She’s definitely white,” Buhbee said after speaking with Francoise on the phone.
When I had called her the night before, she’d given me the general area where she lived, but asked that the taxi driver call when we were nearby so she could give exact directions. Buhbee said he knew immediately by her proper French dialect that she was white.
When we pulled up to their bungalow near Grand Baie that sits on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Buhbee pulled inside the gates and asked the older white woman standing at the entrance to the home where he could park. They spoke in French, so I had no idea of their conversation until later. He turned and told me the woman to whom he’d just spoken was Francoise, and she was waiting to welcome me. The strength of this woman could be felt, even at a distance. As I approached she said hello with a thick French accent, followed by a polite near kiss on both cheeks.
Her husband, Jean-Alain Lalouette, was right behind her with more polite kisses to welcome me to their home and to the island. Jean-Alain’s stature also spoke of strength. An older white man, well established in his career and life, he gave a confidence that cannot be faked. A confidence that seems to ooze out of the pores of the French, apparently even those born in Mauritius.
You know when you walk into someone’s house and you can almost feel the kind of people they are by the surroundings? Francoise and Jean-Alain’s house was dripping with kindness and hospitality because they were kind, hospitable people. From almost the instant I arrived, I was like a surrogate daughter. But first there was just one hurdle. As we walked through their living room, I could sense a hesitance from Francoise. And who could blame her? She only knew me through a series of e-mails sent to her by Isabelle, and now she was welcoming me into her beautiful home and would be answering personal questions about her family.
After a quick look around, we sat on a terrace overlooking the water. They jumped right into the topic of my journey. The hesitance I felt from Francoise when I first entered their home quickly began to dissipate. And within minutes, we were finished talking about me and my background and were on to their stories of how they’d built this beautiful life together, a story that had begun with a life group of which they had been a part for more than fifteen years.
“We met regularly with six other married couples once a month to talk about life, love, and family,” Jean-Alain said. The group, Equipe Notre-Dame, was a part of their Catholic parish and created accountability in marriage and a lifelong bond.
Every month, each couple would sit down together and talk about everything on their hearts: the good, the bad, the disappointments, their hopes for the future and their contentment (or lack thereof) with the present. Nothing was off-limits, and each person would bare his or her soul and share an unfiltered heart with his or her spouse. This forced continued communication, even when things got busy or challenging in their lives.
They said they had a “le devoir de s’asseoir,” that is, a “duty to sit down and talk.”
Of course, they couldn’t share everything in their life group, but they would share enough to learn about the challenges the other couples faced in marriage and to encourage and learn from one another.
Jean-Alain, Francoise, and each of these couples have remained best friends over all this time. To this day, with the exception of one couple who passed away (Isabelle’s parents), they all go on a group vacation once a year.
The Lalouettes are direct descendants of the first French family to arrive on the island of Mauritius nearly three hundred years ago. When Jean-Alain was fourteen, his mother died, and rather than go back to France with his father, he chose to stay in Mauritius and attempt to build a life of his own. He took free courses at a local agricultural college and became a chemist in a sugar factory. “It’s the best thing I ever did.” he said. “It’s how I met Francoise.”
Jean-Alain has a beautiful outlook on life. “Life is fantastic; let’s not spoil it,” Jean-Alain offered as a sort of toast as he tore off a piece of croissant. His serene face told of years finding goodness in all things. “I’ve always told the youngsters who come to me for advice, ‘I think to be happy in life is very simple. Love passionately whatever you make, whatever you do.’ I know quite a few friends who all their life think they would like to be this, to do that—be a doctor, be a lawyer, be this, be that—but haven’t managed to do it, and they are still complaining, ‘I should have done this or that.’ But why don’t you try to find out all the joy of all you are now doing? Love it passionately and you’ll see that life is wonderful.
“Love becomes marvelous,” he continued, “when you become content with what you have. Don’t look always for other things. The next-door neighbor’s boat or car. Let him enjoy what he has.”
I was soaking in his perspective when Jean-Alain told us a story to illustrate. “One of my uncles, who was a judge in the superior court here, always said, ‘The only advice I like to give is never to give any.’ When people would come to me at the sugar plant,” he said, “I wouldn’t give them any advice. I only gave my time and asked if they’d like to sit down. Together we would try to discover a solution for their problem. The funny thing is, I never said a thing. People are smart when you ask the right questions about life. They want to figure things out and be happy. When they have a plan or way forward, they would say, ‘Thank you, Jean-Alain. You’ve helped me very much.’ And I haven’t said a word. Just by having someone listen to them, they are able to solve their own problems. Our world badly needs people who know how to listen. People have lost the habit of listening, and I think it’s very important to listen. It’s a skill.”
