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For more than five decades he’s pounded the pavements of Paris, becoming part of the city’s cultural fabric as he strikes up conversations, greets longtime friends and offers parodies of daily news headlines.
On Wednesday, the efforts of the man believed to be France’s last newspaper hawker were recognised, as Ali Akbar, a 73-year-old originally from Pakistan, received one of France’s most prestigious honours.
In a ceremony at the Élysée Palace, France’s president, Emmanuel Macron, described Akbar as the “most French of the French” as he made him a knight of the National Order of Merit in recognition of his distinguished service to France.
“You are the accent of the sixth arrondissement, the voice of the French press on Sunday mornings. And every other day of the week, for that matter,” said Macron. “A warm voice that, every day for more than 50 years, has boomed across the terraces of Saint-Germain, making its way between restaurant tables.”
Speaking to Reuters in August, Akbar highlighted the delight he got from walking through Paris each day. “It’s love,” Akbar said as he crisscrossed the cobbled streets of Saint Germain-des-Prés. “If it was for the money, I could do something else. But I have a great time with these people.”
Born in Rawalpindi, Pakistan, Akbar said he stumbled across his calling after arriving in Paris in 1973. When visa issues stymied his first attempt to carve out a life in Europe, he was determined to find a job that would allow him to support his parents and seven siblings back home.
With the help of an Argentinian student who was selling satirical magazines, Akbar joined the ranks of the few dozen newspaper sellers in the city. His ready smile, sense of humour and readiness to walk miles a day proved a hit, allowing him to make a modest living.
By day he sold newspapers to France’s powerbrokers, such as the former president François Mitterrand, and to Sciences Po students who would later join their ranks, such as Macron and the former prime minister Édouard Philippe. At night, in his early years, he slept rough under bridges and in squalid rooms as he scrambled to send as much money as he could to Pakistan.
As the decades passed, Akbar became a familiar face in the restaurants and bars of the Left Bank. “Ali is an institution,” said Marie-Laure Carrière, a lawyer. “If Ali didn’t exist, St-Germain-des-Prés wouldn’t be St-Germain-des-Prés.”
Slowly and steadily, he built a life in Paris, getting married and raising five children, even as the newspaper industry began to wilt. While once it had been easy to sell as many as 200 newspapers a day, those days were a distant memory, Akbar said. “I sell about 20 copies of Le Monde in eight hours,” he said. “Everything is digital. People just don’t buy newspapers.”
Still, he persisted. “I have a certain way of selling newspapers. I try to make jokes, so people laugh. I try to be positive and I create an atmosphere … I try and get into people’s hearts, not their pockets,” he said.
When news of the order of merit came, it felt like a tribute of sorts to a way of life that is rapidly disappearing, particularly in a district once frequented by philosophers such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. “People used to do their shopping in small shops. It was a village, there were small markets everywhere, butchers and fish shops. Everyone was local, everyone knew each other,” said Akbar. “Nowadays its different. Every day there’s a new face.”
On Wednesday, Macron praised the journey that had landed Akbar at the Élyséé Palace. “Before becoming an icon of Parisian life, you grew up in Pakistan, on the streets of Rawalpindi. As a child, you had to face the worst: poverty, forced labour, violence. You dream of only one thing: leaving. Escaping poverty, getting an education. Earning enough money to buy your mother a beautiful house,” said Macron. “You cross Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Greece. You experienced a clandestine life, destitution and constant fear. But you persevere.”
In the lead up to the ceremony, Akbar said it was an honour to receive the distinction. He told the broadcaster Franceinfo it was a balm for the many wounds he had racked up in his lifetime.
Even so, he said he had no plans to give up selling newspapers, insisting he would continue zigzagging the city’s streets and cafes as long as he had the energy. “Retirement will have to wait until the cemetery,” he joked.
