T Minus 6 Days

So it is.  6 days until I head to Rwanda.  My second time to the African continent in 4 months.  I left Tunisia on August 16th, and I will be back there on December 28th.  Now, to say 'The African Continent' is like saying America, and meaning Canada, The USA, Mexico, Central, and South America.  It is not fair.  Lumps a very diverse continent together in ways that probably should not be lumped.  Strike that previous line from the record.  It definitely should not be lumped into one.

I will meet up with one colleague from my team and fly from Los Angeles to Newark.  I will switch planes in Newark, and my colleague and I will meet up with two others from the team.  The four of us will be on the same flight from Newark to Brussels, Belgium.  We will spend a bref period of time in Belgium before flying all day for another eight and a half hours to Kigali, Rwanda.  A total of 22 hours in airplanes and about 30 in transit.  The other two members of our team will meet up with us in Kigali on the 30th of December.

This week our 6 person team had a great meeting via google hangout.  We were spread around the country in New Jersey, New York, Michigan, Los Angeles, and me in Merced and we were simultaneously editing our documents for submission as well as video chatting and collaborating.  Technology is very, very cool.

I have a few more days here in Merced with my family.  It is nice to be back on the West Coast and nice to be in the company of my parents, brother, and soon sisters and nieces.  It has been a long time since we have all done Christmas together.  It is nice to see the tree up and the lights outside the house.  I appreciate the decorations and the memories.   I will head down to LA with my brother on the 26th and spend two days in Santa Monica with some very wonderful friends before heading out.

I am nervous, excited, interested, stressed, overwhelmed, all of those things all at once.  It is making it hard to be fully here when my head is elsewhere.  But I try, and I check back in from time to time.

More Later...

12 days to Rwanda

I have 12 days until I leave from Los Angeles to fly to Kigali, Rwanda. I am currently at Reagan National Airport. I haven't even left DC to get to California. My flight boards now and leaves in 30 minutes. Ill have a brief layover in Dallas, then I head on over to Fresno. I am crossing a lot of miles, countries and time zones in the next few days. I am pretty excited for the adventure. There is still a ton of work to be done, but we will get there! Ciao for. Now, gettin on the plane.

Paul Collier at SAIS: Making Natural Resources Work for Development

This is a re-posting of the blog post written by my room mate, collaborator, and friend Julian Glucroft on our shared blog project.  I thought that I would share it here to keep this alive until I am abroad again, and also to get more readership.  so, here is the post.  It was written by Julian and edited by yours truly:

http://dcdevelopmenttalks.wordpress.com/2012/10/12/paul-collier-at-sais-making-natural-resources-work-for-development/

Also, I have good news!  I will be out in the field again for three weeks from the end of December to the beginning of January doing a program evaluation in Rwanda!  I am looking forward to that, and will be documenting the travel planning and process here.

Cheers!

How I Ended Up in My Underwear Wearing a Wig and Makeup Last Night

Last night after wearing a dress and slow dancing with a very drunk Polish boy of about my same age who insisted on thrusting into me while dancing, I then proceeded to do a striptease down to my underwear.  The undies and the wig and make up were the only thing between me and my birthday suit, and the crowd of about 150 onlookers from all over Europe and Tunisia.  But let me back up.

After dinner we decided to take a stroll as a family unit along the corniche, the beachside pathway that runs the length of Boujaafar Beach, the principle beach of Sousse.  Bilel, Kamel, Cherifa and I all strolled together, and then Bilel and I continued on to the more touristy area of the downtown center of Sousse.  When we turned back, we passed a hotel that was having "animations et spectacles" the cheesy sort of shows for guests at all inclusive hotels that typically involve hula dancing and roast pigs despite not having any sort of relation to pacific islander culture.  Needless to say we decided (Bilel decided) that we should go up and check it out.  So we did.

The show was in full swing, and it seemed to be geared at children, there was dancing with hand motions and German lyrics that everyone seemed to know.  They were dancing in circles and doing a samba line and all those silly sorts of things.  Just watching it made me embarrassed.  Bilel was trying his best to get me to dance too, but that sort of embarrassment is the sort of thing I loathe, so I declined and said I was happy enough watching.

After the show ended there was an awards ceremony for the previous night's "Miss Hotel" show where three women competed against each other to be the queen of the hotel.  They all got prizes and were publicly embarrassed by kissing the MC who was running the whole show.  After they stepped down, the music died down and the MC said for tonight he needed 3 boys to participate in the Mr. Hotel show.  I chuckled thinking, I would rather die that do that sort of shit in public.  Next thing I know, Bilel, much to my chagrin and ignorant of my protests, shot his hand up and said "This American wants to do it."  Ant that was all there was too it.  An American is far more exciting than another wasted Eastern European.  And for the next hour I proceeded to descend down a shame spiral, witnessed by 150 of my closest strangers.

There were several parts to the show, each progressively more embarrassing than the last I would say.  It started with introductions.  I said I was Andrew from Los Angeles, and as the night progressed I became Andre from California.  Whatever.  I then had to sing a song for the audience, as did my competitors.  Sensing that I wasn't that nervous, just slightly annoyed the MC told me I had to sing a song in Arabic of his choice.  So after mumbling along with him for a while he said, "Now you sing own song from American."  So I burst into Bohemian Rhapsody.  Not the easiest a capella song to sing, but I belted it and the crowd was cool with it.

The next round, me and my opponents (a Czeck guy and an Italian guy, both around 19) and I had to repeat our songs with 3 large pieces of ice in our mouths.  This was cold, and I sounded roughly like a beagle baying in the backyard along with  Queen album.  From the video footage, Bilel found this hilarious.  The crowd again was pleased with my efforts.  At this point after joking and yammering it was time for the intermission.

