What does "Cafard" mean to you?

[Chris Boonzaier]

Awaiting a little Gem for the collection... until then, how do you interprate "Cafard" ?

[922F]

Cockroach, rat, grasser, [a more positive slant--confidential informat], generally negative depressive term!! 

[Hugh]

The following from Merriam Webster is more in line with what I learned inFrench classes.  

Definition of cafard

plural 

-s

1. :  severe depression or apathy —used especially of white people in the tropics

[TacHel]

I've always used the word to define a mild depression or general malaise, ennui...  Bored shitless...

[Bayern]

Hello : Cafard is the cockroach . the name of the insect designed during the WWI all the depressive of trench army live . Le cafard was a negative spiritual mode , something very negative indeed . 

[Stuka f]

I agree with the above. One should see the context it is in.

[peter monahan]

The term was used in the 19th century by French troops in the colonies, most noticeably the Foreign Legion, with whom the term is associated in literaure and popular culture, and referred to more than just 'ennui' at times.  It was like the 'cabin fever' suffered by the early over-winterers in Canad's North and the symptoms ranged from depression and enuui to full out violent psychos - 'going postal' in modern US parlance.  I think the 19th century British Army term was 'dolally'.

P.C. Wren's stories of the FFL, with whom he served in the 1920s before writing Beau Geste, often use 'cafard' as the motive for anything from drinking binges to desertion and murder.  

Edited November 28, 2016 by peter monahan

[paul wood]

use 'cafard' as the motive for anything from drinking binges

I don't need 'cafard' as a motive for that, any excuse will do (there is a Y at the end of the day, that will do)

Paul

 

[Chris Boonzaier]

Looking good guys, we are getting there :-)

 

I hope to be able to post something very interesting at tghe end of the week :-)

[Hugh]

A hot, dusty cafe; beaded curtain hanging askew.  The smell of sour wine and sweaty, unwashed men.  The rank stench of thousands of stale Gauloises layered over the walls, the bar, the floor and the people. The mistral blowing in the desert grit, and an overhead fan stirring fitfully.  The noise of hawkers in the street, trying to sell useless, worthless trinkets, and in the background, the piercing wail of the azan calling the faithful to prayer.  Pierre and Kurt slumped in chairs in the corner, not a sou between them and still a week until pay day.  Lisette, the fat barmaid who occasionally performed "other duties"  listlessly swiping at the bar with a filthy rag, a greasy wisp of hair hanging down over her forehead.  

Who among us has not been there?

Edited November 29, 2016 by Hugh

[TacHel]

8 hours ago, Hugh said:

A hot, dusty cafe; beaded curtain hanging askew.  The smell of sour wine and sweaty, unwashed men.  The mistral blowing in the desert grit, and an overhead fan stirring fitfully.  The noise of hawkers in the street, trying to sell useless, worthless trinkets, and in the background, the piercing wail of the azan calling the faithful to prayer.  Pierre and Kurt slumped in chairs in the corner, not a sou between them and still a week until pay day.  Lisette, the fat barmaid who occasionally performed "other duties"  listlessly swiping at the bar with a filthy rag, a greasy wisp of hair hanging down over her forehead.  

Who among us has not been there?

Dang!...  I feel worse than ever now... 

[Stuka f]

Or let me Petula Clark explain; (5 th line from the end!)

Quand je ne dors pas
La nuit se traîne
La nuit n'en finit plus
Et j'attends que quelque chose vienne
Mais je ne sais qui je ne sais quoi
J'ai envie d'aimer, j'ai envie de vivre
Malgré le vide de tout ce temps passé
De tout ce temps gaché
Et de tout ce temps perdu
Dire qu'il y a tant d'êtres sur la terre
Qui comme moi ce soir sont solitaires
C'est triste à mourir
Quel monde insensé
Je voudrais dormir et ne plus penser
J'allume une cigarette
J'ai des idées noires en tête
Et la nuit me parait si longue, si longue, si longue
Au loin parfois j'entends d'un bruit de pas
Quelqu'un qui vient
Mais tout s'éfface et puis c'est le silence
La nuit ne finira donc pas
La lune est bleue, il y a des jardins
Des amoureux qui s'en vont main dans la main
Et moi je suis là
A pleurer sans savoir pourquoi
A tourner comme une âme en peine
Oui, seule avec moi-même
A désirer quelqu'un que j'aime
pas cette nuit, pas cette nuit
Qui ne finira donc jamais
Mais j'ai trop le cafard
Je voudrais partir au hasard
Partir au loin et dès le jour venu
Mais la nuit, la nuit, oh La nuit n'en finit plus.
Oh oh oh oh, oh! la nuit ne finit plus

[Chris Boonzaier]

It is true that the French do not have much going for them as far as entertainment, luxury or methods of relieving stress and tension overseas.

