Saly and Naïlat have a very close mother-daughter relationship — despite Naïlat’s penchant for talking about her feelings and Saly’s preference for keeping things to herself. After immigrating from the Comoro islands, where Saly grew up and where Naïlat was born, they have created a vibrant and comfortable life for themselves in Paris, where Saly is a social worker helping refugees and Naïlat is a PR manager at Puma. We talked with them about how they learned to communicate with one another, finding the balance between remembering and moving forward, and the time they went clubbing together.
⌨ naïlat’s last google search | ⌨ saly’s last google search | ♫ listen to naïlat and saly’s playlist
on their morning routines
Naïlat: My mom always wakes up early to pray and never fails to wake me up too, just in time for a shared coffee. It’s our sacred little moment, a ritual we never skip before heading out into the world.
on working with people in need
Saly: I am a social worker and a social action advocate. I help those in need, specifically asylum seekers and refugees. I help them achieve and maintain their rights. It’s really important to me to help them get their papers. After they get their papers comes work and housing and then integration. The most emotional part is preparing the asylum file because it's their whole life. You learn what made them leave their country to come here. It can be heavy — sometimes I cry. But I manage, because I'm a foreigner myself. My background is different, of course, but I have empathy. I try to understand them and their story. Then we help them translate their life into a narrative that answers three questions: Why am I coming here? What do I want here and how? Why did I leave my country? That's the story. And then we help them explain what they’re going to do with their asylum or refugee status.
People leave for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it’s political, where they are forbidden from doing everything because they disagree with the government, or religious, if they are not allowed to worship. Then there are people who leave for environmental reasons — like the earthquakes that are everywhere. Or some who leave for family reasons. There is some subsidiary protection that allows for protection for non-political reasons. For example, in West Africa, it is normal to circumcise little girls, and there are some who leave to avoid being circumcised or to avoid circumcising their children.
Adaptation is difficult and necessary for asylum seekers. We put structures in place — training courses, language training, and an emphasis on learning French, because you can’t discover France without learning French. Whether you are an asylum seeker or a refugee or came here any other way, you have to know about the environment you’re in. You should also take the good values from where you come from and those from where you are and try to integrate both together.
on where saly’s curiosity comes from
Saly: My background isn't typical. I come from the Comoro islands. I studied social sciences and I worked on socio-professional integration of young people. When I arrived in France, at the beginning, in the 2000s, I worked in homes for young people as a specialized educator. Then I worked in the field of home help; I worked with elderly patients and with children and I set up home help systems, comfort services, or home support. When you have good training in the social field, you adapt easily regardless of the community you work with.
My curiosity has always come from the fact that I come from a country where we are always in community with each other. The Comorian family is broad because we Comorians are not only African. We have a Portuguese culture, an Arab culture, we have an Indian culture, we have a Bantu culture. This mixture creates a Comorian specificity. But the most important thing is human warmth and familiarity. We help each other — like mutual aid that comes from the family, which then expands to the level of associations. And then at a slightly broader level, when we leave the country, we find other people who come from far away and extend that warmth and help.
on moving to france from comoro
Saly: I gave birth to Naïlat in Comoro and it went well. I had an episiotomy, but everything turned out okay. I was pregnant with my second child everything was moving a bit fast. I was traveling a lot. I kept coming to France and leaving, then coming back again. I never considered living permanently in France but I wanted to give birth there. Their father is a former French soldier, stationed in Guyana and Martinique, so he was French by origin. He was living here, so I wanted to come to give birth and then leave because I had an important job in Africa, I traveled, I had a good life that suited me well. I was happy.
But after I arrived here, there were changes to the civil service in my country and I lost my position before returning. I tried to get my position back, but I couldn’t, so I found myself here.
Naïlat: I left Comoro when I was three. I don’t really remember it, but we talked a lot about what it was like there when I was growing up. I had a lot of photos, and a lot of nostalgia. My father returned there before his death.
Saly: He did not return to France, and I stayed with the children. We separated in 2007 and from 2007 to 2020, he remained in Comoro. He remarried there, but we had a very good relationship and always got along well. We separated because of his parents; they were too controlling.
Naïlat: The separation itself was hard, but after that, they were always on the phone, they talked to each other on Facebook, so it didn’t feel that dramatic. He didn’t feel that far away.
on nailat’s relationship to the comoro islands
Nailat: I left when I was three, and then we went back to visit when I was twelve. And between ages twelve to 20, I probably visited once a year. The first time I went back, it was a crazy culture shock because I spoke Comorian, but I didn't know all the people who kept telling me, “I looked after you as a baby” and things like that. But it was kind of like a celebration for me.