We three contestants for Mr. Hotel were shooed into a tiny backstage area and told to strip down to our underwear.  I started taking off my clothes but the Italian and the Czech guy just looked at me blankly.  They didn't really speak French or English very well.  So I said in Spanish take your clothes off.  I have never told another man to take his clothes off before.  So there I was standing with two 19 year old Europeans in my underwear, when out of nowhere dresses, wigs and make up appeard.  FUCK.  We were now entering the drag show portion of the competition.  In practical terms I was thinking the crowd must get bored at some point.

So after having greasy make up smeared on my face, a wig slapped on my head (god knows who else has worn that sweaty polyester wig) and a tight black dress thrown over me in my boxer briefs, I looked like a whore who had seen better days and too many buffets.  "Don't worry" they told us back stage. 'this is all clean.  professional."  Right.

I was not a cute girl.  But nevertheless we were paraded out in front of the crowd to cheers and shrieks of laughter from drunk men.  We were instructed to make a lap and then come back.  So we came back to the stage and sat back down on our contestant's stools.  It was then explained to us that we each had to go 'seduce a man' to be our dance partner.  One at a time the Italian got up, then the Czech, and then I stood up and this Polish rugby player came sprinting at me and hugged me, was caressing my wig/hair, holding my hand, and saying 'we gonna be win! we gonna be win! i love you! this is gonna be winning!"  I got the idea hew as excited.

So in couples, one couple at a time we had to first slow dance.  Here we are back where we started.  So we slowdanced to turn around bright eyes and he insisted on being very intimate and 'real' and thrusting into my thigh.  It was very uncomfortable and far too much Polish for me.  After that we each had to take a turn fast dancing to 50s swing music.  He spun me around, I spun him around then he charged at me with all his might (he was about 5'6 and stocky and muscular, but still) and picked me up oer his shoulder and then was too drunk and fell down, me on top of him, dress and all, crotch in his face.  The crowd went wild for that.  Then I the dainty lady picked him up and spun him around.  If you aren't grimacing reading this, imagine watching it.  It will make you wince. Then imagine doing it.  I was getting more and more furious at Bilel for tricking me into doing this.

I thought the embarrassment would end there, but no.  It was time for, as the DJ said in his mockery of good English, "time for each lovely lady make for teasing sexy dance boom boom  striptease!!!"  Again the crowd loved this.  The speakers thumped heavily and Lady Marmalade came on.  I insisted in French that I would not undress, and that the DJ could politely go f*** himself but he just laughed and made me do it.  I think this is what prostitutes must feel like.  But in any case I was in short order standing in my boxer briefs swinging a dress around in circles over my head.  It was horrifying.

Then I had to beat my chest and yell like Tarzan, which thanks to my dad I can do well.  After that I had to do beach body muscle poses.  Then I had to go form conga lines in the crowd and I finished up, along with the other dudes, with a solo belly dance.  In nothing but underwear, a wig and make up.  At this point I wasn't really embarrassed anymore as they had all been staring at me in my undies for over 20 minutes.  I was still mad at Bilel, and starting to laugh hysterically in my head at the utter insanity of the situation.  Here I was in Tunisia at an all inclusive resort hotel at which I was not a guest, competing in the mr. hotel competition, in my underwear/dressed in drag, belly dancing, supposedly here for an internship for my masters, pissed off, embarrassed, and yet still wanting to win a little bit.  It was all too much.  Finally sexy belly dance music ended and I got to sit.

Then it was decision time.  The judges conferred among themselves (two lovely Belgian women) and they came back with an answer.  The MC said, thank you to you all, thanks to our contestants, and the winner is.......ANDREW FROM AMERICA!!!!  There was anemic applause and some whoops from the drunk Tunisians and Polish kids, but the crowd was bored now.  We had been doing this for over an hour.  People wanted more drinks.  I wanted about 10 drinks.  I bowed and blew a kiss.  Then finally we were dismissed. Supposedly, now, if I return tonight I will win very nice prize.  Well I say fuck that.  They can take their prize and stick it....somewhere else.

What a night, and all on a Wednesday and all totally sober.  What a night.

Tunisia on the Run

Literally, tonight my brief reflection comes from observations made while I was running this evening.  As such, perhaps take them with a grain of salt, as they are certainly cursory.  Some things are the culmination of patterns I have noticed over the course of what has now been two months here, some things are just from this evening.

First, I ran a new route tonight that took me out of my neighborhood, which I would place as solidly middle class, and through an interesting maze like cluster of streets in a presumably much poorer neighborhood.  The sun had reached its golden hour and the light was amazing, rendering everything in richer shades of their true colors.  Shadows were blue and white walls were thick and creamy.  I ran down a solitary paved road in a neighborhood, from which branched many rocky unpaved dirt roads.  This was in the middle of Sousse, mind you, and I was struck how even within the city the income disparities are drastic.  Down the unpaved rows were lines of houses in various stages of construction from bare cinder block with no windows and only cloth curtains and broken glass cemented into the tops of walls for security, to fully stuccoed homes with tiled roofs. Vacant lots were prevalent, and seemingly where there was open space there were clusters of olive trees and groups of goats lazily munching on weeds.  Where there were no trees there were children of all ages playing pickup games of soccer in the streets or empty lots.  My run through their neighborhood garnered a lot of attention as I am sure most tourists would never see a neighborhood like this in Tunisia.

