TIZI OUZOU/PARIS — In the spring of 2025, Léna and Jerry, a French YouTuber couple with over 174,000 subscribers, arrive in Kabylia after previously visiting the Algerian Sahara and Algiers. Their channel, dedicated to human encounters around the world, has already documented 45 countries. They don’t yet know it, but their journey in Kabylia will end brutally: two arrests, 48 hours of detention, forced expulsion. Their crime? Having documented their encounter with the Kabyle people.
This affair, which occurred before Kabylia’s declaration of independence on December 14, 2025, and the wave of stigmatization that followed, reveals the face of Algerian tyranny.
”Paradise exists, it’s called Kabylia”
In Béjaïa, the couple’s first Kabyle stop, the welcome is immediate. Between Cap Carbon and Pic des Singes, invitations multiply. A family welcomes them for a traditional meal. “When there’s a guest, they’re the most important person in the house,” they’re told.
After about twelve days, they land in Sahel, their first mountain village. Léna bursts into tears. Within hours, the couple is taken in by a group of Kabyle women who are simultaneously soccer players, singers, masons, and farmers. “We do everything,” they simply summarize. These women give concerts everywhere and play soccer against university teams.
The village houses religious diversity like all Kabyle villages. Christians, practicing and non-practicing Muslims coexist peacefully, embodying the millennial tolerance that characterizes Kabyle society.
At departure time, the farewells are heartbreaking. “Never experienced something so intense in 45 countries,” Jeremy will testify. “Paradise exists, it’s called Kabylia,” adds Léna, in tears.
In Tiferdoud, the second village, the couple discovers the Tajmaɛt, this millennial village assembly. “One of the oldest forms of democracy in the world,” they’re told. Fifteen elected people manage the village on a volunteer basis. All inhabitants can participate in monthly meetings.
Everywhere, Tifinagh adorns the walls, the Berber calendar (year 2975) is claimed, and Kabyle identity is displayed without complex. “I am Kabyle, I am never an Arab,” proudly declares an inhabitant. “For me, it’s the heart of the world."
"What we don’t know is that at that moment, we’re already under surveillance”
But behind this hospitality, a shadow looms. Already in Sahel, the village chief asks for their documents “for the authorities.” At each encounter, the same question returns: “Are you travelers or journalists?”
“Along with Afghanistan, it’s the only country where we’ve been asked this question so much,” observes Jeremy. The couple pays no attention to it. They don’t know that at this precise moment, they’re already under surveillance.
In Ath Yenni, their last stop, the signs become clearer. The guardian of the guest house where they’re staying appears distant. A man on the terrace stares at them for 10 to 15 seconds without greeting them. “You can imagine everything after watching the images a second time,” Jeremy will comment in his final video.
What they’ll learn later is chilling: the guardian had been contacted by authorities before their arrival. “Watch out, there are two YouTubers who might come knocking at your guest house door. If that’s the case, call us.”
The surveillance never stopped. During their interrogation, the police “came up with improbable details” about their movements. At the Tizi Ouzou police station, Jeremy will recognize a man: the one who, in Sahel, had kindly offered them a bottle of olive oil and shown them his house. “He’s not surprised to see me,” Jeremy notes bitterly.
First arrest: Fifteen men for a couple of tourists
The next day after their night in Ait Yenni, as they’re leaving their guest house to film the sunset, fifteen men in civilian clothes intercept them. No uniforms, no identification. “You’re going to follow us.”
When the couple demands to see their professional cards, the men get angry, become “really aggressive.” They ask to separate Léna and Jeremy in different cars. “There were only men, it was out of the question,” Léna recounts. “They understood they’d have to beat us up for that to be possible. That’s not what they wanted at that moment.”
After announcing they’d take them to Tizi Ouzou (2-hour drive), then claiming it would be “just 15 minutes,” the escort does indeed take them to Tizi Ouzou. Night has fallen when they arrive in front of a building with high walls topped with barbed wire. “We’re not at an official entrance to an official building,” Jeremy notes.