When I went back to visit my dad, he’d pick me up at the airport, he’d get the luggage cart, we’d go to his village, and he had his routine there. My father took us everywhere with him, even when he was working at the National Assembly. We knew everyone at his work. Sometimes we didn't have anything to do, we just wanted to be with him, so he would work and we would stay in the courtyard of the National Assembly and wait for him to finish, and that was our day. We were never really alone. My mom and dad were from villages very far apart, so my relationship to his village was always through him. At this point, I know Comoro more through my mom’s village. I don't really know any places in my dad’s village that girls my age today would go to, like restaurants. The last time I was there was for my dad’s funeral and I still haven’t taken the step of going back there on my own. Next time I go, I’m going to try to treat it like a new island that I’m discovering.
The last time we went was in 2022, for my father’s funeral. He died during Covid, but with the travel restictions, we couldn't get there. So the funeral was the first time I really paid my respects. I wasn’t scared of the ceremony, actually — I was scared of airport. I didn’t know how the luggage cart system worked, because it was always my dad who handled that for me when I came to visit him. I didn’t know how I was going to handle it. But my uncle met me at the airport, and that helped.
on visits vs. vacations
Nailat: We’ve never really gone on a vacation, other than visits to Comoro. And when we’re there, we often go for weddings, so there isn't much time because mom is busy. There are things to do, she has to make food, there is a lot of family around. There’s never really a day there that’s going to be just the two of us and we say to ourselves, “let’s go to the beach or a restaurant.” I don't think we've ever been to a restaurant there like we normally would.
Saly: It’s true! For a wedding, it's a month of preparation because we have to cook for a week and we welcome 300 or 400 people. Entire villages come. But it’s just a question of organization. A wedding doesn’t take up the entire trip, we just have to make a plan.
on driving and independence
Saly: When we visit Comoro, it’s hard to get around. I used to drive, but then I got in an accident. I re-registered for the driving course, but as soon as I got into the driver’s seat, everything went black, so I left. When you have an accident, you have to get back on track quickly because if you let the trauma set in, it's a bit difficult. It's like starting a new life. Maybe it would be easier if Nailat had her license — it gives you independence.
Nailat: I'm young, but it's true that I'm not independent at all. I've never been independent in general. I’ve always relied on my parents. She’s much better about being logical and organized. She manages to take a step back when things are emotional.
on remembering and moving forward
Naïlat: I haven’t been back to my dad’s village since his funeral. It’s hard to organize a visit now that he’s gone.
Saly: I think she’s also afraid of her memories. She has a real bond to that place that is closely linked to her father.
Naïlat: I had so many good memories with Dad, and there's the fear of making new memories and forgetting the ones with Dad.
Saly: You won’t forget those memories. I understand, emotionally, it's what you feel with your heart and that scares your brain. We don’t want to make room for new memories because we worry that we’re going to lose our old memories, but on the contrary — if we block things out, we lose more. We lose what’s already in the past and we also lose the opportunity to move forward. We lose the future.
Naïlat: You also have experience through your job of having all these people who come to you and need to move forward.
Saly: Yes, and it’s not easy. I lost my father too. He was 84 when he died; he was a grandfather, he’d always been there. He called me the day after the tattacks on November 13, 2014. I was at a wedding and my father, who was over 80 at the time, called to ask if I was safe. I cried, because I was dancing, and he was so far away. That’s how it is with parents. I remember him, but if I dwell on losing him, I won’t be able to move forward, so I tell myself, I have my children. I also want her to hold on to something and I also want her to move forward too.
Naïlat: I actually have a similar story about my dad. I have five siblings on my dad’s side — we have the same father but a different mother. We weren’t very close growing up. In 2018 or 2019, my dad texted me to tell me that one of my sisters was having surgery and I should go see her in the hospital. I didn’t even know she was living in Paris, and it was my dad who connected us even though he was far away. After he passed away, I took a screenshot of that message and sent it to my siblings — we’ve become very close since he died because we realized that his strength formed a bond between us.
on naïlat’s time in school
Naïlat: I remember her being a very talkative and very sociable mother. She was always there. At school, for example, she was the president of the PTA, she was in all the clubs, and she would always take the day off to come on school trips. Sometimes I was embarrassed that she was always there. It wasn’t until later, talking with my little sisters, that I understood. My mother wanted to be visible. She wanted people to know that she spoke French, she was educated, and that even though our father wasn’t there, we were not abandoned, we did our homework and we were taken care of.
We lived in a predominantly white town. I didn’t have any Black friends in kindergarten or middle school, or at least very few, but I was never bullied and I never had any teachers who were rude to me. That was thanks to my work, but I know now it was also because they knew that my mother was present and keeping an eye on me.