The street gradually narrowed and the number of dirt lanes branching from it grew scarce.  Houses packed close together crowded the street and though many were of scant construction, everything seemed at once haphazard and newly thrown down, but time worn with faded signs for shops and old cars further cramping the street.  Children sat with their parents on front steps and their heads turned as a ran by, following my progress as I passed.  Some kids splashed each other with water bottles trying to escape the heat that radiated from the concrete street and walls.  I know many children were present because school is out of session for the summer, but I also know that many children will not be returning in the fall.  There is a very high rate of drop out among youths following primary school.  They leave to find more lucrative pursuits in order to help their families make ends meet.  Unfortunately unemployment is high and dropping out of school leads not to an opportunity but to delinquency.  There seems to be a lack of after school programming.  Many kids get involved with sports at school, but while school is closed its unclear to me what they all do.  Some are fortunate enough to go to the equivalent of 10 days of summer camp, while others pass the summer doing just what I saw, playing soccer, splashing water and wandering down to the beach from time to time.

Largely it is soccer that draws people in.  It can be played anywhere with just a ball.  Teams can grow as big as necessary, and it is all inclusive.  It can move from the street to a lot to a field to the beach and it all works.  I know, from seeing this at the market, that many kids must divide their time between playing soccer and having fun, and selling fruits, vegetables and other consumables in the various markets.  It is an interesting divide.

Eventually I wound my way down and out of the neighborhood as the sky was turning blue and orange.  I ran along Boulevard du 14 Janvier (date of the revolution) and stepped into a hotel to use the restroom.  I inquired at the front desk how much it would be to use the pool for a day.  65 Dinar.  The price seemed to echo around the marble lobby.  It was an odd juxtaposition to what I had just seen.  Knowing that some people make as little as 6 Dinar per day(or about $3.70) the price seemed absurd.  I left and sprinted out the rest of my run to the beach and took off my shoes and shirt and dove in.  I was much happier there than at the pool.  In the sea I was surrounded by families having fun and enjoying what was free.  It was a nice run and a good reminder of why I am here to work.

Le Bain Maure (Moorish Bathhouse)

I am clean and scrubbed pink like a baby.  Today was a pretty magical day.  I woke up and had breakfast and got ready to go to the beach.  It was 97 degrees when we left at 10:30 in the morning.  The wind was hot, the street radiated heat and the white houses and apartments were shimmering.  We went down to the train station and climbed in the old commuter train.  It was not air conditioned and it was packed.  The windows were open, but sitting in the station it was stifling.  Out exposed flesh stuck to the old pleather seats and peeled away with a sound similar to wet velcro.  Just sitting sweat was dripping down my chest and condensing on my brow.  It was hot.  Finally the train pulled away and began lumbering on towards Monastir.  The feeble breeze blowing through the windows was enough to stop the excessive perspiration.  It was pleasant enough to drift to sleep.

Once in Monastir we headed to our two favorite spots.  The first is an old Roman port where you can enter the water where ships used to be landed.  Ruins surround the jagged rocks and are carved into them.  The place is rowdy with Tunisian teenage boys, each trying to do more impressive tricks than their buddies as the run and dive into the water.  After swimming at the port, we continued out the length of the rocky point that juts into the Mediterranean.  We circled to the end where there is a natural cove with cliffs where there were older boys jumping.  The cliffs range from 22-35 feet, with different places to jump.  The water was clear and turquoise blue, and so transparent we could see to the bottom.  We spent about an hour hurling ourselves of cliffs into the cool seawater and scrambling back up the cliffs to do it again.  Eventually the police chased us all away because it was 'too dangerous' so we moved around the point to lower rocks where we could just hop in the water and swim.  We swam out about 100 yards from the rocky shore where the water turned midnight blue.  We floated on our backs talking about everything and nothing and soaking in the sunny day, the hot air, cold water and blue sky.  Then we spotted a jellyfish and decided it was time to get closer to shore.    We met a young man on a boat who let us aboard, then offered to let us dive off the bow of the boat.  Tunisians are so welcoming and generous, it never ceases to amaze me.  After swimming back to shore we decided to get out.  We had a snack back in the town center and then headed back to the train to come to Sousse.  Fortunately the newer, air-conditioned train came to take us back, saving us from the now 105 degree weather. 


Once back in Sousse we lounged and then had a light dinner and decided to go to the Bain Maure, or the traditional Moorish bathhouse.  We walked into an old adobe building.  On the inside it was richly carpeted, decorated with comfortable lounge chairs for after the baths and a series of carpeted rooms for resting.  We changed our clothes and put on swimsuits (nakedness is a no go here).  We entered the steamy bath through a heavy metal door and I had no idea what to expect.


The floor was tiled and the roof was a series of low domes with arched entryways.  It was hot and steamy and there was a huge slab of hot marble in the middle of the biggest room.  The larger room was lined with private stalls for bathing after getting a scrub down.  Bilel and I made our way to the smallest, hottest steam chamber where we sat and sweat with our feet in hot water for about 30 minutes.  We talked and I marveled at the network of steam pipes and faucets and heating units and tiled benches that lined the walls of the rooms.  It was echoey and dripping and flowing water rang off the walls.  The walls were all white and bare lightbulbs hung down from the ceilngs.  We got progressively sweatier and eventually Bilel went and called for the scrubber to come.  Bilel was first, and I left him o be scrubbed while I sat in the back room, sweating out every toxin that ever entered my body.  Then it was my turn.


The man who scrubbed me down was about 5'6" and very squat.  He was wearing a swimsuit and nothing else and didn't speak any French.  He indicated that I should sit on the marble slab.  I did.  He then, with a booming SLAP hit the marble slab, indicating I should lay down.  I complied.  He began beating on my chest and massaging my pecs and my abs.  He then proceed to yank my leg across my body, throw himself on top of me and CRRAAACKKK my back popped in about 40 places.  This was then repeated with the other leg and both arms.  At first I felt a bit shocked by this squat, sweaty tunisian man climbing on my like a slippery jungle gym, but I decided to go with the flow.  He continued to massage my chest then SLAP! Hit my sternum.  Time to turn over.  He climbed on my back to pop it, yanked my now warm and compliant shoulder in odd directions and his sweaty knee might have slid across my neck.  I am not sure but I was certainly relaxed, and much more comfortable than I would have expected given the amount of sweaty man flesh on me.  SLAP on my lower back and it was time to sit up.


