Tunisian Soulfood, and other revolutionary thoughts...

So much is on my mind: packing for Turkey, conferences in Turkey, PowerPoints to make for conferences in Turkey, getting my last day of work out of the way tomorrow and final grades confirmed and entered for the semester, etc.  There is so much to do yet I sit quietly in the dark next to the space heater (yes, it is freezing cold here in the Middle East) thinking about Tunisia.  Thinking about 4 years ago yesterday and today when a revolution not only swept a country, but swept through my being and consumed me.

I am thinking about my friends who experienced this event with me.  I am thinking about all the people I don't even know that witnessed this event.  I'm thinking about all the martyrs. I'm thinking about the New Tunisia of today.  The Tunisia that struggles to make something from all this.  It wasn't for nothing.  It doesn't guarantee something. Everyone is hopeful. Everyone is watching. Everyone is waiting. To see.

I am thinking about Ben Ali, the deposed dictator. Is he still in Saudi?  Is he living a life of luxury in exile?  I am thinking of all the people in the hospital that I stared blankly at while waiting for my friend solo_ojo to come out of surgery after taking a bullet for Tunisia.  I was roaming the halls of the hospital with Cyrus the Virus. I was carrying a box containing a bloody belt, a bloody pair of shoes, and a camera full of the day's fury. I couldn't understand anybody.  I was in a tunnel.  We all looked the same, grief-stricken. We were all freaked out, I'm sure.

Occasionally I would allow myself to look at the contents of the box.  I would not allow myself to cry- not yet.  It wasn't time.  Something kicked into motion inside of me.  Something I had no control over.  Something I'm sure that was a result of my father's influence on me.  My phone kept ringing.  It seemed a bother to answer.  It seemed a heavy task to accomplish.

I felt so alone, even though I wasn't.  I was surrounded by love. I was surrounded by passion. I was surrounded by revolution so fresh it was dripping crimson blood. Blood. I had it. I had it in me and on me.  I remember looking down at my running shoes.  My beloved gray New Balance running shoes, covered in blood. They weren't earlier in the afternoon...

There was a certain beauty to that murky afternoon. At this point in history, I realize I'm already starting to forget things- for whatever reason.  For whatever reason I don't want to forget anything.  I want to remember everything as it was, as it still is.  I realize I will continue to write about this because it's just so overwhelming- still. I want to feel every emotion I experienced then.  I want to remember that smell of tear gas.  I want to visualize over and over again all that I took in on that day, those days.

I thought about that day most of the day today.  I had an awfully busy day today. When the events of today were past me and I got home and turned on my computer, I opened FaceBook. I saw that many of 'us' were posting about THAT DAY, those days. It's not just me.  We are all doing it.  We are all honoring those memories of THAT DAY.  There's a comfort to that that is indescribable. I'm not sure why.

In the ensuing days there was so much tension.  There was so much laughter.  There was so much wonder. There was so much coffee and cigarettes... There was alcohol.  There was shisha. There were many late nights, watching movies.  I remember vividly staring down my window at the ground and seeing an army guy hiding beneath a palm tree. Maybe he wasn't hiding. I don't know. All the lights were out in my apartment and a few of us were watching a movie.  I remember thinking that the light from my little computer seemed so bright and that maybe it shouldn't be. 

I remember finally being able to come back into my neighborhood a few days later.  Everything felt different. Suddenly life was a slow-moving picture show in black and white.  Soon our neighborhood gang found out that solo_ojo had been shot.  Soon people started coming over to check up on him, on us. The rotisserie chicken guy came and brought us chicken.  It was our favorite.  We ate at that chicken joint 3 times a week- easy. Damn the way those chickens were stuffed full of Rosemary goodness...

Slowly life turned a new leaf.  We all came together to talk. To smoke. To drink. To share. To find moments of laughter. To be somber together. These days had an impact.  I might forget for long periods of time, but I can return at any time. I think this is what 'soulfood' is. Yes.

I'm stuffed on soulfood tonight. I think we all are. 

Happy Anniversary Jasmine...

Today marks 2 years since Tunisians came together and revolted against their then dictator, Ben Ali. I feel fortunate to have witnessed it while living downtown in the Lafayette neighborhood.  I feel fortunate because of what I saw. Because of what I felt. Because of what took place. Because history was being re-written.  I don't know how I feel about it today, as Tunisia is still recovering, and it is not clear at all if liberties are being granted, or continue to be taken away with the new (provisional) government.

But back to those moments. I was so proud of my Tunisian friends, colleagues and students. They stood in the wake of danger daring to defy the iron-fist management of the country by Ben Ali and his thugs cabinet members... My friends were so proud of have brought down an oppressive regime. The courage and energy that radiated from them was infectious. There were so many reasons to celebrate. That was then. What is happening now?

Things are not okay in Tunisia. Rights are being taken away still. Disinformation continues to exist. Corruption. Joblessness still rules. Freedoms that existed before Jasmine are threatened today. Take the government's plan to forbid public displays of affection I'm not talking about acts of lewd sexual behavior. I'm talking kissing/hugging in public... Take also the government's comments about what 'art' is supposed to be at a recent art exhibit in La Marsa where some political works of art were on display & the local Salafis didn't take kindly to & decided to violate the art space to show their dissatisfaction.  Take the (apparent) Salafi attack & subsequent destruction of a mausoleum of a 13th century Sufi saint in the beautiful Mediterranean town of Sidi Bou Said last weekend. Take the government's non-committal action for it all... blah blah blah...

So much beauty I discovered while living in Tunisia. I was so broke living there, and I still was able to see/feel such beauty. I didn't need much living there. I was happy. I had a beautiful old apartment on Rue D'Egypte. I could walk to work and all around downtown. I had lovely friends. We had sweet, cheap watering holes we used to frequent complete with lively conversations.  I could continue on. But there is no need. You all get the picture.

Many of us have moved on since Jasmine. Quite a few remain. I am almost envious. Those who remain get the real picture. They are a part of the solution- a solution that is taking a back seat to a status-quo corruption that cannot be chased away so easily as Ben Ali was... They need all their strength.

My time there was short. My abundance of love for Tunisia is endless. I briefly returned in 2011. Walking the streets. Taking in the smells. Seeing old friends. Eating my favorite foods. All of it felt like a homecoming of sorts. A homecoming that was really without ever having really settled into a home. That's how special Tunis is to me.

I will return again someday.