March 2004

The Road to Tunisia - Day 2  

The Market in Tunisia

Tunisia is a North African country full of massive Roman ruins and friendly people who speak both Arabic and French.  Cat was in her glory speaking French, then English, and then French, sometimes all in the same breath. 

At the hotel we learned that there were quite a few tours we could go on if we were willing to get up by 5:30 AM.  The first one we chose was a bus trip to Kairouan (Ka wan), the fourth most holy city in the Islamic world after Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem.

After a night of waking up cold a dozen times we realized that if the door to the balcony wasn’t shut in just the right way the heat wouldn’t kick on.  I was ready for a “proper” cup of tea and some sunshine.  The proper tea turned out to be plain Tunisian, the kind they like to add mint and loads of sugar to.  The taste was more like water.

Once we were on the bus we were treated to a view I was sure I had seen in movies as a kid.  And, the bright warm sun was like a magic potion.

Women in bright red headscarves and men with little red “Fez” caps (chechias) were waiting at every bus stop along the roads.  Men sat on the covered patios of scroungy looking coffee shops drinking tiny glasses of something hot and sharing “bong” pipes of tobacco.  In front of the butcher shops whole cow and camel heads were hanging from ropes as an advertisement.  Old men in long brown heavy wool hooded capes (burnous) looking like something out of a Star Wars movie were driving sheep and burros along the roads and hillsides. 

Cops with white military-style caps and wrist guards seemed to be at every intersection pulling over pick up trucks for some sort of inspection.  Crude imitations of Mickey and Minnie Mouse were painted on the side of a schoolyard wall.  Two dogs were eating a dead sheep along the road.  Old women rode burros loaded down with baskets full of fresh produce, and men were driving crude horse drawn wagons full of olive tree branches to some unknown place.  At each olive grove there seemed to be one whole family dressed in colorful clothes picking olives.  Men were selling big black olives from boxes at little stands along the country roads.

We passed road signs for Sousse and Bouficha while we listened to Hasan, the tour guide explain first in English, then French and finally German some of the long history of this region.  “There are 55 million olive trees in Tunisia.  Eucalyptus trees line the roads.  Women wore cream-colored material wrapped over their clothing called “sefseri”.  Nomads pitched their ancient tents on the hillside to move the sheep to pasture.  They do not own the sheep but will keep one half of the lambs in exchange for their work.”

At our first stop at the mausoleum for Abou Zamaa el-Balaoui we learned that the Andalusia-style building design (Spanish) was brought back here by the “Arabs” after they conquered Spain.  The Jews and the Muslims, who were kicked out of Spain by the same Queen Isabella who funded Christopher Columbus to come to America brought the star of David to many of the patterns seen in tile on the floor of the mausoleum.  The man buried here was called a friend of the Prophet Mohammed because he wore a locket holding three hairs from the Prophet’s beard.  It was also pointed out that Abou could not have known the prophet because of their age differences.  Whatever the story, the mausoleum was filled with colorfully tiled walls, and mosaic floor scenes.

The Grande Mosquee de Sidi Oqba (The Grand Mosque) at Kairouan was our next stop.  It was built by the Aghlabids in 863 AD and is the largest of 50 mosques located within the medina (the heart of the city).   We were told that the Prophet Mohammed laid out how mosques should be built…the prayer hall (this one has 400 marble pillars rescued from the ruins of Carthage and El Jem), the courtyard and the bell tower.  Except the bell tower doesn’t hold a bell, even though one was made to go there because Mohammed said it was better to be called to prayer by a human voice.

I could just see a bunch of guys sitting around talking about the best ways to get the locals to come to their church.  Mohammed must have said something like, “I know we’ve got the bell, and everything else is similar to the Christian churches but don’t you think we would draw more attention if people were to be called to the service by a nice voice singing to them?  Hey, how about that guy that lives down by the edge of the medina?  He sounds pretty good.”

After we looked into the prayer hall through one of the 17 heavy cedar wood doors (we were not permitted inside because we are not Muslim) we headed back to the bus, but not before being pounced on by men wanting to sell us leather goods and old coins.  As I sat on the bus waiting to leave for the medina market women, dressed in their white cloth carrying woven bags full of vegetables and fruit passed by the window.  On their ankles they wore huge bangle bracelets that clanged as they walked.  This used to be a sign of virginity, but today it is their dowry for a future marriage. Young boys who should have been in school walked past them trying to sell cigarettes to tourists.

At the medina market we prepared ourselves for what was about to happen.  Our goal, because we knew it was a long way back to the hotel, was to just keep walking until we found food from some of the market stalls to eat on the bus.

As we confidently walked through the narrow street, past the stalls selling rich spices of dried red hot peppers, fennel, and other things (I didn’t recognize) we were grabbed, yelled at and generally abused for not stopping to buy something.  Cat received the worst of it because she is small and easily latched onto.  We just kept going.  It was a pity too because there were so many interesting things to look at…carpets, handbags, silver bangles, jelly beans in baskets and lots of things I’d never seen before.

At one point we stopped to buy two kinds of round bread.  After tasting it I am sure it was made of semolina flour because it was very dry and had no taste.  As I waited for Jay to buy the bread I could see off in the distance a burro drawn cart loaded with bananas.  We made our way through the crowd in time to snatch up two big bunches before they were completely gone.  I asked the price and almost fainted…14D ($11), but I paid it because these were the first, and the last bananas I saw in Tunisia.

On the way back to the bus we stopped to buy little bags of popped popcorn and then peanuts.  We were ready for a feast as we struggled to get through the crowd and back to the bus.

Just as we had the bus in our sight a man grabbed my arm.  He was saying something in French about me owing him 4 Dinar more for something.  Jay stopped and argued that we didn’t owe him anything.  Jay was sure he had seen us buy the bananas and was trying to get more money from us.  In the mass confusion of the market I kept trying to speak loud enough so Jay could understand that this man that was demanding more money was actually the man who sold us the bananas.

Finally I told the guy that he had been the one who made change of 16D from the 30D bill we had given him, plus to pay 18D for bananas was outrageous.  Finally he could see that we were not going to pay more money, and that Jay was bigger than him if it came down to a fight.  He walked away without the money but said goodbye politely.

As we sat back on the bus to eat our well-deserved lunch I hoped that this would be my last shopping day…even with the scarf on my head for protection. 

The bananas were rich tasting and delicious.  The popcorn was fresh. 

As my hunger went away I grew sleepy from the bouncing of the bus on the rough highway.  Even though I didn’t want to miss a single sight I could feel I was going to drift off to sleep so I began to wonder how many of the 99 Arabic names for God I knew.   Allah, Mohammad, Hasan…