He put on an exfoliating glove and began to scrub my lower back, mid back then neck and shoulders with the force of a belt sander.  SLAP on the marble and I laid down and he scrubbed my shoulders and arms and hands.  Then my chest and my stomach.  He jabbed at my stomach fat and said.  Birra (beer).  I nodded because it was easier.  He then leaned into my face and shouted BOITE (night club).  I again nodded because it was easier.  RUSSKY (this was a statement shouted at me, not a question).  AMERICA I shouted back.  The shouting came as a consequence of the echoing water.  He then scooted behind me like we might spoon slapped the marble and shoved my head.  I ended up with my head on his calf as he scrubbed my neck and sunburned shoulders.  Then moved to the other side.  THWACK he hit the back of my head and I sat up.  He then moved the belt sander hand cloth and scrubbed down my legs.  I was thoroughly sweaty and gazing longingly at the shower head in front of me, away from the hot marble.  After my legs he scrubbed my feet (heaven).  SLAP he hit my back and yelled DOUCHE!  It was time to shower off.  The whole scrub down and massage must have lasted 15 minutes.  The water in the shower was blessedly cool, and after the scrubbing my skin was baby soft.  I then transferred to the private stall next to Bilel's stall and I was able to shower in blessedly cool water with soap, shampoo and conditioner.  I toweled off and headed back out to the relax rooms.  After the steam room the still 93 degree air felt cool and dry.


We laid on the chaises longues in our towels and cooled off and they brought us bottled water.  Eventually we got dressed and paid (a total of 5 Dinar or about $3.50) and headed out into the steamy night.  I felt refreshed, exhausted and scrubbed clean.  I will definitely have to go back to the Bain Maure.  Plus, if you need to get over body image issues, have a squat sweaty man scrub you down and repeatedly slap various parts of your body in front of a bunch of other dudes. Clears it right up.

A Well Informed Outsider?

On Friday evening I had a long meeting with the principle actors in the organization I am working with for the summer.  It was the first time that so many of the team were gathered together at the same time.  Interestingly enough, the active board for the organization is comprised of a majority of women.  At Friday's meeting there were four women and myself.  The women are all well established, intelligent and outspoken.  Two are retired and two are working full time as well as helping direct ACEO.

The meeting lasted about two and a half hours at a pleasant Cafe in the zone touristique of Sousse.  We sat gathered around two tables and discussed many topics pertaining to the advancement of the organization.  Cigarette and hookah smoke swirled around us.  We sipped coffee and moved through agenda items.  However, as the meeting progressed and the ratio of French to Arabic being spoken gradually drifted out of my favor to an Arabic-dominated meeting, several things occurred to me.

First, I need to continue to work to learn more Arabic words.  Not only is it polite, but it is helpful to be able to have a grasp of what dynamics (social, political, financial) are actually going on.  In any language there are nuances that add meaning that can only be understood in that language.  Knowing more Arabic would help me suss out some of those nuances and know the Tunisian mindset better.

Second, without Arabic, and with a grasp of French that has now returned to proficient rather than functional, but is still a far cry from fluent, I will constantly be an outsider.  Granted, I may be a more informed outsider with a wider range of cultural sensitivities than your average tourist or business person, but nonetheless I am an outsider.  I can't really be surprised, I have now been in Tunisia 6 weeks.  I was in Costa Rica for 6 months and even after 6 months I was still aware of being an outsider.  So, I cannot realistically expect to be in the know and entirely culturally competent and fluent in such a short time.  I struggle to make it and accommodate in order to do my job, but it still comes and goes and ebbs and flows effecting my efficiency and efficacy from time to time (read weekly)


Third, in my career field, this will always be the case.  I will be a more informed outsider.  When I travel to new countries to work with people I will be given a briefing, a series of documents containing data, background, history, facts and figures.  I cannot possibly expect to know many of the languages of places I may travel and I certainly can't expect to fit in.  I guess I never really processed that in any sort of serious way.  I took it for granted that in Costa Rica I feel at home and assumed I could make that work anywhere.  But at this point I have spend over a year there and have established friends and relationships.  My work will not always be that way.  It is an interesting thought and requires a paradigm shift in my own thinking, a.k.a suck it up and continue to work hard.  Of course, maybe this is just my own cynicism.  Maybe entree into a culture just depends on the place and the people.  More likely it is a dynamic that depends on me and them.  I guess I am just still finding that here.  It is doable, but I am still learning so much that I feel like I am learning more than I am contributing (arguably a reasonable outcome of an unpaid internship)....Anyways now I am rambling.


But all that is not to say that it is all work and no play here.  Living with a host family affords many benefits, and among those is having a good friend with whom I can go on adventures, so I leave you with a picture from our trip to the beach at Salakta this weekend.  Until next time!

Back to the Grind

After a lovely weekend in Paris, I am back to work in Sousse.  I had a meeting with my boss the day before I left which was actually very helpful, and provided a lot of direction for what I need to be doing this week.  I was relieved because I have, at various points, felt very much without direction.  I was able to cobble together what I was supposed to be doing, but I felt a bit lost as this is my first real internship abroad.  While I have not had a lot of homesickness or overwhelming culture shock, there are many little things that slowly pile up and end up creating a cluster of thoughts that I could broadly label as culture shock.  I try to read a lot and stay active in work, but as I said sometimes it feels a bit directionless, and so it is tricky.  I found this list of tips for working abroad that are generally helpful.  They are largely more geared to people who have never worked abroad, which I have, but they are good nonetheless.

