormis dans nouotre chambre à haut quand lé son comme des pétards nos rêvilyit. Nos v’là les deux d’but pouor vaient tch’est qui s’arrivait, pace qué j’n avions pon d’ridgieaux dans la f’nêtre et nou pouvait vaie lé ciel dé nouotre liet. Tout l’ciel ‘tait illeunminé.  J’tions touos les deux êmèrvilyis! Nos v’la les deux à la f’nêtre pouor découvri tch’est qui s’arrivait. I’ y avait des feux d’artifices partout l’ciel. J’lé savions pon, mais les Allemands ‘taient à tither sus ieune dé nos avions alliées dé lus nid dé mitrailleuses à St. Louothains. Ch’tait excitant pouor des avièrs comme nous, et pis tout d’un co, né v’la man p’pée tchi nouos happe les deux par la pé du co et nouos dis dé nouos couochi dêliêment et dé né pon r’aller à la f’nêtre eune autre fais. Et pis, lé lendemain, i’ nouos montrit les morcieaux dé fé dans l’gardîn des cartouches tch’avaient êcliaté dans l’ciel la sé d’vant. Du shrapel! Tchi hôrreu!

Et pis, eune autre chose qué j’mé rappelle, dans nouotre grand’ tchuîsinne à Ste. Mathie, j’avions deux grandes tchaises dé chaque côté du feu. Souos les tchaises, i’ y avait des tapis. Et pis, si nou l’vait l’tapis souos la grand’ chaise à la drouaite, nou-s-avait eune trappe et quand nou-s-ouvrait chutte trappe, et bein, i’ y avait un creux et un p’tit radio muchi là. Ch’est comme chonna qué mes pathents, comme bein d’autres, êcoutaient les nouvelles dé la dgrre et d’l’Angliéterre.

Et bein, n’en v’la assez pouor aniet. J’vouos en dithait pus au sujet dé mes mémouaithes eune autre fais.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

76th Anniversary of the Liberation will soon be here, so I thought I would pass on some of my memories of the Occupation when I was a kid.

My first memory is of my going from the property Known as Florida Villa, in St. Ouën, near Portinfer, Usually the gate at the road was shut, but, on that day, my parents had left it open and, being curious, off I went down the road to visit my Auntie Vine and Papa Philippe at their farm at the Portinfer crossroads. But, I wasn’t walking, I was in my little tricycle airplane which had RAF roundels painted on the wings and on the fuselage.

When I arrived at the crossroads, there were two German soldiers chatting in the middle of road. Suddenly, one of them burst out laughing and pointed at me. I didn’t understand why he was laughing, but it was no doubt at this little chap who was going to shoot all the Germans with his RAF plane. When I arrived in my Aunt’s yard, I asked them why they were laughing but they made out it was nothing and it was many years later that I discovered why.

And then, when we were living at La Frontiere, St. Mary, I remember ‘Douard and I were asleep upstairs in our bedroom when we were woken by the sound of fireworks. We both got up to see what was going on as there were no curtains in the window and we could see the sky from our beds. The sky was illuminated. We were both amazed! We were both at the window to find out what was happening. It was like fireworks all over the sky. We didn’t know then, but it was the Germans firing on an Allied plane from their Ack-Ack nest in St. Lawrence. It was exciting for us two kids, but all of a sudden, my Dad grabbed us both by the scruff of the neck and told us to get into bed immediately and not go back to the window. The next morning, he showed us the pieces of metal from the shells which had exploded in the sky the night before. Shrapnel! Terrible!

Another time thing that I recall was that we had two armchairs in the kitchen at St. Mary, one each side of the range. There were mats under the chairs and if you lifted the mat under the armchair to the right of the fireplace, there was a trapdoor and when you lifted that up, there was a cavity with a small radio hidden there. That is how my parents, like so many others, heard the news about the war and England.

That’s it for now. I will tell you more another time.

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