On Leaving Jendouba

As Chris was driving me to Tunis for my flights to the U.S., we entered a traffic circle in Jendouba and there, in the middle of the circle, parked against a curb was a battered, little old pickup truck with a horse and two donkeys crammed together in its bed.  Unfortunately, my camera was packed; so I could not take a photo.  

For the next two days, I tried to imagine what their backstory might have been:

A horse and two donkeys

Came into town

In the back of a pickup truck

Wearing a frown

“I’m totally embarrassed,”

One donkey said,

The other one sighed,

“I’d rather be dead.”

“I should be out working;
Be pulling my cart
Not standing in a truck bed.
That guy has no heart!”

“I cannot believe

He abandoned us here

In the middle of traffic

And just disappeared.”

“Oh, quit your complaining,”
Said the horse to his mates.
“Be glad you’re not chickens
To be served on a plate.”

“I’m glad for this change
in our regular day;
Maybe our owner
Will just stay away."

“He was always so grumpy,
And grouchy and mean.
Maybe that’s why he left us
In this beat-up machine.”

“Sometimes when he rode me
He’d give me a whack.
So, I’m happy today
That he’s not on my back.”

The donkeys just nodded

They knew he was right

Their owner had sometimes

Left them harnessed all night.

And they didn’t like living

With buses and cars.

They longed for a farm life

And nights full of stars

But their owner had business

In the middle of town

And the donkeys pulled wagons

Stacked with goods all around

Or, if there was no work

They’d be tied to their cart

From the time the sun rose

Until it got dark.

They didn’t mind pulling.

They liked it, indeed.

They were tough. They were strong;

But they weren’t built for speed

They were small and compact

And they walked really slow

Cars and trucks would honk loudly

As they passed them to go.

The streets were so busy

they often couldn’t cross.

Which made some folks say

The day of the donkey cart was lost.

But where was their owner?

Had he just run away?

Had he gone for a tea break

Or was he having a bad day?

And then, in the distance,

They saw two men walking

One was their owner

And the two men were talking

They watched the men wait

For the traffic to break

And just as it did

They saw the men shake

There were smiles all around

 And some money changed hands

Shukran, “Thank you,” said their owner.

Afwan, “You’re welcome,” said the man.

From that very minute

Their lives changed forever

The new owner was a farmer

With wheat fields near a river.

When they left that old pickup

They wanted to sing

But a donkey-horse trio

Is not a good thing!

And that, as the late, great 
Paul Harvey would to say, 
"Is the rest of the story!"
So, have a good day. 

Coming Close to the End

(With apologies to Frank Sinatra's "My Way")

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final two days.
My friends, I'll say it clear,
My thoughts are here for you on display.

In my weeks with Tami and Chris
I've traveled many different highways;
And more, much more than this,
I learned it their way.

Yes, there were times, you may be sure
When I felt lost and insecure
But through it all, new friends were there
To show the way and ease my care.
I watched Jendoubans every day
And learned it their way.

For what is a traveler, for what does he yearn?
If not to meet new friends and learn
To see the world through different eyes
And hear the words of those who cry,
"Come be with us; come share our day
And learn it our way!"

Come be with us; come share our day

And learn it our way!

 

St. Augustine (354-430 A.D.) the great North African church leader, philosopher, scholar, theologian, resident of Carthage, and traveler, wrote:

The world is a book and those who do not travel 

read only a page.

Hannibal, Augustine, & Perpetua

On June 12th, Chris had to go into Tunis to meet with some people regarding the business end of the ACCESS program. So I tagged along.  We met and spent some time with Chris' U.S. partner, Michael, who with his family had just arrived in Tunis for a two-month stay. After completing their meetings, Chris and Michael decided to give me a tour of some of Tunis' most famous historic sites. 

We drove a few kilometers from the center of Tunis to the site of Ancient Carthage. I know I was there but it is still difficult to realize that I actually stood where the great Carthaginian general Hannibal stood before launching his elephant-led armies in their onslaught of southern Europe in the second century B.C.

    (Columns of the city temple)

 

An almost hidden set of stone steps leads visitors to a subterranean tomb, complete with a statuary alcove, burial vault and mosaic tile floor.