This week is doubly busy as I am doing a bit of catching up for missing Friday and Monday for my trip to Paris.  So I have lots to do, and a real to do list, and if nothing else I feel like I make forward progress when I cross things off a list.  But I do wonder, is that what I came here to do?  Cross things off a list?  I had definitely romanticized what I would be doing as visions of community meetings and village mapping on dusty village meeting hall floors danced through my head, but I didn't expect to be so connected to the internet, doing so much grant-related writing and research and generally staying in so much.  I guess it is normal for an organization that is trying to get off the ground.  They need help both with their projects and with their development of the organization.  So I am here doing a bit of both.

Needless to say, as much I as am able to get good experience just from being in an internship, it is also highly dependent on how much I put in.  My boss encouraged me to ask more questions to make sure I am targeting the right information when I putting together grant proposals and projects.  She is right.  It is time to step it up, ask more questions, be more forthright and be more of a go-getter.  Just being in Tunisia will not provide experience through osmosis.  I need to be an active learner and employee.  It makes no sense to try and make excuses for what I didn't learn if I know I didn't push to always learn more.  So that is what I am working on starting this week.

Paris was a great little refresher.  It was nice to see a good friend, nice to escape the heat for a weekend and so much fun to go back to a city I love.  We strolled the streets, ate too many delicious pastries, ate baguettes and cheese, walked the city in the evening with daylight until 10:15 pm, ate foie gras and drank white wine.  It was so lovely.  We spent one afternoon in Versailles in the park and gardens and sat outside and had a crepe and shared a pitcher of cider.  It was lush and green in Paris and the city was alive and sparkling.  I was happy be back.  It was nice to have a little adventure, to take the train in Tunisia for the first time and see a bit more of the capital city in my travelling, too.  So I am back this week refreshed and ready to try and bite of a bit more and throw my weight into this internship.

A + (a plus)
AJ

Nationwide Curfew

Last night a nation wide curfew was put in place to quell unrest throughout the country following the demonstrations and uprisings supposedly caused by the art exhibit in La Marsa.  The curfew has been instituted to dispel rioters, and ensure that people cannot be out all night with nothing to do but burn more police stations and loot more shops.

I have never been anywhere with a mandatory curfew before.  It is strange.  People take it very seriously, which I guess is to be expected.  Bilel and I had left the house to go out with a friend of his, when midway through our trip to Kantaoui we learned of the curfew (couvre-feu) that would take effect at 9:00pm.  It was 8:30.  All of the louages (shared taxis) going past were full, and the individual hire taxis were largely unavailable.  So, we decided it was best to just hoof it home.  We walked quickly, our conversation was lighthearted, but it was clear that we should be in before curfew started.

I asked what happens if one is out after curfew.  "I don't know," Bilel said.  "I guess they have the right to shoot."

I assumed they meant the military, and as we walked home we passed a group of four soldiers in fatigues with large guns standing in front of a truck painted in camo paint.  The were lit by a yellow street lamp, their faces mostly in shadow, lighting up only when they took a drag of their cigarettes.  Mostly they just looked bored, casually glancing at us and then returning to the smoky haze of their own conversation.

We made it home with a few minutes to spare, and we spent those few minutes explaining to Kamel and Sheriffa why we hadn't taken a taxi.  They were irritated, but seemed to understand that there just weren't any taxis.  They then spent half an hour convincing me that things are safe, that the curfews are normal, and that after the revolution this happened all the time.  They seemed sincere, and really not too concerned, but I knew that they wouldn't have reprimanded us if there was no cause for concern.  Either way, I felt fine knowing the family wasn't worried.  It was a quiet night in Bouhassina.  No cars passed my window, no music drifted in, no conversations wafted in broken bits.  Just lamp light peeked through the window.

The curfew was lifted this morning at five am, and if nothing else it was calmer when we went down to the beach.  Rioters had cut down a beautiful 70 year old palm tree at the post office and burned 3 police stations over night.  We saw the downed palm tree being dragged away.  On the way back from the beach after exercising we went to find the police stations, but didn't find the first one so we returned home.  We left a bit later to get groceries and on the way back traffic slowed and there was a crowd of people in the middle of the street.  We approached the scene and there was a police van and a military truck.  There were about 15 men with AK-47s standing in front of a house and some around the sides.  People were staring at the roof and we could see officers with billy clubs circling the sides of the house.  And then traffic picked back up and I don't know what became of the house or its residents.  Kamel speculated that it was a house where there were rioters hiding.  Its hard to know either way.

Things are tense here, but not as bad as they seem in the newspapers.  People are carrying on normally, and there is really nothing to be afraid of.  There is a little more activity and people have their hackles up, but it isn't ominous here.  The curfews are precautionary, meant to quiet unrest rather than inspire fear.  They will likely persist through the end of the week, but I am headed to Paris Friday, so I don't have to worry about that.

It continues to be an adventure here.  I can't wait to see what happens next.  Safe and sound in Tunisia, until next time.

Pulled in Many Directions

I find I have the problem that I am pulled in many directions.  On the one hand, I came here to work as an intern for ACEO, and that is my main purpose.  On the other hand there is so much interesting culture and language to learn, and so much incredible food to eat that I cannot help but want to participate fully in immersing myself in that, too.  Third there is the constantly unfolding news of developments pertaining to culture wars, religion, politics and current events that perpetually catch my eye (especially as it potentially pertains to my safety).

So how do I prioritize?  Well I am responsible first to ACEO, and I was funded by SIS to come and work, so I try to maintain focus on that.  Fortunately (or unfortunately) I work from home so I am able to stretch my work out over about 10 hours, during which I actually work about 6 to 7 hours.  This flexibility allows me to maintain a blog, keep up with current affairs fight with Tunisians on facebook about posting news articles from the US that are apparently uninformed (see my facebook wall if you are interested in the reference).  Work also includes site visits to the poorer suburbs, municipal offices and working meetings cafes throughout the city.  There is a lot of collaboration, which is like, but I am frequently left to my own devices which can be challenging.