Because of the Happy Wives Club, I often have women write to me, asking for marital advice. I guess they think I’m a certified expert, which I’m not, though I truly have learned from my experiences and the experiences of others. (Sometimes the best learners are intentional observers.) The women who write me often go into diatribes about everything wrong with their husbands. Jean-Alain’s wisdom became real for me, as I stopped trying to answer these women’s questions and instead guided them through a series of questions. Most times, just like Jean-Alain’s employees at the sugar plant, they’d come upon the right solution just by stopping to think for a while. Oddly enough, listening has freed me, and it empowers others.
I had been with the Lalouette family less than two hours, as they shared their perspective on life, when there was a natural break in the conversation, a breather for everyone to sit back and enjoy the ocean breeze and the sunshine. We each leaned forward to tear off bites from our croissants and take small sips of black tea (which I drink “white,” they informed me, because I add cream). Finally, I spoke.
“Yesterday I was at the beach, and there was a newlywed couple getting photos taken near the water. I love weddings, seeing the bride and groom starting out their life together. And yet, in America, and probably in lots of other places, couples move away from honeymoon bliss so quickly. Many marriages end in divorce. Why do you think that is?”
Jean-Alain had his eyes closed, with his head leaned back. He was slowly chewing his pastry. Finally, he swallowed his bite and took a deep breath.
“Things have changed too quickly,” he began. “You used to start with going to the cinema, date for six months or a year to see if you were a good match and if you could be happy together in marriage. You had to make an effort.”
He continued, “People think that once you get married, it’s all done; you don’t have to do anything. No! Love isn’t like that. Love is a daily problem; you have to look for daily solutions.”
It was strange hearing that love was a “problem,” needing a solution, from this couple who had learned to squeeze so much joy out of life. His next statement clarified it a bit. “You are two different people, with different backgrounds, who’ve come together, and everybody has got to do their part.”
Francoise spoke a lot less because she was not as comfortable with her English, but she added, “You have to build your house, even after fifty years. You continue to build.”
Our little group paused for a bit, because it looked like she had more on her mind. She was probably translating her French into English in her head before she continued.
“There is a fear of taking an engagement and responsibility. Younger people are afraid of taking responsibility by engaging themselves in their marriage. They wait and wait, and it becomes more difficult.”
To which Jean-Alain added, “Everyone is living for themselves.”
If there was ever a social arrangement where you must put yourself in the backseat to someone else’s needs, it’s marriage. It was clear that Jean-Alain and Francoise’s contentment came from the conviction that being accountable to your mate for your actions, your choices, and your happiness as a couple was pivotal for a great marriage and life.
Jean-Alain and Francoise’s approach to marriage was something I wanted to soak up the entire time we sat on the patio, with the sound of ocean waves serving as our backdrop. For one thing, Francoise was the first stay-at-home mom and wife I’d interviewed so far, and she loved it; wouldn’t change it for anything.
I asked if being a full-time mother was tough at times. “Oh yes!” she responded—but not necessarily for the reason I thought she might say. It wasn’t because she felt less important being a stay-at-home mom. Throughout her life, she had found that to be her most important assignment and greatest joy in life. But she also said that having four children in succession and then a fifth one seven years later was tough. She was exhausted.
At one point, during her fourth pregnancy, she had “a terrible breakdown” because she was so tired. What Francoise experienced likely would have been diagnosed now as postpartum depression. But her friends in the Equipe Notre-Dame helped her work through it successfully.
As I sat in her presence, it was clear that Francoise was a strong and confident woman. She had never felt “less than” as a mom and wife. That was the role she’d most desired to play in this life, and that which she believed God have given her to do. She had lived out her purpose and continues to feel great about that decision. Jean-Alain added that Francoise allows him to say he’s the boss of the house, but anyone who knows them knows otherwise.
As they shared with me, I started to identify something sort of universal about them, an attribute I don’t see often but recognize immediately when it’s present. They were comfortable in their own skin. They knew who they were and who they weren’t. They lived by the values they’d developed together because they were best suited to their life together. I secretly wished more people could be like them, because Francoise and Jean-Alain create a sense of ease and confidence when you’re around them. A sense that it’s okay to be yourself and disregard the world’s pressures if they’re not helping.
I didn’t want to leave—which is why I inwardly cheered when they asked me to stay for lunch. If I’d known this was coming, I might have laid off the pastries. But probably not. I didn’t want to miss any time with this couple. And I suspected their lunch fare would be fantastic—I didn’t want to miss a French meal either.
We feasted on baked bread with loads of butter, red wine, steak, potatoes, steamed squash with olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette drizzled on top, and a salad. Near the end of the meal, I felt as if I’d been in a food marathon. I had been eating for five hours straight.
No matter. It was a great primer on European culture, because next for me would be England.