So if you are overseas for 4-6 months, in a really horrible place, the only distractions are duty, alcohol and cigarettes. Because of the "anonymous" thing the legion does nothing to facilitate any private life connections you may have, so possibly you may have no contact with family etc, unless a friend who is no longer "anonymous" relays the mail. After a while tensions come to the surface.

It does not take very much, and usually has more to do with boredom than with stress. i.e. when things are hgappening around you and life is exciting you are less likely to get Cafard, but when nothing is happening, things start to go wrong.

Elsewhere on the interweb there is a description by Erwin Rosen....

The Foreign Legion has manufactured a special expression of its own for this mental state “Cafard.”  The “cafard” reigned.  The cafard of the Foreign Legion, a near relative to tropical madness, is a collective name for all the inconceivable stupidities, excesses and crimes which tormented nerves can commit.  The English language has no word for this condition.  In “cafard” murder hides, and suicide and mutiny; it means self mutilation and plan-less flight out into the desert; it is the height of madness and the depth of despair.  All idiocy in the Legion is called “cafard”.  A legionnaire is gloomy, sitting sullenly on his bed for hours, speaking to no one.  If you ask him what is the matter, he will answer with a gross insult.  He sits thinking all the time and does the queerest things.  He has the “cafard.”  His madness may turn into a senseless explosion or fit of fury; men suffering from “cafard” will run a bayonet through their comrade’s body, without any reason, without any outward cause.  Sometimes they rush out into the desert, sometimes they tear every piece of their outfit into rags, just to vex themselves and others thoroughly.  The “cafard” is at its worst in the hot season when the sun burns down relentlessly from the cloudless, deep blue sky, with the strange greenish coloring of the horizon peculiar to Algeria.  Then the barrack-yard of the Foreign Legion lies deserted.  It is so hot that the stones on the yellow clayey ground seem to move in the glimmering overheated air. The legionnaire sentries wear the flowing white neck-protector, and have stuffed wet cloths
into their kepis

 

 

 

Here is an article in the Australian press from 1940...

As Prince Aage says, the amazing thing

is that, in this incomparable unity, all

differences of education, of nature, of

character, persist. The miracle is that

they converge towards the same goal. It

is by living for the Legion that each

Legionnaire lives for himself and gains

self-expression.

The Cafard.

The Legionnaire marches, makes high-

ways of adventure, throws bridges across

torrential "Oueds," cuts away mountains,

(Ights lawless sons of the desert, resumes

his long marches, and still manages to

laugh in between times, for "La Legion"

is cheerful. "I have never arrived at a

camp," says a French officer, "when 1

have not boen greeted by the 'wit' of

the squadron with one of those sallies

of which they hold the secret. Good

humour sparkles like a gun powder fire,

along the columns, and it is expressed

in many languages."

But there are times when this cheery

courage smokes, burns, and goes out. It

is as though a wind of melancholy swept

along the lines. The old chiefs of the

Legion feel the change In the atmosphcin

long before any tangible proof of the

"cafard" hos shown Itself

Tiifling incidents are soon aggravated

by a sullen gioueh an ineitia takes hold

ol even the most valiant, symptoms of

boredom oi neurotic tendencies appear,

a general iriitability or an cxcessivn

politeness becomes obvious It mav lie

by neglect of the most elemental y discip-

line (and then the wise officci clos"s

his eyes) or it may be an almost caiica

tunl displav of marks of respect (and

then the wise chief keeps a warv look-

out! Then to one s astonishment tlw

taciluin begin to talk the chatteibo.es

aie silent voices aie hcaid to sing which

were nevei known to hum The more

gentle natuies become brusque and lough

-using the stlnup on theil mules till

they dtaw blood The violcnt-tempeied

fall into an apathetic sort of stupoi

At these signs, and many olheis, an

exnerienccd chief

recognises that the

black mood of the

cafaid is about to

descend upon h i i

men

What is the re-

medy'' Some ofnceis

distnbute an e\tia.

i ation of w hie othel s

advance the tioops

money on theil pay

That may succeed in

getting them ovei

the mood of oepies

sion but it may not

The cine is often

vvoise than the 111

It is the match which

sets fiie to the povv

dei Some offlceis

tighten up the dis-

cipline Some exact

at those times an

txtra efToit by put-

ting tilth men to a.