After work and current affairs I guess I go after culture.  I am usually working in the kitchen at the table in the house I rent a room in.  I live with a delightful family (who are all good cooks to my good fortune) and the kitchen is a hub of activity.  I am surrounded by the smells of roasting vegetables, pastries, garlic, onions, paprika, cumin, peppers, capers, olives.  I get to watch, partially engaged, as meals are prepared.  The pots ring, sing and dance on the stove-top, all four burners going at once.  The oven is full of bread and dishes are being cleaned for reuse.  It is busy, and on the 100 degree days it gets hot.  But the aromas are heady and delightful and the companionship while I work is as welcome as the solitude I sometimes seek.  This way I also get to learn the words for foods in Arabic and many polite expressions (I was just given warm home-made whole wheat bread).

After all of these things I go out with Bilel and his friends, which is always delightful.  Sometimes we go for coffee at a Salon de The, or out to Port El Kantaoui just to stroll and take in the sights, or out to dinner, or my personal favorite, to the beach.  I get to enjoy the tourist sights on the weekend, and Bilel is a great tour guide, host and friend.  So I get to go out too.

But there is a level of politeness that we still haven't broken.  In our ever increasingly in-depth conversations of religion it has never turned bitter.  It approached more of a confrontation on facebook today because my intelligence was called into question, and that I do not tolerate, but religion gets people fired up here.  Just look at what happened in La Marsa, a wealthy suburb of Tunis.  This Blogger's perspective is more balanced and informed as he is on the ground, compared to Reuters quick assessment and reporting.  Or look at the ongoing problems of how the state is dealing with religion in its institutions (This is the article I posted that drew criticism on facebook).  Needless to say religion is the central point of contention as the country moves ahead.  I have a feeling clashes and demonstrations like this will only grow more numerous as elections approach.

There is so much going on and I want experience it all, but I have to remember why I came and that it is important to prioritize my goals, career development and academic achievement as well as the opportunities I have for social enrichment.  Cheers to staying the path, working hard and staying informed.

À bientôt

Patriotic Confusion

It seems that as Tunisia works to figure in which direction their country is headed, there is a lot of confusion that clouds the national psyche.  Accustomed to a strongman dictating the steps of the Tunisian dance, the duality of their newly free country presents a dilemma.  On the one hand, Tunisians are finally free to choose for themselves the future of their country.  On the other hand, they now have to contend with the ramifications of everybody having an equal say in the politic of the country.

Central to this patriotic confusion is the debate over the role of Islam and the centrality it should have in constructing a new, democratic state.  The current ruling party (who won in free and fair elections last year) is a group of moderate Islamists (Ennahda).  They are certainly moving the state in a more conservative direction, but even the term "conservative" requires some qualification.  Given that open displays of religion by Muslims were essentially not tolerated by Ben Ali, the new freedoms of the people of Tunisia allow for freedom of religion, too.  As such, the prevalence of Islamists is noticeable.  Especially since they are in power at the national level, their influence is palpable and their reach is extending.  Some people take refuge in the fact that the state is embracing a more religious stance in both national and global politics.  For example, many young Tunisians without jobs find a haven in the political activism of the Islamist youth, they see their purpose as to serve god first, then country.  Others, however, find it irksome.

"I don't even think that the Islamists are Tunisians," said one woman I spoke with.  "They want to control everything and dictate each thing that we can and cannot do.  They are extremists and that is not truly Islam and not what it means to be a Tunisian."  She was quite adamant that a move towards an Islamist state is a move towards the past rather than the future.  This is a sentiment shared by many Tunisians.  They fear that the Islamists want to censor the media and limit freedoms such as the ability to drink alcohol, a problem that could profoundly affect the tourism industry at the base of Tunisia's economy.  Fortunately the current president is a moderate man who knows the dangers of dictatorship, and does not seem prone to allowing a takeover by the Islamist party.

This divide is one I have consistently run into since arriving to the country three weeks ago.  Thus the problem of democracy.  People want to choose, but after decades of dictatorship and a strongman leading the country, the results of your decisions follow you and plague your conscious.  There is no one to blame but the active citizenship and the people who voted.

The divide between embracing the Islamist party, and rejecting them outright seems to broadly (read: this is a big generalization after 3 weeks) be split between generations.  The younger generation embraces the demonstrations at the state level of the importance of the Muslim faith, where as the older generations who lived under French colonialism, then 3 decades of Bourguiba and 2 decades of Ben Ali are hesitant to see another seemingly militant, and far less progressive party come to power.  But such is the democratic process.  Everyone is free to choose.

The links above are all to interesting NPR stories.  Currently Steve Inskeep is traveling across North Africa to the Arab Spring countries and this week he is in Tunisia.  The articles are poignant, interesting and worth reading, so I have linked them all here.  I am not just giving a plug to the liberal media (though NPR is GREAT).  Thanks for reading.  I will keep on posting.

Asslama, A Bientot
  

A Little Confused English Goes A Long Way (for a chuckle)

This just struck me as funny.  I think that English mistakes are probably one of the things I find funniest when I go abroad.  Today I was looking at some different popular clubs and restaurants in Sousse and the language was just too good to keep to myself.  I think because it aspired to be hip and casual at the same time, and instead comes off as a bit bizarre, it is even funnier.  But, without further ado, here are some of my favorite excerpts.  Enjoy!

"The menu also offers tasty and pancakes." (No, just a side of Tasty for me).

" one of those places where you taste different needs: that of a family breakfast, a pancake-party between friends or a business lunch" (I love pancake parties) (what the hell does 'taste different needs mean?')

"Fleur de thé is a very interesting space. From morning to night, it offers sweet, salty, lunches or dinners." (I will have the sweet, salty lunch please.)

