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In Saint-Barth, almost everyone called her "Pitou". On Saturday April 5, Micheline Carrères died at the age of 89, in the Cher region of France. Many readers will remember her as a French teacher at the Collège Mireille Choisy. The very fact of writing the word "professeur" in the feminine would certainly have given us food for thought on the evolution of spelling rules! A passionate woman, Pitou loved discovering or rediscovering artists from all horizons. A traveler at heart, she shared her many adventures with JSB readers. Wife of one of the founders of the Journal de Saint-Barth, Georges Carrères, her close ties with the Journal continued beyond her departure from the island in May 2017. The island of Saint-Barthélemy and its inhabitants were in Pitou's heart, as shown by the poem, to be read below, she wrote in 1990.
A religious ceremony will take place at the church in Boulleret, Cher, this Friday, April 11 at 10:30 am.
Our sincere condolences and affection go out to her children Nathalie and Christophe, as well as her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Reaction
Xavier Lédée, President of the Collectivité territoriale
"It was with great emotion that I learned of Madame Carrères' death. A few weeks after that of Marceline Buret, it is once again a great sadness for the world of education in Saint-Barthélemy. Pitou was one of the pillars of teaching at the Collège Mireille Choisy in the 1980s and 1990s. She was able to give many students a taste for French, with a rigor that everyone recognized. "
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Saint Barthélemy
Fragile bridge
Between my storm-laden past
And debris of dreams
And my uncertain future
Or rather certain to stumble
On the inhospitable foothills of nothingness
Saint-Barthélemy
You're beauty set in the sea
And my eyes will never be big enough
My memory faithful enough
To inscribe
In the dizzy convolutions of my brain
Your pure and simple beauty
Beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty
No other word comes to mind.
I love your gentle rains
Reddening the gum tree trunk
And the latanier leaves
Tearing in the cyclone wind
I love the great flamboyants
And the flowers of yellowing fields
Rippling like the sea
I love the stone walls
Stubborn witnesses of love
Of the earth
And I also love
These tall, dry men
Inhabited by the storm
And these tender bruised women
Who gave birth in pain
Blond and beautiful children
Hiding their souls
Under a mask tanned by the sun
I love the drowsy wave
Licking the foot
The foot of the passer-by
And the flowery cemeteries
With the flames of All Saints' Day
I love the hummingbird so eager
To wear out his life in a frantic flapping of wings
And the baroque clouds that sail in the great sky
I love the colors of the sea
And I love those big, hard men
Inhabited by the past
And those tender, withered old women
Stretching out their gnarled hands
To the love of their grandchildren
Dark and handsome
Hiding their souls
Beneath the smooth face
Of innocence.
Pitou, 1990