Eight hours of interrogation
The interrogation lasts eight hours. The same questions are asked three times: first orally, then transcribed in a notebook, then typed on a computer. Each time, translation, rereading, confirmation. Errors are detected. Everything starts over. “Word by word,” Léna recounts, exhausted.
The questions focus on their family, their religion, their relationships with Kabyles. “In 8 hours, we went through our entire lives,” summarizes Jeremy. Their equipment is examined. “We felt a hint of disappointment. There was nothing,” he observes.
In the corridors, they hear snippets of conversation. A man tells the interpreter: “They came to Algeria with a tourist visa but they’re journalists. They make videos in Afghanistan.”
The humiliation: The body search
In the middle of the interrogation, a policewoman arrives. All the men leave the room. Léna expects a classic search, “like at the airport.”
“No, no, you have to remove the t-shirt, the pants,” the policewoman orders her. “I found myself in underwear,” Léna testifies, her voice still trembling months later. “Even today, I’m still shocked to have experienced that.”
Anguish seizes her: were there surveillance cameras in the room? A hidden phone in video mode? “Just imagining that disturbs me enormously.”
Most troubling: Jeremy was never searched. “Later, we realized there was a problem,” the couple notes.
After eight hours, they’re finally told: “It’s okay, we’re taking you back to the guest house.” Can they resume their journey, their videos? “It’s okay,” they repeat, without further explanation. On the way back, the young policeman tries to make conversation: “I wanted to be friends with you. Why are you getting angry?”
Back at the guest house, the guardian reveals he was contacted before their arrival. “It’s crazy to imagine we were under surveillance for days, weeks,” Jeremy realizes.
Second arrest: “A guy came in violently”
The next day, after lunch, the couple rests in their room. Knocks at the door. “Your heart beats really fast,” Léna recounts.
“A guy came into the room violently and snatched the phone from my hands” as she was trying to call her family. “That’s when I understood: OK, this isn’t a joke.”
“Take all your things, follow us.” This time, no lies about the destination. Direction: Tizi Ouzou, with all their belongings. In the car, for two hours, “we didn’t say a word,” Jeremy remembers.
Seven hours on chairs
At the police station, “zone reserved for tourists,” all their electronic equipment is confiscated: computers, phones, cameras. Virtually no questions. Just waiting. “Seven hours on chairs,” Léna specifies.
That’s where Jeremy recognizes the olive oil man from Sahel. “He’s not surprised to see me.”
When the couple asks what’s going to happen, a guard responds: “Well listen, you shouldn’t have done anything wrong.” At that moment, they still don’t know what they’re accused of.
48 hours of confinement in a hotel
In the evening, a female police officer announces: “You’re going to spend the night at a hotel.” She calls in front of them: “Prepare a room for them.”
The escort takes them to a hostel. At the foot of the building: fifteen to twenty bodyguards. “What’s happening? You feel like it’s a movie,” Jeremy describes.
The “prepared” room has been emptied of everything: frames, hangers, curtains removed. “There’s only two beds left, a wardrobe and a disgusting bathroom.” No phone. The window overlooks guards posted below. Guards in the hallway. Door locked. “We can’t get out. We’re literally surrounded.”
“It’s house arrest in a hotel,” Léna summarizes. They’re alone in the empty establishment. No possible contact with the outside. Their families in France know nothing.
”I have the fear of my life”
Hours pass. “It’s horrible because in there, your mind races,” Léna confides. “You imagine everything. That’s it, we have no more freedom, we’re going to prison.”
She thinks of that YouTuber imprisoned for two and a half years in Iran. “It’s horrible. And it necessarily crosses your mind.”
The next day, waiting until noon without being offered food. They have to ask. “Well, you should have told us.”
The chiefs of the tourist police come to announce: “It’s taking a bit longer than expected. You’ll have to spend an extra night.” Seeing Léna in tears, one of them asks: “But why are you crying?”
“But I’m locked up, watched by twenty people, in a country that’s not mine,” she responds, incredulous. “I have the fear of my life, actually.”
The second night is even worse. “I don’t even want to wake up. I’m curled up in my bed under the covers. I’m feeling too bad,” Léna testifies. “You really lose hope.”