"An environment created for your senses to be constantly alert, whether by the aroma of tea that hugs your papillae, with the music world, or by the beauty of the teapots that surprises you." (My papillae are so alert right now!)

"The restaurant offers fine cuisine with specialties including a map of the country but also other varities." (I'll have the map of the map of Turkmenistan, medium rare.)

and finally

"decor and design, are exceptional with plasma screens for broadcasting football matches. An outdoor terrace where you can dine quietly, and another at the top represented by boxes and design classes. Legends is the best place for young partygoers' meetings." (quick we have to get to the United Party-goers meeting down at Legends!)


--------


I guess I just don't know how they can't find one English speaker to read through the menus and descriptions before they go live.  There are many expats here who don't really do anything...give them a task!  Instead, we get to benefit from the hilarity of confused translation, which to their credit, probably sounded perfectly normal in Arabic or French, but in English it just comes across as...yummy and famous.

How to Feign Interest in a Meeting Conducted in Arabic

Today I had a meeting that to me seemed something like this:

نحن بحاجة لمناقشة رواتب الذين يعملون في مركز للالتفصيل والخياطة. يجب أن يكون (Vous Comprenez) هناك سلفة من البنك لدفع لهم في الشهر المقبل، وهذه مشكلة. علينا أيضا(les jeunes filles) أن نتحدث عن كيفية استبدال المخرج الذي يتحرك إلى فرنسا في شهر آب.  ينبغي لنا أن نتحدث عن كيف لم يتم استيفاء أعضاء مجلس الإدارة مع عدد من (le remboursement)الزيارات الميدانية ممثلي الدورة وعلق بأن تبذل في(L'emploi et developpement durable) موقع ريفي. وبمجرد أن تغطي كل هذه المواضيع، ويمكننا  (merci) أن نذهب أكل نوع من مبلغ مجنون من لحم الضأن المشوي التي تم ذبحها أمام أعيننا. الحمد لله رب العالمين.

That is pretty confusing, right?  I thought so too.  The majority of the meeting was conducted in Arabic, though at least this time the member of ACEO I was with had the foresight to at least explain that these particular folks do not speak French well enough to take care of business matters.  So I sat for an hour and a half listening to Arabic.  I was able to pick out the french words and phrases that are artfully woven into Tunisian Arabic (it's reminiscent of Spanglish), and I can count to ten, say the words coffee, bread, water, cup, yummy, salad and sugar.  Unfortunately, those are things that do not come up often in a business meeting.  So much to my chagrin, no one asked for 5 cups of coffee, 4 loaves of bread and 6 yummy cups.  Alas I was lost and left to my own devices to figure out how to look engaged when I had about a 6% comprehension rate.  Here is a list I wrote down in my notebook during the meeting:

1. Listen for any clue words (like the 7 Arabic words I know or the French ones)

2. Learn more numbers

3. Nod and make eye contact intermittently

4. Take notes in notebook

5. Write my name backwards, then also write backwards, "Is this how Arabs feel?"

6. Laugh when other people laugh even though you may not have even a little clue what is funny

7. Listen for words that are repeated a lot

That is about as far as I got.  It both got me through the meeting, and made me look successfully engaged.  The language duality is interesting in Tunisia.  Amongst themselves, Tunisians generally speak Arabic unless I or another foreigner is around.  Those who speak French well tend to be either of a higher socio-economic status or well educated or employed in tourism.  This means that in the small towns, rural villages and poor suburbs where I will spend most of my time, the reliability of speaking French decreases drastically.  This is fine, it leads to a lot of gesturing, and trying to string together the vocab words I know into some coherent phrase: "good morning, coffee water bread all yummy, thank you, peace be on you.  500."  followed by a lot more gesturing.  Somehow in my micropolitics of development class, development management class, or really any development class at grad school, we didn't cover meetings in a foreign language that you don't speak.  I guess I should have assumed that this would be a given, but for whatever reason it never crossed my mind.

So after 90 minutes of Arabic, we all got up to leave, it was gestured to me that we would all go to eat together, I was sprayed with  A LOT of cologne by the director of the center without being  asked (they had been smoking inside) and suddenly we were out the door and on our way to dinner.  The director of the center for cutting and sewing and the teacher were taking us out to dinner as a thank you for paying them that month's salary.  I like that tradition.

We went to a restaurant called a "mishoui" which means a grill.  As we were looking for a table out on the patio, a man walked out of the restaurant with a little bitty squirrely lamb jostling around in his arms.  It was so cute with its little back face.  He took it to a concrete slab with a drain, faced it towards mecca, and with a flick of the wrist slit its cute little throat.  Our dinner was now dead.  And I now understood where the other lamb carcasses hanging from hooks had come from.  They proceeded to drain it of blood and skin it while we were served a delicious salad of roasted hot peppers, garlic, onions, tomatoes and olive oil (salad mishouia) with crusty bread.  They brought us a bottle of coke while the lamb was hacked up.  After our salad and about 30 minutes of waiting they brought us two heaping plates of lamb ribs as well as a plate with the kidneys, liver and heart.  It was the. best. lamb. ever.  It was lightly salted and grilled on a giant charcoal grill then served to us with lemon and parsley.  Amazing.  I tried the liver and kidneys but couldn't stomach the heart.  

We ate outside and I tried to communicate in my second language to people who don't speak my second language.  I am now more impressed by Helen Keller.  I did so much awkward gesturing and smiling and making the yummmmm noise.  I got my point across-I enjoyed myself and was grateful for a delicious meal.  

After dinner we drove the hour back to Sousse and I returned to my home.  The family I live with got a big laugh out of my recounting of the death of the lamb and the subsequent meal.  Sometimes I am just not entirely sure what is going on...