Situated on a bluff overlooking the beautiful Mediterranean Sea,  the view from ancient Carthage is spectacular.  When the Romans defeated Carthage (c. 146 B.C.), it became one of the empire's most important cities on the North African coast.

 

As was typical of Roman society, an immense Roman Bath complex was constructed for the upper class to enjoy. Carthage's baths are on the edge of the sea and today visitors are free to wander through the many rooms and alcoves.

Within a mile of ancient Carthage are the ruins of a small basilica where history tell us Monica prayed for her arrogant and profligate son, Augustine, who in the A.D. 300's became one of the most influential leaders and theologians of the early Christian church.  His Confessions is considered the first western autobiography.

And, finally, Chris and Michael took me to the ruins of the ancient amphitheater where the Roman noblewoman Perpetua and her Christian slave, Felicitus, were attacked by lions and martyred in 203 A.D. to the cheers of a crowd of spectators.  

The amphitheater, like many such Roman facilities, had an underground tunnel system below the event "floor" which today is visible and accessible. It was relatively easy to imagine gladiators waiting here to ascend the steps to the surface where they would face each other in fights to the death.

It was more difficult and much more heart-rending to envision Perpetua and Felicitas (and hundreds of others like them) being held here in chains awaiting their deaths as an afternoon's entertainment because of their refusal to worship the Roman emperor.

Mid-Visit Musings

I began this post a few days ago but couldn't get a handle on what I wanted to say. Now I am three-quarters of the way through my time here in Jendouba, Tunisia. In 4 days I will leave this fascinating country and return home to Summerville, SC, via Paris and New York City.

Jendouba is a medium-sized city in the northwestern part of Tunisia; two-plus hours west of Tunis, the capital, and an hour-and-a-half south of the resort city of Tabarka on the Mediterranean Sea.

Jendouba's people are friendly and welcoming but few of them speak any English at all. French is the second language here, as it is in much of Tunisia, but it is everyday French mixed with Arabic creating a local patois which is decidedly more Arabic than French.

There are very few westerners living in Jendouba or in much of Tunisia outside of Tunis. So I asked my hosts and their North American friends, "Why are you here? Why have you come? Why have you chosen to live in Jendouba?" They answer with, "Do you know the story of Abraham?"

Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing  . . So Abram went, as the Lord had told him. . . 

 

 

 As Abram left his home and all he knew taking with him his family and such as he could carry, so my new friends have left their homes and families in the west and settled themselves in Tunisia. They have businesses here, speak the language of their neighbors (as a result of diligent and lengthy study), educate their children in local schools or, in some cases at home, buy groceries in the local open air markets, sit in cafes in the evenings talking with friends - in short, becoming full-fledged members of the communities in which they live and move and have their being.

Is it easy? Surely you're kidding. Is it demanding? Without question. Is it dangerous? Only to the extent that entering into any country and culture as a foreigner and stranger calls for increased care and caution. Is it worth all the time, energy, anxiety, frustration, separation, and confusion? How else are we to know those whom we do not know?

How else are those in far-off parts of the world going to understand us if they never see and meet us on their own turf, in their own backyards, in their everyday walk through life?

I wish I were twenty years younger

Drawing "LIFE" - The Final Class

Friday was the last June class of the ACCESS program at More Than Words. I wanted to do something different, something that would engage the students actively and also provide them the opportunity to express themselves and share their perspectives. I decided to have them draw. I had no idea if it would work but figured I'd give it a try.

After what had become my opening gambit each morning - asking "Did you sleep last night?" and students telling me they went to sleep at 2 or 3 or 5:30am, I divided the classes into groups of 3 and gave each group a poster-size sheet of heavy paper, a packet of colored markers, and the topic sheet: DRAWING YOUR LIFE. Their task was to draw pictorial representations of each of the four terms.

I went around to each group and made certain they understood the directions and the four terms. Then I let them go. 

Things started slowly at first as the students talked about what to draw.  I saw a few students using their cell phones and thought, "Well, this was a dumb idea. They're already bored and not interested and we have a whole hour together." 

 

A little while later I was relieved to discover that they were using their cell phones to find pictures online that they wanted to copy for their posters.