The expulsion: “You’re going back to France”
On the third day, a police car arrives. “Maybe it’s now, we’re going before a judge, we’re going to prison,” Léna thinks. At the police station, new interrogation, this time about their airport passages. How did no one say anything about their equipment?
“Listen, really, at the airport we had to empty our bags. The customs officers asked us if we were influencers, YouTubers. We said yes. They told us: very good, have a nice trip.”
It was their fourth passage with the same equipment. “They had trouble believing us,” Jeremy notes.
After viewing all their video recordings for hours, a female police officer finally announces: “It’s okay, you’re going back to your country. We’re going to get you a plane ticket, you’re going back to France.”
Léna and Jeremy exchange a glance, “a glimmer of hope.” But “you don’t want to believe it anymore. They’ve lied to us too much.”
Documents in Arabic, forced signature
A new report is drafted. In Arabic. Without an interpreter this time. “We signed a document, we have no idea what’s on it,” Jeremy admits. Threat: “You sign because otherwise you’ll miss your plane.”
Anthropometric photos. Fingerprinting. Filing. “For I don’t know what reason.”
Escort to boarding
A mandatory medical visit precedes departure. Objective: prove they weren’t beaten. Léna’s blood pressure is so high that the nurse “looks strangely.” “What’s your blood pressure when you think you’re going to prison?”
Direction airport. Three cars. Léna and Jeremy separated in different vehicles. “Maybe it’s the last time our eyes meet for a long time,” Jeremy thinks, turning around every ten minutes to check that Léna is still following.
At the airport, escort of four to five police officers with “BRI” armbands. Passage through the diplomatic gate “in front of everyone.” Surveillance until boarding.
Last request from authorities: “Give a good image of Algeria, please. Make beautiful videos.”
The pretext that doesn’t hold
The official reason for their expulsion? “Equipment too professional” for a tourist visa. “It was more akin to a form of journalism,” they were told.
However, the couple passed through Algerian airport controls four times with the same equipment: Paris-Algiers, Algiers-Djanet (Sahara), Djanet-Algiers, Algiers-Paris, then Paris-Algiers for Kabylia. Each time, cameras around their necks, visible microphone, bags full of equipment.
Each time, customs officers asked: “Are you an influencer, YouTuber?” Answer: “Yes.” Reaction: “Very good, have a nice trip.”
Other YouTubers have filmed in Kabylia before them without problem. “We hid nothing,” Jeremy insists.
The real reason? “I think the real issue is that they were afraid we’d make critical reports,” he analyzes. In a context of diplomatic tensions between France and Algeria, the regime practices preventive “paranoia.”
But one element makes this affair even more significant: it takes place in spring 2025, before Kabylia’s declaration of independence (December 14, 2025).
The surveillance and repression were already in place. For the Algerian regime, Kabylia was already, at that time, a territory to control, and its witnesses to neutralize.
”If videos showing Kabyle hospitality bother you…”
Back in France, the couple publishes their videos. The first three episodes show Kabyle hospitality, the beauty of villages, the emotion of encounters. The fourth reveals the arrest and expulsion.
The reaction is immediate and troubling. Under their Kabyle videos, negative comments flood in. “We are shocked by the number of negative and suspicious comments,” they write in a comment on the video. “We didn’t receive negative comments when we talked about the Tuaregs of the Sahara.”
Some accuse them of being spies, others of making “separatist propaganda.” Suspicious accounts multiply hate messages.
Their response is direct: “If videos showing Kabyle hospitality bother you, only one question comes to mind: what problem do you have with Kabyles and this region?”