Tourism and Religious Unrest

Tunisia relies heavily on tourism as its source of foreign exchange.  As such, the sputtering industry is giving cause for concern across the country.  The beaches are fairly empty, even on weekends, and the hotels (of which there are many) rest nearly vacant.  Tourists are still afraid to come to come to Tunisia due to reports of unrest, and this image is propagated in the news both in the United States and abroad.  However, the news that is presented doesn't give a clear depiction of the state of things in Tunisia.

As far as I can see (given my 2 weeks of expert knowledge and participatory observation) the unrest is generally divided regionally.  It tends to plague the poorer zones in the northwest near the Algerian border and the inland areas to the south, west and east.  There are constant issues along the border with Libya, but that has been the case for years.  The religious unrest largely stems from a resurgence of fundamentalism that has been allowed to flourish following Ben Ali's ousting.  Ben Ali made sure that religious extremism, and really any overly-demonstrative religious actions were suppressed.  He worked hard to prove Tunisia was friendly to the west, and to him this meant religious stifling.  Now that people are free to act as they please, more and more Islamists are appearing throughout the country.

The Islamists (from what I have gathered through multiple conversations) want to institute Shari'a (holy law) law into the constitution.  This would ban the sale of alcohol, require stricter control over women's rights, actions and appearances, and would put in power a religious regime.  As such, the riots in the north led to several liquor stores being burned down as well as rioting a police station.

The problem, however, is that Tunisia wants its tourists back.  There is work and money in tourism, both of which are desperately needed.  So, the attacks don't help as the only serve to reinforce perceptions that Tunisia is still dangerous (which it isn't in the bigger cities and tourist zones).  Furthermore, the insistence on holy law would effectively ban the sale of alcohol, of which tourists are in hot pursuit.  They come to vacation here to drink on the beach 7 months a year, not just see the sights.  Moreover, hostility towards women in a region that relies heavily on beach activities limits women's comfort in public.  It is really just a bad idea.

So, the random upsurges of violence and drama are really misplaced ideals that have been suppressed for too long and are now bubbling over.  Islam is about peace, my friend Bilel tells me, and the people who are rioting unfortunately taint the image of a peaceful and intellectual religion.  But things are safe in general here. I just won't be vacationing in Libya any time soon.

Changes After the Revolution

Interestingly enough, not everyone in Tunisia considers the revolution a good thing.  I think that for the first months after the revolution the adrenaline rush that accompanies change sustained the citizens of Tunisia.  The release of endorphins that erupted following the sweeping change and collective activism that spurred the ousting of the 23 year dictator Ben Ali allowed Tunisians to ignore the inevitable and uncomfortable process of democratization. However, now that they are in the middle of the somewhat painful process, many are realizing that forcing out an oppressive regime is not the same as being prepared to establish a new system.

The growing pains are many and are discussed at length.  As one might have discussed the weather or soccer before, now one discusses the revolution and the results of it, what has changed and what has stayed the same. I have heard many people say (from all socioeconomic statuses) that while Ben Ali was bad for Tunisia, a corrupt gangster and a poorly educated dictator, the country functioned more smoothly under his hand.  Generally people acknowledge a wide-ranging sense of lawlessness.  People no longer fear the police, the police fear the people.  Traffic laws have become something of a nod to order rather than a mandatory set of rules for driving.  People drive as they please.  Unemployment is high (as high as 30-40% among youth).  In total there are 800,000 unemployed Tunisians.  This is about 9.5% of the total population but more than 18% of the total active, working population.

A substantial reason for this unemployment is the sharp decline in tourism.  Tourism is responsible for a large part of Tunisia's foreign exchange and is a principal driver of the economy.  For example, there are nearly 8,000 Tunisians in Sousse who are or were directly employed in the tourism industry.  That number doubles or even triples according to some estimates when one considers the number of people indirectly related to or employed by tourism.  But, tourists are afraid of Tunisia.  They fear recurring civil unrest and violence.  As the new constitution is drafted and elections approach in early 2013, there is a palpable tension.  Strikes are a regular activity and people are trying to assert their voices as Tunisia continues to change.  So tourists who before came to lounge on the beaches travel to Morocco or the Canary Islands to avoid the potential problems in Tunisia.

My work with Apposition and Civic Engagement Organization (ACEO) is focused on job creation and job training for the time being.  I am working on some grant-writing projects that will work to provide job training for youth in impoverished bedroom communities in order to try and increase the likelihood of job placement.  Many of the youth in these poor suburbs make it only to 6th grade, dropping out after to find work.  However, given the staggeringly high unemployment rates, there is no work, leading to higher rates of delinquency, drug use, arrest, violence etc...  So our work is timely and important, but it also must be meaningful and effecting.  job training for the sake of doing something is not enough: Tunisian young people must also find work.

Corruption is still a process.  While in the municipal offices of one of the cities with which I am working two mornings ago, a police officer stormed in, enraged that he was asked to pay property taxes.  By his estimate he was a law officer and worked for the government and actually above the need to pay his taxes.  His service was enough.  He was entitled to a pass.  There is still a pervasive sense of entitlement among government functionaries and civil servants.  It is left over from the quasi mafia/rentier state rule that Ben Ali left behind.  I am interested in seeing where this leads, and how it may affect our work.  For now these are just my preliminary assessments and observations.  My views and opinions will obviously change, given that I have only been here for 10 days.  Regardless, I leave you with the following article.  Cheers, Asslama.  AJ

http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2012/05/25/the_godfathers_of_tunis?page=0,0

Disclaimer

The first note is just a disclaimer.  The views and opinions expressed in this blog are mine, and solely my own, and do not represent the views of American University School of International Service or Apposition and Civic Engagement Organization (ACEO) or any other association or individual with whom I am associated.  My views and opinions are intended solely for the purposes of personal communiques and entertainment.  Thank you and enjoy.