difficult task - the

mote difficult the

bettei Othcis favour

test and a complete

iola xa (ion of autboi

IIj I suppose the

sin endest await

events bending later

to tlie storm It is

pel haps the only

thing to do

That mood of de

piession which stiikes Legionnaiics

singly or in gioups (how easily gloomi-

ness, like chcenness can be communi-

cated when a community of people

are affected bv baioinetnc conditions

or by lack of »specific ¡nteiest or

aim). Is never apparent when the Legion

is on the march or goin* into battle

Then the recklessness the disdain of

dangei that has caused so many of the-e

men to bleak away from the beaten hack,

fiom the laws of their eounltv at some

time or other makes daring, feailess

soldieis of them

Although nianv seek lo escape when

stationed at Algci or Sidi-bcl-Abcs all

love the Legion and stand fast to its

tiadition when theie is leal soldiers' work

 

to be done

http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/17682249

[Hugh]

I knew I'd forgotten something!  "The rank stench of thousands of stale Gauloises layered over the walls, the bar, the floor and the people."  

[Chris Boonzaier]

1 hour ago, Hugh said:

I knew I'd forgotten something!  "The rank stench of thousands of stale Gauloises layered over the walls, the bar, the floor and the people."  

You should write depression era porn! :-)

[Hugh]

Not sure whether that's a compliment or not, but I'll take it as positive. 

 

Thanks,

Hugh

[TacHel]

10 hours ago, Hugh said:

I knew I'd forgotten something!  "The rank stench of thousands of stale Gauloises layered over the walls, the bar, the floor and the people."  

[Chris Boonzaier]

4 hours ago, Hugh said:

Not sure whether that's a compliment or not, but I'll take it as positive. 

 

Thanks,

Hugh

[peter monahan]

I'll just go drink some absinthe then step in front of a trolley!  'Depression porn' sums it up perfectly!  Any nineteenth century writer who visited/lived with troops [or, I suspect, prison inmates] knew cafard well.  Kipling has a story of a Gunner, stationed in India, going mad, stealing a rifle and some rounds and shooting a couple of comrades before being tackled by an officer, who risked his life to take the man alive.

Where I was stationed in Nigeria in the early '80s, there was a 'dust fog' which hid the sun and dropped the temperatures for 3-4 months and was ended only by the rains.  legend has it that crimes committed during that period were regarded in a different light due to an assumption of some equivalent of cafard being at least partially at fault. 

BTW, Hugh, I assume that is Wren you're posting.  Which story, please?

[Bilco]

The equivalent malaise amongst British troops in India was 'Doollaly Tap', from a notoriously unpleasant transit camp at Deolali, 100 miles north east of Mumbai, where troops awaiting return to the UK were held. 'Doolally Tap' was a form of madness brought on by boredom and the conditions, and from it the name 'Doolally' came to be used for any form of eccentricity or insanity - "He's gone Doolally"

Bill

Edited November 30, 2016 by Bilco
Incomplete

[peter monahan]

That's what I was alluding to but had forgotten the origins.  Thanks, Bilco!  

[Chris Boonzaier]

Charles Schütz from Kaiserslautern, Joined the Legion in Feb 1914 and was sent to Algeria. At the outbreak of the war he was one of the german Legionnaires who stayed in North Africa.... Transfered to Morocco in Jan 1916 he commited suicide in April 1916 and was buried at Fez.... About as "Cafard" as one could imagine. he was from my regiment, different Epoch of course....

Inspite of the state of war it seems his possesions (Pocket knife, Military Pass, Dog tag, shaving mirror and a grand total of 1 Franc 50 centimes), were returned to his family in Germany......

A rather sad grouping....

 

[Michael Johnson]

I think it was Wren who speaks of le cafard as a cockroach that wriggles inside your head.

But then there's Deborah Harry: 

J'ai le cafard,
Je t'en prie viens voir,
Ce que ton amour représente pour moi

Edited April 15, 2022 by Michael Johnson

[Stuka f]

19 hours ago, Michael Johnson said:

But then there's Deborah Harry: 

J'ai le cafard,
Je t'en pris viens voir,
Ce que ton amour représente pour moi

God! 

Is that what she says......!?? 

Never understood that, and I realy tried, every time I heard the song!

(lol)

[Michael Johnson]

My French isn't as good as my son's (he's teaching French less than six months after graduating), but to my ear her French is extremely good.

 

Michael