While my students come from different high schools in the area (some live 10-15 miles outside of Jendouba and must use public transportation to get to the More Than Words offices), they have been together for weekend ACCESS classes since January and know each other very well. 

 

They seemed to really enjoy this assignment.

It was a joy to watch them talk, and argue, and laugh as they put their ideas together and created their LIFE posters.

In some groups one person drew and the other two offered "suggestions" as to the particular way what was being drawn could be improved.

In other groups all three tried to draw on their poster at the same time.

About 10 minutes before the end of class I called a halt to the drawing and had each group explain what they had drawn and why their pictures represented the four important terms. Their explanations were thoughtful and in some cases surprising.

I have really enjoyed being with these students this week. I think if we had one more week together I would know all their names and be able to reasonably approximate correct pronunciations. 

Two of my students have invited me to a youth Poetry Reading this coming week.  It's going to held at a local coffee/tea cafe on Thursday night at 11pm; or maybe it's on Wednesday night at 9pm. No, it's definitely on Thursday night at 10pm.  See you there!

Celebrating Ramadan in Jendouba

"Ramadan is a holy month of fasting, introspection and prayer for Muslims, the followers of Islam. Fasting is one of the five fundamental principles of Islam. Each day during Ramadan, Muslims do not eat or drink from sunrise to sunset. They are also supposed to avoid impure thoughts and bad behavior. Muslims break their daily fasts by sharing meals with family and friends, and the end of Ramadan is celebrated with a three-day festival known as Eid al-Fitr, one of Islam’s major holidays."

(History.com / The History Channel)

The Islamic world, which I entered on the second of June, utilizes the Lunar Calendar which means that the precise dates of Ramadan vary over the course of several years. This year Ramadan falls from May 26 to June 24 and began just as Tunisian public schools were closing for their summer break.

According to my students, the holy month of Ramadan is a time when they are reminded to pray and thank God for his blessings. It is also a time when their fasting from sunrise to sunset helps them focus on those who are poor and in need of help.

In Tunisian cities such as Jendouba and in villages throughout the country, many businesses almost come to a standstill during Ramadan - at least in the mornings. The reason is that from sunset until early morning Tunisian families are celebrating the breaking of their day-long fast.  They fix elaborate meals, invite family and friends to join them, go to the mosque to pray, and then gather at cafes or in public areas to talk and play and enjoy one another's company.  This includes entire families and it is not uncommon to see parents with very young children enjoying a cool evening at 11pm, 12pm, and even 1 or 2am. Such late night activity makes early rising the next morning difficult. In fact, several of my students would tell me that they had not slept at all but had just come to class following their previous evening's time with friends.

One of my students invited me to his home on Thursday evening to celebrate iftar, the breaking of the fast. I was honored by the invitation and so on Thursday afternoon, Chris & I drove to his village 18 kilometers outside of Jendouba. He and his father and young sister were standing on the side of the road when we neared their village. His father asked Chris if I'd like to see the Roman ruins of the ancient marble quarry nearby?  He did not have to ask twice!

As we walked through recently harvested wheat fields (the Jendouba area was known as the "Bread Basket" of ancient Rome), I could not help but marvel at the remains of Roman buildings, ancient stone roads, and an intact yet crumbling amphitheater.  I was walking in history! A history that is just everyday life for Baha and his family.

We walked to a small river which Chris said is the only river in the region that never dries up in the summer and flows from Algeria in the west.  A few pillars of an ancient Roman aqueduct still stand guard in the distance.

When we returned to where Chris had parked his Peugeot minivan, Baha's father asked if I was tired or would I like to climb up the marble mountain and see where the slabs were quarried?  Tired? Not a chance. So, following him on a relatively steep gravel path, we made our way up a couple hundred feet into a break between two marble towers. 

 

The view from the mountainside was marvelous.

We spent about 20 minutes in that marble world in the sky - awed by the amount of time, effort, and physical labor it must have taken to slice away slabs of marble, manouever them to ground level, transport them to the river a half-mile away and then float them to the coast for shipment to Italy and other Mediterranean ports.

