“I feel very small next to migrants”

When did your journalistic vocation begin?

During my high school years, I came across a report from Special correspondent about an illegal crossing. At that moment, I told myself that I too would like to meet migrants. It was largely this report that motivated me to enter the profession. Fifteen years later, over lunch, I had the opportunity to say this to the journalist who had made this documentary. And the day I finally worked for the same show as him, I felt a lot of pride.

How did you get started in working life?

With my baccalaureate in hand, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. I opted without much conviction to study business, but deep down, I harbored a more artistic vocation. As a kid, I spent my time doing graffiti with my friends. So I ended up switching to a master’s degree in visual communication, which suited me more.

However, you have branched off again…

This reorientation allowed me to learn how to film and edit videos. But these studies led me to work in advertising or graphic design. But I wanted to do reporting. The terrain suited me, me who, as a teenager in Bordeaux (Gironde), was always stuck outside with my friends.

One day, when I had been training for weeks to film a homeless bodybuilding enthusiast in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, I posted a video on social networks. And there, surprise, my work has accumulated millions of views. Several editorial teams then contacted me to work together. I ended up joining one of them, a local Martinique television channel.

SDF, migrants… Where does your interest in people on the margins of our society come from?

When I was young, I myself was out of step with my contemporaries, like my friends. We spent our time hanging out in the streets on our skateboards and graffitiing the walls. Often, we spoke with homeless people and many marginalized people with fascinating stories.

When I became a journalist, I naturally wanted to tell their stories in long formats. I also wanted to cover a war zone and decided to go to Iraq in 2017, at a time when the Islamic State was losing ground.

As a result, you spent seven years among the migrants from Calais…

When I turned on my television in 2015, that was all we talked about. The situation looked as disturbing as it was fascinating. I left for ten days to see how things were going there. One of my first evenings in Calais, I followed a group of exiles who wanted to reach England. We ended up being chased by the police. It felt like we had escaped from Alcatraz. I immediately took an interest in the stories of these hunted and uprooted people, and I wanted to pass them on, even if, at first, they did not want me to film them.

How did you gain their trust?

When journalists traveled to Calais at that time, they came well dressed and in teams. This device intimidated migrants. What’s more, the journalists left immediately. I stayed.

This time spent on site allowed tongues to loosen. Even the smugglers gradually agreed to be filmed. After several failures, they ended up letting me get on a boat which was to reach England from France.

Getting on board with them has become your obsession. Why did you try everything to make this crossing?

People are trying to cross the sea from France, taking excessive risks. I saw migrants collecting pieces of wood to build rafts and cross the Channel. Others left on simple kayaks. I wanted TV viewers to see this situation, otherwise the reality is not palpable.

So I decided, in all conscience, to pay to board. The first attempt is the episode that struck me the most. When it’s time to rush onto the boat, people are at the height of stress. We were stepping on each other. Barely at sea, water immediately entered the boat. When we were up to our ankles, I started to pray.

What red lines do you set for yourself in your work?

Some approve of my methods, others do not. I understand that not everyone likes it. I myself continually question my journalistic techniques.

I once gave life jackets to exiles. We can say that if everyone acts this way, more of them will attempt the crossing. Furthermore, beyond ethical questions, the law prohibits helping migrants. But, concretely, when you have four people in front of you who are going to take a kayak and throw themselves into the sea without protection, can you let them go to their doom?

Have these desperate situations affected you?

I feel very small next to the migrants. When I first meet them, they sometimes live in the mud and yet they continue to pursue their dreams. And when I have the pleasure of seeing them again on the other side of the Channel, they often have a roof over their heads and a job. Every time I talk with an exile, I tell myself that they deserve a film dedicated to them.

All this affects me of course, I have dreams from time to time in which I too am on a boat in the middle of the sea. Hearing stories like this hardens oneself. Then, one fine day, without knowing why, a story can make you cry.

By meeting them, has your image of smugglers changed?

It would be comfortable to say that all smugglers are terrible people enjoying the misfortune of others, but the reality is much more complicated. While there are scoundrels who view humans as merchandise, others pay more attention to safety on their boats.

Some are forced to do this work because, upon their arrival in Calais, they no longer had money for the crossing. So, in the hope of raising the necessary money, they became smugglers. Meeting these people helped me deconstruct certain preconceptions.

Is there a link between your passion for graffiti and your journalistic approach?

These operating methods, made of resourcefulness and wandering, have many similarities. The big difference between these two practices remains the cause that drives me. Journalism is a serious and noble work. I still maintain my passion for graffiti from time to time with a few friends, but over time it has become rare.

Does your social and emotional life suffer from your work in immersion?

That’s for sure. By saying that we are not available for friends’ birthdays, we no longer call you. When it comes to love life, it’s the same thing. When you tell your partner that you are going away for a week without giving any news, building a long-term relationship becomes difficult. It’s no coincidence that I don’t have children at 38. But I do not regret this investment in journalism. And then, it’s not yet too late!

What are your projects?

I wanted to break away from Calais, but I am always caught up in this place, because I have a lot of contacts there. A lady called me several weeks ago to tell me that her child was trampled during their crossing of the Channel… Obviously, I tried to help her.

I also went to Tunisia at the end of last year. Local law enforcement stops boats crossing the Mediterranean, at the risk of overturning them, and releases some of the intercepted migrants into the desert.

Many die as a result of these treatments, but despite everything, they always come back. This shows one thing to me: repression solves nothing. It is enriching to meet migrants. Their self-sacrifice, their determination and their dreams will always be stronger than our fears.