Tunisia | The Jasmine Revolutionaries [SLIDESHOW]

8 April: Friday afternoon, Avenue Habib Bourguiba, ville nouvelle, downtown Tunis. We have been in Tunis for two days now, we have taken mint tea at sunset looking down on the gulf while seated on a stone bench in Sidi Bou Said, walked through the medina labyrinth (absent of sunburnt tourists), hung out at the fashionable hot spot La Plaza in La Marsa, and all along been enjoying the good weather, delicious food, wine and exotic fare.

We are seated outside at the Café De Paris, drinking delicious, thirst-quenching fresh orange juice and the aromatic local coffee in the ‘wrong’ cup. This café was once the gathering point for Tunisia’s intellectuals and artists. Where are they now? I ask. There are none left, says Elyes Hasni, an architect who is our friend and guide. There’s nothing sentimental about the way he states this. I look out across the street where the young kids are hanging around in front of a theatre, wearing their skinny jeans and hoodies, flirting, texting, skipping class at college perhaps, while a group of older men are gathering in the wide centre strip that runs along the Avenue.

This is not the only meeting point that has been abandoned by the literati. Iconic cafés across the world that were once central to intellectual exchange and colourful collaborations are more likely to be places that are visited rather than frequented. Places that we have read about in the novels of those who spent their days seated there, engaging in radical discourse with like-minded folk, have now become mild, tidy, predictable. Today the real meeting place is virtual, and not dependent upon theorists and critics to formulate ideologies as catalysts for change. Further up the avenue, close to the French embassy is a simple graffito written in English: ‘Thank you Facebook’.

The Café de Paris, established in 1924, has high ceilings and top-heavy angular columns. Inside, an elderly Italian man sits quietly and drinks his espresso while leaning on his wooden walking stick. The waiter informs me that he has been coming here for the last 24 years. He looks out across the street into the afternoon sun, pensive, stoic, finely dressed, so still in the midst of the brewing commotion. The waiters are courteous and attentive, decked out in uniforms that recall a former French colonial etiquette, except that now their jackets are made of a synthetic fibre and on close inspection are rather awkwardly held together. They stand in the doorway and watch the streets attentively.

The people outside the theatre begin to chant, clap their hands and wave the Tunisian flag, as across the street more men gather in the centre strip. We are watching but we do not know what is happening. Elyes looks over his shoulder but remains calm. Barely three months have gone by since the Jasmine Revolution toppled the Ben Ali regime that had stifled the Tunisian people for 23 years, and there is still commotion on the streets, though its nature may be dubious. Indeed, Tunisia is not in the news much these days; their story is, in a sense, already passé. In three short months the world has seen an unprecedented chain of revolt across the Arab world that is far from over. Tunisia must now decide how best to move forward and civic society must ensure that the old regime is abolished completely. Their work to take Tunisia forward towards a modern democracy has only just begun. But this is to be an internal, complex and slow process, not exactly breaking news.

Suddenly a swarm of men move towards us. One of them has blood down his face. It is a flash of commotion, nothing more. The crowd is alarming but moves around us like a shoal of fish, runs down the street and then quickly retreats back up, followed by the police running up the avenue; the crowd fractures and disperses. The barbed wire and tanks, which only a moment ago seemed like a mere hangover from the uprisings, now appear sinister.

What happened? We ask. The simple answer: they wanted to pray in the street, a practise that in Tunisia is reserved for the mosque. But who clashed with whom? We rise and retreat indoors and take another cup of coffee. We are told that this kind of outbreak has become a frequent occurrence; skirmishes, clashes, random outbursts in the streets of downtown Tunis. There are no simple answers.

The people of change

The streets are busy, the sun is shining, and life is slowly getting back to normal. But the moderate voices of Tunis know that things take time. And yet the fever of change is still contagious and everyone is engaged in fervid dialogue about the future, and how to create a democracy that will work for their country. Lotfi Abdelli, a well-known Tunisian actor, tells me that before the revolution everyone was talking about football, but now they speak about politics.

“Before we would whisper,” says Abdelli, “but now we can breathe.” He was one of the first public figures to say ‘Degage!’ to Ben Ali, and is very proud to have been part of the change that now influences the whole of the Arab world. “Before, when you would say Tunisia, people would say –Indonesia? But now they know!” Lotfi is very proud of his country. His current one man show, Made in Tunisia, which has been running for some time, promises exciting new material; across the walls in the city his poster can be seen everywhere.

The custom of hospitality and generosity that has always made Tunisia such an enticing and attractive destination has been overwhelming. We have been invited into people’s homes and spoken openly about the past, the present and the uncertain future. With the opening up of the country there are many parties and factions sprouting up, some moderate, others less so.

And there is concern about how information is being disseminated, and how the people will make their choices. Ali Laroui, a banker, talks about how he is part a group of 50 or so professionals that have come together to assist a political party, the Forum Démocratique pour le Travail et les Libertés, to position itself securely in the current arena of political ambiguity. The professionals are all working voluntarily motivated by a need to contribute to the future of their country. Laroui concludes by telling me how he just travelled to the Libyan border to witness with his own eyes what was going on there.

Riadh Ben Hamida, a 35 year-old lawyer, is lobbying to be elected onto the board of the young lawyers in Tunis. A tall man with a stern gaze, he is less vocal about the current situation but smiles when talking about his political ambitions; in this current atmosphere anything is possible, and the people of Tunisia may dare to dream.

Mariem Masmoudi is a Tunisian American who withdrew from her last semester at UNC-Chapel Hill “to pursue real and lasting democratic reforms” in her native country. She has been working with an organisation called Sawty (My Voice) to empower youths to vote intelligently and responsibly. Though a little apprehensive at first to meet us downtown, she made her way to the café where we awaited her, and from there she led us through the souk to the Sawty temporary headquarters in the La Kasbah district of the Medina, a splendid palace that has not been inhabited for some time.

Her American voice talks of plans for the future, in particular the Bus Citoyen, which will drive across Tunisia to hold forums with youths about voting responsibly. She is clearly erudite and vocal, but she is not a product of Tunisia, she has American liberties firmly embedded in her system. Soon her friends and associates arrive, teenagers and boys and girls in their early twenties and flock around to chat. They want to know if we like Tunisia and whether we have visited the sites. One girl expresses her love for her country, “there is something special about Tunisia,” she says, and smiles.

And indeed there is, which is what brings so many holidaymakers to Tunisia each year. Yet despite this new freedom, the reality of Tunisia’s economic future is under strain. Amidst all the air of change and hope is a real concern about the livelihoods of many.

Tunisia is not rich in resources, it has no gas and no oil, and relies heavily on tourism. Though Tunisia is getting back to business there is apprehension abroad about holidaying there. Taking a holiday in a country still fresh from revolution does sound a little absurd, and a quick trip to Hammamet confirms the absence of tourists. But in truth there really could be no better time to visit Tunisia in it finest hour and encounter the proud people who have brought about a historic change in the Arab world.