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.
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.
Commentez-vous?
RépondreSupprimerJe suis parlant avec AJ
RépondreSupprimercolony is from the Latin "colon" farming, farmer.
RépondreSupprimercolon is from the Greek "Kolon," meet, gut, etc.
...words to live by :)
jhd