A day in the life of Soueich

Below the famous city of Toulouse in France lies a village called Soueich. It is only around 11 kilometers-squared in area with a population of less than a thousand individuals. I spent almost every summer there taking either multiple planes, or a 7-hour train trip, or 9-hour car ride from Paris. This Southwestern commune is dear to my family as they sought refuge there during the world war and continued to be an escape from the crowds and canicule (heat wave in French).

First built around 1760, this family home tells the story of more than 4 generations. Starting with Joseph, who arrived at the house in 1795 after marrying Michelle Lene. His son Pierre and grandson Auguste, born in 1870, were raised there. Auguste became Mayor of Soueich and married Françoise Saust. At the age of 65 in 1945, Auguste passed away giving the house to his son Émilien Saint Martory. Born in the family home, he was the only child and grew up being an agriculteur of humble beginnings. His wife Madeleine was my great-grandmother. They had two daughters, Hélène and Monique Saint Martory.

The house was renovated throughout the years, so let me give you a tour. Starting with the entrance door, which had the date of 1760; guests take a left to arrive to the main room and the oldest part of the house. There still is a chimney framed in wood but there used to be a kitchen that was later built separately by Émilien in 1958. The window in that room overlooks the cobble road and another farmhouse right in front; it had a sink and the necessities of a kitchen back then.

This room received guests and hosted celebrations including Dépiquage. After collecting blé (wheat) and maïs from the lands, villagers came to enjoy a meal and help in picking it. They also made lin (linen) for sheets, carpets and fabrics using a machine known as joue. It was the only accessible machine in the village and so they came to celebrate and make creative creations.

Crossing through the living room, there was a staircase, a wine cellar that was once storage for food, and a salon for the piano. On the other side was the separate kitchen constructed later in 1958, a shed for cows, and a passage leading down to the cobble road.

On the second floor were the rooms of my great-grandparents Émilien and Madeleine, their children, and a long balcony or gallerie with endless vines of grapes. They dried maïs (corn wheat), yellow and green prunes on its wooden platform. Prunes were dried, baked in the oven, then carefully preserved in bags to last longer. A machine was used to grind maïs into flour. Millas is the name of the dough made from that flour after boiling. Bread was made every 15 days in large amounts using their proper oven, as it was essential to their diet.

They relied on their livestock, from pigs, ducks, hens, to rabbits all living by the chartreuse. Horses were kept separately. They were used for daily commutes, as we know of history. Those individuals were completely autonomous. They lived sustainably.

Last winter, I visited Soueich reliving their experience. I went through the photo albums and documents safely kept by members of the family. My mother’s cousin Florence, or Tati Flo as we call her, showed me a journal of my great-great-grandmother Marie Verdier, the mother of Madeleine. It dates back to 1895 and tells the story of her day-to-day life once she turned 18 years of age. She was living in Saint-Gaudens, a commune about 11 kilometers from Soueich.

I could not help but bring it back to the UAE and read every page. She starts her journal on the 4th January of 1895 during a snowy winters day. She mentions her daily routine, having a cup of tea being a big part of her time for reflection and journaling. She welcomes her family, friends and guests to her home upon waiting for their arrival by train. She also expresses terrifying moments like avalanches that buried homes and people. As she receives telegrams and converses with individuals she is surrounded by, I cannot stop wondering what happens next.