Saly: It was a way of helping my children to see that I take care of them, I'm interested in what they do. When I work with mothers, I tell them to ask their children about what they do during the day, what they eat in the cafeteria, join the school associations, even if they don’t speak much French. It’s easy for teachers to label Black students and put them in a box — they automatically assume it’s hard at home. When there's a parent who shows up, it’s harder for teachers to make those assumptions or speak badly about students.
on saly’s memories of her childhood
Saly: My grandfather was the first person in his village to send a girl — my aunt — to school. Since she was the first girl, she was bullied and threatened. But my grandfather was a forward-thinking man. He was also the one who gave the village the land for the first school there, and for the hospital. He also created the first administrative structures in the village.
My mother never went to school. She was a housewife. But during the presidency of Ali Soilih, everyone learned to read and write. So my mother and father could both read. My father sent us to school. We were lucky to have a father who took really good care of us. He had a second family as well, but he was always there for us. He was always very close to his children. And I was considered his little protégé.
I was closer to my grandmother than my mother. She raised me, really. I was always pampered. Her name was Salama — that’s where Naïlat gets her middle name.
“It’s not about forgetting. It’s about moving forward with that wound, but moving forward nonetheless — dealing with the pain, living with it. It’s about learning to move forward while living.”
on how naïlat learned to speak her mind
Nailat: When I arrived at kindergarten, I was extremely studious and very talkative. I was the kid who was telling other children to be quiet, to line up, that kind of thing. I wasn’t bossy, but I was really in command mode. The teacher even said that I was like a little mom with her children. I’m 100% sure I get that from my mom.
Saly: One day I was shocked — I had gone to the cinema with the children and at the end of the showing, she said, “stand here, we're going to take the family photo.” I see all her friends stand at attention. She was a little girl, one of them, but they all obeyed her.
She knows how to bang on the table. I think that even at work, when things aren't going well, she's not the kind of person who's going to let herself be pushed around because she's afraid of the boss. I know how to say no when I need to say no. So I understand that she's taken a bit of that on board; she gets it from me.
Naïlat: My father wasn't shy, but he avoided trouble. He didn't necessarily cause a scene. Like, if w were at a restaurant and they made a mistake, he would be a little ashamed to say that he didn’t want to eat it. But I like things to be fair. My mother was always in charge. And when I saw my mom in charge, it taught me not to be docile.
In work, relationships, and everything, I tell myself if I let myself be walked all over or I let myself show emotion, I’ll be taken for granted because I’m a woman. I am a little young compared to the people I work with. They are 10 years older than me and I am constantly reminded of my age at work, so I have to appear credible and prove myself.
on adapting to new communication styles
Naïlat: Growing up, I felt that she was very strict. I’d compare my life to friends from similar backgrounds and I didn’t understand why I couldn’t have a phone, or go to a party, or sleep over at a friend’s house. It made me very angry and so I had a bit of a rebellious phase when I was around 14 — when she wouldn’t let me go out, I would lie and go anyway. I needed to make those mistakes to understand why I shouldn’t make them.
Now I understand that she was being protective — maybe a bit overprotective, especially after my dad left. It’s funny, because now the truth is that I’m someone who doesn’t like going out. I spend all my weekends at home. I get very anxious when there are too many people or too much noise. In fact, I didn't even like parties or anything when I was younger, I just wanted to be like the others. I went to one party and everyone was smoking and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. That was a lesson — I could finally admit that I didn’t like it. That was the moment when I understood why it was forbidden.
It’s been an adjustment. I stopped being as angry when I understood her better, and then I understood her even better and was even less angry, and so on. It’s about trust and adaptation. We know now that she knows better than me about some things, but I know what I want about others. We’ve gotten to the place we’re at now by talking a lot, being togther a lot, and telling the truth about how we make one another feel, even when we hurt each other.
Saly: You can’t rush children. They’re different at each stage of life and the job of a parent is to help them through that stage. You shouldn’t say no just for the sake of it, you should explain. But even then, when you tell them what they can and can’t do, they won't understand at the time. You have to trust that they’ll understand later. They’ll realize you were right.
Naïlat: The first time I went to a club, my mom came with me. She wouldn’t let me go on my own. She said, “if you want to go, we can go together!” But now I think she understands my personality and she knows that I’m not going to be out smoking or anything like that, so she trusts me a bit more.
on what they’ve learned about womanhood
Naïlat: I learned to be strong from my mother. She was never a scared, semi-submissive, semi-unhappy mother who stays for the children. I never saw that kind of attitude. I saw it in films and in books but never from her. It's about not letting yourself be pushed around anywhere. She won a lawsuit against her employer 15 years ago because he was harassing her.
