Yousef: Profile of a Tunisian

By Alanna Nelson

Yousef Mejri works with special foreign visitors to Tunisia. As a park guard at Ichkeul National Park, he greets both international and Tunisian bird watchers to the largest remaining wetland in North Africa. Yousef also spends a fair bit of time protecting other park visitors—the 250,000 waterfowl who stop each fall and spring at Ichkeul. The birds feed and regroup after crossing the Mediterranean before flying over the Sahara desert.

Yousef takes his job seriously. Born and raised at Jebel (Mt.) Ichkeul, he feels fortunate to have a steady paying job near his home. Lack of materials and equipment can be frustrating, especially as guards trudge through the marshes, searching for poachers.

Things are looking better in some aspects, though. After writing appeals to the Ministry of Agriculture about the long hours, low pay and no benefits, the status of all of Ichkeul's park guards has improved. The guards are no longer considered “day workers,” and are now eligible for social security benefits. The guards also receive uniforms for work.

At home, Yousef and his wife Emma recently plastered the roof and walls of their thatch home. The whitewashed walls peek from behind the fence of the small compound they share with another family. The Mejris raise chickens and a few goats. A favorite meal is hard boiled eggs with “tabouna,” a flat, round bread Emma makes at home. Strong green tea sweetened with fresh mint from the garden is the essential way to finish any meal. Tea is also a midmorning and afternoon drink

Yousef hasn't had the opportunity to drink much tea with Americans. Very few ever come to the park. The majority of park visitors and researchers are from Europe, and speak French, not Arabic. Yousef did meet two American researchers, though, who spoke Arabic to varying degrees. The foreigner he remembers the most was from England. The man gave him a business card before he left for three days of backpacking. Yousef has it still.

Alanna Nelson is a board member of the Habiba Chaouch Foundation. Her observation of life in Tunisia are a result of her yearlong residence in that country.

American Returns Touched by the Land and the People

By Elizabeth Rovere

The vibrant purple and pink sky is shrouded in orange which slowly melts into the royal blue of evening; it is sunset. I am sitting on the stone balcony at the home of my Tunisian hostess feasting on fresh figs, dates and the traditional flat Arabic bread. The white stone home, with its wrought iron railing painted in the hue of a Mediterranean blue, stands proudly on the border between two quaint resort towns of La Marsa and Sidi Bou Said, about 17 kilometers from Tunis.

The air is saturated with jasmine (Tunisians pronounce it YASSMEEN), which grows wildly here in abundance and is often strung and sold by street peddlers. All is quiet except for the occasional whir of a moped or the faint sound of sheep in the neighboring pasture. Later in the evening the rhythmic vibrations and sounds of Eastern harem music are felt and heard as a couple not so far away celebrate a marriage.

Tunisia is quite beautiful, abundant in history and is a current study in contrasts.

Tunisian land was Carthage, conquered by Rome during the Punic Wars nearly two thousand years ago. It was part of the Roman Empire, the Byzantine Empire, and finally in the 8th century A.D., Tunisia was absorbed into the Islamic Empire. Nineteenth century imperialism granted France the opportunity to take Tunisia as a colony. Tunisia gained independence in 1956. Today's post-colonial Tunisia is encumbered with a hodgepodge of modern western culture, the Islamic Sunna, and traditional Arab custom. Now ruled as a secular state under the regime of Ben Ali, Tunisia seems to be searching for its identity like most post-colonial states. For me this was evident in the many contrasts. European tourists bathing topless on the private beaches make a noteworthy distinction to the more traditional Muslim women frolicking in the sea in full chadorah. Yet today's Muslim women swam in the sea only at night by moonlight as they were not permitted to appear in the waters by light of day.

Change is ever present in this society which marks a historical turning point in Tunisia's definition of itself as progressive and secular, yet Islamic. Contrast between the old ways and the new ways follow as this country skips rope to and fro hoping to find a rhythm which harmonizes both traditional and modern culture.

Islam, for some, is an external ideology—a means to a utopia rooted in the past. Others express their religion by means of national culture and despise the Western influence, particularly that of the American. Individuals of such opinion modify their stance upon discovery of a foreign guest (an American) in a grocery line or even on a crowded bus where standing on a most basic common ground individuals find their common humanity. Tunisians are masters in the art of hospitality. Tunisia is very curious about America.

The tragedy lies in the lack of American dialog with the Tunisian counterpart, except for the few scattered Americans studying abroad. There is lack of trust because there is a lack of knowledge and communication. Perhaps my most poignant moment in this land was a conversation I had with our guide from the Bourguiba Institute, a very devout man who led a group of us on a weekend excursion to the Tunisian mountains in the north. He was a traditional Muslim man who had never met an American. He shared with me what he called an Arabic proverb: “Life gives you a one way ticket on a train...” He added that we should make it the best trip possible and not ruin it with hostility and war.

This view crosses too many cultures to be only an Arabic saying and, though simple, is too often forgotten.

Tunisia is a wonderland of folklore, traditional religion and modern influences: sounds of disco along side the call of the muezzin. Tunisia extends a welcome, yet maintains a distrust. Cultural barriers persist, and will continue to do so until exchange of knowledge can establish more common ground.

Elizabeth Rovere spent the summer of 1992 in Tunis, Tunisia studying Classical Arabic at the Bourguiba Institute of Living Languages. She hails from North Carolina.

I

New Language, New Awareness
A Tunisian Journey

By Sue Nelson

Picture the clear blue skies with the warm sun blazing down on a sand beach as white as sugar with crystal clear water. Picture the warm summer evening with star-studded skies when families gather on their adjoining porches to visit and share the concerns of the day with an American visitor.

These words paint the picture of the four days I spent in Kalibia, Tunisia—a village where most know very little English and nobody speaks it regularly. After six weeks of intensive language at the Bourguiba Institute of Living Languages in Tunis, I was ready to test my new skills.

A narrow and dusty road leads to Kalibia, which is accessible from Tunis by a two- to three-hour bus ride. The contrast of old and new is apparent. Both television antennae and families washing their clothing in the river were visible.

My first day in Kalibia I spent at the beach with Rodha, a young friend who helped me often with the language. Often there were words I did not know. We struggled, often to the point of absurdity, to act out the word we wanted to say. I learned so much from her.

In the evening Rodha, her sister and brother-in-law (Samira and Hatem), and I walked down to the seaside cafés where the residents of Kalibia gather to socialize and relax. We looked out over the Mediterranean Sea, drinking mint tea and snacking while children ran and played between the tables. All this begins somewhere between ten and eleven at night shortly after the evening meal and ends, generally, by two in the morning.

Walking down the village street where I was staying, I began a dialogue with relatives of my friends. We talked about our lives and how we are different. Yet in the balmy air of the late night, we often found a common ground.

The only way to keep up with a schedule like this is to have an afternoon nap. Fortunately, that is normal in Tunisia, especially during the hottest months of the summer. Many shops close between one and four in the afternoon, since the workers need to rest from the heat and most shoppers save their chores until late afternoon and early evening

Mealtime is also family time, and food is plentiful and very spicy. With this spicy food comes loaves and loaves of freshly baked French bread, and the meal is always topped off with a huge bowl of fresh fruit, often from the family's yard.

I returned to Tunis safe and happy with the idea that I could not only create a dialogue in a foreign land with people who are generous and delightful, but travel unaccompanied for half a day and convey to those whose paths I crossed both my needs and my wishes of goodwill to them.