(This is a shot of Chris. Striations from the drills used to separate the marble into slabs can be easily seen.)

According to Chris, the marble from this quarry (a yellow/putty/khaki color) is found only here and nowhere else in the world.

As we returned to ground level and left the marble mountain we passed this monstrous hunk of stone. I could not help but wonder what Michelangelo and his chisel could have done with this abandoned rock.





While that was a wonderful experience, the best was yet to come: Iftar with Baha and his family! We drove about 5 minutes from the quarry to the village where he lives with his parents, younger brother and sister, and his grandfather. Chris and I were invited to sit on the covered patio adjacent to a walled interior space. Bottles of water were on the low table but as it was not sundown and the family would not partake, neither did we.

Baha asked if I'd like to see his pigeons and took me around to the rear of the house to see his flock of 10 birds - strictly pets. Then he and his sister took me to see his grandfather's farm - a acre or two across the road from the village houses where there were patches of tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers, pumpkins, and a couple of plants I couldn't recognize and which Baha did not know the English names for. There was also a monstrous green fig tree - and this man loves figs!  There was also a very large pomegranate tree but the fruit will not be ripe until Fall. (I had left my camera in the van because I was uncertain as to whether it would be appropriate to take photos. So no farm pics.)




The three of us returned to the house just before dusk and sat around the table awaiting the evening "call to prayer" which signals the end of the fasting day. Baha's mother is a wonderful cook and had prepared a variety of traditional iftar foods.

I asked if I could take a photo of the family before we ate and everyone agreed that this would be a great idea.

Baha's mother did not eat with us, as is custom, but did join us after dinner when they wheeled the TV onto the porch to watch a popular Tunisian game show.

We stayed until about 10pm and then thanked the family for their invitation to share the iftar, their gracious hospitality and the delicious iftar meal.

A wonderful day in Jendouba, Tunisia.

Talking to America

On Monday, when my students and I were going through introductions, I asked each one to tell me one thing about themselves. Reem Ben Trad (entering 11th grade in the fall) said she liked to read and write Arabic poetry.

I asked if she would one day read one of her poems to me. She agreed and yesterday after class gave me copies she had made of three poems and read them to me. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I do not speak or understand Arabic, but listening to Reem read her poems was like listening to music.

This is a poem she calls "Tunisia. Oh My Country" She wrote it in reaction to three terrorist attacks that occurred in Tunisia between 2013 and 2014.  Here is the English translation (courtesy of Chris Harbin and his 12-year old daughter, Leila).

Oh, my country!
Oh, my country! A country of hope and security 
Do not give up
Do not submit to the dogs that want to oppose you
Do not give up to the wolves that want to destroy you
You can be sure that there is no place for them amongst us
For by God's truth, there has never been in Tunisia a place for terrorism
There has never been a place in Tunisia as a den for those wolves
Oh, my county, do not despair
For despair is seven times weaker than hope
In a word, make hope your residence and your resignation
Hope and may you grow your hope all the more
For is this not a country of hope and security?

 

Yesterday's classes were incredibly enlightening for me and quite engaging for the students. I gave each one a sheet of paper on which were printed 3 questions (along with the graphics that typically accompany a "Clerico" handout). I asked the students to write their answers down and then had them talk to someone next to them about what they'd written. Then we had a fascinating and, at times, highly energized group discussion.

My students wanted America to know that Islam is a religion of peace and that it respects all other religions and that it is not related to terrorism. Again and again my students (the teacher coming out here - "MY" students) wanted to tell my friends in America that terrorists do not represent Islam and, as one student said, "Terrorists are not Muslim."

I asked them what they think Americans believe about Tunisia. They said that they are afraid that Americans think everyone they meet is a terrorist and that it is not safe to come to this country. So I asked them if Tunisia is safe. "Yes," was the immediate answer. But several students offered that no place is completely safe and that wherever you go you need to be careful. But Tunisia is not a country to be afraid of. 

 In the words of one student:

"Tunisia is a very beautiful country. The people are kind, friendly and helpful. Tunisia has many amazing sites to visit and enjoy. So, don't hesitate to come here!"

Roman Ruins at a ancient marble quarry in Chemtou, Tunisia