Where we come from…
by Saboon Fnord
It is a story about the blue mediterranean sea, sand beaches, plitics and oppression.
People don’t know us. That’s the truth which came out of this dry-lips-mouth full of weed smoke.
We are from Tunisia, a small country in the center of, and surrounded by, the mediterranean sea.
It is sometimes difficult to remember who we are, as sometimes we don’t even know it in the first place.
As defined by the dictionary:
My identity and maybe yours is defined by our history, immediate like the French colonization, or older, related to the Phenicians, arabs and Ottomans…even vandals.
But it is not any of the kind histories where glorious warriors went to fight.
We have always been invaded, taken from someone’s empire to go to another’s colonies.
Our history is tight to the powerful of this world over the time…as perpetual losers.
After centuries of coninuous external domination and peaceful surrender we are lost with no guide, no polarized world, no leaders to follow and a more and more threatening obscure force on the boarders.
Some people would be tempted to lead. I am.
But first let’s build our new chapter on strong basics; and recognize ourselves when we look at the mirror.
We are Tunisians, sons of the mediterranean sea, we speak arabic, French and some of us suceed in English and/or Italian. We are this mix.
We sepak Tunsi, the mix of these cultures. We are the mix of a cicilization’s clash.
We are Tunisians and we are sons of the mediterranean sea, likely related to Italians and Greek, Lebanese, Egyptians and Turks, by a bond that none can consider.
We are Tunisians, mediterraneans first of all, religious or not, believers or not, straight or not.
Christians and Muslims, Jewish, Pagans and atheistics lived peacefully in our land.
We cohabited in peace with herds of refugees from the west and herds of people from the east. Christians, jews and muslims cohabited in a place where everyone had a chance to rest, and many of them stayed.
It is not that peaceful anymore, but it is nice to know that we are a safe heaven when other continents tribes were slaughtering each other.
We remain sons of the little parcel of earth where we took shleter from our beloved-hated-green-polluted-once-uopn-a-time-transparent, mediterranean sea.
We are Jasmin, not the one that our invaders want to see in TV. No.
We are the Jasmin breeze, the tree climbing children, the chill “nessma” of summer and the flower for 300 millimes.
We are the ones who worship this lifestyle, the lifestyle of the free, because we know you can’t do better. Sea, Jasmin and chill.
We are the children of the regimes and powers who see us like commodities, which we are not.
Some say we are born on the wrong side of the narrow sea. I think they can not be more wrong.
We are the consequence of many things. Location, history, and power shifts.
But we remain all these things.
We eat couscous with fish, and couscous with camel. But also pasta. We are this variety.
We call the Tunisian a Tunisian.
The white is Tunisian, the black is Tunisian, the blonde is Tunisian, and all the others too. Don’t get me wrong, I have encountered a half Tunisian-Japanese.
We have set the world on fire, after a Tunisian first did.
We can go from an oppressive regime to a thriving country, we will do it first.
Tunisians are not lost, even though many are far from their home country. We will work and resist.
Our only direction to move is forward, and innovation will be our guide.
Tunisia, or Afriqiya, this small northern nose which gave its name to its mother Africa. We are Africans. It’s in our name, it’s in our genes.
Mixed africans from the mediterranean sea. It is poetic indeed.
Let’s be poets!
Poets scream: give us back our country!