Anatomy of colonial repression
The Léna and Jerry affair reveals the mechanisms of systemic repression. Let’s examine the facts:
1. Preventive surveillance
- Network of informants in villages (guardian contacted, olive oil man)
- Probable tracking from Béjaïa
- “Improbable details” revealed during interrogation
- Presumed wiretapping
2. Absence of legal basis
- No reason for arrest communicated
- No lawyer, no witness
- Documents in Arabic not translated
- Refusal of copies of reports
- Detention without warrant (48h in hotel)
3. Procedural violations
- Irregular body search (Léna yes, Jeremy no)
- Repeated interrogations without guarantees
- Forced signature under threat
- Filing without justification
4. Systematic intimidation
- 15 men to arrest a peaceful couple
- Multiple escorts (3 cars to airport)
- 15-20 guards around hotel
- Attempted male/female separation
- Deprivation of communication with families
5. Psychological humiliation
- Repeated lies about release
- False hopes (“It’s okay” without explanation)
- Contempt (“You shouldn’t have done anything wrong”)
- Confinement without explanation for 48h
- Maintenance in total uncertainty
6. Expulsion as final solution
- Forced purchase of tickets by the State
- Rushed departure (a few hours)
- Escort to boarding
- Impossibility of return (filing)
These methods don’t result from overzealousness by a few police officers. They reveal a deliberate policy: control the narrative about Kabylia, prevent any independent positive testimony, treat this territory as an occupied zone.
The disturbing contrast
Two Kabylias coexist in Léna and Jerry’s testimony:
The people’s Kabylia:
- Spontaneous, disinterested, generous hospitality
- Millennial democracy (Tajmaɛt)
- Free women (sports, music, construction, agriculture)
- Preserved identity (Tifinagh, Berber calendar, yaz)
- Religious tolerance (Christians, Muslims, non-believers)
- Concrete solidarity
Kabylia under Algerian control:
- Omnipresent surveillance
- Network of informants
- Arbitrary arrests
- Detention without legal grounds
- Systematic humiliations
- Forced expulsion
This contrast is unbearable for the Algerian regime. It demonstrates that another model exists, that Kabylia doesn’t need the Algerian state to be free, democratic, welcoming. It proves that Kabyles are capable of organizing themselves, preserving their identity, living in peace.
This is precisely the message the regime wants to stifle. Not through arguments, but through force. Not through debate, but through intimidation.
A message to international opinion
Léna and Jerry’s story is not an isolated case. It fits into a systematic policy of repression of everything that, in Kabylia, could inspire or testify to an alternative to the authoritarian Algerian model.
This affair occurred in spring 2025, before Kabylia’s declaration of independence (December 14, 2025).
It proves that the Algerian regime already treated Kabylia as enemy territory, already monitored its visitors, already repressed its witnesses.
For international opinion, this affair raises essential questions:
What regime monitors its own citizens like this? A network of informants in villages, preventive contacts with hosts, tracking of peaceful tourists: these are the methods of a police state, not a democracy.
What state arrests and expels witnesses of its people’s hospitality? If Kabylia were truly an “integral part of Algeria,” why repress those who show its beauty?
What government fears the truth so much? Léna and Jerry only filmed what they saw: welcoming people, a living culture, a functioning local democracy. If this constitutes a threat, it’s because the regime itself knows it’s illegitimate.
”Despite everything, impossible to forget”
Several months after their expulsion, Léna and Jerry maintain their testimony. “Despite this experience, impossible to forget all the moments of humanity, hospitality and sharing,” they write. “These are what we tell and will tell our friends, our families and our future children.”
This testimony is disturbing. It’s disturbing because it’s sincere, documented, emotional. It’s disturbing because it shows a Kabylia that the Algerian regime would like invisible: free, welcoming, democratic.
It’s disturbing because it poses a simple question: if the Kabyle people are so exceptional, why does the state that claims to represent them need to repress those who testify to it?
The answer is in the contrast itself. Between the people and the state. Between hospitality and surveillance. Between freedom and control. Between real Kabylia and imaginary Algeria.
Léna and Jerry simply wanted to travel and share. They became, despite themselves, witnesses to a colonization that dare not speak its name.
Sources and video testimonies
Léna and Jerry’s videos about their journey in Kabylia:
- What they did for us is unimaginable! Kabylia, ALGERIA 🇩🇿
- ALGERIA 🇩🇿: First village in KABYLIA and already TEARS
- WHY WE FELL IN LOVE WITH ALGERIA 🇩🇿?
- ALGERIA 🇩🇿: It ended BRUTALLY (arrest and detention)
YouTube Channel: @lenetjerry (174K subscribers)