Saly: It’s important to not let yourself get pushed around. In that case, I was my own lawyer and I won €37,000.
“My mother was very fashionable when she was my age. She paid a lot of attention to detail. I learned the importance of paying attention to your appearance and how you present yourself from her. Sometimes that’s the first impression people have of you. They don’t have any context, they don’t know you, and you never want to be ashamed of how you look. You want to look like yourself.”
on how they’re similar
Naïlat: Right now it doesn't look like it with her outfit, her posture, and everything, but she's very funny and she's very comfortable with herself. I understand now that she's not necessarily confident in herself all the time, but she never let me see that. So for me, I don't necessarily have great confidence in myself, but when I enter a place, I make sure I have good posture and I try to adapt to the situation, and that’s something I learned from my mother, because she can talk to anyone. If we meet someone who’s very old, she knows how to talk to them; if I introduce her to a friend of mine, she knows how to make a good joke. She’s very funny, and I like to add a little humor and not be too serious.
Saly: I think it's like a second skin I have developed through my work. In my field, you have to adapt your speech, you tone, you have to read the room and adapt. I think I feel comfortable everywhere I go because of that skill.
Naïlat: Also, sometimes at work people will ask, “How are you so stylish?” and I’ll say, “I get it from my mother.” And now, my mom loves making TikTok videos showing off her looks with me. It’s her new favorite thing she gets so excited picking the music and doing little transitions. It’s our playful side.
on how they’re different
Naïlat: I think we’re different because I was raised in Europe and she grew up in Africa. And also we’re different in how we express emotion. When I'm angry, I'll say it straight away. When I'm very happy, I’ll say it straight away. I’m very into talking and she thinks that’s very Gen Z. Mom will keep quiet and wait until the time is right to say something — that, or she’ll die in silence.
Saly: Yes, children who grow up in Europe want hugs all the time, and it’s different where I come from. I’ll hug her, but not very often — but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her. People sometimes think that because I’m quiet and I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve, everything is always fine. I think that in my family, people don't worry too much about me. Then when things aren't going well, and I get angry, people think that I’ve just suddenly lost it. But just because I don’t talk about my emotions doesn’t mean I don’t have them.
Naïlat: Another difference is that I like to go with flow — I’ll leave the house in the morning and maybe I’ll go to the flea market, maybe I’ll go to lunch. I can’t predict how the day is going to go. Paris is so full of people, you never know who you might meet. My mom really likes to plan her day.
Saly: Maybe it’s a generational thing. I like everything to be clear and organized.
Naïlat: Another thing is that she absolutely hates sushi and raw fish which is funny because I could eat it every day. On the flip side, I don’t like cooked fish at all and that’s her absolute favorite meal. Our tastes are completely opposite but it always makes dinner time entertaining.
on books & media that have influenced them
Saly: I don't read much, I used to read when I was at school but that was a long time ago. I read French literature, Victor Hugo and all that. I introduced Naïlat to reading when she was a baby. I bought her a Marlène Jobert collection when she was three or four years old. That’s when she started to get the taste for reading.
Naïlat: When I was in school, we subscribed to a program called J'aime lire, and they would hand out books at school. Once a month, your name was called and you got to go and get your book. I loved that, I felt like a celebrity. I used to really like reading, but I think TikTok has ruined that. I work in social media and spend all my time on my phone, so I have trouble concentrating for very long. I lost that thing that made me able to spent two hours with a book — now it's impossible. I can't read more than 40 minutes. After that, the words don't mean anything and I can’t remember anything.
I got my degree in literaturefor nothing, because I don’t read any more. There are a few books that really left an impression on me. A book that left a mark on me in middle school was A Bottle in the Sea of Gaza. The last book I read was The Last One by Fatima Daas. I loved so much that it made me cry. There's also A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, which is so beautiful.
Recently, we also discovered this beautiful podcast by the talented creative Mouezi. It sparked some really tender conversations between us.
on their beauty routines
Naïlat: My routine is pretty simple: aloe vera gel, SVR sunscreen, and a serum from Aroma Zone I’m obsessed with. I also love Koba body oil. My mom just copies me now! She keeps it very natural but she never goes without her signature red lipstick.
on their favorite spots in paris
Naïlat: Cinema Christine is an independent cinema where two of my friends host a film club, where we watch a film once a month and afterwards, a critic or someone involved in making the film would come and we discuss it. For cafés, I like Buddy Buddy, little places like that.
Saly: Sometimes, we like to go to Le Bûcheron. There’s a Japanese place near here we’ve been going to since Naïlat was in middle school. It’s called Guimi House.
